CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE NEW CURATE-IN-CHARGE While I?
I sat alone and watched; My lot in life, to live alone In my own world of interests, Much felt but little shown.
Yet sometimes, when I feel my strength Most weak, and life most burdensome, I lift mine eyes up to the hills, From whence my help shall come.
-- CHRISTINA ROSSETTI Malcolm sat for some time talking to the two ladies; then he made an excuse and set off in search of Leah.

He was well acquainted with the grounds of Sandy Hollow, and could have found his way blindfolded to the lower garden.
It was a quaint old plaisance shut in with high walls, which were covered with fruit trees, where downy peaches, and nectarines, and golden apricots, and big yellow plums nestled their sun-kissed cheeks against the warm red bricks.

In the oddly-shaped beds all manner of sweet growing things seemed to jostle each other--not forming stately rows, or ordered phalanx, or even gay-patterned borders after the fashion of modern flower-beds, but growing together in the loveliest confusion--peonies and nasturtiums, sweet-peas and salvias; and everywhere crowds of roses--over arches, climbing up walls, hanging in festoons over the gateway, long rows of Standards guarding the path like an army of beauteous Amazons; while all day long the heavy brown bees hummed round them, and filled their honey-bags with rifled sweets.
There was a small green bench placed invitingly in a shady corner, where Leah had seated herself to rest after her labours.

Malcolm thought that her figure gave the finishing touch to the picture.

She wore a white dress and a large shady hat, and a basket of Marshal Niel roses was in her lap; but when she caught sight of the visitor she rose so hastily that the basket was upset and the roses strewed the ground at her feet.