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There was a large window at each end of the room, cut down to the ground, in the French fashion, and outside of both was a little balcony, the trellice-work covered with passion-flower and clematis. The doors and other compartments of the room were not papered, but had French mirrors let into the panelling.
In the garden there we found a vegetation such as one would find in southern Europe figs, olives, peaches, roses, and many other European trees and flowers growing luxuriantly, but among them the passion-flower, which produces one of the most delicious of fruits, the granadita, and other semi-tropical plants.
He dashes over the meadows; not following the path, but crossing straight through the long dewy grass, he leaps over the light iron railing; he is rushing up the walk; he takes a rapid glance, in passing, at the little summer-house; the blue passion-flower is still blooming, the house is in sight; a white handkerchief is waving from the drawing-room window!
The passion-flower, peony, dahlia, laburnum, and other plants, so abundant in warm climates, under the tasteful hand of Isabella, lavished their beauty upon this retired spot, and miniature paradise. Although Isabella had been assured by Henry that she should be free and that he would always consider her as his wife, she nevertheless felt that she ought to be married and acknowledged by him.
And it was by no means bad; at anyrate it was always possible to get fruit, including loquats, strawberries, custard apples, bananas, oranges, and the passion-flower fruit, which is not enticing on a first acquaintance, and resembles an anæmic pomegranate. Eggs, too, were twenty-eight for tenpence; fish was at nominal prices. But there is nothing to do in Funchal save eat and swim or ride.
Her hat, which she had just taken off, hung on her left arm, and with her delicate right hand she arranged a vagrant tendril of the passion-flower, which in its luxuriant growth had broken bounds and fallen from its place above. A girl so beautiful that I in all my life never saw her superior.
"This, with the variegated camellias, is beautiful!" "Yes, it's pretty enough; but what shall I do with it?" "Why, take it to the party this evening, of course." "No, indeed; it came from Mr. Howard, and I can't endure him." "Which have you chosen, then?" "That is the very question; I don't know how to settle it." "Take this one with the passion-flower."
Though they are by no means to be seen in perfection, there are here many things that I love, bananas, poinsettias, papayas, tree-ferns, dendrobiums, dracenas, the scarlet passion-flower, the spurious banyan, date, sago, and traveler's palms, and numberless other trees and shrubs, children of the burning sun of the tropics, carefully watered and tended, but exotics after all.
Stubbornly he contradicted her. "No, you're not. Listen, Bunny! Love isn't just a passion-flower that blooms in a single night and then fades. You're too young really to understand, but I know I know. Love is more like a vine. It takes a long while to ripen and come to perfection, and it has a lot to go through first." Again a sense of strangeness came to Bunny.
There were green and purple garlands of wild passion-flower around her hat and about the white and blue fabrics at her waist. At the head of the pond, with Ferry beside her, stood black-haired Cecile canopied by overhanging boughs, her hat bedecked with the red spikes of the Indian-shot and wound with orange masses of love-vine.
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