I will follow you,' she said.
'No,' he replied, with a singular imbecility of manner and
appearance, 'but I meant the path was rough. It lies, all the way,
by glade and dingle, and the dingles are both deep and thorny.'
'Lead on,' she said. 'Are you not Otto the Hunter?'
They had now burst across a veil of underwood, and were come into a
lawn among the forest, very green and innocent, and solemnly
surrounded by trees. Otto paused on the margin, looking about him
with delight; then his glance returned to Seraphina, as she stood
framed in that silvan pleasantness and looking at her husband with
undecipherable eyes. A weakness both of the body and mind fell on
him like the beginnings of sleep; the cords of his activity were
relaxed, his eyes clung to her. 'Let us rest,' he said; and he made
her sit down, and himself sat down beside her on the slope of an
inconsiderable mound.
She sat with her eyes downcast, her slim hand dabbling in grass,
like a maid waiting for love's summons. The sound of the wind in
the forest swelled and sank, and drew near them with a running rush,
and died away and away in the distance into fainting whispers.
Nearer hand, a bird out of the deep covert uttered broken and
anxious notes. All this seemed but a halting prelude to speech. To
Otto it seemed as if the whole frame of nature were waiting for his
words; and yet his pride kept him silent.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247