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Updated: May 20, 2025
She passed her closed hand up and down, feeling the stiff smoothness: she clasped and pressed the bursting bud. "Feel it, Struan, feel it," she said. "It's alive." He turned, shaking, away. "They say," she went on, caressing the bud, "that this is really the Lily of the Annunciation. It's a symbol, I've read. Gabriel held one in his hand when he stood before Our Lady. Did you know that?"
"Oh, Struan," she said, "do come and see the Susianas. They are on the very point of opening. Do come. There's nobody about. They've gone down to the river." He could not face her, knowing what he knew. But he could not resist her either. "I'll come," he said, and followed her. She went gaily and eagerly. "You've never done so well with them as this year. I counted a dozen. Huge!
It was Bella the laundrymaid she saw him from the window, and had a turn. The window was open. "Why, Struan," she said but he told her to shut mouth and eyes. "The less you see, and know," he said, "the better for you." Poor Struan, with his tragedy airs! Bella told that to Minnie, and that she would never forget it to her dying day.
She's had six of her own, and knows what it is." Regretfully, one by one, she put the striving blind things down; then rose and went her way into the gardens about the house. Slowly through the kitchen gardens she passed. Glyde, thinning walled peach-trees, saw her, felt her go. She shed her benediction upon him "Good morning, Struan," and went on.
He threw his head up. "Menzies, forsooth!" He scorned Menzies. "Then I don't see why you should go. I shouldn't like it. I hope you will stay." He looked at her now across the dusk, intensely. "You hope I will stay?" "Yes, certainly I do." "You hope I will stay? You ask me to stay?" She considered. Then she said, "Yes, I think so. Yes, I do." "Then," said Struan, "God help us all. I stay."
"It's all we have in the world. I am here to tell you that he waits for you. Good-night." "Good-night, Struan," she said. "I'm quite happy now." She remembered afterwards, with a shock of dismay at her selfishness, that she had never asked Struan of his welfare. She came to herself with a shudder and envisaged her circumstance. She had had "a rare vision," like Bottom the weaver and that was all.
He's only old and grumpy." "He's a fool," said Struan. "Certainly, he's a fool. But that's neither here nor there." Miss Percival, ignoring what she chose to ignore, said again, "I hope you won't go." The young man shifted his ground, and dug his heel into the turf. "I must indeed, I must." "Where shall you go?" "God knows." "Why must you go?" "You know why." "Is it because of Menzies?"
"You are Scotch?" I ventured. "Ay! From Perth, awa'. "A Scotch tinker?" "Just that; a tinker from Perth, and my name's Robertson. I'm a Struan, ye ken. The Struans, the real Struans, are a' tinkers or pipers. In oor family, my elder brother fell heir to my father's pipes, so I had just to take to the tinkering. But we're joint heirs to my father's fondness for a dram. Ye havena a wee drop on ye?"
When I asked her, how could we meet him if he had not told us the time? she made a grievance of it, and said that was so like him. So it is, of course." Struan remained speechless, and had turned away his face. Miss Percival continued her reflections aloud. "How long has he been away? More than a year. He wrote once from Singapore then from Rawal-pindi and that was all, until I got this telegram.
She showed a pale, sad face. "How dreadful! I must write a note. Will you let me write here, and leave it with you to give him when he comes?" She wrote in pencil, "My dear Struan, I am very sorry. You made me angry, but I'm sorry now. I came to say Good-bye, as I am going away. Mrs. Benson is with me. See Mr. Menzies when you can. He has promised to help you, and, of course, I will too, if I can.
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