No one should have taught him but me. But then--if Philip had
loved me--only that was never possible!--he would have been jealous of
the boy--and I should have lost him. I never do things in moderation. I
go at them so blindly. But I shall learn some day."
Thoughts like these, and many others, were rushing through Helena's mind,
as after a long walk she found her seat again over the swollen stream.
The evening had shaken itself free of the storm, and was pouring an
incredible beauty on wood and river. The intoxication of it ran through
Helena's veins. For she possessed in perfection that earth-sense, that
passionate sense of kinship, kinship both of the senses and the spirit,
with the eternal beauty of the natural world, which the gods implant in a
blest minority of mortals. No one who has it can ever be wholly forlorn,
while sense and feeling remain.
Suddenly:--a little figure on the opposite bank, and a child's cry.
Helena sprang to her feet in dismay. She saw the landlord's small son, a
child of five, who had evidently lost his footing on the green bank above
the crag which faced her, and was sliding down, unable to help himself,
towards the point where nothing could prevent his falling headlong into
the stream below.
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