It was an urgent tapping on the wall from Mrs. Harcourt’s side, and she
was speaking as she tapped. With half-opened eyes Miriam grew aware of
darkness, half-darkness of early morning, and listened through the
companion darkness within her of the knowledge that this was her last
whole day, to this strange clamour from the lady whose nightly presence
at her side had been for so long forgotten.
“Look out of ve window!”
Sitting up in bed she saw hanging in mid-air just outside the window a
huge crimson lamp, circular in a blue darkness. Sleepily she cried her
thanks and leaped awake to dwell with the strange spectacle, the gently
startling picture, in its sudden huge nearness, of the loveliness of
space. The little distant moon, enormous and rosy in blue mist, seemed
to float in the blue as in blue water, seemed to have floated close in
sheer unearthly kindliness, to comfort her thoughts on this last day
with something new and strange.
The day passed with heartless swiftness, savourless. Full of charms
whose spell failed under the coming loss.