* * * * *
Sometimes Athalie lunched there in the garden with him, Hafiz, seated
on the bench beside them, politely observant, condescending to receive
a morsel now and then.
It was on such a day, at noon-tide, that Athalie bent over toward him,
touched his hair with her lips, then whispered something very low.
[Illustration: "Sometimes Athalie lunched there in the garden with
him."] His face went white, but he smiled and rose,--came back swiftly to
kiss her hands--then entered the house and telephoned to New York.
When he came back to her she was ready to rise, lean on his arm, and
walk leisurely to the house.
On the way she called his attention to a pale blue sheet of
forget-me-nots spreading under the shrubbery. She noticed other new
blossoms in the garden, lingered before the bed of white pansies.
"Like little faces," she said with a faint smile.
One silvery-grey iris he broke from its sheathed stem and gave her;
she moved slowly on with the scented blossom lifted to her lips.
In the hall a starched and immaculate nurse met her with a significant
nod of understanding. And so, between Clive and the trained nurse she
mounted the stairs to her room.
Later Clive came in to sit beside her where she lay on her dainty bed.
She turned her flushed face on the pillow, smiled at him, and lifted
her neck a little; and he slipped one arm under it.
"Such a wonderful pillow your shoulder makes," she murmured.... "I am
thinking of the first time I ever knew it.... So quiet I lay,--such
infinite caution I used whenever I moved.... That night the air was
musical with children's voices--everywhere under the stars--softly
garrulous, laughing, lisping, calling from the hills and meadows....
That night of miracles and of stars--my dear--my dearest!--"
* * * * *
Close to her cheek he breathed: "Are you in pain?"
"Oh, Clive! I am so happy. I love you so--I love you so."
Then nurse and physician came in and the latter took him by the arm
and walked out of the room with him. For a long while they paced the
passage-way together in whispered conversation before the nurse came
to the door and nodded.
Both went in: Athalie laughed and put up her arms as Clive bent over
her.
"All will be well," she whispered, kissed him, then turned her head
sharply to the right.
When he found himself in the garden, walking at random, the sun hung a
hand's breadth over the woods. Later it seemed to become entangled
amid new leaves and half-naked branches, hanging there motionless,
blinding, glittering through an eternity of time.