walked enough at night as it is,” said Mrs. Irving, and the girl excused herself on account of her household duties. He clattered down the steps, banged the [Pg 55]gate, and went whistling down the elm-bordered path. The mother listened, fondly, till the cheery notes died away in the distance. “Bless his heart,” she said to herself, “how fine and strong he is and how much I love him!” [Pg 55] The house seemed to wait while its guardian spirit slept. Left to herself, Margaret paced to and fro; down the long hall, then back, through the parlour and library, and so on, restlessly, until she reflected that she might possibly disturb Aunt Peace. A love-lorn robin, in the overhanging boughs of the maple at the gate, was unsuccessfully courting a disdainful lady who sat on the topmost twig and paid no attention to him. From the distant orchard came the breath of apple blooms, and a single bluebird winged his solitary way across the fields, his colour gleaming brightly for an instant against the silvery clouds. Beautiful as it was, Margaret sighed, and her face lost its serenity. A bit of verse sang itself through her memory again and again. “Who wins his love shall lose her, Who loses her shall gain, For still the spirit wooes her, A soul without a stain, [Pg 56]And memory still pursues her With longings not in vain. Who loses her shall gain, A soul without a stain, [Pg 56] With longings not in vain. “In dreams she grows not older The lands of Dream among; Though all the world wax colder, Though all the songs be sung, In dreams doth he behold her— Still fair and kind and young.” The lands of Dream among; Though all the songs be sung, Still fair and kind and young.” “Dreams,” she murmured, “empty dreams, while your soul starves.”
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