“Very well done. Let’s go to the dining-room. I am now the mistress of the house.”
They went into the dining-room. It was a large whitewashed room, with blue rafters in the ceiling, and a large, unpolished cabinet for the table-service. In the centre was a heavy table of oak, with a white oil-cloth cover, in the middle of which was a glass vase full of flowers. Near the window was an embroidery frame, and a small wicker basket full of balls of coloured yarn.
“Come, sit down,” said she. “They’ll set the table presently. Why do you look at me so much?”
“You are changed, child; but changed for the better.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really; you no longer have that restless look.”
A young girl set the table, and Remedios and Quentin sat down. Remedios talked of her life, a most simple one.
“I’ve already heard that you are giving lessons to the children,” said Quentin. “Does that entertain you?”
“Very much. They are all such clever little creatures!”
After dinner, the old servant showed Quentin to a large room with an alcove. He sat down in an armchair, preoccupied. The presence of Remedios had produced a most unusual effect upon him. He felt attracted to her as he had never felt attracted to any other woman. At the same time he was restrained by a feeling of humility; not because she was an aristocrat and he wasn’t, nor because she was young and pretty, and he was already growing old; but because he realized that she was good.