"
"Manuel, are you coming?"
He was lying on the sward at Mrs. Redmond's feet, and, waking from the
reverie that held him, while his companion sang the love lay he was
teaching her, he looked up to see his wife standing on the green slope
before him. A black lace scarf lay over her blonde hair as Spanish women
wear their veils, below it the violet eyes shone clear, the cheek glowed
with the color fresh winds had blown upon their paleness, the lips
parted with a wistful smile, and a knot of bright-hued leaves upon her
bosom made a mingling of snow and fire in the dress, whose white folds
swept the grass. Against a background of hoary cliffs and somber pines,
this figure stood out like a picture of blooming womanhood, but Manuel
saw three blemishes upon it--Gilbert had sketched her with that shadowy
veil upon her head, Gilbert had swung himself across a precipice to
reach the scarlet nosegay for her breast, Gilbert stood beside her with
her hand upon his arm; and troubled by the fear that often haunted him
since Pauline's manner to himself had grown so shy and sad, Manuel
leaned and looked forgetful of reply, but Mrs. Redmond answered
blithely:
"He is coming, but with me. You are too grave for us, so go your ways,
talking wisely of heaven and earth, while we come after, enjoying both
as we gather lichens, chase the goats, and meet you at the waterfall.
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