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Updated: July 24, 2025
But one fancied that the earth, not quite so secure in the infinite Love that held her, had learned to doubt, in her six thousand years of hunger, and heard the tidings with a thrill of relief. Was the Helper coming? Was it the true Helper? The very hope, even, gave meaning to the tender rose-blush on the peaks of snow, to the childish sparkle on the grim rivers. They heard and understood.
He stood back fully ten feet from her, and to all outside appearances regarded her calmly. "I've interrupted your siesta again," he said. "Please forgive me. I'll take myself off." He wandered away, and when it became impossible for him to stay away any longer he returned to the patio. The instant his glance rested upon Nell's face he divined she was feigning sleep. The faint rose-blush had paled.
She had turned up her pretty brown hair, and the last year had made her much less of a child in appearance; her features were of delicate mould, she had dark eyes, and a sweet mouth, with a rose-blush complexion, and was pleasing to look on, though, in her mother's eyes, no rival to the thin, rather sharply-defined features, bright eyes, and pink-and-white complexion that made Ida the belle of a certain set at Westhaven.
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