buy me an' tuk me home. Ol' miz, she rose me
mighty kin' an' sof like. I nuvva did n' look tu
be sol' like common niggah trash off'n de block,
naw'm. " She paused again, and wiped her brow
and her lips. Mrs. Marshall leaned back in her
chair and closed her eyes. "Go on," she said.
"I hear you."

"Yas'm, wal 'm, hit war dat-a-way he tuk me
home, an' I tuk keer on he's maw. She war sof
an' gentle like she wait'n' fo' de angels tu come
an' fotch her tu heaben. Likely dat all she wait'n'
fo'. She lie dar one day an' jes' pass like a breff
come an' blow her soul 'way, an' dar dey wan' no
one lef but jes' young Mars'r Gen'l an' me, an'
a lot o' young trash niggahs wha' I look aftah an'
I'arn fo' tu keep de haouse fo' 'im. Young Mars'r
Gen'l, he grieve he's se'f, I mind dat. Long
while he grieve. He go heah, an' he go dar, an'
ev'y time he come home 'g'in he say, ' Cl'issy,
dis-yer 's de bes' place, aftah all.' Aftah while he
brung home de ol' haouse full o' he's frien's. He
jes' say, 'Cl'issy, git de rooms ready;' an' I du
hit, an' cook de chick'n pie, an' de hot biscuit,
an' dar de happy days begin. Nigh on tu five y'ar
he go on dat-a-way; I war right happy den, yas 'm,
right happy. One day come 'long big crowd f'om
Wash'n'ton. I mind yo' 'long dat time. I don'



384 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

know whar he met up wid yo', but dar yo' come
wid yo' maids an' yoah gran' clo'es shinin' wid
de silk an' gol', an' yo' walk de haouse like yo'
done bohned dar, — yas 'm, — de same liT Miz
Is'bel wha' done push me off' n my own maw. I
knowed yo' 'd done come fo' tek young Mars' r
Genl f'om me tu. Now jes' yo' bide still dar.
I ain' come fo' no hu't. I come heah fo' tu bring:
yo' min' back tu de 'membrance o' de pas', an' yo'
gwine set still dar an' hark.

"Wen dat crowd go Mars'r John, he mighty
res' less. One day he walk de flo' up an' down,
up an' down, den he come out on de po'ch whar I
set sewin' an' harkin' tu 'im pace de room, an' he
say, ' Cl'issy, yo' alius been mighty good; yo' been
good tu my maw.' An' I say, ' Yas, Mars'r John.'
Den he say, 'Hit 's time I marr'd 'nd raise up my
fadah's haouse. I gwine bring home heah a mistus,
Cl'issy.' An' I say, * Yas, yas, Mars'r John.' Den
he say, * Yo' gwine be good tu her, Cl'issy.'' ' An'
I say, ' Yas, Mars'r John, I gwine du all yo' ax
me. Ef yo' ax me walk intu de fiah, I du hit. '

"Den he come nigh me, an' put he's han' under
my chin, an' lif up my haid, an' say, ' Cl'issy, I
b'lieve yo'.' An' he kiss my fo'haid an' go off.
Den I go tu my own room, an' dar I lie on de flo',
an' ax de Lawd tek de h'a't out 'n me an' leab me
die an' go tu ol' mist'is; but he didn' du hit,
naw 'm, he done leab me heah yit. Wen Mars'r
John come back he fotch yo' wid 'im, an' dar come
'long lot o' yo' own folkses tu — gran' an' fine, an'
sof'-speakin' like yo' own se'f. I could n' un'er-
stan' how dey speak, neider. Hit mighty strange



A Midnight Visit 385

talk dey done use. I reckon yo' 'membahs dat
time tu, Miz Is'bel, — yas, I reckon so. Yo'
mighty fine fo' a while, den yo' tek de bit in yo'
teef, 'an dar yo' go. Yo' mind de days Mars'r
Gen'l go tu Wash'n'ton ? Yo' mind how yo' run
de place, Miz Is'bel.'* Yas, I reckon so. Look
a-heah, — don' yo' go fo' tu git 'sited. I jes'
gwine tell yo' de troof, den I gwine quit."

