and stopped.
She waited for the last line, impatiently, as for release, as for the breaking of a spell; but there came no sound—only a sudden silence that was louder than any sound. She roused at it, pitifully chiding herself for the selfishness of her misery and, regardless of Aunt Adela, bundled the rest of her clothes into the wardrobe and hurried out of the room.
Poor old Gran’papa ... to leave him so long alone.... A string or something must have snapped.... She must run down and see, and get him a new one ... the dresser drawers were so heavy for him to pull out....
She ran down the stairs in her swift, noiseless fashion and tapped at his door, and tapped again, and then, with a sudden catching of breath, opened it.
She had been right: something had snapped indeed. A cord—a silver cord had been loosed; but it was not the G string of the little old fiddle.
CHAPTER XXXII
The funeral of old Mr. Valentine, the ‘To Let’ board on Green Gates, and the cottage into which the Miss Valentines were to move at the March quarter, gave Brackenhurst a pleasant change from the Mad Dog of Europe and the soaring prices of meat and margarine. But long before the subject was exhausted it had to make way in turn for the news that Justin Cloud had been made a Captain—“Oh, three stars, I believe: it’s the Majors that have the crown—” and that Robin Gedge had married Annabel Moulde at a registry office. It was Brackenhurst’s first war wedding, and it divided the village into two camps, into those that were more thrilled than shocked and those that were more shocked than thrilled. Annabel, of course, suffered as a pioneer does; for when Rhoda Cloud, six months later, married a man she had nursed a week and known a month, it was acclaimed as a most romantic affair; but Brackenhurst, rallying round Mrs. Gedge, had few good words for Annabel—and none at all for Laura Valentine. For it came out, as such things will, that Laura Valentine had been in the secret—had actually gone up to town with Annabel and had seen her married. “Would you believe it? Such a sensible girl, and her grandfather not dead six weeks!”
“And it wasn’t—” Aunt Adela wailed, “as if you’d ever been friends with Annabel!”
“I know,” said Laura guiltily.