OUR dog-cart took the lead, descending first the steep and rugged road which led from the station, our driver walking at the horse's head. I found that the waggonette was Mr. Romilly's property, but that the dog-cart was hired,—said driver being its owner, a kind and fatherly old farmer, living near Beckdale House. He and his will be our nearest neighbours here, I imagine.
Rain still fell, though not heavily; and it soon ceased, for which I was not sorry. We could not hold up umbrellas. The wind came in blasts.
Elfie would in a general way have been nervous to the last degree about so abrupt a descent; but she scarcely seemed to notice it. Her whole mind was with her mother. The horse planted his feet slowly and with caution, his great haunches going down in successive jerks. I could hear little cries and exclamations of half-simulated half-real alarm from the waggonette: yet no sound came from Elfie.
It was getting very dusky, for we had been long at the station. I was able, however, to see distinctly the small sharp face leaning against me, whitey-brown in hue, with wide-open terror-stricken eyes fixed on vacancy; and the chill of Elfie's clasping fingers came through her gloves and mine. I did not speak to her, however. I knew she would rather be let alone.
The very steep hillside safely over, our drivers mounted, and we bowled along a good road, still indeed descending, but often so gently that one scarcely perceived the fact.
Dusky hills or perhaps mountains rose high on either side of the long narrow dale through which our way led us: and to our left a brawling stream rushed downward from the dale-head. My attention was riveted, as the road brought us near. I have never before seen a genuine mountain-torrent. The seeing was indeed partial; but the swirl of white foam gleamed weirdly through semi-darkness, and the roar of small waterfalls over opposing boulders came to my ears like grand chords of Nature's music.
I looked to discover if Elfie were able to enjoy all this; but no, she had not stirred, and the fixed eyes were blank, as of one whose thoughts are turned entirely inward.
Then I glanced back, to catch a glimpse of Thyrza's straight characteristic profile—she has the best profile of any one in the family—and she turned, as if from a simultaneous impulse, to glance at me, her lips parted, her eyes shining, her whole face softened into a rare new beauty. I was so glad that enough light remained for me to gain a clear view of her at that moment. It was a fresh glimpse of Thyrza's real self.
"You like this?" I breathed, leaning back to speak, and she said—
"Oh, it is splendid!"