s where you
began to be a bad boy; and you began before you can remember. Did
you never see these things before? They were your first
soldiers--I have left them to Dent. And here are some of Dent's
things that I have left to you. For one thing, his castanets. His
father and I never knew why he cried for castanets. He said that
Dent by all the laws of spiritual inheritance from his side should
be wanting the timbrel and harp--Biblical influence, you
understand; but that my influence interfered and turned timbrel and
harp into castanets. Do you remember the day when you ran away
with Dent and took him to a prize fight? After that you wanted
boxing-gloves, and Dent was crazy for a sponge. You fought him,
and he sponged you. Here is the sponge; I do not know where the
gloves are. And here are some things that belong to both of you;
they are mine; they go with me." She laid her hand on a little box
wrapped and tied, then quickly shut the closet.

In a room especially fragrant with lavender she opened a press in
the wall and turned her face away from him for a moment.

"This is my bridal dress. This was my bridal veil; it has been the
bridal veil of girls in my family for a good many generations.
These were my slippers; you see I had a large foot; but it was well
shaped--it was a woman's foot. That was my vanity--not to have a
little foot. I leave these things to you both. I hope each of you
may have a daughter to wear the dress and the veil." For the first
time she dashed some tears from her eyes. "I look to my sons for
sons and daughters."

It was near sunset when they stood again at the foot of the
staircase. She was white and tired, but her spirit refused to be
conquered.

"I think I shall He down now," she said, "so I shall say good night
to you here, Rowan. Fix the tray for me yourself, pour me out some
tea, and butter me a roll." They stood looking into each other's
eyes. She saw things in his which caused her suddenly to draw his
forehead over and press her lips to one and then to the other,
again and again.

The sun streamed through the windows, level and red, lighting up
the darkened hall, lighting up the head and shoulders of his mother.

An hour later he sat at the head of his table alone--a table
arranged for two instead of three. At the back of his chair waited
the aged servitor of the household, gray-haired, discreet, knowing
many things about earlier days on which rested the sea