Those things that still smacked of winter were all
rusty about her, and those things that already relished of the spring
had put forth the tender and lively colours of the season. Even in the
unchanging face of the death-stone, changes were to be remarked; and in
the channeled lettering, the moss began to renew itself in jewels of
green. By an afterthought that was a stroke of art, she had turned up
over her head the back of the kerchief; so that it now framed becomingly
her vivacious and yet pensive face. Her feet were gathered under her on
the one side, and she leaned on her bare arm, which showed out strong
and round, tapered to a slim wrist, and shimmered in the fading light.
Young Hermiston was struck with a certain chill. He was reminded that
he now dealt in serious matters of life and death. This was a grown
woman he was approaching, endowed with her mysterious potencies and
attractions, the treasury of the continued race, and he was neither
better nor worse than the average of his sex and age.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174