Mammy Clarissa stopped leaning on her stick,
and raised herself to her full height. Her eyes
glowed like two coals of fire. She ceased speak-
ing in a dreamy tone of reflection and reminis-
cence. "Look a-heah," she said in louder tone,
"yo' mind de time yo' beat me an' sta've me?
Yo' mind de time yo' git ol' Pete tu lay on de
lash tu me.-* Yo' mind dat.'* An' why fo' yo'
done hit.-* Look a-heah." She crossed the room
and opened a door that led into a small brushing-
room or closet, and, stooping over, looked closely
at the bare boards, where a dark brown stain
showed.

"Yas 'm, hit dar as of ol' time. Dar de blood-
stain yit. Yo' 'membah dat time yo' tu'n on
me an' cut me wid Mars'r John's hunt'n' knife.?
Heah 's de skyah 'crost my ahm yit, an' at de jedg-
men' day dat skyah gwine shine in yo' eyes. I
mind de time yo' cut dat skyah an' push me in
dar, an' lock de do'. I min' lyin' dar wid de
blood flowin' an' hyar'n' yo' walkin' roun' in
de room, singin' sof an' low like nuffin' did n'
trouble yo' none; an' dar yo' lef me all night, 'n'
no watah tu drink, 'n' nuffin' tu eat, 'n' no one tu
he'p. Dar de blood-stain yit. Hit ain' nuvva
25



386 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

come off, an' hit nuvva will come off, 'dout fiah
bu'n hit.

"Set yo'se'f still dar ontwell yo' heah de res'.
Nex' day yo' done de same, — yo' heah me groan
an' call fo' one drap o' watah. Yo' nuvva onlock
de do', an' de nex' day yo' go 'way wid de key in
yo' pocket, an' I try fo' call, but didn' hab no
strenk. I 'low yo' didn' reckon Mars'r John
com'n' home dat day, but he come; yas 'm, he
come an' call yo', an' Cah'line she tell 'im Miz
Is'bel done gone ovah tu Miz Col'n'l Wells fo'
de day. An' he come in heah an' sit down, an'
I mek out fo' tu speak he's name, an' he try de
do'. Den he call, ' Cah'line, hu-come dis do'
lock? Wha 's de key.^ ' An' she say, * I do' know,
Mars'r Gen'l. ' Den Mars'r John he know dar
somp'n' bad duin', an' he bre'k de doah, an' tek
me up in he's ahms, an' tote me tu my own baid,
an' lay me dar, an' brung watah, an' keer fo' me
de whole day, ontwell night come, an' he say ovah
an' ovah, ' Cl'issy, she shall pay fo' dis.' Yas
'm, dat what he say. I kin 'membah dat.

" Naw yo' doan move, noh speak neider. Yo'
set yo'se'f dar an' hark. Cah'line, ol' Alexan-
dah's wife, she kin 'membah dat tu, an' mo', I
reckon. I do' know what-all Mars'r done say tu
yo', but yo' nuvva tech me 'g'in. Naw 'm. I
mind dem days; how I done de fine stitch'n' fo'
yo', wha' ol' Miz Marshall I'arn me tu du. All
de long, sof fine clo'es fo' yo' baby, I done de
stitch'n' on dem. Yas 'm, an' I mind how," —
Mammy Clarissa dropped her voice to a lower tone,
— " w'en de day war done, an' yo' could n' task me



A Midnight Visit 387

no mo', while yo' lay sleepin' 'long side Mars'r
John, I uset tu sit by de can'l' light an' sew de
co'se white cloff ontwell de daylight streak de sky
in de mawnin'. Yas 'm, de time pass slow, wid
de days a-servin' an' de nights a-cryin', ontwell
yo' 'low I gwine spile my eyes fo' de fine stitch'n',
an' yo' gwine sell me off Saouf C'liny way.

" I mind de night tu, yas 'm, I mind hit, w'en my
baby come. Ol' Aunt Betsy, f'om Cun'l Wellses,
she war by me, troo de bitterness, and de dark-
ness, and de heavy-heartness, an' fo' daylight she
done lef me dar wid my own li'l' chile in my
ahms, an' I lie in de dark time, an' pray de Lawd
tek 'im out'n de worl' an' tek me wid 'im; but
he did n' nuvva hearn me; naw'm, he lef me dar,
an' de chile tu. W'en de mawnin' come, I lif
up de kiver, an' look at my chile, lyin' dar in my
ahms, an' I see a angel f'om heaben. I see why
de Lawd would n' tek 'im long back 'g'in, 'case
he jes' been dar, wid he's sof skin, an' fa'r ha'r y^ ^
like de sun done tech hit, an' w'en he open he's
gre't eyes, dar dey shine wid de blue in 'em,
yas'm, an' I cry out in my h'a't, an' kiver 'im up
an' hoi' 'im clost. O Lawd, O Lawd! I mind
dat time. I reckon yo' don' 'membah dat, naw 'm.

