"Out of sight and out of reach they go.
These dear familiar friends who loved us so,
And sitting in the shadows they have left,
Alone with loneliness, and sore bereft,
We think, with vain regret, of some kind word
That once we might have said, and they have heard."
Audrey did not know those lines then, but they expressed the thoughts which haunted her in those days, even in her dreams.
Early the next morning, after her breakfast, Phipps came to ask her to go to her granny's room as soon as convenient.
"I will go now. How is she, Phipps? Do you think she is any better, just a shade better?"
But Phipps only shook her head, and hurried out of the room with her head bowed. Poor Audrey! Phipps had dashed all the hopes which had risen afresh with the morning, and sent her to the sick-room unnerved and full of fears.
But face to face with her granny, so calm and placid and content, fears seemed wicked, out of place.
"Audrey, dear, before I have my sleep I want to say something to you in case, later, I may not be able to. When I am gone there are certain things which I wish you children to have. The lawyer knows—it is all written down—but I wanted to tell you myself. I want to ask you—and to ask the others through you—when you wear them to wear them not as ornaments only, but as reminders; will you, dear Audrey? As reminders to—to give your sympathy and love, while it can help, not only at the hour of parting. That is where I have failed. I see it now, and ask God's pardon." For a moment there was silence in the quiet room; a tear fell from the dying eyes. Audrey's were falling fast.
Presently the weak voice began again. "To you, Audrey, I have given my pearl brooch, and the ring your grandfather gave me as my engagement-ring. You will value it, will you not, dear? I wish you not to wear the ring until you are eighteen. I was just eighteen when he gave it to me. To Faith I am giving my ruby cross and brooch—Faith with her warm heart glowing with kindness towards the world, always reminds me of rubies. Tom is to have his grandfather's watch and chain, and Debby is to have mine. To Baby I have given my string of pearls." Her voice had grown more and more feeble, and now for a moment died away. But very soon she spoke again. It was as though she felt she had not much time, and could not waste a moment of it. "To you, dear, I leave my work-table, too; you loved it so when you were very little. Do you remember?"
Audrey smiled as the memory came back to her of the joy with which she had turned it out, and dusted and rearranged it daily. But her smile changed to tears. "Granny, granny, you must get well, and use it again yourself. There is your work in it now, waiting to be finished."
A little flicker of pain passed over granny's face. "I shall never finish it now," she whispered. "Whenever the end comes, one leaves many things undone. Some do not matter so very much. It is the thought of the things that do matter—neglected—those we might have helped, that stab one to the heart."