Upon its receipt Louise had proceeded with real candour. The letter, or rather the important implication it contained, was discussed at once. Oh, yes. She went at once to Leslie with her sinister yet thrilling confession. Louise Needham was fundamentally an honest, an even straight-forward young person. Fundamentally: though the roots were not, it is true, always called upon. The mistakes she made were rather faults of judgment than altogether of a slumbering conscience. Indeed, there had been numerous occasions when her life would have moved much more smoothly had she been less blunt, or had her personal psychology possessed a few more curves. But this type of downrightness had been sternly inculcated. It was in the blood. The Rev. Needham maintained that a square, simple, stalwart attitude toward the world was the very cornerstone of security and peaceful living; and he had quotations out of the Scriptures to back it up. Yes, Louise had gone to Leslie at once. True, she hadn't just happened to speak about Lynndal before—that is, she hadn't quite painted the relationship in its true colours, which naturally amounted to the same thing. As for this silence—well, she would argue that it was in no real sense a deception, because the engagement (there was no ring as yet) wasn't public property. No, it was strictly an affair existing between herself and Lynndal. In a way, Leslie ought to consider himself honoured to be consulted at all.
"Well, he'll be here in a few hours now," mourned the honoured individual as they walked along together through the woods toward Crystal Lake and the little launch. "Then goodnight for me!"
"Les, please don't talk like that. You'd think we couldn't even be friends any more."
"Friends!" He had been suffered to call her more endearing names throughout the span of the past few weeks.
"I'm sure we'll always be the best sort of friends, Leslie."
But he couldn't see it. "I'm going back to the city!" It was about as close to heroics as he ever verged.
And following this highly dramatic climax there was a little space of silence. They walked on, side by side. Louise began to realize how unwise she had been.
This walk through the forest of Betsey was ordinarily a very wonderful experience. Of course, however, upon this occasion, neither of the young persons concerned was in any mood to appreciate it. For her part, if consulted, Louise would reply that she had no time. Still, for all that, the experience was (potentially) a delight; for here one discovered a true, unspoiled natural loveliness, even a kind of sylvan grandeur. The way, all underneath greenery thickly arched, wound up and down. From every eminence the neighbouring valleys appeared sunk to an almost ghostly declivity; but from the valleys themselves, the uplands, with their rich tangled approaches, soared grandly toward a heaven invisible for leafy vaulting. At this early hour the summits were a little dusky, while the depressions slept in deep shade. The full, fair rays of the uprising sun shot across the exposed tops of the higher levels of forest, and here and there even the loftier stretches of path would be dappled with furtive annunciatory splashes. In the forest it was cool and buoyantly fresh, though heat was already quivering up off the open stretches of sand skirting the smaller lake. It promised to be one of the warm days of a rather grudging season.
"Les," she said finally, "why do you talk about going back to the city?"