I covered my face with my hands at the look in his eyes.
"Wheel me to the drawing-room," I whispered to him, "you don't go so fast as Amelia; and put me right in the window, so that I may see you all coming down the path."
"What a lovely Marguerite!" he murmured, shutting the door. "I must kiss my little wife. Why, even your cushions are gold! You look like a golden lily."
"The carriages are waiting," I said.
"I shall come home the very minute I have given Jane away; I shan't wait to the end. You will be lonely."
And Dimbie little knew how earnestly during the next quarter of an hour I longed for the loneliness he had predicted. Never had I more fervently yearned to be by myself, for as soon as ever Jane and Dimbie had driven away the Help appeared. She came slowly and deliberately into the room and seated herself on a chair opposite to the couch. She wore the black crêpe bonnet, a black dress, black kid gloves, and she carried a black parasol and a prayer-book.
"Good afternoon," I said politely.
"Good afternoon," she returned.
"Are you going—to a funeral?"
She stared at me with hard, black eyes.