Victory!"--she flamed with mounting colour--"it is I am the victor! He
comes back with honour--I have no duties--no country--I have only my
love. Oh, my God! if he had died--if--if--I should have hated!--" She
spoke with harsh vehemence, and of a sudden stopped, and breathing fast
gasped in low-voiced broken tones, "Don't stare at me--I am not a
fool--I am--I am--only the fool of a great love. You don't know what it
means. My God! I have no child--James Penhallow is to me children,
husband--all--everything." She stood still, wide-eyed, staring down the
garden paths, a wonder of yearning tenderness in her face, with Rivers's
letter in her hand.
"Read your letter, Aunt."
"Yes--yes--I forgot it." She read it, and said, "It only confirms the
telegram."
The storm of passionate emotion was over. Leila amazed and fearful of
results--twice seen before--watched her. "You have seen," she said in a
low voice, "the soul of a great love laid bare. May you too some day, my
child, love as I do! Have no fear for me--I see it in your looks. Come
in--I have to see to things--I have to give some orders--there will be
much to do." She was at once quiet, and composedly led the way into the
house, the astonished girl following her.
In the hall Mrs. Penhallow said, "I fear, dear, I have left too much of
the management of the house to you--of late, I mean.
Pages:
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505