Meredith. They ranged themselves on chairs side by side against a
wall, and sat confronting her like a class in the public school
fated to be examined in deadly branches. None moved except when
she spoke, and then all writhed together but each in a different
way; the most comforting word from her produced a family spasm with
individual proclivities. Rowan tried to talk with the father
about crops: they were frankly embarrassed. What can a young man
with two thousand acres of the best land say to an old man with
fifty of the poorest?
The mother and son drove home in silence. She drew one of his
hands into her lap and held it with close pressure. They did not
look at each other.
As the carriage rolled easily over the curved driveway, through the
noble forest trees they caught glimpses of the house now standing
clear in afternoon sunshine. Each had the same thought of how
empty it waited there without Dent--henceforth less than a son, yet
how much more; more than brother, but how much less. How a brief
ceremony can bind separated lives and tear bound ones apart!
"Rowan," she said, as they walked slowly from the carriage to the
porch, she having clasped his arm more intimately, "there is
something I have wanted to do and have been trying to do for a long
time. It must not be put off any longer. We must go over the
house this afternoon. There are a great many things that I wish to
show you and speak to you about--things that have to be divided
between you and Dent.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256