Anthony’s sister stood in her cool country living room, arranging her
flowers. There were a mass of them that she had brought in from the
rough-and-tumble garden by the cottage wall--hollyhocks, tall and pink
and already in their place in a green vase against the wall--cerise
cinnamon phlox, filling the air with their vivid fragrance, a riot of
nasturtiums of all colors, sweet peas whose pastel lavenders and pinks
were spoiled until Marjorie put them in a glass basket before a little
mirror, poppies, and deep orange African marigolds. Marjorie separated
them from each other and then reassembled them, mixing in now bachelors’
buttons with marigolds, and baby’s breath with poppies. She was quite
absorbed and her brother, lying on a cushion-piled settle, watched her
admiringly and for a few moments silently. When he spoke he seemed to be
taking up an interrupted conversation.
“You’re sure she is coming then?”
“Mrs. Williams told me so in town yesterday.”
“And you think that the skillful Maud was trying to hint that it was off
between Horatia and Jim Langley?”
“She had a saddened and romantic air about Horatia. I don’t know
exactly what she was trying to imply. But from a rather steady stream of
inquiries as to your whereabouts I was inclined to have vulgar
suspicions that she was really interested in you and your movements. And
then she said, ‘I suppose you know how it is, Mrs. Clapp, when these
young things turn to you with their romantic difficulties.’ And then she
giggled. How that remarkable young woman can giggle!” finished Marjorie.
Anthony sat puzzling.
“Of course Horatia doesn’t tell her a thing,” he said, “but that sort of
woman is astute as the devil in some ways. Well, if she comes down here,
Langley or no Langley, I’m going to go after her. If she wanted to marry
Langley badly enough she has had time enough to make sure by this time.
But it’s ridiculous to think of her wasting her time on one of these
awfully complicated intellectual emotional affairs if it’s not going to
come to anything. If she doesn’t want me she can tell me
again--stronger--to get to hell out--and I’ll get. But I’m going to get
the thing settled. I thought maybe I’d get over it when I got West. I
didn’t see a girl while I was out there who seemed real at all. And I’d
catch myself mooning. It’s unhealthy. It’s got to be stopped.”
“You want to remember,” said Marjorie, “that Horatia has had a hard
summer and that she will be tired. Don’t rush her too hard or she’ll go
to pieces or send you packing from sheer weariness.”
“I don’t mean to tire her. I want to rest her.” There was a strange
mixture of protectiveness and sullenness in Anthony’s tone.
“It’s all nonsense anyway,” he went on, “to think of her wearing herself
out in that miserable office. Girls oughtn’t to be allowed to knock
themselves to pieces that way. Where it’s necessary it’s bad enough but
when a girl----”
“Has only to sit back and let you support her,” laughed Marjorie.
“When a girl is like Horatia she’s altogether too valuable to throw
herself away for some fetish like earning a living. You know exactly
what I mean and you agree with me too, Marge.”
“It all depends on how much you can make her care for you.”
“I could make her care from sheer force of imitation if I could get this
Langley stuff out of her head.”
“Granted. But if she does happen to be in love with Langley?”
“He’s no person for her to marry.”
“You can’t do it by dogma, my dear.”
Anthony shook himself like an impatient puppy.
“Well, I’ll be damned if I don’t find some way to do it.”
“Love is queer,” reflected Marjorie, “in its effect on people. Now you
show it principally by a marked increase in profanity.”
Anthony grinned and left her.
The cottage stood well back from a road which wound itself around a
series of lakes and up steep hills into a district which was almost
mountainous. Anthony knew every foot of the country and loved it as well
as his cottage which had been the scene of so many pleasant parties,
both his own and Marjorie’s. It was the place above all which he would
have chosen for this biggest adventure of his life. The place which Maud
had taken was a few miles farther up the road but within easy distance.
There was every reason for Anthony’s contemplative smile as he swung
down the wooded road.
The Williams party arrived a few days later with some bustle. It was
Maud’s first venture into country residences and though it was on a
small scale it appealed to her immensely. Only her sudden acquaintance
with Marjorie Clapp had given her courage for the move, for the district
in the hills was a refuge for a society somewhat older and better
acquainted than Maud’s town crowd. She and Harvey had taken the children
away for the summer once before, but going to a summer hotel was a
different and incomparably insignificant thing beside the pride of
belonging to a genuine summer colony. She had asked Mrs. Clapp a little
diffidently about places in the hills and Mrs. Clapp had been
unexpectedly helpful--even giving her the name of a special cottage
which could probably be rented. An unpretentious little cottage enough
but pleasant to Maud because the Hilltons, the Straights, the Clapps and
the Morrises wore their ginghams and sun hats within a radius of ten
miles, pleasant to Jackie because he had been promised a rabbit,
pleasant to Harvey on account of a neighboring trout stream, and
pleasant to Horatia because the woods around it offered refuges and
solace.
