Лето
XVIII
Forawhilethelongturmoilofthenightanddayhadslippedawayfromherandshesatwithclosedeyes,surrenderingherselftothespellofwarmthandsilence.Butpresentlythismercifulapathywassucceededbythesuddenacutenessofvisionwithwhichsickpeoplesometimeswakeoutofaheavysleep.Assheopenedhereyestheyrestedonthepicturethathungabovethebed.Itwasalargeengravingwithadazzlingwhitemarginenclosedinawideframeofbird’s-eyemaplewithaninnerscrollofgold.Theengravingrepresentedayoungmaninaboatonalakeover-hungwithtrees.Hewasleaningovertogatherwater-liliesforthegirlinalightdresswholayamongthecushionsinthestern.Thescenewasfullofadrowsymidsummerradiance,andCharityavertedhereyesfromitand,risingfromherchair,begantowanderrestlesslyabouttheroom.
Itwasonthefifthfloor,anditsbroadwindowofplateglasslookedovertheroofsofthetown.Beyondthemstretchedawoodedlandscapeinwhichthelastfiresofsunsetwerepickingoutasteelygleam.Charitygazedatthegleamwithstartledeyes.Eventhroughthegatheringtwilightsherecognizedthecontourofthesofthillsencirclingit,andthewaythemeadowsslopedtoitsedge.ItwasNettletonLakethatshewaslookingat.
Shestoodalongtimeinthewindowstaringoutatthefadingwater.Thesightofithadrousedherforthefirsttimetoarealizationofwhatshehaddone.Eventhefeelingoftheringonherhandhadnotbroughtherthissharpsenseoftheirretrievable.
