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Look! are the southern curtains drawn? Fetch me a fan, and so begone! Not that, the palm-tree's rustling leaf Brought from a parching coral-reef! Its breath is heated; I would swing The broad gray plumes, the eagle's wing. I hate these roses' feverish blood! Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, A long-stemmed lily from the lake, Cold as a coiling water-snake.
The sweet body, with its delicate wavering tints of white and rose was as the unspoilt sheath of a lily-bud, no one could guess that within the sheath the lily itself was blighted and slowly withering.
Days went on, and Bessie's pure, transparent nature, a lily-bud of sweetest womanhood, seemed unconsciously revealing itself, leaf by leaf, to all the world, and blooming out its beautiful innermost life; but Zelma's secret still smouldered in her shut heart, never by any chance flaming up to her lips in words.
"The Golden Girl," I answered simply, turning my head, and looking half sideways and half upwards; and behold! the tree at whose foot I lay had opened its rocky side, and in the cleft, like a long lily-bud sliding from its green sheath, stood a dryad, and my speech failed and my breath went as I looked upon her beauty, for which mortality has no simile.
Let this subject rest henceforth, until I renew it." With a faint moan, she shut her eyes and shivered; and again he took her little white cold hands. "Little snow-statue, why will you not trust me? Tell me what has so suddenly changed the soft white Lily-bud of yesterday into this hollow-eyed, defiant young woman?"
Look! are the southern curtains drawn? Fetch me a fan, and so begone! Not that, the palm-tree's rustling leaf Brought from a parching coral-reef! Its breath is heated; I would swing The broad gray plumes, the eagle's wing. I hate these roses' feverish blood! Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, A long-stemmed lily from the lake, Cold as a coiling water-snake.
"I too have love to send to Bice, whom I expect to see changed like a lily-bud to something more definitely promising. Mr. Trollope, I suppose, is in England by this time, else I should say all affectionate regards from us both to him. I am writing under difficulties. "Ever, dear Mrs. Trollope, "Very sincerely yours,
There is no minister in this whole country and I could not bear the little broken lily-bud to be just carted away and buried, so I arranged the funeral and conducted the services. I know I am unworthy and in no way fitted for such a mission, but I did my poor best, and if no one else is comforted, I am.
After patient waiting, and after covering the tub with mosquito-netting to disabuse the young turkeys of the notion that it was specially designed as a drinking-cup and a watery grave for them, and the young ducks of the notion that it was preordained for them to swim in, we were delighted to see a veritable lily-bud coming up.
"Oh, yes," returned Hazel, getting down quickly. "I didn't think of that. I wanted so much to see if that lily-bud had opened, that looked as if it was going to, yesterday; and it has." "Which one?" asked Miss Fletcher, looking around. "Right there behind that second rosebush," replied Hazel, holding Ella tight with one arm while she pointed eagerly. "Oh, yes."
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