CHAPTER XIII.
Ankle-deep in English grass I leaped,
And clapped my hands, and called all very fair.
In the beginning, when God called all good,
Even then was evil near us, it is writ;
But we indeed, who call things good and fair,
The evil is upon us while we speak;
Deliver us from evil, let us pray.
Aurora Leigh.
As the young girl entered the room Claud Cranmer rose, with a quick gesture of courtesy.
Elaine, not prepared to see strangers, paused, and the ingenuous morning flush of youth passed over her face in a wave of exquisite carmine. Claud thought he had never beheld anything more lovely than that spontaneous recognition of his presence. She had not blushed when he met her first—her anxiety for Allonby had been paramount. And the pale girl up at Poole, with the sculptured chin, never blushed at all, but looked at him with frank and limpid eyes as if he were entirely a matter of course.
But for Elsa, dawn had begun; the sun was rising, and naturally the light was red. Oddly enough, an old country rhyme floated in Claud's mind—
"A red morning's a shepherd's warning."