XXII
Autumn Leaves
Autumn Glory
Summer had gone long ago, but the sweetness of her passing yet lay upon the land and sea. The hills were glorious with a pageantry of scarlet and gold where, in the midnight silences, the soul of the woods had flamed in answer to the far, mysterious bugles of the frost. Bloom was on the grapes in the vineyard, and fairy lace, of cobweb fineness, had been hung by the secret spinners from stem to stem of the purple clusters and across bits of stubble in the field.
From the blue sea, now and then, came the breath of Winter, though Autumn lingered on the shore. Many of the people at the hotel had gone back to town, feeling the imperious call of the city with the first keen wind. Eloise, with a few others, waited. She expected to stay until Barbara was strong enough to go with her.
But Barbara's strength was coming very slowly now. She grieved for her father, and the grieving kept her back. Allan came down once a fortnight to spend Sunday with Eloise and to look after Barbara, though he realised that Barbara was, in a way, beyond his reach.
What We Need
"She doesn't need medicine," he said, to Eloise. "She is perfectly well, physically, though of course her strength is limited and will be for some time to come. What she needs is happiness."