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Johnston, Mary, 1870-1936

"Foes"

When the hour struck three he passed out of the opening in the
old wall, clambered down the bank, and, going through the wood, took
his way to White Farm.
Just one foreground wish in his mind was granted. There was an orchard
strip by White Farm, and here, beneath a red-apple tree, he found
Elspeth alone. She was perfectly direct with him.
"Willy told us that you were home. I thought you might come now to
White Farm. I was watching. I wanted to speak to you where none was
by. Let us cross the burn and walk in the fields."
The fields were reaped, lay in tawny stubble. The path ran by this and
by a lichened stone wall. Overhead, swallows were skimming. Heath and
bracken, rolled the colored hills. The air swam cool and golden, with
a smell of the harvest earth.
"Elspeth, I stayed away years and years and years, and I stayed away
not one hour!"
She stopped; she stood with her back to the wall. The farm-house had
sunk from sight, the sun was westering, the fields lay dim gold and
solitary. She had over her head a silken scarf, the ends of which she
drew together and held with one brown, slender hand against her
breast. She wore a dark gown; he saw her bosom rise and fall.
"I watched for you to tell you that this must not go on any longer. I
came to my mind when you were gone, Mr. Alexander--I came to my mind!
I think that you are braw and noble, but in the way of loving, as love
is between man and woman, I have none for you--I have none for you!"
The sun appeared to dip, the fields to darken.


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