Yes, marriage would open out a new
life and in the splendid home to which the Senator would be only too
happy to welcome her, she would forget this new and detestable
religion.
He summoned Virgilia to him in his own private room, the most
comfortable in the house, because it opened upon the street, had light
and air, was hung with rich silks in green and white and provided with
chairs and couches, having soft cushions. On the floor were rugs, the
work of the Old One's hands, during these long years. Day by day, hour
by hour, the woman had drawn the threads through the warp, inventing
the designs, forming beautiful figures with tints that harmonized.
Here were the faints-colors of the ever-varying opal; the bright blue
of the turquoise, the rose hues of the blossoms on the tea-rose, the
aqua-marine tints of the Mediterranean Sea. Truly oriental they were,
giving a hint of the Eastern origin of the Old One. Like some
godmother in the fairy tale, like some ancient wife of mythological
times, the Old One had wrought into these designs her own life.
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