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Authors: Mary Burchell
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pleasure, she put out her hand and touched the silk. Only the lightest touch—certainly not the touch of possession — but infinitely delicate and caressing and appreciative.
Perhaps he made a slight movement at that moment. At any rate, she turned her head and, seeing him, smiled. He came forward then and, leaning his hands on the back of the sofa, looked down at her and asked, “ How do you like your birthday present? ”
“ My—birthday present? ”
“ Yes. It ’ s your birthday today, isn ’ t it? ”
She gave a mystified little laugh and said, “ How did you know? I—I had forgotten it myself. ”
“ I made it my business to find out, ” he told her. “ But I had to choose your present without consulting you. Do you like it? ” and he indicated the shimmering silk.
“ This —for me? For—for my birthday? ”
He thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than the streak of colour which suddenly came into her cheeks. And, taking the lovely stole, he put it round her; a trifle more clumsily than the girl in the shop had arranged it, but the general effect was enchanting .
“ For me? ” she said again, in an incredulous whisper, and she stroked the exquisite folds with a hand that trembled slightly.
“ It suits you. I knew it would, ” he declared, with some satisfaction. “ It looks like a rainbow. ”
“ Rainbow? ” It was the first time he had seen her hesitate about an English word.
“ I can ’ t remember the German word for it. ” He frowned consideringly. “ But rainbow is the name we give to the colours which appear in the sky when there is both rain and sunshine. ”
“ Rainbow, ” she repeated slowly. “ For both tears and happiness. Like today. ” And suddenly she buried her face in her hands. But not, he thought, entirely for grief.
“ No—you mustn ’ t cry any more, ” he said. And, coming round, he sat on the sofa beside her, put his arm round her, and gathered both her and the beautiful s himm ering silk against him.
“ I ’ m not crying, ” she said softly. “ Underneath all the sorrow I ’ m happy—like the rainbow. Thank you, Herr David, for my birthday present. I ’ ll keep it as long as I live. ”
He laughed at that and said, “ I hope you ’ ll live a great deal longer than any silk will last. ” But he was infinitely pleased with her reception of his present.
After a while he told her quietly of the arrangements he had made for her father ’ s funeral, and was glad to see that she listened without tears and was apparently very satisfied with what he had done. Then he asked her if she felt well enough to come downstairs for dinner or if she would prefer to have something quietly in her own room.
“ I will do whatever you want me to do, ” she said gravely.
“ But I want you to choose, ” he told her with a smile. “ If you feel it is too much to see strangers tonight, you have only to say so. ”
“ Who are the—strangers? ” she enquired, with a certain touch of youthful curiosity.
“ There is my cousin, Bertram, the son of my aunt whom you ’ ve met. Then a friend of my aunt, called Mrs. Preston, and her daughter, Celia. ”
“ She is a girl—Celia? ”
“Yes. A few years older than you. ”
“ And she is a great friend of yours? ”
“ Yes. You might describe her that way. I ’ ve known her a long while and we get on well together. ”
“ Do you love her? ” enquired Anya, with devastating simplicity, and, to his annoyance, David found himself flushing slightly, as he replied lightly, “ That ’ s too searching a question, An y a. We are not engaged, if that ’ s what you mean. ”
“ That wasn ’ t quite what I meant, ” Anya said seriously. Then, after a few moments of silence, she added, “ I will come down and meet your friends, if you think I should not be in the way. ”
“ You will certainly not be in the way, ” he told her. “ In fact, everyone will be very happy to meet you. ”
And
Perhaps he made a slight movement at that moment. At any rate, she turned her head and, seeing him, smiled. He came forward then and, leaning his hands on the back of the sofa, looked down at her and asked, “ How do you like your birthday present? ”
“ My—birthday present? ”
“ Yes. It ’ s your birthday today, isn ’ t it? ”
She gave a mystified little laugh and said, “ How did you know? I—I had forgotten it myself. ”
“ I made it my business to find out, ” he told her. “ But I had to choose your present without consulting you. Do you like it? ” and he indicated the shimmering silk.
“ This —for me? For—for my birthday? ”
He thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than the streak of colour which suddenly came into her cheeks. And, taking the lovely stole, he put it round her; a trifle more clumsily than the girl in the shop had arranged it, but the general effect was enchanting .
“ For me? ” she said again, in an incredulous whisper, and she stroked the exquisite folds with a hand that trembled slightly.
“ It suits you. I knew it would, ” he declared, with some satisfaction. “ It looks like a rainbow. ”
“ Rainbow? ” It was the first time he had seen her hesitate about an English word.
“ I can ’ t remember the German word for it. ” He frowned consideringly. “ But rainbow is the name we give to the colours which appear in the sky when there is both rain and sunshine. ”
“ Rainbow, ” she repeated slowly. “ For both tears and happiness. Like today. ” And suddenly she buried her face in her hands. But not, he thought, entirely for grief.
“ No—you mustn ’ t cry any more, ” he said. And, coming round, he sat on the sofa beside her, put his arm round her, and gathered both her and the beautiful s himm ering silk against him.
“ I ’ m not crying, ” she said softly. “ Underneath all the sorrow I ’ m happy—like the rainbow. Thank you, Herr David, for my birthday present. I ’ ll keep it as long as I live. ”
He laughed at that and said, “ I hope you ’ ll live a great deal longer than any silk will last. ” But he was infinitely pleased with her reception of his present.
After a while he told her quietly of the arrangements he had made for her father ’ s funeral, and was glad to see that she listened without tears and was apparently very satisfied with what he had done. Then he asked her if she felt well enough to come downstairs for dinner or if she would prefer to have something quietly in her own room.
“ I will do whatever you want me to do, ” she said gravely.
“ But I want you to choose, ” he told her with a smile. “ If you feel it is too much to see strangers tonight, you have only to say so. ”
“ Who are the—strangers? ” she enquired, with a certain touch of youthful curiosity.
“ There is my cousin, Bertram, the son of my aunt whom you ’ ve met. Then a friend of my aunt, called Mrs. Preston, and her daughter, Celia. ”
“ She is a girl—Celia? ”
“Yes. A few years older than you. ”
“ And she is a great friend of yours? ”
“ Yes. You might describe her that way. I ’ ve known her a long while and we get on well together. ”
“ Do you love her? ” enquired Anya, with devastating simplicity, and, to his annoyance, David found himself flushing slightly, as he replied lightly, “ That ’ s too searching a question, An y a. We are not engaged, if that ’ s what you mean. ”
“ That wasn ’ t quite what I meant, ” Anya said seriously. Then, after a few moments of silence, she added, “ I will come down and meet your friends, if you think I should not be in the way. ”
“ You will certainly not be in the way, ” he told her. “ In fact, everyone will be very happy to meet you. ”
And
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