Old Rose and Silver

have been lonely, at Madame Bernard's. After talking for a time with Aunt Francesca and Isabel, it seemed natur

Isabel minded hearing the same thing a dozen times or more in the course of an evening, for, as Madame sai

rested in her music that she took no count of the hours spent at the piano, and Allison fully app

indefinite hunger had been, in some way, appeased. She had unconsciously emerged from one state into another, as the tiny dwe

a new significance. Rose had made herself take heed of her clothes, but she had never had much real interest.

spray of green leaves in her hair. Her only ornament was a pin o

t know just how to express. I have no words for it,

Rose asked

you wear anything tha

d green and yellow and

any of those soft-co

esca

ushing, "that blue and grey and tan

on insisted, "for you'

ing up to

things than they're usually given credit for. Your jewels fit in with the whole idea, too. That jade pin, for instance, and your tou

se?" she

petals and the conventionalised rose, in gold and white, that was st

titched. In one corner was embroidered a rose, in palest shades of pink a

case the other day. I don't know how it came there, but it w

was as delicate as a bit of carved ivory. Her thoughts were far away-one could see that. Is

themselves. That's an awkward phrase, but I don't know of anythi

me William,'"

argarets' are adjusted to themselves by their friends. Some are 'Margie' and more

t be changed, easily,"

ake Aunt Francesca, for instance. She might be 'Frances' or 'Fanny' or even '

of one who has been away upon a long journey.

e were talking of names and nickname

l they get old enough to choose their own names. Fancy a squirming little imp with a terrible temper being saddled with t

me?" queried Isabe

"if you weren't quite so t

s the older woman who answered him. "Yes, of course it

laughed. "I can't remem

che, said good- night. She made her farewells very pretti

llison, can't you bestir yourself and find some young men to

on, lightly. "Am I not calling? And behold,

youth," Madame objected. "She's my g

n to the theatre some night, and to supper afterwar

, with a look of friendly appreciation. "

in moods," he said.

d longing, was a theme in minor, full of question and heartbreak; of appeal that was almost prayer. And over it all, as always, hovering like some far lig

er house that vaguely troubled her, because she had no part in it. The air throbbed w

and far. She saw again the dusty street, where the blue column went forward with her Captain at the head, his face stern and cold, grimly set to some high Purpose that meant only anguish for her. The picture above the mantel, seen dimly through a mis

l. Madame rose, about to say good-night, and go up- stairs where she might be alone. O

ght figure, his broad well-set shoulders, his boyish face, and his big brown eyes. But Rose had il

had discerned something of which Rose herself was as yet entirely unconscious. With the instinctive s

res? He must, oh, he must!" Francesca had no selfish thought of her own loneliness, if her Rose should go away

put his violin into the case. "It's late," h

m, but I don

is a great pleasure to play with you. I wis

colour mounted to the roots of her hair and he studied her i

began, the

" asked Ro

ask you a very f

he said. "Most ques

ic. I was going to ask yo

e noted the past tense. "Why haven'

and yet people keep on asking it. They might

inued Rose,

sible she,' or 'he,' ha

one knows,"

"in any true mating, th

replace, broke and fell into the embers. The dying f

biles?" queried Rose, chiefly becaus

to that is t

n Wonderland," she commented. "Maybe they've had t

obliged to do it," he returned. "May I leave

I hope

p, and subtly, Rose answered to the man-not the violin. She was death

deep eyes burned like stars. She knew, now. The woman who had so hungered for Life h

hem, or even three may be joined, but usually, each one is complete in itself. Within the different chambers his

, with the wisdom of the Sphinx, if she refuses to go. Let her say to him: "Close all these doors, except that which bears my name. In that chamber and in that

abelled, there are long, labyrinthine passages, all opening into one another and inextricably bound together. To shut

lying fair upon a Summer sea, the barriers crumble and fall. Through the long corridors the gho

cobwebs, greyed at last from iridescence to despairing shadows, a barrier may fall at the sound of a talismani

t the touch of one other hand. The woman herself may go into it for peace and sanctuary, when t

f Crete, there are many who attempt to find the secret chamber,

he devious passages, there is so little to be seen that sometimes even the

n the altar burns steadfastly the one light, waiting for him who at last has come and consecrated in his name. The door of the sanctua

ver know what sanctuary means, nor what the opening of the door has cost. But the man who is worthy will kneel at the altar for a moment, with the woman beside him, and

s blessedness is increased ten-fold; it takes on a certain divini

n it. Sometimes the light fails and the woman, weeping in the darkness, is left alone in her profaned temple, never to

t who might enter the sanctuary with her, Rose lifted her ever-burning light that night