She was weeping, or on the point of weeping, and she could not
trust herself to speak. Rowland left his place and wandered to another
part of the garden, wondering at the motive of her sudden tears. Of
women's sobs in general he had a sovereign dread, but these, somehow,
gave him a certain pleasure. When he returned to his place Miss Garland
had raised her head and banished her tears. She came away from Mrs.
Hudson, and they stood for a short time leaning against the parapet.
"It seems to you very strange, I suppose," said Rowland, "that there
should be any trouble in such a world as this."
"I used to think," she answered, "that if any trouble came to me I would
bear it like a stoic. But that was at home, where things don't speak to
us of enjoyment as they do here. Here it is such a mixture; one does n't
know what to choose, what to believe. Beauty stands there--beauty such
as this night and this place, and all this sad, strange summer, have
been so full of--and it penetrates to one's soul and lodges there, and
keeps saying that man was not made to suffer, but to enjoy. This place
has undermined my stoicism, but--shall I tell you? I feel as if I were
saying something sinful--I love it!"
"If it is sinful, I absolve you," said Rowland, "in so far as I have
power.
Pages:
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559