"
"Leave me here, Mr. Bellamy; you won't be long. Let me get out,
though, and just turn the mare aside off the road on to the grass
against the gate; she will be quite quiet."
"Had you not better sit still? I shall be back in a quarter of an
hour."
"If you do not mind, dear Mr. Bellamy, I should so like to stand on
the bridge. I cannot let the gig stay there."
"Well, my dear, you shall have your own way. You know," he said,
laughing, "I've long ago given up asking why my Catharine wants
anything whatsomever. If she wishes it that's enough for me."
Catharine dismounted, and Mr. Bellamy walked back.
She went to the parapet and once more looked up the stream. Once
more, as on a memorable day in August, the sun was upon the water.
Then the heat was intense, and the heavy cumulus clouds were charged
with thunder and lightning. Now the sun shone with nothing more
than warmth, and though the clouds, the same clouds, hung in the
south-west, there was no fire in them, nothing but soft, warm
showers. She looked and looked, and tears came into her eyes--tears
of joy. Never had a day been to her what that day was. She felt as
if she lay open to all the life of spring which was pouring up
through the earth, and it swept into her as if she were one of those
bursting exultant chestnut buds, the sight of which she loved so in
April and May. Always for years when the season came round had she
gathered one of those buds and carried it home, and it was more to
her than any summer flower.
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