Maitland Tait looked at me in surprise.
"Do you know all the legends of the place?" he asked.
I shook my head sorrowfully.
"I wish I did," I replied. "For so many years this has been my House of a Hundred Dreams!"
We both fell into a moment's dreamy thoughtfulness, which I was first to cast aside.
"Come and tell me about the plants, if you can!" I begged. "Which is rosemary, and which is rue?"
We walked down a flight of worn steps, and came upon prim gravel pathways.
"This is rosemary," he said, "and here, by the sun-dial, is rue."
Then, even when I realized that this was the place where Lady Frances Webb had spent her wearisome days, to keep from hearing the clock chime in the hall, I could not be sad. The sun-dial was another grief spot, it was true, but it was an ancient grief spot—and it was located in a golden sea of sunshine, under a sky that was the reflection of forget-me-nots.
"She could gather the rue while the sun-dial told, all silently, of the day's wearing on," I said.