From the distant sea had
come a breath of air, cool enough to be felt with gratitude, yet so
faint as neither to disturb the dry pulsation of myriad insect-voices,
nor to blur the square mirrors of distant rice-fields, still tropically
blue or icy with reflected clouds.
Miss Drake paused on the knoll, and looked about her.
"This remains the same, doesn't it, for all our troubles?" she said;
then to herself, slowly, "'It is a beauteous evening, calm and free.'"
Heywood made no pretense of following her look.
"'Dear Nun,'" he blurted; "no, how does it go again?--'dear child, that
walkest with me here--'"
The girl started down the slope, with the impatience of one whose mood
is frustrated. The climate had robbed her cheeks of much color, but not,
it seemed, of all.
"Your fault," said Heywood, impenitent. "Merely to show you. I could
quote, once."
"Aged Man!" She laughed, as though glad of this turn. "I like you better
in prose. Go on, please, where we left off. What did you do then?"
Heywood's smile, half earnest, half mischievous, obediently faded.
"Oh, that! Why, then, of course, I discharged Rudolph's gatekeeper, put
a trusty of my own in his place, sent out to hire a diver, and turned
all hands to hunting.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182