and so the knots the fates had twisted were unravelled, and the threads re-woven into the beautiful pattern of joy and gladness, love and friendship.

one day paul took sara down to hampshire to see his mother, a white-haired old lady with a wrinkled face and a peaceful mouth, and eyes like paul’s. she took sara at once to her heart.

“dearie,” she said, “my boy has had a lonely life, and i thank god he has found a woman like you to fill it.”

and sara in her turn loved the old lady, not only for paul’s sake, but for her own. and she loved the little cottage where she lived, and she loved the old-fashioned garden with its box-edged paths, and flower-beds in which a few late autumn flowers still lingered. the rooms in the cottage were small, but all as dainty and clean as porcelain, and fragrant with the scent of lavender and potpourri. she showed sara the bedrooms with their old chintz curtains before the casement windows, and the frilly dressing-tables, and white-valanced beds. they had each the effect of a [pg 305]dresden china shepherdess—the tiniest bit stiff, but extraordinarily dainty. she showed her her store cupboard with its pots of jam, marmalade, and pickles, and she promised her a recipe for curing hams and another for making oat cake.

and sara told her how to make spaghetti, and told her it was the first dish she had ever cooked for paul. and in the evening when they went away she took with her a great bunch of michaelmas daisies. and mrs. treherne kissed her and blessed her, for she knew that the next day she was to be paul’s wife.

the reception was to be held in miss mason’s studio by special request from paul and sara. sara felt that already the house on the embankment was hers no longer.

there were to be few guests at the wedding—only the other artists of the courtyard, bridget, christopher, andrew, and the two executors of giuseppe’s will, who would bring with them the important letter whose secret would be at last disclosed. the journey and the fatigue of the ceremony, however quiet, would have been too much for mrs. treherne. sara’s own father and mother had been dead several years. christopher was to give away the bride, and barnabas was to be best man.

and so the day dawned, a still, november day of soft mists and a pale blue sky—a tender day full of peace and happiness.

christopher went to the house on the embankment to fetch sara. she was waiting in the drawing-room for him, in a sapphire-blue dress, a large black hat, and her soft sable furs.

“ready?” said christopher, smiling. and they went down the stairs together.

pietro was in the hall. his face was radiant with pleasure. paul and sara had arranged to keep him in their service.

“good-bye,” said sara. “we’ll let you know when we return to london. you will of course hand over the keys of the house to the executors when they ask for them.”

“yes, your grace. good fortune and happiness to your grace.”

“thank you, pietro,” said sara. and then she passed through the door he held open for her, and went down the steps to the taxi, christopher following.

“christopher,” said sara a moment or two after they had started, “you’ve been a very good friend to me, and i’d like to thank you.”

“no occasion to do so,” said christopher imperturbably. “the friendship has been mutual, and i hope will still continue.”

“of course,” said sara. “that was one thing i wanted to say to you. my love for paul doesn’t make the least difference in my friendship for you. you will be exactly the same to me, as i shall be, i hope, to you.”

“agreed,” said christopher, holding out his hand with a smile. but he knew that it never would be quite the same again. her marriage with guiseppe had made no difference, her marriage with paul would. and with the knowledge christopher had suddenly realized what he was losing. he was like a man who had had a jewel in a box, looking at it always in one position, and it was not till he took it in his hand to give it to another that it suddenly flashed upon him in a new light, and he saw colours and depths in it hitherto unperceived, and a longing to keep it took possession of him. but the deed was already virtually signed and witnessed, the power to keep it lost, and so he hid what he was feeling, and his manner towards her held nothing but his old courtliness, his old friendship. the pain the new knowledge had brought him must be his alone.

and as the taxi stopped at the door of the church he helped sara to alight, and gave her his arm to lead her up the steps, and up the aisle to the other man who was waiting for her.