Yon scutcheon then
hung in a noble hall. I have looked at it with pride and, God be thanked,
without regret, during nearly sixty years of loneliness and poverty, but I
shall die rich and friended in the possession of this."
She lifted the brooch to her lips and kissed it, and then, poor soul,
broke into a fit of coughing that racked her thin frame. A comely
serving-woman rushed in to her aid, and together we seated her near the
fire and wrapped a shawl around her. She seemed as one who slept with
half-shut eyes and dreamed.
"She's of'n tuk like this'n," whispered her woman. "As lively as a lass
at a wedding for an hour maybe, and then dreamy and dead-like for hours at
a stretch. She's seventy-six come June, but I dunna think she'll live to
see it, and to be sure, God bless her, I shall be glad to see her broken
heart at rest."
She put a smelling-bottle to her mistress's nose, and bathed the white
lips with eau-de-Luce.
"I love her no end," she said simply.
It was time to go. I dropped on my knee and kissed the fair, thin,
wrinkled hand. At the touch of my lips she spoke again:
"Good-bye, Harold, my beloved! The God of all good causes go with thee!"
She was back in the long-ago with her lover at her knee, sending him off
to fight for the cause, and the ringless finger showed that he had never
come back.
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