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Barlow turned her face up, and the moonlight showed vagrant pearls that lay against the olive cheeks, now tinted like the petals of a rose. Then from a service point of view, and as a matter of caste, Barlow went ghazi.
Presently a torrent of dirty water came pouring down the spout, mingling its disagreeable soapy smell with that of the flowers. Beth plucked some petals from the rose she was smelling, set them on the soapy water, and ran down the passage beside them, until they disappeared in the drain in the street. This delight over, she wandered into the garden.
When the circular deposit of these fallen petals resembled a layer of snow the owner of the trees might hope for an abundant supply of cider. While she thus gauged her vats, Mademoiselle Cormon also attended to the repairs which the winter necessitated; she ordered the digging of her flower-beds and her vegetable garden, from which she supplied her table. Every season had its own business.
The flowers are yellow, 2 in. long, and are composed of a short, thick tube bearing from forty to fifty fringed sepals, and about half that number of petals, which are also fringed. There are as many as a dozen flowers opened together on stout, aged plants; it is, however, more because of the densely spinous stems than the flowers that this species has found its way into cultivation.
It is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called Anemone, or Wind Flower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and its decay.
I was kept waiting for some minutes, I remember, in a little room upon which a conservatory opened, a conservatory full of pots of large mauve-edged, white cyclamens in flower. And there was a big lacquer cabinet, a Chinese thing, I suppose, of black and gold against the red-toned wall. To this day the thought of Margaret is inseparably bound up with the sight of a cyclamen's back-turned petals.
The flowers that bloomed in the Spring time of her happy years, had withered in the winter of her wretched weeks, and over the whole garden of her life, nothing but the dead and scentless petals remained, to tell of what was once a paradise of affection a blooming image of love. As she walked on she discovered that the child she carried in her arms had fainted.
When my brother and I were children, we used to fold back the petals, and call them baby flowers: the sack, we thought, looked like a baby's white frock." Lady Mary was much amused at this notion. "There are a great number of very beautiful and also very curious flowers growing in the forest," said Mrs. Frazer.
Along these swinging curved branches, as we see them in the April winds, there appear hints of the leaf richness that is to come but something else as well. These darkest purple-red petals, almost black, as they change from the green of their opening hue, make up the peculiar flowers of the papaw.
And now, looking closer, I perceive beautiful weird things which at first escaped my notice. They are gardening, these charming beings! they are caressing the lotus-buds, sprinkling their petals with something celestial, helping them to blossom. And what lotus-buds with colours not of this world.
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