rance: the
great silent marriage-bells of the trees.

After the early family supper, Gabriella, if there had been no shower,
would take her shawl to sit on and some bit of work for companionship.
She would go out to the edge of this orchard away from the tumult of
the house. The hill sloped down into a wide green valley winding away
toward the forest below. Through this valley a stream of white spring
water, drunk by the stock, ran within banks of mint and over a bed of
rocks and moss. On the hillside opposite was a field of young hemp
stretching westward--soon to be a low sea of rippling green. Beyond
this field was the sunset; over it flashed the evening star; and for
the past few days beside the star had hung the inconstant, the
constant, crescent of ages.

She liked to spread her shawl on the edge of the orchard overlooking
the valley--a deep carpet of grass sprinkled with wind-blown petals; to
watch the sky kindle and burn out; see the recluse Evening come forth
before the Night and walk softly down the valley toward the woods; feel
as an elixir about her the air, sweet from the trees, sweet with earth
odors, sweet with all the lingering history of the day. Nearer, ever
nearer would swing the stars into her view. The moon, late a bow of
thinnest, mistiest silver, now of broadening, brightening gold, would
begin to drive the darkness downward from the white domes of the trees
till it lay as a faint shadow beneath them. These were hours fraught
with peace and rest to her tired mind and tired body.

One day she was sitting thus, absently knitting herself some bleaching
gloves, (Gabriella's hands were as if stained by all the mixed petals
of the boughs.) The sun was going down beyond the low hills, In the
orchard behind her she could hear the flutter of wings and the last
calls of quieting birds.

She had dropped the threads of her handiwork into her lap, and with
folded hands was knitting memories.

At twilights such as this in years gone by, she, a little girl, had
been used to drive out into the country with her grandmother--often
choosing the routes herself and ordering the carriage to be stopped on
the road as her fancy pleased. For in those aristocratic days, Southern
children, like those of royal families, were encouraged early in life
to learn how to give orders and to exact obedience and to rule: when
they grew up they would have many under them: and not to reign was to
be ruined. So that the infantile a