The sky was clear and brilliant, and a tonic from the forests
sweetened the rushing air. The lake was ruffled out of its usual
calm, and rolled and galloped along the distant shores and
flashed on the golden sands. Above the patches of red and brown
and yellow the hills and mountains stood out in bold, decided
lines.
Water fowl swept along the marshes. The doves in twos and threes
fluttered down to the path, strutted about in their peculiarly
awkward fashion, and doubtfully eyed the silent gray figure on
the bench, as if to question his right to be there this time of
the morning, their trysting hour. Presently the whole flock came
down, and began cooing and waltzing at the Marshal's feet. He
soon discovered the cause.
Her Royal Highness was coming through the opening in the
hedgerow which separated the two confines. She carried a basket
on her arm, and the bulldog followed at her heels, holding his
injured leg in the air, and limping on the remaining three. At
the sight of her the doves rose and circled above her head. She
smiled and threw into the air handful after handful of cake and
bread crumbs.
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