Her eyes beamed her health and pleasure. "Oh,
Struan," she said, "do come and see the _Susianas_. They are on the very
point of opening. Do come. There's nobody about. They've gone down to the
river."
He could not face her, knowing what he knew. But he could not resist her
either. "I'll come," he said, and followed her.
She went gaily and eagerly. "You've never done so well with them as this
year. I counted a dozen. Huge! I felt rather miserable this morning; I've
been worried rather. I thought I would just see what they would do for me.
They made me feel ashamed of myself. Their strength, their contentedness--
just to grow, and be strong and well! Nothing more. What else ought we to
want? Food--the sun--strength to grow! Isn't that enough?" She was echoing
Senhouse here, and felt an added glow to remember it. He had been much in
her thoughts since her last exchange with Chevenix.
Out of the warm brown soil, sheltered by the eaves, the iris clump made a
brave show. Its leaves like grey scimitars, its great flower-stems like
spears. Stiffly they reared, erect, smooth, well-rounded, and each was
crowned with the swollen bud of promise. She displayed them proudly, she
counted them, made him check her counting.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183