Читать книгу The Peacock Feather. A Romance онлайн

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And then she gave him another of her gracious smiles as the bays moved off down the sunny street.

II

It was not till after dinner that night that General Carden opened the book. He was then sitting in a large and comfortable armchair in his study. A shaded electric lamp stood on a table at his elbow, and he was experiencing the sense of well-being of a man who has just partaken of a most excellently cooked dinner.

He fixed his gold-rimmed glasses on his finely chiselled nose and opened the book, though with but faint anticipation of interest. After a page or two, however, he became absorbed, almost fascinated. The writing appealed to him; it was pleasant, cultured. There were here and there some very neatly turned phrases. And then, quite suddenly, one paragraph arrested his attention. It was in itself a quite insignificant little paragraph and merely descriptive. Here it is, however:

“Near one corner of the house, grey-walled, weather-beaten, stood a great pear-tree, its branches almost touching the diamond-shaped panes of the narrow window—the window of the octagon room which held for him so many memories. In spring-time the tree was a mass of [Pg 66]snowy blossoms, and among their delicate fragrance a blackbird sang his daily matins. Later in the year the tree would be full of fruit, many of which fell to the ground, and, bruising in the fall, would fill the air with a sweet and almost sickly scent. In the trunk of the tree was a small shield-shaped patch, where the bark had been torn away, and the initials R. and J. cut in the smooth underwood. They belonged, so the boy had been told, to the twin brothers, whose gallant history had fascinated him from childhood.”