The way to Sheldon Woods was full of surprises to the uninitiated. The path led from the main road past an old well, on through the orchard belonging to the "Grange." Beyond the orchard one must know well in which direction to go, for the path could scarcely be distinguished amid the thick growth of underbrush, weeds and saplings. Once on it one must be impressed by its wild beauty, and could imagine himself far from habitations. Here the sea was not in sight, only dense masses of growing things, strange vivid-colored fungi, thickets of brakes, the softest and greenest of mosses, a jungle of brambles. At last one came to a stone wall and stepped out upon an open field which appeared unexpectedly. It was here that Gwen and Mr. Mitchell saw Kenneth at work one day.
"There is your friend, Mr. Hilary," said Mr. Mitchell to his companion, as he waved a signalling hand. "Shall we go over and see what he is doing?"
"No, no," returned Gwen hastily. "He hates to be disturbed when he is sketching. I think we'd better go on." And without turning aside they followed the path across the field, and disappeared in the grove of tall pines beyond. Gwen wondered whether they were watched by the man apparently so absorbed in his work, but she did not once look back.
Once within the deep woods it was necessary to be sure of bearings, but Gwen knew the way thoroughly, and presently they entered an enclosure surrounded by encircling pines, which were so closely ranked about them that daylight scarcely penetrated the spot. The ground was soft to the tread by reason of its thick carpet of pine-needles, and soft, waving curtains of gray moss depending from the trees, helped to shut out the light.
"This seems almost a holy place," said Gwen softly. "We call it the Cathedral, and I have never seen a finer."
"It is a solemn sort of place," agreed Mr. Mitchell. "Let's get out of it. I say, Miss Whitridge, when you go abroad you will see the real thing, though I must say I never took much stock in cathedrals, even over there."
Gwen moved on. "I didn't mean to compare them to this," she said with a short laugh.
Emerging from the dense woods the sea lay before them, and from the high bluff it was easy to appreciate the nearness of neighboring islands.
"Now, where shall we sit?" said Mr. Mitchell. "That seems rather a jolly place over there under that tree with the low branches."
"No, not there," returned Gwen hastily. "I know a fine place a little further on. We are to read awhile and then go around to the other side to see the sunset. I am glad it is clear again, although I did enjoy the fog that first day. However, a week of it gets rather tiresome. One has such a very limited horizon and no perspective to speak of. Sometimes life seems like that, as if a fog had shut down suddenly and cut off all your perspective, doesn't it?"