Would the miracle solve this? It must. It was the only thing left to
hope for. In the shelter of the great dam she could wait serene.
And then came Harriet, and the pressure behind the dam rose higher.
Rose had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to realize, when during the
earlier days of her marriage she had heard Harriet talked about, that
there was actually in existence another woman who occupied, by blood
anyway, the same position toward Rodney and herself that Frederica did.
She felt almost like a real sister toward Frederica. But without quite
putting the notion into words, she had always felt it was just as well
that Harriet was an Italian _contessa_ four thousand miles away. Rodney
and Frederica spoke of her affectionately, to be sure, but their
references made a picture of a rather formidably correct, seriously
aristocratic sort of person. Harriet had always had, Rose could see, a
very effective voice in the family councils. She hadn't much of a mind,
perhaps; Rodney described it once as a small, well oiled, easy running
sort of mind that stitched away without misgivings, to its conclusions.
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