Saraband for Two Sisters

“These skirts have been in contact with earth, sister. That’s clear enough.” She was thoughtful for less than a second then she said, “Oh, I know. It was when I was out yesterday. There was a lovely pool and it was so peaceful I had the urge to sit by it for a while, so I dismounted and sat there.”

“You ought not to have done that ... and alone. Suppose someone ... some man... ?”

She laughed at me and turned away.

“We’ve got to grow up one day, Angelet,” she said, brushing the skirt. “That’s what it was,” she went on, and hung the skirts in a cupboard. “And what are you doing examining my things?”

“I wasn’t examining them. I thought they were mine.”

“Well, now you know they’re not.”

She turned away and I was puzzled.

The following day a strange thing happened. It was midday and we were at dinner in the great hall, for Aunt Melanie said that as there were so many of us it was better to take our meals there rather than in the dining parlor, which was used for a smaller company.

There had always been a big table at Castle Paling. Grandfather Casvellyn had set the custom for hearty eating and Connell had followed it. In our house my father’s family had been more abstemious and although there had been plenty of food in our larders should visitors call unexpectedly, we did not consume the large meals which they did at Castle Paling. Aunt Melanie took great pride in her stillroom and she had Melder to help her and was constantly urging us to try some delicacy or other which she or Melder had concocted from old recipes with little additions of their own.

My mother and Aunt Melanie were discussing the rival properties of the herbs they both grew with such assiduous care, and Aunt Melanie was saying how she had discovered that a solution acquired from the juice of buttercups gave Rozen such a fit of sneezing that it had cleared her head of a very unpleasant cold from which she was suffering, when we heard sound of arrival from without.

“Visitors,” said Uncle Connell, looking along the table from his end to where Aunt Melanie was seated.

“I wonder who?” she answered.

One of the servants came running in. “Travelers from afar, my lady,” said the man.

Aunt Melanie rose and hurried out of the hall, Uncle Connell following her. We at the table heard cries of amazement and in a short time my uncle and aunt reappeared and with them were two women-and in that first moment I was aware of their unusual appearance. I often think looking back, that life should prepare us in some way, that when events occur which are the forerunner of great changes which will affect our lives we should be given a little nudge, some warning, some premonition. But it rarely happens so, and as I sat at the table and looked at the newcomers-one a woman of my mother’s age and with her another of my own, or a little older-I was quite unaware that their coming was going to prove one of the most momentous events of our lives.

Aunt Melanie was crying out: “Tamsyn. You know who this is. Senara!” My mother stood up; she turned first pale and then rosy red. She stared for a few minutes before she and the elder of the two women rushed toward each other and embraced. They were laughing and I could see that my mother was near to tears. She gripped the stranger’s shoulders and they looked searchingly at each other. “Senara!” cried my mother. ‘What happened?”

‘Too much to tell yet,” answered the woman. “Oh, it is good to see you ... good to be here... .” She threw back her hood and shook out magnificent black hair. “It’s not changed ... not one little bit. And you... you’re still the old Tamsyn.”

“And this-“ “This is my daughter. Carlotta, come and meet Tamsyn - the dealest sister of my childhood.” Then the girl called Carlotta came to my mother, who was about to embrace her when the girl held back and swept a low curtsy. Even then I was struck by her infinite grace. She was very foreign-looking with hair as dark as her mother’s and long oval eyes so heavily fringed with black lashes that even in that moment I couldn’t help noticing them. Her face was very pale except for vividly red lips and the blackness of her eyes.

“Your daughter... . My dear Senara. Oh, this is wonderful. You must have so much to tell.” She looked round at us. “My girls are here, too.»

“So you married Fennimore.”

“Yes, I married Fennimore.”

“And lived happy ever after.”

“I am very happy. Angelet, Bersaba...”

We rose from the table and went to our mother.

“Twins!” said Senara. There was a lilt of laughter in her voice which I had noticed from the first, “Oh, Tamsyn-you with twins!”

“I have a son, too. He is five years older than the twins.”

Senara took my left hand and Bersaba’s right and studied us intently. “Your mother and I were as sisters ... all our childhood until we were parted. Carlotta, come and meet these two children who are already dear to me because of their mother.” Carlotta’s gaze was appraising, I thought. She bowed gracefully to us.

“You have ridden far,” said Melanie.