Harvey took them up in the new stream line touring car which was the
outward sign of his increasing prosperity, and while Maud watched a road
map to be sure that Harvey would not miss the road which went by the
Country Club which the summer-people had built, Horatia sat with her arm
around a weary little Jack, breathing in the freshness of the woods with
their summer scents and thinking. She felt very old and disappointed and
disillusioned, and she thought with envy of the first time she had
driven over this road with Anthony in the winter, feeling so happy and
full of love for Jim. Maud poured out a steady stream of comment and
conjecture--and Horatia hardly listened, knowing that expression and not
attention was what Maud sought. She had never liked her sister so well
as she had during these past days. Maud had let her alone and asked no
questions. She seemed to be waking into a kind of appreciation of
Horatia’s feelings and Horatia was very grateful, entirely ignorant as
she was of Maud’s unrelinquished plans about Anthony. Horatia had just
thought of Anthony for the first time in weeks. She had thought of him
as the man who had driven the car when she had gone through these places
thinking of Jim, and first rejoicing in the happiness of love.
They reached their cottage and Maud was soon unpacking and opening the
house while the cook, imported lest life in the country become too
strenuous, began to prepare dinner. Horatia, bravely attired in her rose
sweater and hat, started out for a walk. She wanted to adjust her
thoughts and get perfectly calm, for she meant to be a gay companion and
not a doleful one.
Little leaf-covered paths wandered into the woods here and there. She
turned at random into them and went along, anxious to lose her
loneliness in the greater loneliness and friendliness of the forest. And
here, for the first time, she succeeded. The trees were motionless in
the still afternoon. Their branches curved and interlocked and made
great, cool, dark green shadows. The ferns stirred as she passed and she
heard the lazy chirping of some birds. It was deep and still and calm
and sure, so that in the midst of it Horatia became calm and sure for a
moment. She felt her ache for Jim’s presence pass, and for the first
time since she had gone from him there came a feeling that she was back
where she belonged. For the first time she felt awakened pleasure and
she stood very still, almost afraid to stir lest the peace that was
filling her should change to misery again. After a little she went on.
She did not want to go back to the cottage yet. Later she would be ready
for them but as yet she was ready only for herself.
And so Anthony came upon her--a bright bit of color in the midst of the
woods with her eyes shining with peace. At the sight of her he felt the
flush of his own face. It was all very well to be full of bravado before
Marjorie but in the presence of Horatia his confidence waned. Yet she
was clearly glad to see him.
“I heard you were West.”
“I came back last week and heard that your sister had taken the Warner
cottage. I was hoping you’d come out with her. Every month seems the
best out here but this one is especially nice. And there are wonderful
places to walk and ride. We have a swimming place and a very poor tennis
court----”
“I don’t think I shall like the tennis court half as well as just this.
I like your woods.”
“So do I,” answered Anthony with happy sympathy. “Let me show you a
finer place than this though. Deeper in.”
They went on until they came to a little clearing like a great room with
the trees interlocked above it. Along one side ran a tiny clear stream.
“But this is too perfect. This isn’t natural.”
“This is my room. I made it myself and furnished it by opening up the
stream. The bed was there for it but the water had been choked by a dam
of leaves. I cleared it out and now you see I have running water in my
room. That’s all I need.”
“It’s the most beautiful interior decoration I ever saw.”
“You shall have a key for that.”
He did not keep her. But he walked towards his sister’s cottage and
they came out in her garden. Horatia went into the house to see Marjorie
and the children. She felt curiously at home there, and Marjorie was so
very glad to see her that Horatia felt even more happy. She thought
suddenly that she could tell Marjorie a little about Jim, and that
Marjorie was the only person in the world to whom she could tell even a
little. But there was little time to think. Everyone wanted to plan
things to do and to arrange for many things. Then Anthony insisted that
he had walked her unconscionably far and to save her stiffness he must
take her home. She got into the car with delightful familiarity. Anthony
said never a personal word and if he thought them, Horatia did not
guess. She found him very handsome in his country khaki and even more
wholesome than ever. She was in a mood to yearn for wholesomeness.
Maud would have Anthony stay for dinner. Horatia found herself urging
him too and to her greater surprise found herself thoroughly
anticipating dinner. She had not been hungry for some time but
tonight----
“I’ve never seen Horatia eat so much,” said Anthony, “except on a
memorable evening at the Redtop Hotel.”
Banter and nonsense--healthy nonsense. How restful they were after
introspection and worry. How friendly and cheerful everyone was, and how
quiet and peaceful it was about them. Maud watched Anthony as she
crocheted a sweater for herself--Anthony watched Horatia--Harvey with a
secret amusement watched his wife and his sister-in-law, but Horatia
watched no one. She was revelling in peace. Jim was in her mind but no
longer torturing her. She thought of him as loving her and of herself as
loving him. No solutions of her difficulty came to her and she did not
look for any. She was content to be in the midst of life. It no longer
frightened her.
“Good-night,” said Anthony. “I’ll be over often. Look for me on the
doorstep every morning.”