FullReads

“‘Oh! look at the carnations!’ For in one of the gardens large clumps of splendid scarlet cloves caught my eye.

“My father humoured me, and we drew near to the laurustinus hedge, and looked over into the gay little garden. As we looked, we became conscious of what appeared like a heap or bundle of clothing near one of the beds, which, on lifting itself up, proved to be a tall slender lady of middle age, who, with her dress tucked neatly round her, a big print hood on her head, and a trowel in her hand, was busily administering such tender little attentions as mothers will lavish on their children, and garden lovers on their flowers. She was not alone in the garden, as we soon perceived. A shorter and stouter and younger lady sat knitting by the side of a gentleman in a garden-chair, who from some defect in his sight, wore a large green shade, which hid the greater part of his face. The shade was made of covered pasteboard, and was large and round, and so very like a lamp shade, that I hardly ever look at one of those modern round globe lamps, my dear, if it has a green shade, without being reminded of old Mr. Brooke.

“‘Was that his name?’ Ida asked.

“‘Yes, my dear; but that we did not know till afterwards. When the good lady lifted herself up, she saw us, and seemed startled. My father raised his hat, and apologized politely. ‘My little girl was so much taken with your carnations, madam,’ he said, ‘that we made bold to come near enough to look at them, not knowing that any one was in the garden.’

“She seemed rather flustered, but pushed back her hood, and made a stiff little curtsey in answer to my father’s bow, and murmured something about our being welcome.

“‘Would you care to have some, my dear?’ she added, looking at me. I gave a delighted assent, and she had gathered two lovely carnations, when we heard a quavering voice from under the green shade inquire–

“‘What is it?’

“Our friend was at the old gentleman’s side in a moment, speaking very distinctly into his ear, as if he were deaf, whereby we heard her answer,

“‘It’s a gentleman and his little daughter, James, admiring our carnations, and I am gathering a few for the young lady, dear James.’

“‘Quite right, quite right,’ he croaked. ‘Anything that we have. Anything that we have.’

“It was a great satisfaction to me afterwards to remember that my father had thanked these good people ‘properly,’ as I considered. As for myself, I had only been able to blush and stammer out something that was far from expressing my delight with the lovely nosegay I received. Then the slender lady went back to her gardening. Her sister took up the knitting which she had laid down, the old gentleman nodded his lamp-shade in the direction where he supposed us to be and said, ‘Good evening, sir, Good evening, miss;’ and we went our way.

“The road wound on and on, and down and down, until we found ourselves on the edge of the river. A log lay conveniently on the bank, and there we seated ourselves. The tide was out, and the river bed was a bed of mud except for a narrow stream of water that ran down the middle. But, ah! how the mud glistened in the evening sunshine which was reflected on it in prismatic colours. Little figures were dotted here and there over its surface, and seawards the masts of some vessels loomed large through the shining haze.

“‘How beautiful everything looks this evening!’ I exclaimed.

“‘I see them walking in an air of glory,’ murmured my father, dreamily.

“He was quoting from a favourite old poem, which begins–

‘They are all gone into a world of light, And I alone sit lingering here.’

“This ‘air of glory,’ indeed, was over everything. The mud and the tide pools, the dark human figures, the black and white seagulls that sat like onyx pebbles on the river bed, the stream that spread seawards like a silver scroll, the swans that came sailing, sailing down the stream with just such a slow and stately pace as white-winged ships might have come down the river with the tide, to pass (as the swans did pass) into that ‘world of light,’ that shining seaward haze, where your eye could not follow them unless shaded by your hand.