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Updated: June 26, 2025
She shook her head; the tears stood suddenly in her leaf-brown eyes. "Helena!" he said, and there was a half-frightened violence in his voice; "what is it? Tell me, for Heaven's sake; what is it? Do you hate me?" "No no no!" "If you dislike me, say so! I think I could bear it better to believe you disliked me." "Robert, how absurd you are! You know I could never dislike you.
Beyond them, at the Burris Farm, we passed our outlying pickets Irregular Riflemen from the Scoharie and Sacandaga, tall, lean, wiry men, whose leaf-brown rifle-dress so perfectly blended with the tree-trunks that we were aware of them only when they halted us. And, Lord!
In those surroundings, against that flickering light, standing, straight and silent in her short skirt and moccasins, her leaf-brown hair tied with bracken and turned to midnight black by the shadows, her grey eyes mysterious under their dark lashes, and her lips unsmiling, Desire might well have been some beauty of that vanishing race.
In color it was like pale sunlight through green water. It was both cool and bright. Against it, her warm, white skin glowed warmer and whiter; her leaf-brown hair showed more softly brown. Its skirt was daintily short and beneath it would show green stockings that shimmered, and slippers that were vanity. Desire sat in the window seat and allowed herself to be quite happy.
And as she stared her face fell; for as the color and sparkle faded a little, care suddenly looked out of the leaf-brown eyes care and something like fright. But instantly drawing in her breath, she flung her head up as one who prepares for battle. When she went down-stairs and found Mr. Pryor waiting for her in the parlor, the sparkle had all come back.
Butterfield, helplessly. And then, angrily again, "Course if you set out to go your own way, I suppose you don't expect no help from them as thinks you are all wrong?" "I do not," Lizzie said, steadily; and then a spark glinted in her leaf-brown eye: "Folks that have means, and yet would let that poor unfortunate be taken to the Farm I wouldn't expect no help from 'em."
"It frightens me that you should have had such thoughts," she said. She actually looked frightened; her leaf-brown eyes were wide with terror. Her son nuzzled his cheek against her hand; "Bless your dear heart! it frightens you, because you can't understand.
Drenched with mist, bedraggled with dew, a green-feathered pine tree lay guzzling insatiably at a leaf-brown pool. Monotonous as a sob the waiting birch canoe slosh-sloshed against the beach. There was no romantic smell of red roses in this June landscape.
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