She hadn't been with us--for a long time. Papa and I
had been alone. Then one day I saw them carrying her up-stairs--my
father and two nurses--I ran out before my nurse could catch me--and saw
her--she was in her hat and cloak. I didn't know her, and when she
called me, I ran away. Then afterward they took me in to see her in
bed--two or three times--and I remember once"--Diana began to sob
herself--"seeing her cry. She lay sobbing--and my father beside her; he
held her hand--and I saw him hide his eyes upon it. They never noticed
me; I don't know that they saw me. Then they told me she was dead--I saw
her lying on the bed--and my nurse gave me some flowers to put beside
her--some violets. They were the only flowers. I can see her still,
lying there--with her hands closed over them."
She released herself from Marsham, and, with her hand in his, she drew
him slowly along the path, while she went on speaking, with an effort
indeed, yet with a marvellous sense of deliverance--after the silence of
years. She described the entire seclusion of their life at Portofino.
"Papa never spoke to me of mamma, and I never remember a picture of
her.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277