BY MRS. E. LYNN LINTON, AUTHOR OF "PATRICIA KEMBALL."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
UNWORTHY.
The storm had passed with the night, and the day was bright and
joyful--almost hard in its brightness and cruel in its joy; for while
the sun was shining overhead and the air was musical with the hum of
insects and the song of birds, the flowers were broken, the tender
plants destroyed, the uncut corn was laid as if a troop of horse had
trampled down the crops, and the woods, like the gardens and the fields,
were wrecked and spoiled. But of all the mourners sighing between earth
and sky, Nature is the one that never repents, and the sun shines out
over the saddest ruin as it shines out over the richest growth, as
careless of the one as of the other.
Edgar came down from the Hill in the sunshine, handsome, strong, jocund
as the day. As he rode through the famous double avenue of chestnuts he
thought, What a glorious day! how clear and full of life after the
storm! but he noted the wreckage too, and was concerned to see how the
trees and fields had suffered. Still, the one would put forth new
branches and fresh leaves next year; and if the other had been roughly
handled, there was yet a salvage to be garnered. The ruin was not
irreparable, and he was in the mood to make the best of things. Do not
the first days of a happy love ever give the happiest kind of philosophy
for man and woman to go on?
And he was happy in his love.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188