rd Abbey; to the twining waters of the
valley and the rounded hills. Southward they looked to Wychford town in
tier on tier of shining roofs; and above the translucent smoke to where
the telegraph-poles of the long highway went rocketing into
Gloucestershire. And lastly eastward they looked through a flight of
snowy pigeons to the Rectory asleep in gardens that already were painted
with the simple flowers of Spring.
Guy took Pauline's hand where it rested on the parapet.
"Dearest, Spring is here," he said, "and this is our world that you and
I are looking at to-day."
APRIL
Pauline in the happiness which had come to her lately had forgotten Miss
Verney; and when one morning she met that solitary spinster, whose pale
and watery eyes were uttering such reproach, she promised impulsively to
come to tea that very afternoon and bring with her a friend.
"You've certainly quite deserted me lately," said Miss Verney, in that
wavering falsetto of hers, through which the echoes maybe of a
once-admired soprano could still be distinctly heard.
"Oh, but I've been so busy, Miss Verney."
"Yes, I dare say. Well, I used to be busy once myself. Here's lovely
weather for the first of April. Quite a treat to be out of doors. Now,
don't make an April fool of your poor old Miss Verney by forgetting to
come this afternoon. Who's the friend you are anxious to bring?"
"Mr. Hazlewood. He's living at Plashers Mead, you know."
"Dear me, a gentleman? Then he won't enjoy coming to see me."
"But he will, Miss Verney, because he writes poetry, and you know you
told me once that you used to write poetry."
"Ah, well, dear me, that's a secret I should never have let out. Well,
good-by, my dear, and pray don't forget to come, for I shall be having
cakes, you know."
Miss Verney, whose unhappy love-affair in a dim past had been Pauline's
cherished secret since the afternoon of her seventeenth birthday, bowed
with much dignity; and Pauline, lest she should offend her again, had to
turn round several times to smile and wave farewells before Miss Verney
disappeared into the confectioner's shop.
When she got home Pauline asked her mother if she thought it mattered
taking Guy to tea with Miss Verney.
"Because, of course, she's sure to guess that we're engaged."
"But, my dear child, you're not really engaged, at least not publicly.
You must remember that."
"But I could tell Miss Verney as a great secret. And I know she wo
|