But it was the other room I entered first, and it was by my sister's side that I fell upon my knees.

The rounded completeness of a woman's life that was my mother's had not been for her.

She would not have it at the price.
'I'll never leave you, mother.'-- 'Fine I know you'll never leave me.' The fierce joy of loving too much, it is a terrible thing.

My sister's mouth was firmly closed, as if she had got her way.
And now I am left without them, but I trust my memory will ever go back to those happy days, not to rush through them, but dallying here and there, even as my mother wanders through my books.

And if I also live to a time when age must dim my mind and the past comes sweeping back like the shades of night over the bare road of the present it will not, I believe, be my youth I shall see but hers, not a boy clinging to his mother's skirt and crying, 'Wait till I'm a man, and you'll lie on feathers,' but a little girl in a magenta frock and a white pinafore, who comes toward me through the long parks, singing to herself, and carrying her father's dinner in a flagon.
* * * * * THE END * * * * * * * * * * Edinburgh: T.and A.CONSTABLE Printers to Her Majesty ***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARGARET OGILVY*** ******* This file should be named 342.txt or 342.zip ******* This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/342 Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed.
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