"I mind I lie dar, an' shet my eyes 'g'in, an'
'long 'bouts sun-up de do' open mighty ha'd an'
suddent like, an' dar come ol' Mars'r Doctor, wid
de bun'l' in he's ahms, an' he lay hit 'long side
me, an' he say, ' Cl'issy, heah 's yo' missus' baby.
Yo' tek right smaht keer on hit now.' An' he
stomp off 'g'in, an' shet de do' ha'd, an' I hyearn
'im stompin' down de hall. Den I lif myse'f up



388 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

an' open de bun'l', an' dar, jes' wrop in a cloff
like, an' roll in de blanket, lie yo' baby. Yas 'm,
yo' baby, sho 'nuff, wid de dark skin an' de black,
sof ha'r like all yo' folkses wha' come up heah
f'om de Saouf Islands, an' like yo'se'f tu, wid de
big dark eyes, like de black coals out'n de fiah,
look'n' up at me, an' I kiver hit up 'g'in, an' hoi'
my chile clost, an' cry out in my h'a't 'g'in, ' O
Lawd, set my chile free. Tek 'im back, Lawd.
Don' leab 'im heah, 'case I knowed yo' chile done
come tu rob my chile like yo' rob me.'

" Naw 'm, set yo'se'f still. I has mo' tu tell.
By 'm by Cah'line come in, an' I lie dar wid my
eyes shet, an' she onkiver yo' baby, an' she say,
' Cl'issy, dis yo' chile.? ' an' I lie still. Den she
step roun' mighty sof an' mek fiah, an' wahm de
watah, an' by 'm by she onkiver bof de chillen,
an' I lie dar wid my eyes shet, an' a mighty so'
hea't, an' she stan' dar lookin' at de chillen sleep-
in' so sof 'n' still. Den she reach ovah an' tek
my chile out'n my ahms, an' tek hit 'way by de
fiah, an' I did n' open my eyes noh say nuffin'. I
jes' lay dar wid de heavy-heartness ontwell I done
drap off tu sleep sho 'nuff. A'teraw'ile I done
heah a baby cryin', an' I open my eyes an' dar
Stan' Cah'line side de baid wid bun'l' wrop up in
de co'se cloff, an' she say, ' Cl'issy, heah, yo' tek
yo' own chile; he nigh stahvin', I reckon. Missus*
baby don' need nuf n'. He sleep'n' heah all right ; '
an' she lay de bun'l' in my ahms, an' I tu'n back
de cloff offn de haid, an' dar I see yo' chile;
yas'm, yo' chile dress' in de co'se cloff wha' I done
sew fo' my own, in de night times w'en yo' war



A Midnight Visit 389

sleep'n'. Wid de tears a-fallin' an' de hea't
a-grieve'n', I done sew dose clo'es, an' dar I see
'em on yo' chile. Yas 'm, set yo'se'f still dai an'
hark. I done tek yo' chile in my ahms an' heish
'im tu sleep, an' Cah'line, she step roun' sof an'
men' de fiah, an' bresh de hyarth, an' go off. Den
I rose up an' look at my own li'l' baby, an' dar he
lie in de sof, white clo'es, wid de lace, an' de fine
wo'k wid de needle wha' I done sew, an' I say, ' De
Lawd done do de choosin'. I done sew de clo'es,
bof de co'se an' de fine, an' de Lawd done guide
de han' wha' put 'em on de chillen. Ef hit ain'
nuffin' but de clo'es wha' gib de chile a place in
dis worl', ef dey don' know no dif'unce, 'cept'n' dat
ar, den de Lawd's name be praise. Ef one o' dese
chillen gwine be mars', an' one gwine be slave, /

an' one fadah de fadah ob bof, den de Lawd's name v
be praise, dey kin du dey own choos'n'. By 'm by
Cah'line come back an' brung me victuals, an' she
Stan' dar, lookin' at my boy, an' she says, * 'Pears ^ ^^
like he don' look like her none, but he mighty \
puty. ' An' I say, ' Sholy he are.' An' she say,
* Missus done ax fo' 'im, ' an' she cahy 'im out."
Old Clarissa paused, and once again wiped her face
and lips with the handkerchief.

