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Updated: May 1, 2025
She looked furtively at him. Perhaps he had heard something, and this was a trial of her truth. But no! His face was tranquil and unsuspecting; there was nothing searching in the glance of his deep-blue eyes. No! he knew nothing, and wherefore cloud the brightness of the hour with a confession which might crush its promise of future bliss?
On the western side we had nothing but violent storms of hail, rain, and snow, the dampness in the air rendering the atmosphere cold even during the day. The soil was unusually marshy, and little fuel or grass could be found. The moment the pass was crossed we were in a mild, pleasant climate, with a lovely deep-blue sky over us. We found plenty of grass for our yaks and low shrubs for our fires.
Pictures of summer nights flashed upon me and faded, where out of deep-blue vaults the stars hung like lamps, great and golden, or where soft films just hazing heaven caught the rays, till all above gleamed like gauze faintly powdered and spangled with silver, or heavy with heat, slipping over silent waters, through scented airs, under purple skies.
Her features were not regular; her nose had a strong tendency to what is called snubbed, and her mouth was large; but to counterbalance these defects she had a pair of large, deep-blue eyes, soft, golden hair, a fair, rosy complexion, and an expression of sweetness at the corners of her mouth that betrayed habitual good-nature.
In a depth of two feet or less, the water is apparently as clear as that of the purest mountain brook in New England. But when the depth reaches, or exceeds, three feet, the water assumes a deep-blue tinge, like that of the sky in a clear day. Viewed from an elevation, the picture is one that cannot be speedily forgotten.
"I am glad," he said, "beyond measure, that I had clothes that fitted this occasion." The high-road ran straight as an arrow flies, straight into the deep-blue pit of sky beneath the moon, a white and shining road between the singing nightingales, and along it he went, running now and leaping, and now walking and rejoicing, in the clothes his mother had made for him with tireless, loving hands.
Anna found it hard to take her eyes away from this girl's face; not that she admired her exactly; pretty she was yes; but weak, with those parted lips and soft chin, and almost wistful look, as if her deep-blue half-eager eyes were in spite of her. But she was young so young! That was why not to watch her seemed impossible. "Sylvia Doone?" Indeed! Yes. A soft name, a pretty name and very like her!
"By the pleasant shore And in the hearing of the wave." High overhead the great white clouds were loitering across the deep-blue heaven. White butterflies wavered above the road. Tall foxglove spires lit the woodland shadows with rosy gleams. Bluebells and golden ragwort fringed the hedge-rows. A family of young wrens fluttered in and out of the hawthorns.
Gyp looked enviously at her valiant sister. Isobel was everything that poor, overgrown, dark-skinned Gyp longed to be her face had the pink and white of an apple blossom, her fair hair curled around her temples and in her neck, her deep-blue eyes were fringed by long black lashes; she had, after much practice, acquired a willowy slouch that would have made a movie artist's fortune; she was the acknowledged beauty of the whole Lincoln school and had attended one or two dances under the chaperoned escort of older boys.
"Shall I go roll Balancing Rock?" she asked, in light speech, but with deep-blue fire in her eyes. "No no." "Ah, you don't forget the gold and the world," she sighed. "Child, you forget the beautiful dresses and the travel and everything." "Oh, I want to go. But I want to stay!" "I feel the same way."
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