It was all just like the
tale of Shalott, with this difference, that there was no shadow of doom
overhanging me; I felt more like a fairy prince with some pretty
adventure awaiting me as soon as the town, with gardens and balconies,
should begin to fringe the stream; perhaps a hand would be waved from
the lawn, embowered in lilacs, of some sequestered house by the
water-side. There was no singing aloud of mournful carols either, but
my heart made a quiet and wistful music of its own.
I thought that I should have liked a more grave and ancient mode of
conveyance; but how silly to desire that! The Lady of Shalott's boat
was no doubt of the latest and neatest trim, fully up to her drowsy
date; and as for quaintness, no doubt a couple of hundred years hence,
when our river-craft may be cigar-shaped torpedoes of aluminium for all
I know, a picture of myself in my homely motor-boat, with antiquated
hat and odd grey suit, will appear quaint and old-timed enough. And,
anyhow, the ripple gurgled under the prow, the motor ticked tranquilly,
and the bubbles danced in the wake. We went on swiftly enough, and
every time that I turned the great towers had grown fainter in the
haze; we slid by the green flood-banks, with here and there a bunch of
kingcups blazing in glory, the elbows of the bank full of white
cow-parsley, comfrey, and water-dock. I heard the sedge-warbler whistle
drily in the willow-patch, and a nightingale sang with infinite
sweetness in a close of thorn-bushes now bursting into bloom; blue sky
above, a sapphire streak of waterway ahead, green banks on either side;
a little enough matter to fill a heart with joy.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363