A Few Hours in a Far-Off Age/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV.
A SMALL bell sounds near her chair. She rises instantly, and even while she goes towards the door her look of deep study has passed away.
Frederick joins her in the corridor. A romp with the great kind tiger gives some picturesque grouping. Except the impress on features of thought that has been, and can again be, all expression of reflection has gone from their faces as the young people gambol along, laughing gaily at "Leo's unusual delight at leaving school."
We enter a large room, in which are their parents. Must I describe it? It seems to my mind anyone might imagine such an apartment in such an age of reason.
Bereft of all old curiosity lumber—which I firmly believe is only a device for causing work—it is sensibly and elegantly a room where one can walk or rest in comfort. Light-statues, of course; painted walls, I mean subject-painting; two tables; and a few very resting chairs of pretty workmanship. At the opposite end to the one by which we entered are three wide glass doors, opening on to the verandah. Thence looking over the garden, is a view more beautiful than any other I have seen.
In centre of the room is a pillar, having looking-glass all round without a visible line to mar the effect, which is exquisite, especially where it reflects that marvellous scenery so wondrously enchanting. Yet I have only power to describe it as hills, near and far, bewilderingly shaded. The numerous tints, some quite new to my eyes caused by the bright flowers here and there abounding. Afar is a cascade, the shining water from which is to be traced at various angles among the valleys until it terminates in a lake to the right, bordered by magnificent trees. Near that are dwellings, pleasant pictures in themselves. Everywhere the freshness and the hope of spring!
But these poor words can give only a very imperfect idea of the splendors, and the grandeur of the scene on which I gaze.
With feelings of deepest reverence I wonder—and for the thousandth time, at least, sigh for a life of such beauty and purity!
A concerted laugh arouses me. On turning I find Leo staring apparently into my face and muttering.
"What does he see?" says Frederick. Then his sister tells him of his conduct in her room, which is generally considered as something remarkable.
During my absorption at the window they have prepared a dinner, or whatever it is named—five or six absurdly small loaves, three different kinds of fruit that has evidently been stored from summer (all new sorts) and a vessel of water. Not much after so long a fast! yet I learn they will take no more until to-morrow morning.
As with the young people, so it is with their parents—all look, words and tone of study gone. They enter into the humor of their children, and every one of the happy assemblage seems young.
Afternoon pastime is under discussion. Veritée wishes to accompany her mother and father to senate, to hear the debates. Frederick is anxious to go to Waratah (100 miles away), that he might have an hour in the museum. At last it is decided that, the day being exceptionally fine, they should "fly over to the West coast," and "have a run on the beach."