Macleod of Dare : a novel . and she leftthe house together. Was he greatly over-joyed ? There was a constrained and anxious 96 MACLEOD OF DARE. look on liis face that had been there too muchof late. I suppose Oscar is more at home here thanin Bury Street, St. Jamess ? said she, as thehandsome collie went down the path beforethem. No doubt, said he, absently: he was notthinking of any collie. What beautiful weather we are having, saidshe, to this silent companion. It is alwayschanging, but always beautiful. There is onlyone other aspect I should like to seeâthe snow-time. We have not much snow
Macleod of Dare : a novel . and she leftthe house together. Was he greatly over-joyed ? There was a constrained and anxious 96 MACLEOD OF DARE. look on liis face that had been there too muchof late. I suppose Oscar is more at home here thanin Bury Street, St. Jamess ? said she, as thehandsome collie went down the path beforethem. No doubt, said he, absently: he was notthinking of any collie. What beautiful weather we are having, saidshe, to this silent companion. It is alwayschanging, but always beautiful. There is onlyone other aspect I should like to seeâthe snow-time. We have not much snow here, said he. Itseldom lies in the winter. This was a strange conversation for twoengaged lovers : it was not much more in-teresting than their talkâhow many ages ago ?âat Charing Cross station. But then, whenshe had said to him, ^ Ought ive to taketickets ? she had looked into his face withthose appealing, innocent, beautiful eyes. Nowher eyes never met his. She was afraid. She managed to lead up to her announcement. 1 I ^ \ V is 1 i ft THE NEW TRAGEDY. 97 skilfully enough. By the time they reached theshore an extraordinarily beautiful sunset wasshining over the sea and the landâsomethingso bewildering and wonderful that they all fourstopped to look at it. The Atlantic was a broadexpanse of the palest and most brilliant green,with the pathway of the sun a flashing line ofgold coming right across until it met the rocks,and these were a jet black against the the distant islands of Colonsay, and Staffa,and Lunga, and Fladda, lying on this shininggreen sea, appeared to be of a perfectly trans-parent bronze; while nearer at hand the longranges of cliflfs were becoming a pale rose-redunder the darkening blue-grey sky. It was ablaze of colour such as she had never evendreamed of as being possible in nature ; nothingshe had as yet seen in these northern latitudeshad at all approached it. And as she stoodthere, and looked at those transparent islands ofbronze on the gree
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