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Updated: May 12, 2025
As soon as they could they slipped out of the room and made their way into the garden. "We shall have to tell now," said Mollie. "Where did you put it?" "I threw it behind the laurel-bush," said Geoffrey. "I suppose I had better get it." He ran to the laurel-bush and Mollie followed. "Mary Selina Trewin," said Geoffrey, "it isn't there."
"He told me about that fat butler's evidence," he said to himself; "he put me wise about that window being open; he gave me the office about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe. "Why?" said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush. Mr.
And it was so warm, too, beside the big laurel-bush, in the corner where the streamlet of water ever fell with flute-like music from the gaping, tragic mask. "Ah!" repeated Benedetta, "how happy I am! I was stifling upstairs, and my heart felt such a need of space, and air, and sunlight, that I came down here!"
Suffocating with fatigue and grief, he must have come thither for fresh air. Darkness shrouded the charming nook where the streamlet of water falling from the tragic mask into the ancient sarcophagus ever sang its shrill and flute-like song; and the laurel-bush which shaded it, and the bitter box-plants and the orange-trees skirting the paths now formed but vague masses under the blue-black sky.
He soon fell into a sound sleep, and when he woke there was noise of men laughing and shouting about him. He started to his feet. "Hello! buster," a voice said near him. "What are you doin' away from yer mammy? Beckon she'll think the Yanks have got you if you ain't home for bedtime." The man who said this was lying peacefully under a laurel-bush.
Suffocating with fatigue and grief, he must have come thither for fresh air. Darkness shrouded the charming nook where the streamlet of water falling from the tragic mask into the ancient sarcophagus ever sang its shrill and flute-like song; and the laurel-bush which shaded it, and the bitter box-plants and the orange-trees skirting the paths now formed but vague masses under the blue-black sky.
She saw herself, first, as Daphne behind a laurel-bush the artist, kneeling in the open, offered his heart smoking upon a dish; second, as Luna, standing in shrouded white on a crescent moon the artist, as Endymion, asleep in a rocky landscape, waiting to be kissed; third, as Leda, naked in reeds beside her pair of eggs the plumed artist near by, ruffling and flapping his wings.
And it was so warm, too, beside the big laurel-bush, in the corner where the streamlet of water ever fell with flute-like music from the gaping, tragic mask. "Ah!" repeated Benedetta, "how happy I am! I was stifling upstairs, and my heart felt such a need of space, and air, and sunlight, that I came down here!"
Clearer and slighter came the call of his mate "muchacho!" "muchacho!" A ground squirrel shook the laurel-bush at her side, so that its buds brushed her shoulder. The cock quail came back into the pathway, slanted his wise head, plumed in splendor, to find whether she were friend or enemy, saw that she made no move, and fell to foraging among the leaves.
At the moment we are describing the redbreast flew from one laurel-bush to another, and then with a shout of delight, the little children suddenly disappeared from the window. In a minute however they were back again with faces full of expectation and importance, bearing between them a plate of bread which had been carefully broken into small pieces.
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