"
"There may be something in that," admitted Allison. "What charming
neighbours they are!" he added, in a burst of enthusiasm.
"Madame Bernard," replied the Colonel, with emphasis, "is one of the
finest women I have ever had the good fortune to meet. Miss Rose is like
her, but I have known only one other of the same sort."
"And the other was--"
"Your mother."
The Colonel pushed back his plate and went to the window. Beyond the
mountains, somewhere in "God's acre," was the little sunken grave still
enfolding a handful of sacred dust. With a sudden throb of pain, Allison
realised, for the first time in his life, that his father was an old
man. The fine, strong face, outlined clearly by the pitiless afternoon
sun, was deeply lined: the broad shoulders were stooped a little, and
the serene eyes dimmed as though by mist. In the moment he seemed to
have crossed the dividing line between maturity and age.
Allison was about to suggest that they take a walk after luncheon,
having Madame Bernard's household in mind as the ultimate object, but,
before he could speak, the Colonel had turned away from the window.
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