He walked as rapidly as he wrote,
holding his head very high in the air. He wore a light grey suit and a
new straw hat with a dull olive green ribbon on it, poor dear. She was
glad that it was a fine day for the hat.
She watched him till the beech-tree hid him from her sight; then she
opened the west windows, and the south wind that she had just let in
tried to rush out again by them, and in its passage it lifted up the
leaves of Mr. Rickman's catalogue and sent them flying. The last of
them, escaping playfully from her grasp, careered across the room and
hid itself under a window curtain. Stooping to recover it, she came
upon a long slip of paper printed on one side. It was signed S.K.R.,
and Savage Keith Rickman was the name she had seen on Mr. Rickman's
card. The headline, _Helen in Leuce_, drew her up with a little shock
of recognition. The title was familiar, so was the motto from
Euripides,
[Greek: su Dios ephus, o HElena thugater,]
and she read,
The wonder and the curse of friend and foe,
She watched the ranks of battle cloud and shine,
And heard, Achilles, that great voice of thine,
That thundered in the trenches far below.
Tears upon tears, woe upon mortal woe,
Follow her feet and funeral fire on fire,
While she, that phantom of the heart's desire,
Flies thither, where all dreams and phantoms go.
Oh Strength unconquerable, Achilles! Thee
She follows far into the shadeless land
Of Leuce, girdled by the gleaming sand,
Amidst the calm of an enchanted sea,
Where, children of the Immortals, hand in hand,
Ye share one golden immortality.
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