Great Possessions | Page 8

had gone; they were both honestly sorry it had gone, and would
have taken any reasonable means to get it back again. Only Rose
allowed that possibly there might have been some claim in justice on
the woman's part; she could not frame her lips to use the words again.
Without "legal wife" or any such terms passing between them, they
were really arguing the point. Lady Charlton had not the faintest
shadow of a doubt "the woman was a wicked woman, and the wicked
woman, as wicked women do, had entrapped a" (the adjective was
conspicuous by its absence) "a man." Such a woman was to be forgiven,
even--a bitter sigh could not be suppressed--to be prayed for; but it was
not necessary to try to take a falsely charitable view of her, or invent
unlikely circumstances in her defence. It was a relief to the darkest of
all dark thoughts in Rose's mind, the doubt of the validity of her own
marriage, to hear her mother settling this question as she had settled so
many questions years ago, by the weight of personal authority.
At last the clock on the stairs below told them that it was two in the
morning, and Lady Charlton had to leave London by an early train. She
was torn between the claim of her youngest married daughter, who was
laid up in a lonely country house in Scotland, and that of Rose in this
new and miserable trouble.
"I could telegraph to Bertha that I can't come," she said suddenly. "But
I am afraid she would miss me."
"No, no," murmured Rose firmly, "Bertha needs you most now; you
must go," and then, fearing her mother might think she did not want her
quite, quite enough, "I shall look forward to your coming back soon,
very soon."
"Could you--could you come and sleep in my room, Rose?" They were
standing up by the fireplace now.
"If you like mother, only it will be worse for me to-morrow night."
They both looked away from the fire round the room--the room that
had been hers since the first days after the honeymoon.
Then at the same moment Lady Charlton opened her arms and Rose

drew within them, and leant her fair head on her mother's shoulder. So
they stood for a few moments in absolute stillness.
"God bless you, my child," and Rose was left, as she wished, alone.
CHAPTER III
"AS YOU HOPE TO BE FORGIVEN"
Two months passed, and at last the War Office received a parcel for
Lady Rose Bright. It had been sent to headquarters by the next officer
in command under Sir David, who had met his own fate a few weeks
later. Rose received the parcel at tea-time, brought to her by a mounted
messenger from the War Office.
A great calm had settled in Rose's soul during these weeks. She had
met her trouble alone and standing. At first, all had been utter darkness
and bitter questioning. Then the questioning had ceased. Even the wish
to have things clear to her mind and to know why she should have this
particular trial was silenced, and in the completeness of submission she
had come back to life and to peace. Nothing was solved, nothing made
clear, but she was again in the daylight. But when she received the little
parcel in its thick envelope she trembled excessively. It was addressed
in a handwriting she had never seen before. She could not for some
moments force herself to open it. When she did she drew out a faded
photograph, a diamond ring, and a sheet of paper with writing in ink.
The photograph was of Sir David as quite a young man--she had never
seen it before; the ring had one very fine diamond, and that she had
never seen before. On the paper was written in his own hand.--
"This will be brought to you if I die in battle. Forgive me, as you too
hope to be forgiven. Justice had to be done. I have tried to make it as
little painful as I could."
That was all. There was nothing else in the envelope. She took up the
photograph, she took up the ring, and examined them in turn. It was so
strange, this very remarkable diamond, which she had never seen
before, sent to her as if it were a matter of course. He had never worn

much jewellery, and he had left in her care the few seals and rings he
possessed. Then the photograph of her husband as a young man, so
much younger than when she had known him. Why send it to her now?
What had she to do with this remote past? But the paper was the most
astonishing of all. She