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Page 9
But she was sadder after
that, at times
Half querulous, and bitterer when she laughed;
And Gervase never said nor did the thing
That pleased her. And yet once, and twice, he saw,
When she had pained him sharpest, that her eyes
Were heavy with big tears and her paled lips
Were quivering piteous. And the passion rose
Into his heart "She loves me, and shall love."
He waited. Lota was so strange; a word
At the wrong moment, a too happy look,
Too loving, a too confident clasp of hands,
Might startle her away from him. She seemed
A timorous wild thing, liking to be stroked,
Yet shrinking from his hand lest it should hold
Too firm for flight, and, suddenly alarmed,
Butting for very fear. "I dare not stir,"
He said, "lest I should lose her." And it was
As if, in losing Lota, he should lose
All fire of loving in him, all delight
In womanly sweet charms, in ruddy lips
That seem grown ripe for kisses, white warm arms
Waiting to cling about a husband's neck,
Clear eyes meant to look large with love, the play
Of glorious blushes flashing at a look,
The subtle stir of life in every limb
And the round grace of form - all Lota had
Less than a many women Gervase knew,
Than any of her cousins, but of which
She was to him the bodied perfect all.
He waited, meant to wait. But on a day
He brought her, simply, as he would have brought
To Evelyn or Constance, a choice spray
Of pearly hot-house roses amber-touched
Towards the core, because he heard her wish
For such a rose to draw into her group:
And Lota mocked him for the pains he took
To be a squire of dames; and first the flowers
Were over yellow for her, then too pale,
And then she tossed them into Ethel's lap,
As just the tint to suit her that night's dress.
Till Mrs Westland, vexed, cried out at her
For such a wayward thanklessness "Indeed
Gervase is far too good to have so long
Taken your snappish ways indifferently,
And still have wished to pleasure you to-day."
Then Lota tried to laugh, but suddenly
Broke into tears and hurried from the room;
And Gervase on the moment followed, snatched
Her trembling hand, and drew her suddenly
Into the balmy quiet, where sweet flowers
And greenness and white placid statues were,
Into the balmy quiet, they alone.
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