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"There's something between us, Simon," said she, in an altered tone; "it used not to be like that." "Indeed it did not," he thought bitterly, and not for the first time he missed something in her some spirit of simplicity, freshness, flower-bloom, and purity that he had sought for, seen in many women, and found elusive, as the frost finds the bloom of flowers he would begem.
For to the wise and loving-hearted woman this was the last of sweet days, and her soul went out to the past with a great hunger of love; but she stilled it as was her wont, saying to herself that this dear passage of life had hitherto only been like the clear trickling of a woodland spring, while the love of the Father's heart was as it were a great river of love marching softly to a wide sea, on which river the very world itself floated like a flower-bloom between widening banks.
For to the wise and loving-hearted woman this was the last of sweet days, and her soul went out to the past with a great hunger of love; but she stilled it as was her wont, saying to herself that this dear passage of life had hitherto only been like the clear trickling of a woodland spring, while the love of the Father's heart was as it were a great river of love marching softly to a wide sea, on which river the very world itself floated like a flower-bloom between widening banks.
I might describe more prints, and the pleasure they have given me; I might pile epithet upon epithet; I might say that the colour was as deep and as delicate as flower-bloom, and every outline spontaneous, and exquisite to the point of reminding me of the hopbine and ferns.
A fairer apparition I have seldom seen, stately, pale, and fragile as a lily blond hair, that rippled round a forehead of ivory a cheek of waxen purity on which the fitful colour went and came not with the flush of southern blood, or flower-bloom of English beauty, but rather with a cool radiance, as of "northern streamers" on the snows of her native hills, eyes of a dusky blue, and lips of that rare tint which lines the conch-shell.
Gliding on and on, the scenery seemed at every turn to become more lavishly fruitful in forms as well as more sublime in dimensions snowy falls booming in splendid dress; colossal domes and battle meets and sculptured arches of a fine neutral-gray tint, their bases raved by the blue fiord water; green ferny dells; bits of flower-bloom on ledges; fringes of willow and birch; and glaciers above all.
The eyes of the bystanders were riveted by a white speck which showed itself in the windows of heaven, first like a flower-bloom and then like a fluttering pennon. It was a dove that flew down and circled round the head of him who had just been baptized. "My dearly beloved son!" The people whispered; "Whose voice was it that said: 'My dearly beloved son'?"
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