He went to the house in which he had been born; it was held by
strangers now, and there were curtains of a hideous colour in the
windows, and one of the blinds had been drawn up by a careless hand
and hung awry. But the roses were there in all their beauty--roses
grown for other hands to pluck and to delight other eyes. He leaned
over the little gate which led from the street and looked about him;
looked into all the familiar corners that had held such terrors for
him when he had been very young indeed; thought of the mother who had
wandered there, as he had heard his father describe. And that brought
him quite naturally to the churchyard, where he found the two mounds--a
little less prominent than they had been--side by side, with some fresh
flowers upon them. He knew that the flowers must have come from the
captain, and his heart swelled a little, with renewed gratitude to his
old friend.
It was too early for breakfast yet, and he set off through the town;
aimlessly, as he told himself, and yet of fixed purpose. There seemed
to be but one place that he desired to visit, and his pulses thumped a
little, in an unaccustomed fashion, as he drew near to it; it was the
garden in which he had found 'Linda.
The years had brought one change on the very threshold of it: one of
the gates--that which had hung by a single hinge so long--had given way
completely, and lay prone upon the grass inside, half covered with dead
leaves and choking weeds. Comethup picked his way across it and walked
cautiously under the trees. Bright as the morning was, it seemed quite
dark here, and he shivered a little as he went on. He almost expected
to see a little figure he remembered so clearly spring up again in his
path and run to him, crying his name; but no one was in the garden,
and only a bird fluttered among the leaves and cried in quick alarm
to his mate. He made the circuit of the house, and looked up at the
blank windows; but the place seemed quite deserted, and he came away,
wondering a little impatiently where the girl could be, and filled with
a determination to invoke the aid of the captain in order that he might
see her.
A glance at his watch told him that the captain's breakfast hour was
near at hand, and he hurried back to the cottage. As he drew near to it
he saw that some one was in the garden--a young girl, tall and slim, in
a sober gray gown, with little ruffles at the throat and wrists. Her
back was turned toward him, and she was busily gathering the choicest
of the captain's roses. Even then no suspicion of her identity entered
his mind; he stopped for a moment, wondering, and then walked to the
gate and pushed it open.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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