|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 4
"What a lovely room this is," observed Isabel, after a pause.
"It's comfortable," replied Madame. "I couldn't live in an ugly place."
Everything in the room spoke eloquently of good taste, from the deep-
toned Eastern rug at the hearth to the pictures upon the grey-green
walls. There was not a false note anywhere in the subtle harmony of
line, colour, and fabric. It was the sort of room that one comes back
to, after long absence, with renewed appreciation.
"I love old mahogany," continued Isabel. "I suppose you've had this a
long, long time."
"No, it's new. To me--I mean. I have some beautiful old French mahogany,
but I don't use it."
Her voice was very low at the end of the sentence. She compressed her
lips tightly and, leaning forward, vigorously poked the fire. A stream
of sparks went up the chimney and quick flames leaped to follow.
"Don't set the house on fire, Aunt Francesca," cautioned Rose. "There's
the dinner gong."
The three went out, Madame Bernard a little ahead and the two younger
women together. Rose sat opposite the head of the table and Isabel was
placed at Madame's right. In a single glance, the guest noted that the
table was perfectly appointed. "Are you making company of me?" she
asked.
"Not at all," smiled Madame. "None the less, there is a clear
distinction between eating and dining and we endeavour to dine."
"If Aunt Francesca were on a desert island," said Rose, "I believe she
would make a grand affair of her solitary dinner, and have her coffee in
the morning before she rolled out of the sand."
The little old lady dimpled with pleasure. "I'd try to," she laughed. "I
think I'd--"
She was interrupted by a little exclamation of pleasure from Rose, who
had just discovered a small white parcel at her plate. She was untying
it with eager fingers, while her colour came and went. A card fluttered
out, face upward. "To my dear Rose, with love from Aunt Francesca," was
written in a small, quaint hand.
It was a single magnificent ruby set in a ring which exactly fitted.
Rose seldom wore rings and wondered, vaguely, how Aunt Francesca knew.
"I filled a finger of one of your gloves," said Madame, as though she
had read the thought, "and had it fitted. Simple, wasn't it?"
"Oh," breathed Rose, "it's beautiful beyond words! How shall I ever
thank you!"
"Wear it, dear. I'm so glad you're pleased!"
"It's lovely," said Isabel, but the tone was cold and she seemed to
speak with an effort. With a swift little stab at the heart, Rose saw
that the girl envied her the gift.
"It reconciles me to my years," Rose went on, quickly. "I'm willing to
be forty, if I can have a ring like this."
"Why, Cousin Rose!" cried Isabel, in astonishment. "Are you forty?"
"Yes, dear. Don't be conventional and tell me I don't look it, for I
feel it--every year."
"I should never have thought it," Isabel murmured.
Rose turned the ring slowly upon her finger and the ruby yielded the
deep crimson glow of its heart to the candlelight that softly filled the
room. "I've never had a ruby," she said, "and yet I feel, someway, as
though I'd always had this. It seems as if it belonged to me."
"That's because it suits you," nodded Madame Bernard. "I hope that
sometime our civilisation may reach such a point of advancement that
every woman will wear the clothes and jewels that suit her personality,
and make her home a proper setting for herself. See how women break
their hearts for diamonds--and not one woman in a hundred can wear
them."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|