CHAPTER XXXIX
THE BRIDEGROOM COMES
About the last week of February my joy came home. I remember that it was
exquisite weather, the blackbird singing his passionate song in the bare
boughs fit to break your heart with its beauty. There were high, white,
shining clouds on the blue, and the mountains were grey-lavender. The
wall-flower clumps were in bloom in the courtyard of the Abbey, and
there were many primroses and delicate primulas in the garden; and all
the hyacinths were out withindoors, making a delicious smell.
I went to meet my joy with a heart in which there was no sorrow. Richard
Dawson was out of danger, and little Robin Ardaragh's case had proved to
be merely chicken-pox. I met them out driving, and Robin was on his
mother's knee, and his father was looking at the pair as though the
world contained nothing else. They pulled up when they saw me; and Lady
Ardaragh cried out to me--
"Bawn, Bawn, I am the happiest woman alive."
"And I the happiest man," said Sir Arthur, seriously. "Would you believe
it, Miss Devereux, that she thought I cared more for my books than for
her? As though anything could give me consolation without her!"
Then Lady Ardaragh cried out that they were a pair of egotists and
pulled me down to kiss her, saying that she wished me joy, for every one
knew by this time that Anthony Cardew was my lover and was coming home
to me.
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