The old woman before her, writhing with pas-
sion, had repeatedly struggled to rise from her
chair, but seemed unable to do so. Now she stood
up, and reaching toward her old slave with her
long thin fingers, made as if she would clutch
her by the throat.

" You devil ! " she said between her closed teeth,
and fell back into her seat, exhausted by her own rage.



390 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

*'Da's right, Miz Is'bel. Set yo'se'f dar. I
ain' come heah fo' no hu't. I come heah tu git
shet o' dis-yer vvha' I done cahy on my hea't like
a stone o' lead all dese yeahs. I come heah fo'
tell yo' de troof an' git 'lowed tu pass. Dey ain'
nuvva been nobody on dis yearth wha' knowed dis
heah on'y me, an' now I done tole yo' I reckon de
Lawd gwine 'low me tu die some time, an' go tu
ol' missus. I mine de time yo' mek me mahy ol'
brudder Thomas Ma'hshall. Yo' done dat 'case
yo' hate me, make me mahy de brackes' niggah on
de place. Da 's all right. He war mighty good
man. He done tol' me lub dem dat hate me. Du
good tu dem dat 'spitefully uses me, an' I done hit.
I done I'arn dat ar. I fo'gib yo' long w'ile 'go,
but yo' wan' heah, an' I could n' tell yo' de troof
ontwell yo' come home 'g'in. Mars' Gen'l he lie
dar in de gr.abeya'd wha' dey done tuk 'im, an'
he's soul wait'n' de day ob jedgmen', an' 'fo' long
yo' gwine lie dar tu, I reckon, an' now I done tol'
yo' de troof, I 'low I kin be let tu pass f'om dis
low worl' an' go home one o' dese days, — Lawd
he'p my soul! An' w'en we-all stan' dar fo' de
gre't w'ite t'rone, may de good Lawd he'p yo' soul
tu. I 'low I done sin a gre't sin, but I done 'fess
hit 'fo' yo', an' 'fo' de God ob heaben, an' he wha'
sit on de t'rone, he kin look intu de hea't, an' he
kin jedge 'twixt us an' Mars' Gen'l tu. Oh, good
Lawd, Mars' Gen'l done sin tu! Ef yo' mus'
strike him, Lawd, le' me b'ar de blow." She
turned away with this prayer, without regarding
the old woman before her further.

Slowly she crept down the stairs, replaced her



/



A Midnight Visit 391

shoes at the door, and left the house as she had
come.

Suddenly Mrs. Marshall raised herself. The
storm within her had not subsided. She breathed
heavily, and with difficulty. Her face turned a
dull purple hue. She threw up her arms and
tried to run after her old slave, and taking a step
or two forward, fell prone across the threshold of
her door. There, when they returned from the
ball-room, half an hour later, they found her lying.
In one hand she held the paper-knife, clutched
like a dagger.



CHAPTER XXVIII
A BITTER CUP

MRS. MARSHALL lay in her room, silent
as death; never a word, never a movement
of her helpless body, even to so much as the lift-
ing of a finger. Her tortured spirit was held in a
silent prison. Her slight hands, folded among the
soft white laces of her sleeves, seemed only a part
of them, so still and nerveless they lay.

Her hair, which had showed traces of its youth-
ful blackness and lustre, became in a week as
white as frosted silver. Only her dark eyes, glow-
ing with an eager fire, searching the faces about
her, noting with intent alertness all that passed,
never closing, always watching, betrayed the suffer-
ing soul within.

A local physician was called without delay, and
another came from New York, at great expense.
What should they do ? Should they take her to a
sanatorium, — a hospital ? How could they help
her.? They would be guided by him, would do
anything he said, — but, alas ! he said : " Let her
be; she is better off where she is."

There was nothing to be done but what a well-
trained nurse could do. He would send them one.

Was there no hope.? None. She might be re-
lieved somewhat, but any sudden change for the

39?



A Bitter Cup 393

better would be apt to be followed by as sudden a
decline, and possibly death.

However, there was no telling; she might live
months, nay, years.

