It was unalloyed happiness for her to sit her saddle, feeling under her
the grand stride of her powerful hunter on a headlong cross-country
gallop; it was purest pleasure for her to lean forward in her oilskins,
her eyes almost blinded with salt spray, while the low motor-boat rushed
on and on through cataracts of foam, and the heaving, green sea-miles
fled away, away, in the hissing furrow of the wake.
Truly, for her, the world was still green, the sun bright, the high sky
blue; but she had not forgotten that the earth had been greener, the sun
brighter, the azure above her more splendid--once upon a time--like the
first phrase of a tale that is told. And if she were at times listless,
absent-eyed, subdued--a trifle graver, or unusually silent, seeking the
still paths of the garden as though in need of youthful meditation and
the quiet of the sunset hour, she never doubted that that tale would be
retold for her again. Only--alas!--the fair days were passing, and the
russet rustle of October sounded already among the curling leaves in the
garden; and he had been away a long time--a very long time.
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