He looked at her, as she got up and stood for a moment embowered in the roses, her lace shawl hanging from her arms, her figure still beautiful and gracious.
“The gods have granted you the gift of eternal youth, Anne,” he declared. “I want to paint another portrait.”
She laughed, and shook her head.
“There will be no more portraits,” she said.
She went with him as far as a little gate which gave upon the meadows, through which a field path led to The Chase.
After he had gone she wandered into the lavender-garden, and in the gathering summer twilight paced the path between the grey-green borders.
In the west, the sky was still flushed with sunset. The air, so quiet that not a leaf trembled, was sweet with the scent of flowers.
Anne walked slowly, her mind occupied with pleasant trifles. She decided that the lilies in the south border must this autumn be divided. She must tell Davis to plant more daffodils in the orchard under the apple trees. There was the village children’s treat to be considered, and she must not forget to talk it over with the Vicar. Suddenly she remembered that Dr. Dakin was coming in to smoke his pipe and talk. Madge and the baby were returning on Thursday. He would therefore be in excellent spirits.
The roses on the hedge round the sundial breathed a sweet strong fragrance into the dusk.