I'm a Cresswell yet, Nell, a Cresswell and a gen--" He
swayed. Vainly he struggled for the word. The shudder of death shook his
soul, and he passed.
A week after the funeral of Colonel Cresswell, John Taylor drove out to
the school and was closeted with Miss Smith. His sister, installed once
again for a few days in her old room at the school, understood that he
was conferring about Emma's legacy, and she was glad. She was more and
more convinced that the marriage of Emma and Bles was the best possible
solution of many difficulties. She had asked Emma once if she liked
Bles, and Emma had replied in her innocent way,
"Oh, so much."
As for Bles, he was often saying what a dear child Emma was. Neither
perhaps realized yet that this was love, but it needed, Mrs. Cresswell
was sure, only the lightning-flash, and they would know. And who could
furnish that illumination better than Zora, the calm, methodical Zora,
who knew them so well?
As for herself, once she had accomplished the marriage and paid the
mortgage on the school out of her legacy, she would go abroad and in
travel seek forgetfulness and healing. There had been no formal divorce,
and so far as she was concerned there never would be; but the separation
from her husband and America would be forever.
Her brother came out of the office, nodded casually, for they had little
intercourse these days, and rode away.
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