Zanti and
even taciturn little Gottfried, there to encourage him.
_That_ had been Adventure--but this ...? And then he would remember young
Stephen and Clare--moments even lately that she had shared with him--and he
would be ashamed.
II
It was on an afternoon of furious wind and rain in early April that the
inevitable occurred. All the afternoon the trees in the little orchard had
been knocking their branches together as though they were in a furious
temper with Somebody and were indignant at not being allowed to get at Him;
they gave you the impression that it would be quite as much as your life
would be worth to venture into their midst.
Peter had, during a number of hours, endeavoured to pierce the soul of
Mortimer Stant--meanwhile as the wind howled, the rain lashed the windows
of his room, and the personality of Mr. Stant faded farther and farther
away into ultimate distance, Peter was increasingly conscious that he was
listening for something.
He had felt himself surrounded by this strange sense of anticipation
before. Sometimes it had stayed with him for a short period only, sometimes
it had extended over days--always it brought with it an emotion of
excitement and even, if he had analysed it sufficiently, fear.
He was suddenly conscious, in the naked spaces of his barely-furnished
room, of the personality of his father.
Pages:
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510