XXV
Cousin Delia came to see me in my bed, as she used to when I was little.
She said:
‘Dear Heart, are you happy?’
I said:
‘I don’t know, Cousin Delia. Ought I to be?’
She said:
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t; but some people are. It is better to be happy.’
I said:
‘Yes. I know it would be better.’
She stood beside my bed, and looked across it at the window, and the branches of the trees. There was a moon outside and we could see the branches; I had pulled the curtain back.
She said:
‘Poor Hugo; I am thinking of my Hugo.’
I said:
‘You need not be sorry for him.’
She looked down at me.
She said:
‘No? Need I not?’
I said:
‘No. Be sorry for me; and Walter.’
She said:
‘Walter has got what he wants. Not many people get that.’
I said:
‘No, not many people; I know that; and I don’t think Walter really has.’
She said:
‘Dear Heart, don’t be impatient; don’t decide too soon.’
I said:
‘I have decided.’
She bent down and kissed my forehead.
She said:
‘I like your Walter; and he is very happy.’