Лето
XII
BehindtheswarthyMountainthesunhadgonedowninwavelessgold.Fromapastureuptheslopeatinkleofcow-bellssounded;apuffofsmokehungoverthefarminthevalley,trailedonthepureairandwasgone.Forafewminutes,intheclearlightthatisallshadow,fieldsandwoodswereoutlinedwithanunrealprecision;thenthetwilightblottedthemout,andthelittlehouseturnedgrayandspectralunderitswizenedapple-branches.
Charity’sheartcontracted.Thefirstfallofnightafteradayofradianceoftengaveherasenseofhiddenmenace:itwaslikelookingoutovertheworldasitwouldbewhenlovehadgonefromit.Shewonderedifsomedayshewouldsitinthatsameplaceandwatchinvainforherlover....
Hisbicycle-bellsoundeddownthelane,andinaminuteshewasatthegateandhiseyeswerelaughinginhers.Theywalkedbackthroughthelonggrass,andpushedopenthedoorbehindthehouse.Theroomatfirstseemedquitedarkandtheyhadtogropetheirwayinhandinhand.Throughthewindow-frametheskylookedlightbycontrast,andabovetheblackmassofastersintheearthenjaronewhitestarglimmeredlikeamoth.
“Therewassuchalottodoatthelastminute,”Harneywasexplaining,“andIhadtodrivedowntoCrestontomeetsomeonewhohascometostaywithmycousinfortheshow.”
Hehadhisarmsabouther,andhiskisseswereinherhairandonherlips.Underhistouchthingsdeepdowninherstruggledtothelightandspranguplikeflowersinsunshine.Shetwistedherfingersintohis,andtheysatdownsidebysideontheimprovisedcouch.