"Oh, poor, poor aunty!" sobbed Marguerite,
kneeling beside her, with her arm thrown over the
thin, nerveless body. " Dear aunty, you are look-
ing at me; you know we love you even if we have
been perverse. Aunty dear, if you know I love
you and am sorry, shut your eyes. That will be a
sign to me that you hear me, and understand."

The great eyes slowly closed, and slowly opened
again, and Marguerite kissed her.

Then John returned from his consultation with
the physician, and Marguerite, resting her head
against his arm, wept again.

"John, if we could only have pleased her, — but
we could not."

"No, little sister, we could not," he said ten-
derly. "Come away," and they went into the next
room.

"John, you are all I have now. I am all, all
alone."

" Marguerite, look into my eyes and tell me the
truth. Is it I whom you love best in the world ?
Is there no one else who is dearer, just a little
dearer, it may be.'* "

" My heart aches so, — oh, it aches so, John. I
never dreamed such a terrible thing as this could
come upon us. It is n't a punishment, is it.^ "

"No, no, dear. Why should you be punished.'*
Now won't you Answer my question.?"

Marguerite dried her eyes and looked away.



394 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

Then turning, she put her hand in John's, and
looking straight in his face, said, " Yes, John.
You know there is one — one — dearer even than
you are. I will be true. I will never pretend
anything any more."

''Then may he come in and speak to you.-* He
is waiting to see you. Poor fellow ! he has waited
ever since that terrible night just to say one word
of comfort. Dr. Holmes says this may result
fatally now, or may not. We must take what
comes as God's will, and for ourselves, we must
do what we know is right by those we love. Will
you see him. Marguerite?"

"Yes."

"Then, little sister, I '11 ask him to come to
you ; " and he turned toward the door.

"Wait, John," she said; and he came back
again. " I am not sending you away from me,
John ; I want you to know that you are dear to me
too," she said tearfully. "I am not ungrateful.
Stoop down." He bent his head towards her, and
taking his face between her two hands she kissed
him. "There, now go," she said; and he went,
humbled in his heart. Had he always been just
to this impetuous little soul, struggling through
false teaching and almost every hampering cir-
cumstance to find its true light.? He feared not.
Thank God there had been one able, imperfectly,
perhaps, to sound its depths.

His friend was pacing restlessly up and down
the long hall. John laid his hand on his arm and
said gravely, "You may go to her. She will see
you," and passed on.



A Bitter Cup 395

When Hanford entered he found her standing as
John had left her, in the middle of the room, with
flushed cheeks and tearful eyes. He held out his
arms, and she came to them, — the arms that had
opened once to set her free.

The fall days crept on, and the heat waxed
greater, and then gradually lessened, and the silent
splendor of the autumn stole over the hills and
valleys, and the summer boarders dropped off, a
few at a time, until the great house was left nearly
empty. Portia had leisure now for thinking and
dreaming, for driving with John over the dear old
mountain roads, and for her grandfather's pleasure
also. The sweet tones of his violin might be
heard at almost any hour, penetrating like rays
of sunlight through the gloom.

There was always a happy light in Portia's eyes
these days, and her voice seemed to grow fuller
and richer.

They were standing on the hillside one day, she
and John. Her hands were full of the late chrysan-
themums, — a glowing mass of color.

"What are you going to do with these?" he
asked.

"Come with me, and I will show you," she
replied. She led him over the brambly hillside
until they came to a small cleared space, where
were two or three low mounds fenced in. One
seemed to have been made years before, and was
almost effaced, but was marked by a rude head-
board which had been painted white. The other
seemed to have been more recently made. The red
soil was not yet overrun with weeds and brambles.



396 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

"Here it is, — the place where they laid that
white-headed old preather, " she said. Dividing
her flowers, she laid part of them at the foot of the
weather-beaten headboard, and the rest she placed
on the old man's grave. " I come here every week.
I have never been able, quite, to get that scene off
my mind : that night when he was shot, you know.
It hangs like a shadow in the midst of my happi-
ness. I have been so happy, John;" she slipped
her hand into his. "You know that tragedy, after
all, was the beginning of our knowing each
other."

" The beginning of our happiness was long before
that, when you came upon me there in Germany;
and next, when I sat alone out in the darkness,
and you sang to me ; and again, when you ran out
early in the morning and sang to me. You see
the happy beginning was made long before this
ever happened. There is no shadow hanging over
you."

