Bertha groaned.
“It’s not the selfish loss to myself that I mind, Nina, but the thing she’s done. If I were giving her to some simple, honest boy of her own age, how gladly I’d see her go. We mothers don’t ask more than that, after all—just to see the children happy.”
“I know,” breathed Mrs. Severing. “It’s all one lives for.”
“I’ve no plans or wishes for myself—it’s all for them,” muttered Bertha disjointedly. “What else has one to care about—an old gargoyle....”
Nina straightened herself slightly.
“‘Having outlived hope, fear, desire....’” she quoted softly, at the same time turning her long neck so that the firelight fell upon her burnished hair and exquisite, appealing profile.
“A man she’s only known a few months,” pursued Bertha bitterly. “And she’ll disobey her parents, the mother who’s loved and guarded and cherished her all her life, and break their hearts, for his sake.”
“God grant the poor child may not regret it bitterly one day,” breathed Nina piously.
There was a long pause.
“Well!” said Bertha, and slowly stood up. “There’s a lot to be done.”