'All the witchery of the Autumn concentrated itself into this hour. The
slanting rays of the evening sun lit up the rich and sombre harmonies of
the dying foliage. Gold, amber, saffron, violet, purple,
sea-green--tints the most faded and the most violent mingled in one deep
strain, not to be surpassed by any melody of Spring, however sweet.
'"Look," she said, pointing to the acacias, "would you not say they were
in flower?"
'At last, after an interval of silence, to make a beginning I said:
"Manuel is sure to be here by Saturday. I expect a telegram from him
to-morrow, and we shall leave by the early train on Sunday. You have
been very good to me while I have been with you--I am deeply grateful to
you."
'My voice broke, a flood of tenderness swelled my heart. She took my
hand and clasped it tight without speaking or looking at me. We remained
silent for a long time, holding one another by the hand.
'Presently she asked--"How long will you be with your mother?"
'"Till the end of the year, I hope--perhaps longer."
'"As long as that?"
'We fell silent again. By this time, I felt I should never have the
courage to face an explanation; besides which, I felt that it was less
necessary now. Francesca seemed to have come back to me, to understand
me, to be once more the sweet kind sister of old. My sorrow drew out her
sadness as the moon attracts the waters of the ocean.
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