“Worthy indeed.”
Judith looked at the sky; her lips moved as in prayer; the sunlight played upon her face.
“Would to God, Gabriel, she had come into your life before.”
“Amen to that.”
“This will prove a fiery trial to you both.”
“Judith, I must stand betwixt her and the world.”
“Well said, brother mine; remember, I am with you ever.”
He kissed her, and passed on alone towards the house.
A path betwixt yews led him to the garden below the terrace, a garden redolent of jasmine, lavender, and rose. A thousand flowers upturned their innocent faces at his feet.
Beyond the balustrading of the terrace, with its rampart of red roses, Gabriel saw his father standing in the sun. The old man turned to meet him as he climbed the steps. There was a ruthlessness upon his stubborn face, an arrogance in his stout, stolid manner. John Strong stood out like a patriarch of old, save that there was but little ardor in his keen, gray eyes.