Uncle Felix, Tim, and
Judy were as much a part of it as the lilac, hyacinths, and tulips.
Any minute, it seemed, the butterflies and bees and birds might settle
on them too.
For a bloom of exquisite, fresh wonder lay upon the earth, lay softly
and secure as though it need never pass away. No fading of daylight
could dim the glory of all the promises of joy the day contained, no
hint of waning anywhere. "There is no hurry," seemed written on the
very leaves and blades of grass. "We're all alive together! Come and--
look!" The garden, lying there so gently in its beauty, hid a secret.
Yet, though all was so calm and peaceful, there was nowhere the
dulness of stagnation. Life brimmed the old-world garden with
incessant movement that flashed dancing and rhythm even into things
called stationary. The joy of existence ran riot everywhere without
check or hindrance; there was no time--to pause and die. For the
sunlight did not merely lie upon the air--it poured; wind did not
blow--it breathed, ambushed one minute among the rose-trees just above
the ground, and cantering next through the crests of the busy limes.
The elms and horse-chestnuts that ordinarily grew now leaped--leaped
upwards to the sun; while all flying things--birds, insects, bees, and
butterflies--passed in and out like darting threads of colour, pinning
the beauty into a patterned tapestry for all to see.
Pages:
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307