Sonnet to a Dead Contessa by Gilbert Morris Page B

worshipping and serving God. Usually when she thought of this, she put it aside quickly, for she had long ago put God out of her scheme of things.
    Margaret was not finished, however, and for the next fifteen minutes she sat there talking about how she longed for a walk with God, and she finally said, “I’m going to one of the services at the house there to listen to Lorenzo preach. I think I would like it.”
    “Well, you’ll certainly hear it. He’s very loud, but he is a fine man. They helped me greatly when I thought David was in danger. They gave up everything and came and stood guard over him.”
    “That is wonderful. I wish you didn’t have to go, Serafina, but I know you’re tired.” She got up, and Serafina rose with her. Suddenly Margaret came forward, embraced Serafina, and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re my dearest friend, Serafina. I treasure our friendship more than you’ll ever know.”
    Serafina was touched. She smiled and said, “That’s the way I feel, Margaret.”
    David came in, begging to stay for the night, but Serafina said firmly, “Charles and Roger are coming to spend the entire weekend with you next week. Come along now.”
    The two of them left, with Margaret going out to the carriage to see them off. She gave Serafina a hug. “Good night, my dear.”
    “Good night, Margaret. It’s been a wonderful day.”
    “Indeed, it has! We’ll do it again next week.”
    Serafina got into the carriage with David and leaned out the window to wave to her friend. “I’ll see you soon,” she called out, and was rewarded with a smile from Margaret. She settled down in her seat and felt a sudden thankfulness that she had such a friend. But her next thought was of Meredith Brice and how she had looked with such adoration at Dylan.

SEVEN
    A bar of golden sunlight streamed through the window from Serafina’s right, illuminating the study with its clear, pure light. She glanced around and thought, not for the first time, how pleasant this room was. She loved books, and the study had been one of her favourite rooms since early childhood.
    Two walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling. In front of that wall was a large oak desk with an orderly stack of papers on it and a small plain lamp. A green leather wing chair was nearly drawn up to it, two others on the far side of the desk. On each side of the fireplace was a massive portrait. One was of her father in full dress with his hair combed, for once. The other was of her mother, who wore a long, sweeping green gown and stood by a short Corinthian column that held a vase of red roses. Both portraits were excellent likenesses and expertly done.
    A small sound from David caused Serafina to turn her head quickly and study the boy. Even as she did, she thought of how this world held nothing more treasured to her heart than this small boy. She smiled at the studious look that wrinkled his brow, and, as usual when he was thinking deeply, he took his right ear-lobe and tugged at it as if trying to separate his ear from his head.
    The ormolu clock on the mantel over the fireplace sounded its steady ticking, and from outside the sound of a sweet birdsong drifted in, mellow and soft. The only other sound was the voice of one of the maids, dimmed by the closed door, and from far off the sound of a dog, probably Napoleon, barking steadily.
    Finally David reached out tentatively and moved one of the draughts. He loved the game of draughts, known to the Americans as checkers, and he suddenly looked up at her and smiled brilliantly. “I’ve got you, Mum!” he cried.
    For one instant Serafina could not speak. He looked so much like his father, and, as always, a slight fear touched her spirit as she had a faint premonition that he might turn out to be like the man she had married. But then he smiled, and the sweetness of it drove the fear from her heart. “Well, I don’t think you do. I’ll just move here.”
    Instantly David crowed and, reaching