“Dido and I are always listening for the same foot,” she said.  “If Luke L’Estrange were to come back now, perhaps we should both die of joy.  What was it you were asking me, Bawn?  Who was it gave Luke the dog.  It was Irene Cardew, poor girl.  All the tragedy is over and done.  I don’t mind telling you, Bawn—­Irene is beyond being hurt by it—­that she was fond of Luke.  Perhaps it was my fault.  Luke had hurt me and I was angry, saying to myself that I did well to be angry.  We never do well to be angry, little Bawn, with those we love.  I thought there was plenty of time for Luke to come back and be forgiven.  But there is never plenty of time in this world.  I am sure of one thing, that he loved only me.”

“And that is a great thing to be sure of,” I said.

A servant brought out the tea-table and set it before us.  We were silent while he went to and fro bringing us the tea equipage, the bread and butter and sandwiches and hot tea-cakes.  When we were again alone my godmother poured out the tea, smiling at me across the cups.

“We must not talk any more of the old, unhappy, far-off things,” she said.  “You have heard enough, little Bawn; only take warning by the sins and follies of your elders.  Do not quarrel with Theobald, thinking there is time to make up.”

“For the matter of that,” I said, “I never feel inclined to quarrel with Theobald.  And, dear godmother, I am sure you were not hard with Uncle Luke.”

“Thank you, Bawn.  He was foolish like other young men of his class.  I had better tell you, lest you should wrong Luke in your thoughts.  He came to me when he had drunk too much.  I thought I did well for his own sake to be angry and I sent him away unforgiven.  There were many ready to comfort him, and it was not in him to rebuff a woman, especially a woman who let him see that she was in love with him.  He was often with Irene Cardew while I was angry with him.  It gave colour to the stories afterwards.”

“I know; Maureen told me.”

“No one that knew him could believe it.  It was like Jasper Tuite that he could not even die without wronging another.”

CHAPTER VIII

THE STILE IN THE WOOD

After that she changed the conversation to other things; and when I had drunk my tea and eaten with an appetite I went upstairs with her to see things she had promised to show me.

I had had no idea that they were for me.  I knew that she had a great many old and beautiful things, and from my childhood I had delighted in them.  I could remember her calling for me in her pony phaeton before Uncle Luke had left us, and she would carry me all over Castle Clody for she was a tall, strong young woman; and while she changed her dress I used to sit in the middle of her bed with the curtains of blue and silver damask falling to either side of me, and she would give me boxes of pretty things to play