Over The Bar

As a flower may bloom in a night, joy returned to Madame Bernard's house after long absence. There was no outward sign, for Rose was still quiet and self-controlled, but her face was a shade less pale and there was a tremulous music in her voice.

Isabel had ceased to limp, but still dwelt upon the shock and its lingering effects. She amused herself in her own way, reading paper- covered novels, feasting upon chocolates, teasing Mr. Boffin, and playing solitaire. Madame remarked to Rose that Isabel seemed to have a cosmic sense of time.

The guest never came down-stairs till luncheon was announced, and did not trouble herself to make an elaborate, or even appropriate toilet. Madame began to wonder how long Isabel intended to remain and to see the wisdom of the modern fashion of appointing the hour of departure in the invitation.

Yet, as she said to herself rather grimly, she would have invited Isabel to remain through the Summer, and perhaps, in the early Autumn she might return to town of her own accord. Moreover, there appeared to be no graceful way of requesting an invited guest to leave.

Though Madame was annoyed by the mere fact of Isabel's presence, she had ceased to distress Rose, who dwelt now in a world apart from the others. She spent her afternoons at the other house, playing softly downstairs, reading to Allison, or talking to him of the brilliant future that she insisted was to be his.