After a lapse of so long a time she had no
fear now that she should be discovered. Nevertheless it was
impossible for her ever to approach this house without "coming
delicately." She "came delicately" in the same sense that Agag,
king of Amalek, walked when he was on his way to Saul, who was
about to hew him to pieces before the Lord in Gilgal.
She approached the house now, observant of everything as she
tripped. Had a shutter been hung awry; if a window shade had been
drawn too low or a pane of glass had not sparkled, or there had
been loose paper on the ground or moulted feathers on the bricks,
she would have discovered this with the victorious satisfaction of
finding fault. But orderliness prevailed. No; the mat at the
front door had been displaced by Rowan's foot as he had hurried
from the house. (The impulse was irresistible: she adjusted it
with her toe and planted herself on it with a sense of triumph.)
As she took out her own and Isabel's cards, she turned and looked
out across the old estate. This was the home she had designed for
Isabel: the land, the house, the silver, the glass, the memories,
the distinction--they must all be Isabel's.
Some time passed before Mrs. Meredith appeared. Always a woman of
dignity and reserve, she had never before in her life perhaps worn
a demeanor so dignified and reserved. Her nature called for peace;
but if Rowan had been wronged, then there was no peace--and a
sacred war is a cruel one.
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