Amethystine haze
shimmered in the valleys and lay, cloud-like, upon the distant hills.
Through the long aisles of trees a fairy patter of tiny furred feet
rustled back and forth upon the fallen leaves. Only a dropping nut or a
busy squirrel broke the exquisite peace of the forest, where the myriad
life of the woods waited, in hushed expectancy, for the tide of the year
to turn.
Like a scarlet shuttle plying through the web of Autumn, the big red
touring car hummed and whirred, with a happy young man at the wheel and
a laughing girl beside him. Juliet's momentary self-consciousness was
gone, and she was her sunny self again, though she still occasionally
wept in secret, longing for her brother.
"Aunt Francesca," she said, one day, when the two were sewing on dainty
garments destined to adorn Juliet, "do you think Romie will ever come
back to me?"
"Not in the sense you mean, dear," replied Madame, gently. "We live in a
world of change and things are never the same, even from day to day."
"She made him think I was a tomboy, and now she'll teach him not to love
me.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364