"
Lanier, dying of heartbreak! How well he had understood!
"Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea?
Somehow my soul seems suddenly free
From the weighing of Fate and the sad discussion of sin,
By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn."
And Keela too had guessed.
"In the rose-and-silver evening glow,
Farewell--"
Keela broke off and laid aside the book.
"I may not read more," she said, bending to the pottery with wild color
in her face. "I--I am very tired, Carl. You go in the morning?"
"Yes."
"You are strong--and sure?"
"Yes. Quite. I've promised Mic-co not to lose my grip again."
"And sometime you will come here again?"
"Often!"
A little later she went quietly away to the Room of Books with Mic-co.
When the evening star flashed silver in the lilied pool, Carl sat
alone. Mic-co had been summoned away by an Indian servant. A soft
light gleamed in the corner of the court in a shower of vines. Its
light was a little like the soft rays of the Venetian lamp that had
shone in the Sherrill garden, but Carl ruthlessly put the memory aside.
It had grown once into a devouring flame of evil portent. It must not
do so again.
His thoughts were so far away that a soft footfall behind him and the
rustle of satin seemed part of that other night until turning
restlessly, he caught the sheen of satin, brightly gold in the
lantern-glow.
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