These completed
to her satisfaction, she leaned against the window and looked
hungrily towards the heavens. It was a blue, summer evening; there
was not a cloud in the sky.
Although the raucous voices of children playing in the streets
assailed her ears, she was scarcely conscious of these, her thoughts
being far away. She was always a lover of nature; wildflowers,
especially cowslips, affected her more than she would care to own;
the scent of hay brought a longing to her heart; the sight of a
roadside stream fascinated her. Now, she was longing with a
passionate desire for the peace of the country. Upon this July
evening, the corn must now be all but ripe for the sickle, making
the fields a glory of gold. She pictured herself wandering alone in
a vast expanse of these; gold, gold, everywhere; a lark singing
overhead. Then, in imagination, she found her way to a nook by the
Avon at Melkbridge, a spot endeared to her heart by memories that
she would never forget. As a child, she loved to steal there with
her picture book; later, as a little girl, she would go there all
alone, and, lying on her back, would dream, while her eyes followed
the sun.
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