“[HER DESCENT FROM HER OWN BEDROOM WAS ALMOST EASY.]”
Such a great calm sky of pale, sweet stars; such a hushed, faint breath in the tall gum trees; such a low soothing lapping of little river waves!
[193]
]In an hour she was very strong again; her eyes were dry and calm and brave; there was a great, sweet peace in her heart.
She thought she would read for a little time, and grow still calmer. There was her Browning on the writing table—he had strengthened her often since she had begun to know him; and there were a couple of books Alan had lent her: “At the Roots of the Mountains,” and something of Pierre Loti’s. She fingered them a moment.
But first she would go and speak to Nellie, who would be calmer too by now,—poor pretty Nellie, with her childish defiance and longings for “other things.” She went down the passage, softly, by Peter’s room and Bunty’s. The light was shining beneath Nellie’s door; the poor little prisoner was not asleep, then.
She stopped and inserted the key with a flush of shame: how ignominious it must feel to be locked in!
“Dear Nell——” she began, and then stopped aghast.
The room was empty.