“But your home wasn’t here, grand-auntie,” said Olive, surprised out of her silence.
“No, dear; ’tis the house recalls me to myself. Wyvern Court was very different from this.”
“Was that the name of your home, Madame Giche?” inquired matter-of-fact Jenny, out of the silence that followed.
“The dearest spot on earth to you—wasn’t it, grand-auntie?” prattled Sybil.
[p104]
“Yes; our childhood’s home is that, I suppose, be it a cottage or a castle, revisited in imagination at life’s close,” sighed the old lady.
“And that was your—your womanhood’s home—as well,” replied Sybil, hesitating a little to find a suitable word.
“Yes, dear; there I had all my joys and sorrows.”
“And now?” whispered Inna, who was kneeling by her side, stroking one of her soft wrinkled hands.
“It is life’s sweet after-glow with me; peace after pain and sorrow, like the light in the sky after sunset.”
“Oh, grand-auntie, how beautiful that must be to you if it is at all like that!” cried Sybil, pointing at a distant window. Outside lay the park, the copse, and surrounding landscape, all aglow with the changeful tints which follow a fair sun-setting.