"Bonny--they are bonny!" he said and
touched the flowers. "I've set a week from to-day to be dressed and
out of this and back to the keep. Another week, and I shall ride Black
Alan."
"Ah," said Alice. "You mustn't determine that you can do it all
yourself! There will be the doctor and the wound!"
Alexander took her hands and held them. "You are a fine philosopher!
Where is Strickland?"
"Helping Aunt Grizel with accounts. Do you want him?"
"When you go. But not for a long while if you will stay."
Alice regarded him with her mother's shrewdness. "Oh, Glenfernie, for
all you've traveled and are so learned, it's not me nor Mr.
Strickland, but the moon now that you're wanting! I don't know what
your moon is, but it's the moon!"
Alexander laughed. "And is not the moon a beautiful thing?"
"The books say that it is cold and almost dead, wrinkled and ashen.
But I've got to go," said Alice, "and I'll send you Mr. Strickland."
Strickland came presently. "You look much stronger this morning,
Glenfernie. I'm glad of that! Shall I read to you, or write?"
"Read, I think. My eyes dazzle still when I try. Some strong old
thing--the Plutarch there. Read the _Brutus_."
Strickland read. He thought that now Alexander listened, and that now
he had traveled afar. The minutes passed. The flowers smelled sweetly,
murmuring sounds came in the open windows.
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