“SHE SAT ON THE LITTLE VERANDAH.”
And this afternoon, when she sat on the little verandah, resting after her housework, and watching Robert cultivating the eight-acre piece on the hill-slope, she realised that she had been mad. He paused for a moment and waved to her, and she waved back listlessly. She looked at the rich upturned soil, of chocolate brown, and the formal rows of lemon-trees; at the stretch of country all around her, with scarcely a sign of human habitation; at the great mountains, uncompromisingly stern and barren of everything except stone and brush. She watched the pointer Nellie going in front of the little grey team and encouraging them to do their work well. She glanced upwards and noticed the majestic flight of the turkey buzzards, and now she was attracted by the noise of a hummingbird who came to visit her fragrant honeysuckle creeper, and then sped on his way. Everything seemed so still and lifeless. There were no familiar noises such as greet one in the tiniest village in the old country. There was no pulsation nor throb of life. There was nothing to stimulate,—nothing in the circumstances of everyday life, nor in the scenery. With the exception of her husband, there was no one with whom to speak all through the living hours of the day.
And this was what she had chosen of her own free will. She had deliberately thrown up a life full of interests and distractions, and had been mad enough to exchange it for this.
She was fond of music, and would hear none.
She was fond of theatres, and she had cut herself off from them.
As for books—well, she could get them here; but meanwhile Meredith’s “Lord Ormont and his Aminta” lay unopened by her side, and the current number of the “Century” was thrown down and carelessly crumpled. But as she stooped to pick it up, she was ashamed to think how ungrateful she was for all Robert’s kindness. He had filled a little book-shelf with new books for her; he had subscribed for several of the best magazines; he had sent for a tuner from town to tune the ear-trumpet lady’s piano. She scarcely cared to read, and she had not touched the piano. A feeling of tenderness and gratitude came over her, and she sprang up, and trudged over the fields to speak a few words with her husband. His face brightened when he saw her, and he gave her a joyous welcome. Nellie ran to greet her, and the horses looked round inquiringly. For the moment she felt really proud and happy.
“You must let me help you all I can,” she said gently. “I am so strong, and able to do so much. You look dreadfully tired.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” he said, smiling, and wiping his forehead. “Everything seems different since you came.”
“If you teach me, I can do the pruning,” she said; “I believe I could cultivate too.”