The path passed this erection and went
on to the house as well as to the gardener's cottage on the other
side, straggling thence to East Endelstow; so that Stephen felt no
hesitation in entering a promenade which could scarcely be called
private.
He fancied that he heard the gate open and swing together again
behind him. Turning, he saw nobody.
The people of the boat came to the summer-house. One of them
spoke.
'I am afraid we shall get a scolding for being so late.'
Stephen instantly recognised the familiar voice, richer and fuller
now than it used to be. 'Elfride!' he whispered to himself, and
held fast by a sapling, to steady himself under the agitation her
presence caused him. His heart swerved from its beat; he shunned
receiving the meaning he sought.
'A breeze is rising again; how the ash tree rustles!' said
Elfride. 'Don't you hear it? I wonder what the time is.'
Stephen relinquished the sapling.
I will get a light and tell you. Step into the summer-house; the
air is quiet there.'
The cadence of that voice--its peculiarity seemed to come home to
him like that of some notes of the northern birds on his return to
his native clime, as an old natural thing renewed, yet not
particularly noticed as natural before that renewal.
They entered the Belvedere. In the lower part it was formed of
close wood-work nailed crosswise, and had openings in the upper by
way of windows.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332