"Do let us go around by the boundary," Miss Lutworth said when they got
through the Wendover gates. "I long to see even the park of that
exquisite old lady; it must look quite different to anybody else's, and
I feel I want an adventure!"
So they struck in towards the haw-haw--the four walking almost abreast.
When they came to beyond the copse, after it touched the Professor's
garden, they paused and took in the view. It was unspeakably beautiful
from there, rolling away towards the splendid old house, which could
only just be distinguished through the giant trees, not yet in leaf. And
suddenly, hardly twenty yards from them across the gulf, coming from the
gap in Mr. Carlyon's hedge, they saw a tall and very slender
mouse-colored figure, as Halcyone emerged on her homeward way--she had
run down to see Cheiron when her duties with Miss Roberta were over, and
was now going back to lunch.
"Good morning!" called John Derringham, and the four advanced to the
very edge of their side, and Halcyone turned and also bordered hers,
while she bowed serenely.
"Isn't it a day of the gods!" he continued. "And may I from across this
Stygian lake (there was a little water collected in the haw-haw here
from the recent rains) introduce Miss Lutworth to you--and Miss Clinker
and Lord Freynault? Miss Halcyone La Sarthe."
Everyone bowed, and Halcyone smiled her sweet, grave smile.
"We would love to jump over--or you come to us," Cora Lutworth said with
her frank, friendly charm. "Isn't there any way?"
"I am afraid not," responded Halcyone. "You are across in another
world--we live in the shades, this side."
"Remember something about a fellow named Orpheus getting over to fetch
his girl"--"gail" Lord Freynault pronounced it--"since old John will use
Eton cribs in describing the horrid chasm. Can't we sop old Cerberus and
somehow manage to swim, if there is no ferryman about?"
"You would certainly be drowned," said Halcyone. "In this place the lake
is quite ten inches deep!"
Cora Lutworth was taking in every bit of her with her clever, kindly
eyes.
"What a sweet, distinguished violet-under-the-mossy-bank pet of a girl!"
she was saying to herself. "No wonder Mr. Derringham goes to see his
Professor! How mad Cis would be! I shan't tell her." And aloud she said:
"You cannot imagine how I am longing to get a nearer peep of your
beautiful old house. Do we get a chance further on?"
"No," said Halcyone. "I am so sorry. You branch further off once you
have passed the closed gate. It was very stupid--the La Sarthe quarreled
with the Wendovers a hundred years ago, and it was all closed up then,
and these wicked spikes put."
"It is too tantalizing. But won't you walk with us to where we have to
part?" Miss Lutworth said, while John Derringham had a sudden longing to
turn back and carefully remove certain bits of iron and brick he wot of,
and ask this nymph of the woods to take him on to their tree, and tell
him more stories about Jason and Medea in that exquisitely refined voice
of hers, as she had done once before, long ago. But even though he might
not have this joy, he got rather a fine pleasure out of the fact of
sharing the secret of the crossing with her, and he had the satisfaction
of meeting her soft eyes in one lightning comprehending glance.
They chatted on about the view and the beauties of the neighborhood, and
they all laughed often at some sally of Cora's--no one could resist her
joyous, bubbling good-fellowship. She had all the sparkle of her clever
nation, and the truest, kindest heart. Halcyone had never spoken to
another young girl in her life, and felt like a yearling horse--a desire
to whinny to a fellow colt and race up and down with him beside the
dividing fence of their paddocks. A new light of youth and sweetness
came into her pale face.
"I do wish I might ask you to come round by the road," she said, "and
see it near, but, as Mr. Derringham knows, my aunts are very old, and
one is almost an invalid now, so we never have any visitors at all."
"Of course, we quite understand," said Cora, quickly, touched at once by
this simple speech. "But we should so love you to come over to us."
"Alas!" said Halcyone, "it is indeed the Styx."
And here they arrived at the boarded-up gate, where further view was
impossible, and from which onwards the lands ceased to join.
"Good-by!" they called to one another, even Arabella Clinker joining in
the chorus, while Cora Lutworth ran back to say:
"Some day we'll meet--outside the Styx. Let us get Mr. Derringham to
manage it!"
And Halcyone cried a glad "Oh, yes!"
"What a darling! What a perfect darling!" Miss Lutworth said
enthusiastically, taking Arabella's arm as they struck rapidly inward
and up a knoll. "Did you ever see anything look so like a lady in that
impossible old dress? Tell us about her, Mr. Derringham. Does she live
with those prehistoric ladies all alone in that haunted house? Could
anything be so mysterious and romantic? Please tell us all you know."
"Yes, she does, I believe," John Derringham said. "My old master tells
me she never sees or speaks to anyone from one year's end to another. I
have only met her very rarely myself."
"Does it not seem too awful?" returned Cora, aghast, thinking of her own
merry, enjoyable life, with every whim gratified. "To be so young and
attractive and actually buried alive! Don't you think she is a dream,
Arabella?"
"I was greatly impressed with her distinction and charm," Miss Clinker
said. "I wish we could do something for her to make things brighter."
"Let us ask Cis--" and then Miss Lutworth paused, returning to her first
thought--she knew her hostess well. No, it could not bring any pleasure
into the life of this slender, lithe English lady with the wonderful
Greek name, to be made acquainted with Cecilia Cricklander, who would
tear her to pieces without compunction the moment she understood in what
direction John Derringham's eyes would probably be cast. He saw Cora's
hesitation and understood, and was grateful.
"I believe this girl is trumps. I don't think she will even mention our
meeting," he said to himself.
Now for a few steps Miss Lutworth drew Arabella Clinker on ahead.
"Arabella, you dear," she whispered, "I don't want to say a word against
Cis--who, of course, is all right--but I have a feeling we won't tell
her we've met this dryad of a Halcyone La Sarthe. Have you got that
instinct, too?"
"Quite strongly," said Arabella, who never wasted words. "I was going to
mention to you the same idea myself."
"Then that is understood!" and she laughed her happy laugh. "I'll see
that Freynie doesn't peach!"
Thus it was that four demure and healthful-looking beings joined the
party on the terrace of Wendover, and described their pleasant walk,
without one word spoken of their _rencontre_ with the youngest Miss La
Sarthe. And once or twice Cora Lutworth's mischievous eyes met those of
John Derringham, and they both laughed.