“When I get to the office,” he promised himself, “I’ll cut this out, stop thinking about her. The minute I sit down at my desk I’ll shut her out. And after this not even her unexpected appearance, or the sudden hearing her name spoken, will jolt me out of control of my mind again. I promise myself. I promise myself....”
From the platform of the little station the roofs of Wild Acres could just be discerned through bare tree branches at the top of a long upward slope of country. Ariel stood, her hands deep in the pockets of her wonderful coat, her chin lifted, looking back over the way they had come. Hugh, suddenly remembering her, followed her eyes, and said, “That’s Wild Acres roof. Did you think we’d come so far? And those windows in the attic are Grandam’s. If I were going to be at home this morning, I’d take you up to her, whether she invited us or not, first thing. Probably, as it is, you won’t see her till dinner to-night,—if then. But if Grandam does appear before I get back don’t let her scare you. She’s not really mysterious and awesome. Quite an ordinary human being. Remember that. And you might tell Mother that I’ll try to get out rather early this afternoon. Good-by, Ariel, and thanks for your company. It’s very pleasant being seen off like this!”
From the steps of the moving train he looked back at her. It was pleasant, in all conscience—now that he had at the last minute possible waked up to it,—having a friendly girl, with a friendly, sympathetic light in her green eyes, smiling from under a green hat, waving him off. And the green feather on the hat, as the train rushed away, seemed as smiling and friendly as the eyes. Ariel and her green feather! There was something sympathetic among the three of them, Ariel, the green feather, and Hugh himself. Something living and vital. And how glad he was that he had hit on that particular coat for her! It went with the fairy-tale hat, the fairy-tale eyes. He took joy in his gift.
After the train had rushed out of the landscape, Ariel stood on the platform for a moment longer, the only visible sentient thing in the whole morning world,—a morning world that cried, “Come, Come, Come. Dive, swim, run through me, come into my heart! I love you as your beach at home loves you, as the sea loves you. Come quickly. Every step since you left Wild Acres’ door you have been getting nearer. Come all the way now. Into my heart. Into the heart within my heart. Into its beat!”—Oh, Ariel was happy!
She had made her bed and arranged her possessions in closets and drawers before going downstairs. She saw no reason now why she should return to the house. The moth, no doubt, would tell Mrs. Weyman that she had accompanied Hugh to the station, and when she did not come back, they would understand that she had gone for a walk, and not bother about her. She started down the stairs from the train platform slowly, and then, more quickly, walked away into March sunlight.
Chapter VIII
“The children and their guest are still sleeping. Hugh’s guest got up early, and went to the station with him. She hasn’t come back yet, and it’s nearly eleven. But that’s all right, I suppose. It’s a difficult position Hugh’s put us in.”
Mrs. Weyman was paying her daily visit to Grandam in the attic apartment. Usually she went up soon after lunch, because Grandam liked her mornings clear. Clear for what, no one in the family, except Grandam herself, could have said; not even Miss Peters, her nurse-attendant, who might, if any one, be supposed to know how she spent the solitude she so highly prized. But Miss Peters herself was banished for hours every morning and she was neither prying nor curious.
“You don’t mind my coming up so early, do you?” Mrs. Weyman inquired belatedly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” It was obvious that she wasn’t. She had found Grandam lying on her daybed, exquisitely costumed for the day, as usual, looking down across the woods to the Hudson. She hadn’t even a book in her hand. “I felt suddenly in need of sympathy.”
She said it charmingly, and settled down in a low chair, which she had drawn close to the daybed. “It’s the girl I want to talk about, of course. Hugh’s Ariel Clare.”