Burrage's roof; she had said, too, that she believed her mother
would die happy (not that there was the least prospect of Mrs. Tarrant's
dying) if she could hear of her having such an experience as that; and
yet, perceiving how solemn Olive looked about it, how she blanched and
brooded at the prospect, she had offered to give it up, with a smile
sweeter, if possible, than any that had ever sat in her eyes. Olive knew
what that meant for her, knew what a power of enjoyment she still had,
in spite of the tension of their common purpose, their vital work, which
had now, as they equally felt, passed into the stage of realisation, of
fruition; and that is why her conscience rather pricked her for
consenting to this further act of renunciation, especially as their
position seemed really so secure, on the part of one who had already
given herself away so sublimely.
Secure as their position might be, Olive called herself a blind idiot
for having, in spite of all her first shrinkings, agreed to bring Verena
to New York. Verena had jumped at the invitation, the very
unexpectedness of which on Mrs. Burrage's part--it was such an odd idea
to have come to a mere worldling--carried a kind of persuasion with it.
Olive's immediate sentiment had been an instinctive general fear; but,
later, she had dismissed that as unworthy; she had decided (and such a
decision was nothing new) that where their mission was concerned they
ought to face everything.
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