“‘If I dared leave this smile,’ she said,
‘And take a moan upon my mouth,
And tie a cypress round my head,
And let my tears run smooth,
It were the happier way,’ she said.”
It was not often that Madame Ray bestowed confidence on any one. She was naturally a reserved woman, but she had grown fond of Arthur, and read his friendly curiosity over her past. She determined to gratify it, perhaps hoping for a like confidence from him.
Glancing toward the open door of the drawing-room, where they sat to see that no one was near, she began:
“I was born in Macon, Georgia, about thirty-nine years ago, and was married at eighteen to Richard Ray, a young man I had known from childhood, and who had been my school-boy lover. We were devoted to each other, and never had any girl better reason for devotion; for, besides being magnificently handsome in a dark and manly style, he was one of the noblest of men.
“To refer briefly to our family history, Richard was the only son of a Georgia planter ruined by the late war, and at the time of our marriage both his parents were dead, while my father and sisters had died of fever in my childhood, leaving mother and I alone in the world almost save for her rich aunt who lived at Lodge Delight, and took scant notice of our existence.
“My mother had but a small property, and Richard was not rich; but at his business—a real estate agency—he earned a fair competency, and when we were married, we three, mamma, Richard and I, lived together very happily until—alas!” she bowed her head and wept bitterly.