Nostromo - A Tale of the Seaboard.pdf - Planet eBook

Gould added to the grace of her seated figure the charm ofart, of an attitude caught and interpreted for ever. Turningabruptly, the doctor took his leave.Mrs. Gould leaned back in the shade of the big treesplanted in a circle. She leaned back with her eyes closedand her white hands lying idle on the arms of her seat. Thehalf-light under the thick mass of leaves brought out theyouthful prettiness of her face; made the clear, light fabricsand white lace of her dress appear luminous. Small anddainty, as if radiating a light of her own in the deep shadeof the interlaced boughs, she resembled a good fairy, wearywith a long career of well-doing, touched by the witheringsuspicion of the uselessness of her labours, the powerlessnessof her magic.Had anybody asked her of what she was thinking, alonein the garden of the Casa, with her husband at the mineand the house closed to the street like an empty dwelling,her frankness would have had to evade the question. It hadcome into her mind that for life to be large and full, it mustcontain the care of the past and of the future in every passingmoment of the present. Our daily work must be done tothe glory of the dead, and for the good of those who comeafter. She thought that, and sighed without opening hereyes—without moving at all. Mrs. Gould’s face became setand rigid for a second, as if to receive, without flinching, agreat wave of loneliness that swept over her head. And itcame into her mind, too, that no one would ever ask herwith solicitude what she was thinking of. No one. No one,but perhaps the man who had just gone away. No; no one