'Yellow? Yes, certainly. You will look like a marigold. Henrietta--'
She did not know what she was going to say, but she wanted to detain
the girl for a little longer, she hoped for another chance of drawing
nearer. 'Henrietta, wait a minute.' She moved to her dressing-table,
smiling at what she was about to do. It seemed as though she were
going to bribe the girl to love her, but she was only yielding to the
pathetic human desire to give something tangible since the intangible
was ignored. 'When I was twenty-one,' she said, 'your father gave me a
present.'
'Only when you were twenty-one?'
'Well,' Rose excused him, 'we didn't know each other very well. He was
a great deal from home, but he remembered my twenty-first birthday and
he gave me this necklace. I think it's beautiful, but I never wear it
now, and I think you may like to have it. Here it is, in its own box
and with the card he wrote--"A jewel for a rose."'
Holding it in her cupped hands, Henrietta murmured with delight: 'May
I have it really? How lovely! And may I have the card, too? He did say
nice things. Are you sure you can spare the card? I expect he admired
you very much. He liked beautiful women. My mother was pretty, too;
but I don't believe he ever gave her anything except a wedding-ring,
and he had to give her that.'
'Oh, Henrietta--well, his daughter shall have all he gave me.'
'If you're sure you don't want it. What are the stones?'
'Topaz and diamonds; but so small that you can wear them.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202