more
becoming; but my godmother would have it so, saying that poor Joan would
not grudge me a few roses, having herself found the roses of Paradise.

That quiet radiancy of my godmother seemed to diffuse itself over
everything. I know I felt happier than I had felt for a long time, and I
tried to put all the trouble, and the thought that I was to marry
Richard Dawson the week before Christmas, out of my mind.

Everything about the dinner-table was so pretty. I could not help
feeling that my godmother had told them it was to be so; and the wax
candles shone on the scarlet berries and russet and orange and crimson
leaves, on the delicate napery and glass and silver; and the fire leaped
and sparkled in the grate. I had a feeling that I and my godmother were
shut in together from the world's trouble, although it waited for us
outside the gate.

After dinner we sat by the fire and talked in a low voice, and I could
not help commenting on the new serene happiness of my godmother's face.
I had always thought it a cheerful face before, although the face of one
who had suffered; but now I wondered that I had thought it anything but
sad.

"You look happy!" I said.

"And I am happy, Bawn, although I shall miss Joan. But she is at rest
with God, and before she died she told me something which set my heart
at rest."

"Ah, I am glad of that," I said.

She leant forward and took my hands in hers, making me turn round so as
to face her.

"Bawn," she said, "there is nothing worth having in the world but love,
nothing but love, nothing but love. I tell it to you, although some
people would think that love had wrecked my life. But I have loved
greatly, and I have been loved greatly, and I would not change places
with any of your wives and mothers of families."

"Yes, I know," I said.

"And if you do, Bawn, why don't you save yourself from this marriage?
The money doesn't tempt you, nor Richard Dawson's coarse comeliness. Why
don't you save yourself, child?"

I shook my head helplessly.

"If it were anything in which money could help I would sell all I have
rather than see you marry without love."

"Money has nothing to do with it. And--it is too late to do anything."

"It would never be too late so long as you were not his wife. They are
deceived. Luke L'Estrange was the truest and most candid soul alive. Yet
what a web of lies has grown up about him. Shall I tell you, Bawn, what
Joan told me before she died?"

"If i