“She knew where she was well off,” interpolated Mrs. Brand.
“Very likely he did not want it on his conscience that she had given up a snug place for his ring. If he had ever wanted to change his mind, it would have made things harder for him. I think he was a decent, considerate sort of man,” the old lady went on. “At any rate, Rachel stayed. It is a little depressing for me now, always seeing her sad face. I gave her a holiday for a while, hoping she’d come back all right. But really her face seems set that way, and perhaps it does not mean that she feels so much as it looks.”
“It is not pleasant to have grieving people about,” assented Florence. “It is very kind of you to be so patient and forbearing. But, then, you have such a big and tender heart.”
“No, I haven’t,” said the old lady calmly. “I know better than that. At any rate, you don’t know that I have,” she added with a brisk change of manner; “for, if I have, I keep it so close shut up that I quite forget it, and it is in danger of being starved, like naughty children’s pet canaries. But it gives a little chirp sometimes. I am sorry for Rachel, and that’s why I like to fancy the man wouldn’t have turned out well, and that’s why I’ve given her all my black silk dresses. The cook says he’s had ‘noble mournings, such as the likes of he couldn’t have expected.’ She says, too, that Rachel wears that ring tied round her neck. That’s rank idolatry! But I suppose they have some feelings like ours. When I’m gone people will find among my treasures queer cuttings out of newspapers and tags of old programmes that they’ll wonder over. And must you really be going, my dears? So soon? A cab waiting! Fie! Is that the way to treat an old friend? Give my love to your husband when you write to him,” she said, drawing down Lucy’s face and kissing it fondly, “and tell him we dine with the Lord Chief Justice on New Year’s Day—it’s in his own professional line, you know—and that he is to come home and follow in our footsteps, especially in Mr. Bray’s when he bought me that dress! And good-bye, little man! And there’s a nice, weeny, tiny coin to remember an old woman by. And you’re not to show it to mamma till you are out of this house. And good-bye, Florence”—with a little peck of a kiss. “And keep Jem up to the mark in sending pretty messages. Tell him about the china. No, no, you sha’n’t take it! Ladies didn’t carry parcels for gentlemen in my young days. Good-bye, all!”
There was weary Rachel waiting in the hall. Lucy could not pass her without a word—it was a habit of hers never to pass a servant without some friendly recognition. Instinctively she said—
“Thank you. I wish you a good New Year!”
The worn face flashed into tenderness. And the door closed upon it so.
(To be continued.)