"Yes, I suppose it did, for you, John, Don't
think me morbid ; I am the happiest woman on
earth. These are all the flowers I shall have to
put here this year. By next week they may all be



gone."



"Miss Mann," he said, reading the name that
was painted on the headboard. " Why do you put
them on this grave .-* "

"Haven't you heard of her.^ She came down
here, and literally sacrificed herself for the colored
people. I have heard them tell about her. She
lived among them, taught them, and finally died
among them,"



A Bitter Cup 397

John looked at her in some surprise. "You
have changed in your feelings, then, toward them,
since we had our first talk together? "

"Why, no, I can't really say that I have. I
am fighting away at my prejudices, however."

"Why do you? They are only natural."

" Are they natural, or from wrong education ? I
have my theories, you know, and am trying to live
up to them."

"You beautiful little Puritan!" he said, laugh-
ing, and drawing her toward him. "Come away
from here. Tell me, what are your theories ? "

"For one thing, I think we have wrong esti-
mates in this world."

" More so than in other worlds of your expe-
rience? "

Portia laughed. " Yes. We are to graduate out
of this into another where prejudices have no part.
It will not be, ' What color are you ? ' or, ' What
occupation have you? ' or, ' How much money have
you ? ' but, ' What are you ? ' "

" So you are fighting your prejudices beforehand.
Are you really sure you have any ? "

"Yes."

"Ah! I am glad."

"Glad to discover weaknesses in me that are
unworthy? Why? " She stood on a great boulder
looking down on him.

" Because — " he held out his hand to assist her
down, and springing, she landed in his arms in-
stead of on the ground.

" Put me down, John ; for shame."

"Because," he went on, "if you have not a few



((



398 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

frailties, how am I going to keep you in this world
with me? Cling to your prejudices, by all means."

She burst into merry laughter. " No, Mr. John.
It is my privilege to hide my weaknesses from you.
You will discover them soon enough."

"Now as we walk home talk about the future,"
he said.

" How can we ? "

"Why, this way. You set the wedding day, and
I, as the architect, will begin building us a castle
in Spain."

"Very well; then I will say next June."

" What ? "
Next June."

Why not wait forever.? Say next Christmas,
and I can count the time by days instead of
months."

"But there will be so much to arrange."

"Not at all. Consider. My hotel has taken
your occupation from you; the proprietor is al-
ready in it, and has ruined your business. What
is there for you to arrange ? There is nothing left
you but to take up a new career. You are to go
to Europe, and finally are to astonish the world.
You are to be the finest artist living, and I am
to dance attendance as your humble and devoted
slave. Thousands, nay, millions, will flock to hear
you. The world will bow down at your feet."

"John, stop this nonsense," she said, laughing.
"Can't you think of a greater career for me.?"
jt/ttu^rmt^^'YQs^ my Puritan, yes."

'^■*fM»^mi^ "To be yo ur wi fe, j.nd the mistress of your
home, John .? "



A Bitter Cup 399

"Yes, you read me right. Selfish creatures we



men are."



" Selfish to bestow on me the greatest honor a
man can.? Oh, John, you hardly read me aright."

" You never quite said those words with me I
once asked you to say."

"No.? Then I will say them now. 'No power
on earth shall take me from you, John. ' Are
those the words } "

" Yes, and for me I have said them over and
over : ' No power on earth shall take you from me,
Portia.' Then at Christmas, shall we say.? "

" Let us begin the new year together."

"As you say." He looked at her, walking at his
side, with quiet happiness shining in his eyes.

" And let us not build any more castles in Spain
now because of your mother."

" Yes, she must be prepared. I will do it very
gently. I think she will understand."

They walked on in silence, and when they reached
home a few raindrops were pattering down on the
fallen leaves.

Thus the days slipped away. Now it was John
and Portia, and now it was Hanford and Marguerite
who were building castles in Spain. The double
wedding day was set; it was coming on apace.
The old woman still lay in her chamber of silence,
like death in life. Her restless eyes searched
every face that entered, as if vainly seeking one
who could interpret her thoughts for her. Clare
and the medical nurse watched over her every com-
fort, and Marguerite sat by her side, faithfully
trying to anticipate her wishes. She worked at



400 When the Gates Lift Up their Heads

her embroidery there. Sometimes she read to her.
" If you understand and like it, aunty dear, close
your eyes once;" and slowly her eyes would close