The Spinster Book

aster

gany surface and an answering flash from a bit of old silver in the cabinet. April, warm with May's promise, came in through the open window, laden w

methyst and sapphire appeared in the haze from the backlog and were lost a moment later in the dominant flame. In that last hour of

, and long nights that ended in dawn. Swift flights of birds and wandering craft of thistledown w

icacy of carved ivory. A tiny foot peeped out from beneath her gown, clad in its embroidered silk stocking and high-h

ad given her only enough bitterness to make her realise the sweetness, and from the threads that Life

rl, softly, "have you forg

re was a little silence, then the old lady smiled. "No, dearie," she

y,'" put in the other woman,

t to save the place from ruin, you discover two dripping tramps on your steps. Stranded on an island in the road is a waggon containing their trunks, from which place of refuge they recently swam to you

possible that after all my explanations you don't understand? Why, I wrote more than two weeks a

, as everybody knows, we're here now, but isn't it just like

the girl, "you might tell us ho

you mustn't think I've forgotten you because I haven't written for such a long time. If I had written every time I had wanted to, or had thought of you, actually, you'd have been bored to death with me. I have a kid who thinks he is going to be a fiddler, and we have decid

Mrs. Irving, "though my lang

fitable discussion. It is all because we are so far out of the beaten trac

ch is kind of me, considering that my remarks

as much of what you say as you do," s

etire into my shell." So saying, he turned to

gure, his dark eyes, his sensitive mouth, and his firm, finely modelled chin. From a half-defined impulse of coquetry, she was glad of the mood which

d her line, yet in some way he seemed like an alien suddenly claiming kinship. A span of fifty years and more stretched between them, and across it, they contemplated each other, both wondering. For his part h

eyes. Had they asked her for her thoughts she could have phrased only one. Deep down in

still a child. Forgiving all things, dreaming all things, hoping all things with the boundless faith of maternity, she loved him,

of pine upon the dull glow in the midst of the ashes. It cau

unt Peace, drowsily, and Iris

s Temple?" asked

's more, I know I don't, but

said Mrs. Irving, so gently

arch, and struck a few chords. The instrument was old and worn, but still sweet, and, f

there were evidences of study and of work along right lines. Before sh

e asked, when the l

," she replied

e was a viol

e

can he tea

does

he doesn't teach anyone but me. I had a few lessons a long time ago, from a lady who spent the Summer here, and he has been helping

ay, don

lay accompaniments

play with m

rha

-to-m

lawyer instead of a violinist. You make m

e I inherit it." Iris had a quest

in answer to it. "He died when I was about five

then make me shudder even now. Just at the time it was hardest-when I couldn't possibly have borne any more-Aunt

really your

but she wouldn't want me to cal

es, with bits of understanding silence between. Iris wen

r listening,"

Peace, you

dearie. I

almost

winding stairway. It made a charming picture-the old lady in her trailing gown, the light throwing her white h

liked the way her dark hair grew about her low forehead, her fair, smooth skin, and the mysterious depths of her

out for our wal

ght, son.

any difference; you

e, and beside

, paying no heed to her protests, and almost before she knew it, she was out i

ut from behind its friendly curtain, but only the pole star kept its beacon steadily burning. The air was sweet

to explore the unfamiliar place; the mother, harked bac

nds the river a little brook, the long stretch of woodland only a grove in the midst of a clea

so often upon its banks had grown to a woman, rich with Life's deepest experiences, but the brook was still the same. Through endless years it must be the same, dra

hts. "I wish I'd known you when

hy

to play with you. We could h

wenty-five. Much ashamed, too, I remembe

like

her answer was always the same. "Yes, ver

ook lik

l but yo

here, did you kn

ting the darkness. "We used to see him passing in the street," she went on, in a differen

use of my telli

the l

e won't

ugh her heart suddenly misgave he

ou go w

st go alone. I shal

, mo

which he had learned to accept as fi

which was harmoniously situated near the border line. East Lancaster was the home of the aristocracy. Here were old Colonial mansions in which, through their descendants, the bui

y aloof year after year. It was not considered "good form" to allude to the dwellers upon the hill, save in low tones and with lifted brows, yet there were no

n by. Two trains a day rushed through the station, for the main line of the railroad, receiving no encouragement from East Lancaster, had laid its t

e like her name

ed Mrs. Irving, take

dress, and some yellow velvet i

an, dear. Did y

ything? Come, mother; I'll rac

, laughing, up the winding road that led to the summit, stopp

n front, laid out in flower-beds bordered with whitewashed stones, in true German fashion. There were no stre

sted that she was tired, but Lynn put his arm around her and hurried her on. Never befor

of a graphic recital of some boyish prank, took no note of her agitation. He did not even know that

eathed. "The

a box than a dwelling. In the street were a dozen people, both men and women, standing in stolid patience. The li

ur, yet with a lyric undertone. Sounding chords, caught from distant silences, one by one were woven in. Songs that had an epic

l quality of the tone. To the woman beside him, shaken from head to foot by unutterable emotion, it was Life itself, bare, exquisitely alive, tuned to the

afterward, there is a single vast strophe, majestic and immortal, which takes its place by right in the symphony of pain.

he whispered, "I

musician, his body tense, his head bent forward and

ar them took up its separate ways. Someone put down the window and closed the shutters. The Master knew quite well that some

tenderly, "I've been selfish,

wnhill together, and she leaned heavily upon his supporting arm. He was humming, under

candles on a table in the hall. "A fine violin,"

remona-that is, I think i

d night, and p

aret lay for a long time with her eyes closed, but none the less awake. Toward dawn, the ghostly