Spring Magic by D E Stevenson

Author:D E Stevenson [Stevenson, D E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-07T06:00:00+00:00

The days were passing quickly, and Frances began to feel that this pleasant existence had been going on for months. It was such a peaceful, happy existence that she would have been quite pleased if it could have gone on indefinitely; but that was impossible, of course, for this was just a holiday, it was just an interlude between her old life and her new. Dr, Digby had written to her again, assuring her that she was quite capable of taking the post he had found for her and urging her to take it without delay, and she had received a letter from Mr. Fleming, the manager of the munition works, saying that he hoped she would decide to come and that the canteen would be ready in about three weeks. Three weeks seemed a long time in prospect, and Frances—secretly very glad of the delay—wrote to Mr. Fleming and said that she would come.

Now that she had made up her mind, and her holiday had a definite limit, Cairn seemed more beautiful and more lovable than ever. Spring had come, and to Frances, who had never before spent the spring months in the country, the beauty was amazing. The weather was a mixture of smiles and tears, of warm sunshine and silver showers. In the fields near the village and on the slopes of the hills there were lambs with black faces and tiny black legs, chasing each other and frolicking with gay abandon. Frances wanted to frolic too. There was magic in the air; magic in the sunshine, in the springing grass, in the flowers and the song of the birds, in the veil of tender green which was spreading rapidly over the earth. Frances saw the green buttons on the larches; she watched the chestnut tree outside her window, and every day there was a difference in it. The fat, brown sticky buds burst apart and the sheaths fell away, and the tiny fingers of tender green leaves spread themselves in the still air—it was a magic spring—or so Frances thought—she could not believe that spring had ever been so beautiful before. She said something of this to Elise, and Elise agreed with her.

“Perhaps it’s because of the war that everything seems so beautiful,” said Elise thoughtfully. “The war and all its horrors—and this peaceful, beautiful place . . . we appreciate it more. Perhaps it’s because we know that our country is in danger, that all the things we value more than life itself are in danger. . . . I don’t know . . .”

The Crabbes were now the only people living in the hotel besides herself, and Major Crabbe could scarcely be described as living in the hotel. He came over when he could and was usually there at night, but there were evenings when Frances and Elise sat by themselves in the lounge with the windows wide open, reading or knitting and listening to the wireless. They had reached the stage of friendship when they could talk or not as they felt inclined—it was very pleasant.

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