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Page 6
And yet did he say
wisely? The vine boughs
Which, pruned and trimmed, are stripped of half their grace
Are those that bear rich grapes, not the wild sprays
That droop and twine and wander with the winds,
Growing towards the sunlight as they will.
The home in London chosen, himself installed,
Gervase half eager, half reluctant, went
To greet the Westlands. Scoldingly the aunt,
And cordially, gave welcome; as one scolds
A truant favourite and praises him
For coming back at last. The daughters teased,
Evelyn among them, with a playful show
Of making him a stranger, and were kind
With a benevolent modest courtesy ......
Which Gervase quite forgot to think by rule,
Although, in sooth, they would have been the same
To one less liked. But he discerned in them
A frank goodwill, and was at ease, assured
Of his familiar place with them again.
And if sweet Evelyn flushed a little more
Than her sisters when she spoke, it might be chance,
Or else her fairer skin which showed the glow
Sooner than theirs; for she betrayed no sign
Of flutter or of coyness.
She had passed
From gift to woman, and was lovelier,
As the evening star grows lovelier, that glows
With its full light, than when it first awoke,
White and uncertain, in its younger gleam.
But she was yet a girl in years, and kept
A something of the child in her grave eyes,
And the child's questioning look. He could not keep
From watching her, she was so rare a thing:
And presently it seemed as if his talk
Was all for her, whoever questioned him
Or answered. And she, by degrees, became
More silent than her share, checked by the sense
Of a half-sweet constraint, and blushed confused
Because he made her beauty present to her.
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