..
The room filled with the little rushing music of wind in leaves; and,
as he said 'laburnum,' there came at last a sudden opening channel
through the fog that covered her so thickly. Starlight, that was like
a rivulet of laburnum blossoms melted into running dew, flowed down
it. The Widow Jequier stirred in her sleep and smiled. Other channels
opened. Light trickled down these, too, drawn in and absorbed from the
store the Gardener carried. Then, with a rush of scattering fire, he
was gone again. Out into the enormous sky he flew, trailing golden
flame behind him. They heard him singing as he dived into the Network
--singing of buttercups and cowslips, of primroses and marigolds and
dandelions, all yellow flowers that have stored up starlight.
And the atmosphere of Tante Jeanne first glowed, then shone; it
changed slowly from gloom to glory. Golden channels opened everywhere,
making a miniature network of their own. Light flashed and corruscated
through it, passing from the children and their leader along the tiny
pipes of sympathy the Gardener had cleared of rubbish and decay. Along
the very lines of her face ran tiny shining rivers; flooding across
her weary eyelids, gilding her untidy hair, and pouring down into her
heavy heart. She ceased fidgeting; she smiled in her sleep; peace
settled on her face; her fingers on the coverlet lost their touch of
strain.
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