"So they're comin'," said Eliza, in a lifeless voice. The winter had been very happy. She began to long for the fall.
"Yes, very soon."
"Is your niece comin' with 'em?"
"No; she will keep busy until July." Mrs. Wright drew a deep breath.
"Oh, how lovely this is, Eliza," she went on. "This morning makes me think of Stopford Brooke's lines,—
'A little sun, a little rain,
A soft wind blowing from the West—
And woods and fields are sweet again,
And the warmth within the mountain's breast.'
Our mountain—what a height we should see we had if that sea could roll back; we can feel the warmth in its breast this morning, and the lovely miracles it is putting forth. Why don't you look happier, Eliza?" Mrs. Wright smiled as she asked the question. Her friend's eyes were gloomily following the movements of Captain James in the distance as he beat rugs on the grass beside the boulder cottage.