"What a
happy inspiration!"
She gave a little laugh, but she said nothing more, and Bernard gave no
further account of his plan. They went and sat down near Mrs. Vivian for
ten minutes, and then they got up again and strolled to another part of
the garden. They had it all to themselves, and it was filled with things
that Bernard liked--inequalities of level, with mossy steps connecting
them, rose-trees trained upon old brick walls, horizontal trellises
arranged like Italian pergolas, and here and there a towering poplar,
looking as if it had survived from some more primitive stage of culture,
with its stiff boughs motionless and its leaves forever trembling. They
made almost the whole circuit of the garden, and then Angela mentioned
very quietly that she had heard that morning from Mr. Wright, and that
he would not return for another week.
"You had better stay," she presently added, as if Gordon's continued
absence were an added reason.
"I don't know," said Bernard. "It is sometimes difficult to say what one
had better do."
I hesitate to bring against him that most inglorious of all charges,
an accusation of sentimental fatuity, of the disposition to invent
obstacles to enjoyment so that he might have the pleasure of seeing
a pretty girl attempt to remove them.
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