’Tis a fragrant retrospection—for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfume from the blossoms of the heart:
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine——
When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweet-heart of mine.”
He fell silent; then his lips moved again:
“And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see——”
Suddenly he broke off, and groaned aloud: “My Lord!” he said all in a breath. “And thirty-five years old—blame near thirty-six!”
He needs interpretation, this unfortunate Lucius. He meant that it was inexplicable and disgraceful for a man of his age to be afraid of a boy of seven and a girl of five. He had never been afraid of anybody else’s children. No; it had to be hers! And that was why he was afraid of them; he knew the truth well enough: he was afraid of them because they were hers. He was a man who had always “got on” with children beautifully; but he was afraid of Maud and Bill. He was afraid of what they would do to him and of what they would think of him.