"It needs the alchemist's touch," he said, "to change our sordid world
to gold."
"We can all learn," she replied, "and even if we don't try, it comes to
us once."
"What?" asked Ruth.
"Happiness--even if it isn't until the end. In every life there is a
perfect moment, like a flash of sun. We can shape our days by that, if
we will--before by faith, and afterward by memory."
The conversation drifted to less serious things. Ruth, remembering
that Miss Ainslie did not hear the village gossip, described her aunt's
home-coming, the dismissal of Hepsey, and told her of the wedding which
was to take place that evening. Winfield was delighted, for he had
never heard her talk so well, but Miss Ainslie listened with gentle
displeasure.
"I did not think Miss Hathaway would ever be married abroad," she said.
"I think she should have waited until she came home. It would have been
more delicate to let him follow her. To seem to pursue a gentleman,
however innocent one may be, is--is unmaidenly."
Winfield choked, then coughed violently.
"Understand me, dear," Miss Ainslie went on, "I do not mean to criticise
your aunt--she is one of my dearest friends. Perhaps I should not have
spoken at all," she concluded in genuine distress.
"It's all right, Miss Ainslie," Ruth assured her, "I know just how you
feel."
Winfield, having recovered his composure, asked a question about the
garden, and Miss Ainslie led them in triumph around her domain. She
gathered a little nosegay of sweet-williams for Ruth, who was over among
the hollyhocks, then she said shyly: "What shall I pick for you?"
"Anything you like, Miss Ainslie. I am at a loss to choose."
She bent over and plucked a leaf of rosemary, looking at him long and
searchingly as she put it into his hand.
"For remembrance," she said, with the deep fire burning in her eyes.
Then she added, with a pitiful hunger in her voice: "Whatever happens, you won't forget me?"
"Never!" he answered, strangely stirred.
"Thank you," she whispered brokenly, drawing away from him. "You look so
much like--like some one I used to know."
At dusk they went into the house. Except for the hall, it was square,
with two partitions dividing it. The two front rooms were separated by
an arch, and the dining-room and kitchen were similarly situated at the
back of the house, with a china closet and pantry between them.
Miss Ainslie's table, of solid mahogany, was covered only with fine
linen doilies, after a modern fashion, and two quaint candlesticks, of
solid silver, stood opposite each other. In the centre, in a silver vase
of foreign pattern, there was a great bunch of asters--white and pink
and blue.
The repast was simple--chicken fried to a golden brown, with creamed
potatoes, a salad made of fresh vegetables from the garden, hot
biscuits, deliciously light, and the fragrant Chinese tea, served in the
Royal Kaga cups, followed by pound cake, and pears preserved in a heavy
red syrup.