"The day seems to have been made on purpose for us," he said, as he helped her in the boat.
Leone laughed, but there was just the least tinge of bitterness in that laugh.
"A day made for us would have gray skies, cold rains, and bleak, bitter winds," she said.
And then the pretty pleasure boat floated away on the broad, beautiful stream.
It was a day on which to dream of heaven; there was hardly a ripple on the beautiful Thames; the air was balmy, sweet, filled with the scent of hay from the meadows; of flowers from the banks; it was as though they had floated away into Paradise.
Lord Chandos bent forward to see that the rugs were properly disposed; he opened her sunshade, but she would not use it.
"Let me see the beautiful river, the banks and the yews, while I may," she said, "the sun will not hurt me."
There was no sound save that of the oars cleaving the bright waters. Leone watched the river with loving eyes; since she had left River View—and she had loved it with something like passion—it seemed like part of that married life which had ended so abruptly. They passed by a thicket, where the birds were singing after a mad fashion of their own.
"Stop and listen," she said, holding up her hand.
He stopped and the boat floated gently with the noiseless tide.