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Updated: June 24, 2025
I've kept mum long of the kid's taking-off." Joyce's eyes widened as she stared through the open window over which the rose-vine was being lashed by a new storm. "I've bided my time, and it was more for you than for me, you can bet. "This is the big time of our lives, and I ain't going to hold back any facts what can make things clear and reasonable.
On glorious, soft summer nights like this, when the moon is opulent and full, the day submerged and forgotten, she loves to sit there behind her rose-vine and let her fancy wander where it will.
She took wing away on the breeze of the waltz, and George, having stared gloomily after her for a few moments, postponed filling an engagement, and strolled round the fluctuating outskirts of the dance to where his uncle, George Amberson, stood smilingly watching, under one of the rose-vine arches at the entrance to the room. "Hello, young namesake," said the uncle.
Was it the charm of the place or because Margaret was there, he wondered, that he felt so happy? By all means he must follow her. Why should he not? He looked at the clambering rose-vine that covered one end of the house, and noticed how it crept close to the window casement and caressed the white curtain as it blew. Margaret must have such a vine at her window in the house he would build for her.
I wonder if you are not really Paradise! she said, dreamily; and the marvel is that the rising sun did not stop a moment in sheer surprise at the sight of this radiant morning vision; for the oval window opening to the east was a pretty frame, with its outline marked by the dewy rose-vine covered with hundreds of pure, half- opened buds and swaying tendrils, and she stood there in it, a fair image of the morning in her innocent white gown.
"Come over and see the little cap I've made Bennie so as to do you honor," called rosy Mrs. Tillett as I went down the street towards the grocery. "I ain't got but six more yards of gingham to sew up for the two littlest," Mrs. Spain called cheerily as she looked past a whirring sewing-machine out through a window that was wreathed with a cinnamon rose-vine in full bloom. "Want any help?"
Sounds roused her. Strange, terrific sounds. What was Jude doing? Trembling in every limb, she went forward and peered through the rose-vine into the room. The rain was cooling her face and the wind was clearing the agonized brain. Inside, the scene struck terror to the watcher's heart. Jude was crashing the furniture to pieces in a frenzy of revenge.
Jerome looked out of this door-arbor, garlanded with the old rose-vine, into a great yard, skirted beyond the driveway with four great flowering cherry-trees, so old that many of the boughs would never bud again, and thrust themselves like skeleton arms of death through the soft masses of bloom out into the blue.
A great straggling rose-vine grew over the hood of the door, and its young leaves were pricking through the lattice-work; it was old and needed trimming; there were many long barren shoots of last year.
I suppose the rose-vine screened me, and his glance did not rise quite to the mirror, but followed the soft thumbings with which he tried the two edges and point of as murderous a knife as ever I saw. As softly as a shadow I drew out of sight, turned away, and went almost back to the gate before I let my footfall be heard, and called, "M'sieu' Fontenette!"
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