She's had six of her own, and knows what it is."
Regretfully, one by one, she put the striving blind things down; then rose
and went her way into the gardens about the house. Slowly through the
kitchen gardens she passed. Glyde, thinning walled peach-trees, saw her,
felt her go. She shed her benediction upon him--"Good morning, Struan,"--
and went on. He watched her for a while, then turned fiercely to his
affair. Through dense shrubberies, over drenched lawns her way was; it led
her to the lily-pond, which lay hidden within rhododendron walls, with a
narrow cincture of grass path all about it. Dark-brown, still and
translucent like an onyx it lay before her. It was her haunt of election
when she was troubled, as now she was, when she gave herself time to
remember it.
She stood, her hands clasped before her, close to the water's brim, and
looked over the shining surface. She had never yet squarely faced her
difficulties. Her sceptre was slipping from her; her realm, usurped at
first, hers by sufferance first, but then by love of them she ruled, could
hold her but a little while more. The shadow of coming eclipse made her
eyes grow sombre. Doubt of the unknown made lax her lips.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157