Explore "The Splendid Fairing" by Constance Holme on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The afternoon which had seen Sarah's short-lived splendour had been sweet also for May. Sweeter, indeed, since for her there was no clashing of fierce passions to jar the tender witchery of her mood. And though the glamour was of the past -- a sheet of gold as of sunlight far at the back of her mind; a sea of gold from which she moved ever inward towards the darkness of the hills -- a tongue of light had suddenly darted from it to stream like a golden windblown ribbon over her path. That light was the knowledge that in her own hands lay the possibility of Geordie's return.
Youth came back to her with the thought, and she sat straighter still in the trap, holding her unused whip at a jaunty angle across the elastic bar of the reins. The good horse swung homewards in a generous stride; the bright wheels of the dogcart flashed through the dull country like a whirled autumn leaf. The passersby found a special sweetness in her ready smile, because it reflected the secret in her heart. As they went on their way they said what they always said -- that it was a marvel she had not married long ago.