Frank gave no especial attention to this portion of her letter. His interest in mushrooms was confined chiefly to the days when Constance could be there to expatiate on them in person.
In another letter she referred to their adventure on the mountain, and to the fact that Frank would be likely to see Robin before her return.
"You may tell Robin Farnham," she said, "about our visit to the hermit, and of the message he sent. Robin may be going in that direction very soon, and find time to stop there. Of course you will be careful not to let anything slip about the tale he told us. I am sure it would make no difference, but I know you will agree with me that his wishes should be sacred. Dear me, what a day that was, and how I did love that wonderful house! Here, among all these people, in this big modern hotel, it seems that it must have been all really enchantment. Perhaps you and Robin could make a trip up there together. I know, if there truly is a hermit, he will be glad to see you again. I wonder if he would like to see me again. I brought up all those sad memories. Poor old man! My sympathy for him is deeper than you can guess."
It happened that Robin returned to the Lodge that same afternoon. A little later Frank found him in the guide's cabin, and recounted to him his recent adventures with Constance on the mountain—how they had wandered at last to the hermitage, adding the message which their host had sent to Robin himself.
The guide listened reflectively, as was his habit. Then he said:
"It seems curious that you should have been lost up there, just as I was once, and that you should have drifted to the same place. You took a little different path from mine. I followed the chasm to the end, while you crossed on the two logs which the old fellow and I put there afterward to save me time. I usually have to make short visits, because few parties care to stay on McIntyre over night, and it's only now and then that I can get away at all. I have been thinking about the old chap a good deal lately, but I'm afraid it would mean a special trip just now, and it would be hard to find a day for that."
"I will arrange it," said Frank. "In fact, I have already done so. I spoke to Morrison this morning, and engaged you for a day as soon as you got in. I want to make another trip up the mountain, myself. We'll go to-morrow morning—directly to the cabin—and I'll see that you have plenty of time for a good visit. What I want most is another look around the place itself and its surroundings. I may want to construct a place like that some day—in imagination, at least."
So it was arranged that the young men should visit the hermitage together. They set out early next morning, following the McIntyre trail to the point below the little fall where the hermit had bidden good-by to mankind so many years before. Here they turned aside and ascended the cliff by the hidden path, presently reaching the secluded and isolated spot where the lonely, stricken man had established his domain.
As they drew near the curious dwelling, which because of its construction was scarcely noticeable until they were immediately upon it, they spoke in lowered voices, and presently not at all. It seemed to them, too, that there was a hush about the spot which they had not noticed elsewhere. Frank recalled the chorus of birds which had filled the little garden with song, and wondered at their apparent absence now. The sun was bright, the sky above was glorious, the gay posies along the garden paths were as brilliant as before, but so far as he could see and hear, the hermit's small neighbors and companions had vanished.
"There is a sort of Sunday quiet about it," whispered Frank. "Perhaps the old fellow is out for a ramble, and has taken his friends with him." Then he added, "I'll wait here while you go in. If he's there, stay and have your talk with him while I wander about the place a little. Later, if he doesn't mind, I will come in."