Barnard, in his dream, began to feel old; and he began to feel lonely.
He missed the laughter of the little child. Even though Anne, and Dick,
and Charles still walked with him, he missed the little child.
He could see in Anne’s eyes that she, too, was lonely, but when he taxed
her with it, she gave him a gay denial.
The two boys, however, soon forgot. At first Barnard resented this; then
he accepted it dumbly. Revolt was dying in him. He still went forward as
steadily as before, but the old, fierce defiance no longer burned in his
breast. He no longer sought to escape The Threat above them. He
accepted its presence. Submission was born in him.
The Threat rode high and serene above their heads....
In his dream, he thought they went forward for a long time together,
through the fields. There were not so many stones in their path, not so
many thorns to snatch at them. Barnard took pleasure in lifting the
stones and tossing them aside, and he found joy in lopping off the
thorns. He was, in some measure, happy.
Then, one day, he spoke to Charles, and the lad did not hear him, did
not reply.
He looked at the boy in surprise; and he saw that Charles was looking
off across the field through which they passed. His eyes followed his
son’s eyes, and fell upon a girl child walking in the field, a little
way off.
She followed a path parallel to theirs, and she was answering Charles’
eyes with her own.
Barnard called to Charles again, more loudly; and this time the boy
heard, and turned, and answered him. But his eyes went back to the girl
as soon as he had answered.
Then suddenly, they came to a place where a narrow path led off from the
broad one they were following, and went toward the girl’s path; and here
Charles stopped. He looked along the narrow way.
“This is my path,” he said.
Anne did not understand. She put her arm around Charles’ shoulder. “No,
son,” she said. “The broad way is ours.”
“Go on, Charles,” Barnard told his boy, impatiently. “The broad path,
Charles. Go on.”
But their son shook his head stubbornly; and his eyes were meeting the
eyes of the girl, across the field. Barnard started to protest in anger;
but Anne looked at her son, and saw whither his eyes led; and she
followed his eyes and saw the girl.
The girl smiled at Anne, very humbly and beseechingly; and Anne put her
hand to her throat and trembled.
Then she turned to Barnard, nodding ever so little; and she reached up
to brush back a lock of hair upon the forehead of her tall son, and she
buttoned a button of his coat.
“Go bravely, Charles,” she whispered. “Good-by.”
He kissed her hurriedly. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “I’m not going far
away from you.”
Anne shook her head wistfully; but Charles was already running down the
narrow path and did not see; and when Dick shouted after him, Charles
did not hear.
They watched, and after a little they saw Charles and the girl come
together; and presently their son and the strange girl went happily off
across the meadow, out of their sight, hand in hand....