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Chapter 22

           IknewMavisClarewasaway—anditwasnotstrangethattheaspectofherhome-nestemphasizedthefactofherabsence.Aclusterofclimbingroseshangingfromthewall,lookedasiftheywerelisteningforthefirstsoundofherreturningfootsteps;acrossthegreenbreadthofthelawnwhereIhadseenherplayingwithherdogs,atallsheafofStJohn’sliliesstoodupwhiteagainstthesky,theirpureheartsopenedtothestar-lightandthebreeze.Thescentofhoney-suckleandsweet-briarfilledtheairwithdelicatesuggestions—andasIleanedoverthelowfence,gazingvaguelyatthelongshadowsofthetreesonthegrass,anightingalebegantosing.Thesweetyetdolorouswarbleofthe‘littlebrownloverofthemoon,’palpitatedonthesilenceinsilver-toneddropsofmelody;andIlistened,tillmyeyessmartedwithasuddenmoistureasoftears.Strangelyenough,IneverthoughtofmybetrothedbrideSibylthen,assurely,byalltheprecedentsofpassion,Ishouldhavedoneatsuchamomentofdreamfulecstasy.Itwasanotherwoman’sfacethatfloatedbeforemymemory;—afacenotbeautiful—butmerelysweet—andmaderadiantbythelightoftwotender,wistful,wonderfullyinnocenteyes—afacelikethatofsomenewDaphnewiththemysticlaurelspringingfromherbrows.

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