Good Books

They looked back
once or twice, always to see the slender, tall white figure standing
there like an angel resting in a bower of roses, with the sunshine
flashing on a golden crown of hair. At the last in the pathway Philip
raised his hat and waved it, but whether she condescended to wave her
hand in answer he could not see.
Left alone, she sighed, and went slowly into the house to resume her
spinning. Hearing the whirr of the wheel, the servant Britta entered.
"You are not going in the boat, Froeken?" she asked in a tone of mingled
deference and affection.
Thelma looked up, smiled faintly, and shook her head in the negative.
"It is late, Britta, and I am tired."
And the deep blue eyes had an intense dreamy light within them as they
wandered from the wheel to the wide-open window, and rested on the
majestic darkness of the overshadowing, solemn pines.


CHAPTER VII.
"In mezzo del mio core c' e una spina;
Non c' e barbier che la possa levare,--
Solo il mio amore colla sua manina"
_Rime Popolari.


Pages:
129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153