AT THE RIVER'S EDGE 18 



After her return, conversation arose in the kitchen, 

 and immediately throve; there was long-drawn 

 laughter, with Anastasia as humorist; it was com- 

 fortable to hear it. 



In the gi*ass between the window and the river the 

 young spikes of the daffodils were gi'ouped like com- 

 panies of spearmen, resolute in the cold opposition of 

 January. A thorn -tree leaned stiffly over the hasten- 

 ing water, and the robin that had been drinking near 

 its roots shot up, as if tossed from the ground, accom- 

 plished a lofty curve, and sank again, in exquisite 

 transitory yielding to the earth-force that would 

 some day defeat it for ever. The low wind gathered 

 purpose, and a mist began to thicken the sky. It 

 went and came, as though it must return to press 

 the house to its bosom, and tell those within of its 

 love and its despondency. 



Martin Ross. 



1914. 



