“Tabitha!” she cried.
“Don’t say you’re sorry to see an old face again, Mrs. Disney. I told Mr. Martin that if you should ever be ill and want nursing I’d come to nurse you—if you were at the other end of the world—and Mr. Martin wrote and told me you wanted an old servant’s care and experience to get you over your illness—and here I am. I’ve come every inch of the way without stopping, except at the buffets, and all I can say is Rome is a long way from everywhere, and the country I’ve come through isn’t to be compared with Cornwall.”
She ran on breathlessly as she seated herself by that reclining figure with the waxen face. It may be that she talked to hide the shock she had experienced on seeing the altered looks of the young mistress whose roof she had left in the hour of shame. She had left her, refusing to hold commune with one who had sinned so deeply. The faithful servant had taken leave of her mistress in words that had eaten into Isola’s heart, as if they had been written there with a corrosive acid.
“I am very sorry for you, Mrs. Disney,” she said. “You are young and pretty, and you are very much to be pitied—and God knows I have loved you as if you were my own flesh and blood. But I won’t stay under the roof of a wife who has brought shame upon herself and has dishonoured the best of husbands.”
Isola had denied nothing, had acknowledged nothing, and had let Tabitha go. And now they met again for the first time after that miserable parting, and the servant’s eyes were full of pitying tears, and the servant’s lips spoke only gentlest words. What a virtue there must be in death, when so much is forgiven to the dying!
Martin Disney went out with the priest, but at the corner of the Piazza he stopped abruptly.
“Isola’s coughing fit has upset me more than it has her,” he said; “I’m not fit company for any one, so I think I’ll go for a tramp somewhere, and meet you later at dinner, when I’ve recovered my spirits a little.”
“A riverderci,” said the priest, grasping his hand. “I felicitate you upon this day’s union; a happy one, or I am no judge of men and women.”
“I don’t know,” Disney answered gloomily. “The woman is true as steel—the man comes of a bad stock. You know what the Scripture says about the tree and the fruit.”