The Upas Tree: A Christmas Story for all the YearBarclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa)
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The Upas Tree: A Christmas Story for all the Year
Barclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa)
Christmas stories
When Ronnie came to himself, emerging quite suddenly from a long,
confused dream, which had held many voices, many happenings over which
he had exercised no control and which were too indefinite to be
remembered, he found himself sitting on a seat, on the esplanade at
Hazelbeach.
A crisp, wintry feeling was in the air; but the sun was brilliant, and
the high ground behind, sheltered the sea-front from wind.
He was muffled in his fur coat, and felt quite warm.
The first thing he consciously noticed was the sparkling of the ripple
on the calm water.
There is something particularly reviving and inspiriting about sunshine
on the gaily moving sea. The effect is produced with so little apparent
effort. The sun just shines; the water just moves; and lo, hosts of
sparkling diamonds!
Ronnie watched it in silence for some time, before giving any sign that
he actually saw it.
He was anxious carefully to take his bearings, without appearing to do
so.
Helen sat beside him on the seat. She kept up a flow of conversation, in
the kind, cheerful, intelligent voice in which you talk to a child who
has to be kept happy and amused.
Ronnie let her go on talking in that voice, while he took his bearings.
He glanced at her, furtively, once; then turned his eyes seaward again.
Helen, also, was wearing a fur coat, and a pretty grey fur toque on her
soft hair. Her face seemed thinner than it used to be; but the sea
breeze and sunshine had brought a bright colour to her cheeks.
Ronnie's eyes left the ripples, and wandered cautiously up and down the
shore.
The beach was deserted. No moving figures dotted the esplanade. Helen
and he would have been alone, had it not been for one tiresome man who
sat reading on the next seat to theirs. He looked like a superior valet
or upper footman, in a bowler and a black morning coat. He was just out
of earshot; but his presence prevented Ronnie from feeling himself alone
with Helen, and increased the careful caution with which he took his
bearings.
At last he felt the moment had arrived to stop Helen's well-meant
attempts at amusing him.
The man on the other seat was a dozen yards off to the right. Helen sat
quite close to him on the left. He turned his back on the other seat and
looked earnestly into his wife's face.
"Helen," he said, quietly, "how did we get here?"
"We motored, darling. It isn't very far across country, though to get
here by train we should have to go up to town and down again."
"When did we come?"
"Yesterday. Ronnie, do look at those funny little wooden houses just
beyond us on the esplanade. They take the place of bathing-machines, or
bathing-tents, in summer. They can be hired just for the morning, or you
can engage one for the whole time of your visit, and furnish it
comfortably. Don't you think it is quite a good idea? And people give
them such grand names. I saw one called 'Woodstock,' and another
'Highcombe House.' If we took one, we should have to call it 'The
Grange.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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