he tiniest of little
chapels, nestling modestly in the sparse shade of two dark cypresses.
His mind recurred to that peaceful hour, as he chatted in desultory
fashion with May, but those quiet musings seemed very far away and
unreal in the clear, matter-of-fact atmosphere that that charming young
person created about her, even in her quieter moods. Still further to
deter him from sentimental reminiscences, two small curs rushed forward
on the left bank of the tranquil water pathway--barking vigorously, and
rousing to an equally noisy demonstration another pair of sentinels on
the opposite shore.
As the gondolas went their way, however, without evincing any intention
of trespassing on dry land, the dogs subsided, and in the sudden lull
that followed, other senses than that of hearing were quickened. May was
just rousing to wonder what it was that smelt so sweet, when Angelo,
unable to resist the occasion, turned, and touching his hat, remarked,
with laconic eloquence: "Strawberries"; a suggestion which was not to be
resisted.
They moored at a modest landing, in the shadow of an acacia tree, when
Geof and Angelo were promptly dispatched upon a foraging expedition, the
ambitious stripling, who had so boldly taken the initiative, beaming
broadly at the success of his venture. May stepped forward and took her
favourite seat on the gondola steps, and, as the other boat came up and
tied to theirs, Kenwick was brought face to face with her.
"Strawberries?" he repeated, in reply to the joyful announcement; "my
life is saved!" Then, in a low voice: "I have been simply starving ever
since we left Torcello," he averred.
"You have?" May exclaimed, with discouraging literalness. "I suppose it
is the breeze, or perhaps the walk in the meadows."
"Yes," Kenwick answered, and there was something so very like sincerity
in his tone, that it did convey a dim impression of what was almost a
genuine feeling; "it was the walk in the meadow!"
May laughed lightly, yet a trifle constrainedly, he pleased himself with
fancying. "You shall starve no more," she said, "for here are the
strawberries."
The two ambassadors were striding down a rural path, their hands laden
with small baskets of diminutive scarlet strawberries. At their heels
came three dogs and one cat, acting as vanguard to a woman and a young
girl, who carried blue china plates of most aesthetic homeliness. A small
and bashful boy was clinging to his mother's skirts, tak
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