"
And the miller's heart answered, "If one who has forsaken you should
come back, would you not receive him?" And then there came into his
mind a glad thought. Anne Grey might some day turn to him in trouble,
and then he would help her, and never--certainly never--reproach her.
This thought warmed his heart as he passed into the garden. How sweet
was the breath of the flowers! How their delicate shapes outlined
themselves in the twilight! There was the little arbor over which Tom
had trained the honeysuckle and blush-roses. He had often fancied Anne
sitting there in the long summer afternoons sewing and singing to
herself. Now the trailers of the rose half hid the entrance, and a bat
flew out at the sound of Tom's step. Night moths flitted hither and
thither, and winged beetles made the air vibrate with their drowsy
buzzing. The stars began to peep out one after another, and a hush
seemed to fall on the garden as if the flowers were asleep.
Then Tom stooped his tall form under the rose-trailers and entered the
arbor. There was a table in it, and a sort of fixture-seat all round.
Tom had made it himself at leisure moments. "If we have little ones,"
he had said to himself, "there will be a seat for them all." Now he
sat in the arbour alone, and the rose-trailers moved in and out with a
rustling sound.
The sounds and scents made Tom quite drowsy, and he presently imagined
he really saw and heard things which never could have happened.
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