must go.” He did not hear, and it was Fräulein Fredrika who went to the door with them. “Franz is thinking,” she whispered. “He is often like that. He will be most sorry when he learns that you have gone.” “This way,” said Iris, when they reached the street. They went to the brow of the cliff and looked once more across the shadowed valley to the luminous ranges of the everlasting hills. She turned away at last, thrilled to the depths of her soul. “Come,” she whispered, “we must go back.” They walked softly, as though they feared to disturb someone in the little house, but [Pg 80]there was no sound from within nor any light save at the window, where the light of dreams streamed over the Master’s face and made it young. [Pg 80] [Pg 81] [Pg 81] VI A Letter Roses rioted through East Lancaster and made the gardens glorious with bloom. The year was at its bridal and every chalice was filled with fragrant incense. Bees, powdered with pollen, hummed slowly back and forth, and the soft whir of unnumbered gossamer wings came in drowsy melody from the distant clover fields. R “June,” sang Iris to herself, “June—Oh June, sweet June!” She was getting ready for her daily trip to the post-office. Once in a great while there would be a letter there for Aunt Peace or Mrs. Irving. Lynn also had an intermittent correspondent or two, but the errand usually proved fruitless. Still, since Mrs. Irving’s letter had lain nearly two weeks in Miss Field’s box, uncalled for, it had been a point of honour with Iris to see that such a thing did not happen again. [Pg 82] [Pg 82] Books and papers were supplied in abundance by the local circulating library, and the high bookcases at Miss Field’s were well filled with standard literature. Iris read everything she could lay her hands upon. Mere print exercised a certain
Prev.
Back
Top