Matters were in this by no means satisfactory state when Mrs. Singleton, growing weary of other forms of amusement, decided to patronize Nature. There was a great deal of beautiful scenery in the vicinity of Scarborough, which she declared had been too long neglected. "A picnic is horrid!" she said. "The very word is full of vulgar associations, and the thing itself is tiresome beyond expression. One would grow weary of the most delightful people in the world if doomed to spend a whole day in the woods with them. But a few hours in the pleasantest part of the day—that is another matter. A gypsy tea is just the thing! We will go out in the afternoon to Elk Ridge, have tea, look at the sunset, and return by moonlight; is not that a good idea?"
"Excellent," said the persons whom she addressed—a party of five or six who had been dining with her. "It will make a very pleasant excursion, only we must be sure of the moon."
"Oh! we have only to consult the almanac for that," said the lively hostess. "I think there is a new moon due about this time."
Marion laughed, and, touching the arm of old Mr. Singleton, by whom she sat, pointed out of a western window to the evening sky, where hung the beautiful crescent of the moon, framed between the arching boughs of tall trees.
"Hum—yes," observed that gentleman. "Anna's attention to Nature is altogether controlled by the question of whether or not it can be made to contribute to her amusement. Now that the moon has arrived, it will not be long before the gypsy tea takes place."
And, indeed, in a few days all arrangements for this festivity were completed, the party made up, and the programme settled. Mrs. Singleton wished that Marion should accompany her; but Helen protested so much against this that the arrangement was changed; and it was finally settled that Marion and herself, with Rathborne and Morley, would make up a parti carré in a light open carriage.
There is nothing more attractive to youth, nothing more suited to its natural lightness of heart and spirit, than such pleasures as these—golden afternoons in summer woods and under summer skies; sunsets when all nature is flooded with beauty, like a crystal cup filled to the brim; and nights of spiritual, entrancing loveliness. Even with older persons, the sense of care seems lifted from the mind for a little time among such scenes; while to the young and happy, care is a thing impossible to realize when earth itself in transformed into Arcadia.
So Helen felt as she started on this excursion. In some subtle fashion, the doubts which had weighed upon her for a considerable time past were lifted. She did not say to herself that she had been foolish, for she was little given to self-analysis; but involuntarily she felt it, involuntarily she threw off the shadow which had fallen over her, and grasped the pleasure offered, as a child puts out its hand to grasp sunbeams. When they drove away, her heart was as light as a feather, her face as bright as the day, and she turned back to wave her hand in gay farewell to her mother.
CHAPTER X.