He was rather disturbed, uncomfortable, and full
of thought. Neither of them spoke.
The sun was beginning to go down, and a change had come over the
mountains, as if they were robbed of their earthly substance, and
composed merely of intense blue mist. Long thin clouds of flamingo red,
with edges like the edges of curled ostrich feathers, lay up and down
the sky at different altitudes. The roofs of the town seemed to have
sunk lower than usual; the cypresses appeared very black between the
roofs, and the roofs themselves were brown and white. As usual in
the evening, single cries and single bells became audible rising from
beneath.
St. John stopped suddenly.
"Well, you must take the responsibility," he said. "I've made up my
mind; I shall go to the Bar."
His words were very serious, almost emotional; they recalled Helen after
a second's hesitation.
"I'm sure you're right," she said warmly, and shook the hand he held
out. "You'll be a great man, I'm certain."
Then, as if to make him look at the scene, she swept her hand round the
immense circumference of the view. From the sea, over the roofs of the
town, across the crests of the mountains, over the river and the plain,
and again across the crests of the mountains it swept until it reached
the villa, the garden, the magnolia-tree, and the figures of Hirst and
herself standing together, when it dropped to her side.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298