Judith, after a few hours with Mrs. Dutton and a hurried visit from
Nanny--indeed the Doctors Schubert were dears; but her heart was still
with her mistress--found Lary in the hall where, less than three months
ago, she promised to love, honour and obey him. He must make a hurried
run to Littlefield, on business for his father. It was a glorious
autumn afternoon and the road was in fair condition. At his suggestion,
Judith took an extra wrap, for the air would be chill after the sun
went down.
It was the twenty-fourth of November, and the temperature was that of
late spring; but the air held a dreamy content, as if the earth and her
children were drunk with rare old amber wine. On the brow of a hill,
a little way out from town, Lary stopped the car to point out a great
diadem of irregular rubies, in a setting of Etruscan gold. That, he
explained, was a scattering of scarlet oaks in a grove composed largely
of soft maples. Here and there a flavescent green asserted itself,
thinly.
“Walnuts,” he said, his face taking on a boyish look. “We had every
tree marked, when Bob and Syd and I were youngsters. You have to pick
out the location ... and remember it. The walnut has no community
instinct. It seldom grows in friendly groups, like the sweet gums
and sugar maples. The leaves are only yellowed by a frost that turns
the oaks crimson over night, and their formation gives the effect of
delicate filigree. Look at that sumac bush, Judith--like a great sang
de boeuf vase, with a red on the shoulder that would have filled an
ancient Chinese potter with awe. The flame-red in the sang de boeuf
porcelain was supposed to be derived from the breath of the gods, while
the kiln was at white heat. This red, that gives a flambé touch to so
many of these sumacs, is an insolent growth of rhus toxicodendron, that
has run wild all over these hills.”
“Poison ivy,” Judith cried. “Yes, we have it in New York and
Connecticut--all up to the Sound. During the summer, city people often
mistake it for Virginia creeper, to their sorrow. But after frost, its
coral colour betrays it.”
Something on the grassy slope caught her eye, and she asked for
explanation. Cobwebs. The shrubs were festooned with them, long
streamers floating in the breeze, like knotted gossamer threads. Over
the short grass they formed a continuous fabric, as delicate as crêpe
chiffon.
“Millions of spiders set to work with their spinning, the morning
after the first hard frost. No naturalist has ever explained, to my
satisfaction, where they come from, or what purpose they serve by
throwing out all this maze of webs. I can’t believe that there is any
utilitarian end in view. As if nature couldn’t squander a little effort
on pure beauty!”
When the car had rounded the shoulder of the hill, Judith touched her
husband’s arm. “Look, Lary, is that fire? Not the red of the foliage,
but that film of smoke, away beyond the field.”
He followed the lead of her gaze, across a dun field dotted at more or
less regular intervals with huge shocks of withered corn, beside some
of which lay piles of yellow and white ears, husked and ready for the
crib. Beyond this were broad acres of wheat stubble, glistening silver
in the sun. And then the creek, half hidden from view by a tangle of
wild grape and trumpet creeper that well-nigh suffocated the stunted
trees along its bank. Over the field, the stream, the low woods beyond,
was a silver mist that deepened first to azure, then to smoky purple,
as it met the far horizon.
“That isn’t the result of fire, dear. That is our much vaunted Indian
Summer haze. The Indians had a legend to explain it. Ask Theo to tell
you. It’s one of her favourites.”
“Yes, yes.... I had forgotten. I shall always associate it with Dr.
Schubert--the peace that came to him after the long years of tragedy
and the final shock of sudden death. Lary, do you think....”
“I am afraid not, dearest. My mother was born in an off season. Nothing
in her case works out on normal lines.”
Then they rode on in silence, each wondering how the other had caught
the unvoiced question that was in both minds.