“M’Gourley San told me of them, he wished to buy them for me—but I bought them for you.”
She removed the lotus-flowers and cast another disc on the water.
Leslie watched her. During the last few months Campanula’s attitude to him had changed. From a happy, humble, and somewhat heedless thing—a creature that regarded him with affection—an affection of about the same strength as she exhibited for M’Gourley, Sweetbriar San, the cat, and her children schoolmates; she had become a follower of his alone, always striving to please him, forestalling his wants, always happy in his presence, and drooping—unknown to him—when he was away.
The second wad under the influence of the water broke up and began to form the branch of a cherry tree covered with blossom.
“Arashiyama,” murmured she, folding her small hands and speaking dreamily, as if communing with herself. Then she sat watching the branch of the cherry tree expanding over the surface of the water.
From the house came a somewhat discordant voice singing a song about a bee and a lilac bough.
It was Pine-breeze singing at her work. Moon, Plum-blossom, and Snow, with their fictitious mother Fir-cone, had vanished from the House of the Clouds two years and more, giving place to Pine-breeze, a miracle of daintiness and prettiness, and two other Mousmés, one “rather old,” the cook, Lotus-bud by name, and the other named Cherry-blossom, as pretty as Pine-breeze.
“Listen!” said Campanula, suddenly looking up from the bowl and its contents. “There is some one at the gate.”
Leslie half turned.
A man and woman had passed through the gateway shadowed by lilac, a short, stout man dressed in tweed and a tall woman in blue serge.