“Behind the sea-wall’s rugged length,
Unchanged, your leaves unfold,
Like love behind the manly strength
Of the brave hearts of old.
“So live the fathers in their sons,
Their sturdy faith be ours,
And ours the love that overruns
Its rocky strength with flowers.”
For an hour she roamed about the woods, finding evergreen to line her box for the flowers, and some cheery partridge vine, whose green leaves and red berries seemed quite untouched by the winter’s snow. It was quiet in among the trees. She was glad after all that she had come alone. At school one needed to be away from the girls once in a while just to get acquainted with oneself.
She climbed upon a great gray rock in the open pasture, and sat there thinking of the months at St. Helen’s—remembering it all from the day she had left her father. She was glad that she had come—glad that in her father’s last letter he had said she was to return after a summer at home. Priscilla was to return, too, a Senior—perhaps, she would be monitor like Mary—and they were to room together as they had this year. The Blackmore twins had petitioned for Mary and Anne’s room, promising upon their sacred honor to be models of behavior; and Miss King and Miss Wallace were considering their request. Virginia did hope it would be granted, for she loved Jess and Jean clearly. Dorothy would return. Would Imogene, too, she wondered? It might be mean to hope that she would not, but she did hope that.