Aunt Margaret was
especially eloquent on the subject. "There isn't a room left," she
said; "was ever anything so unfortunate! We cannot put Lady
Speldhurst into the turrets, and yet where IS she to sleep? And
Rosa's godmother, too! Poor, dear child, how dreadful! After all
these years of estrangement, and with a hundred thousand in the
funds, and no comfortable, warm room at her own unlimited disposal--
and Christmas, of all times in the year!" What WAS to be done?
My aunts could not resign their own chambers to Lady Speldhurst,
because they had already given them up to some of the married
guests. My father was the most hospitable of men, but he was
rheumatic, gouty, and methodical. His sisters-in-law dared not
propose to shift his quarters; and, indeed, he would have far
sooner dined on prison fare than have been translated to a strange
bed. The matter ended in my giving up my room. I had a strange
reluctance to making the offer, which surprised myself. Was it a
boding of evil to come? I cannot say. We are strangely and
wonderfully made. It MAY have been. At any rate, I do not think
it was any selfish unwillingness to make an old and infirm lady
comfortable by a trifling sacrifice.
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