VICARIOUS VAGABONDS
Thus it was the days flew by on romantic wings, each seemingly more filled with adventurous happiness than the last. Up with the promising rosy dawn, a mouthful of oats for the bonnie mare, a bit of bread and a draught of wine for the roadsters, the van packed, and heigh-ho for the alluring highway! It was a joyous, beautiful, glorious road with never a sigh nor a fret, for were they not homeward bound with hearts set to rights?
All day long they idled, never hurrying, stopping to gather flowers, fruit, or to admire a tree, a river, a valley, or a hill. Sometimes they fished for a dinner, or accepted the friendly invitation of a countryman to his table. Ever and anon they would sell a yard of lace, a ribbon, a trinket, a pack of thread. Often they sang, or chattered about kings and cabbages and things. Nance walked the greater way, but occasionally, tiring, she climbed into the cradling arms of Columbine and from the apron-like seat drove Rogue. In the early afternoon they would rest for an hour or two, sometimes more, if they were tired and the shade enticing. An early nightfall always found them securely camped waiting only for the darkness in which to go to sleep, Nance to dream on her couch in the cart; the pedler to lie upon the soft sweet-scented earth beneath a sheltering tree.
Aye, but they were wonderful, never-to-be-forgotten days! Glad halcyon days! Happy days in Arcady. Days of strange and gentle adventures.... Upon long-sought, rare days life gives us a dream come true, whose realization is even more wonderful than was the fancy. Such days were these.
It was the third or fourth day of such a vagabondish journey that found them at nightfall approaching a beech wood. Here, hidden from the road, beside a clear cool branch, in a charming little dingle about a hundred yards from an old country meeting-house, they pitched their camp. After things were made snug, Jean François left for a house which could be seen a quarter of a mile away, proposing to buy eggs, cheese, and bread.
Left to herself, Nance discovered a quiet, limpid pool, not far from the van, which appeared to be some two or three feet deep. Testing its temperature with her hand and finding it pleasurable, she dropped her petticoats and stepped gracefully into the water. Her fair body against the dusky twilight seemed that of a naiad. As she stooped, from time to time, and sported in the kissing ripples of her own creation, the loveliness of her was such as to have held captive every faun the greenwood knew. Then she climbed upon the grassy bank and stood for the warm winds of summer to dry her. O, how wonderful it was to be free!
Was she not a part of the great life? Then she thought of the old days, and smiled as she covered her breasts with her hands and sought her clothing.
Upon dressing she stretched herself at full length beneath a tree and, following her thoughts of the bygone times, began thinking of home folk, Oldmeadow, and Dr. Charles Reubelt King. In the light of the simple, primitive life she now led, coupled with many days of absence, his conduct did not appear quite as disagreeable as at first. Her grandfather was already forgiven. Of course dear conventional Aunt Barbara did not count. She laughed aloud when she thought of how shocked Oldmeadow would be when she came walking along the river road with Jean François. Then, for the first time, it occurred to her to wonder what her reception would be. She dwelt secure in the knowledge that she had been born and reared in the village. To have been an actual son or daughter of Oldmeadow was a virtue which would cover unnumbered sins. The world was judged harshly, but special privileges belonged to natives. Last of all she wondered if Dr. King would ever again dare to kiss her as he had the day before she ran away.
Suddenly she sat up, listening intently. She could hear Jean François talking to someone as he approached through the trees. She sprang to her feet, alarmed. No one had ever before intruded upon their seclusion, and she resented it now. She was in no very gracious mood for visitors as she stepped into the open that she might see at some distance the companion of the pedler.
There was with Jean François a tall, angular dusky-hued man who walked very erect and with a certain air of command. His forehead was noticeably high and broad; his thin hair as black as a gipsy's; his beard, of the same color, was neatly trimmed, soft, and fell to his waist; his brown eyes sparkled with humor and kindness.