CHAPTER XXX
SHIP OF DREAMS
THE sunshine poured in through the windows of Garth's room, across the bed and across the floor. The reflection of light on sparkling water below danced on the ceiling like a moving network of quicksilver, a cool, liquid filigree rippling back and forth. Elspeth sat beside the bed, sewing. Her smooth, dark hair was bound by a blue fillet, and at her throat she wore a silver clasp with peacocks fashioned upon it in green-blue enamel. Sometimes she looked up from her work at Garth, who was sleeping, one arm outflung. Beneath the white sleeve a dull mark still showed where his wrist had been bound cruelly tight. As the advancing sunshine touched his face, Elspeth rose to arrange the shade. He turned his head away from the light, moved his hand uncertainly, and opened his eyes.
"Hello, Mudder," he said.
"Hello, my darling," said Elspeth, smiling.
340
