Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and the
garden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had left
at Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of this
one as Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller means.
Here was a fountain trellised over by a framework rich in roses and
our lady's bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, pansies, lavender,
and the new snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, and a
little bush shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose
grown in King Rene's garden of Provence.
These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds of
useful vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots had
long been in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimenting
on. Much did Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiar
plants he had often needed and could not procure in England, and for
some of which he had a real individual love. The big improved
distillery and all the jars and bottles of his youth were a joy to
him, almost as much as the old friends who accepted him again after a
long "wander year."
Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she could
not share, and while most of the burghers' wives spent the summer
evening sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop,
conversing with their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff or
needle among the roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguiling
Grisell to come and take the air in company with her, for they
understood one another's mute language; and when Lambert Groot was
with his old friends they sufficed for one another--so far as
Grisell's anxious heart could find solace, and perhaps in none so
much as the gentle matron who could caress but could not talk.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187