It was nearly dawn before we felt that we had gone far enough to be willing to risk her facility; and then, to freshen ourselves up, we went outdoors. The air was cool and invigorating; it was a beautiful night of stars and cloud. About the house the trees waved and rustled. The mass of woods across the garden was black in shadow. I smelt mint mingled with violets.
I took her arm, but it was she who guided me through the obscurity, knowing every inch of the way through long acquaintance. The dogs awoke and growled as we passed the stable, but instantly relapsed into silence as if aware of the presence of friends. A horse whinnied in his stall. We climbed the hill, Joy feeling for the concavity of the path with sensitive feet and leading me on; and at the top we sat down, wrapped a shawl about our shoulders and waited for the day to break. We could hear the dogs barking far away. The second crowing of cocks sent challenges from one distant farm to another; infinitely remote a railway whistle sounded. After an hour the twittering of birds began, at first in occasional chirps, and finally in a chorus of matutinal gossip. The sky in the east grew pink, then, through red and orange and yellow, to a pale straw color. The limb of the sun pushed through the sea, freed itself from the horizon and floated up and up, flooding the country with light.
We walked back to the house, rejuvenated by the fresh air, and had our baths and hot coffee which Leah had ready for us. Joy was full of spirit and courage. The lines about her eyes were softened and her whole figure and bearing expressed determination. At eight o'clock she said:
"Well, let's ring up the curtain. I must begin the play. It's time to telephone. I'm going to tell the first lie I've told, I think, for months. You've no idea how unnecessary it has been down here. I'm afraid I've almost forgotten how to be a woman."
She got the doctor, and after a short conversation he promised to come down to Midmeadows on a train that would land him at the house at ten o'clock. We went over the day's campaign at the breakfast-table, and I gave her my last instructions. At nine o'clock Uncle Jerdon drove up, and I got into the carriage to go to the station, bidding her good-by, for his benefit.
The old man was loquacious as usual, but offered nothing in regard to affairs at Midmeadows. He commented upon the crops and the state of every farm we passed, without ever touching upon Miss Fielding's condition. If this were his custom with every one, no man could be safer to have about the premises, but I had an idea he was more communicative with the doctor. At any rate, it had seemed best to me to make him believe that I was going up to town.
I had already prepared the plan by which I was to outwit them both. The up-train came into the station first, while the down-train waited on a siding for it to pass. All I had to do was to bid Uncle Jerdon good-by, get into the smoking-car, and, as it pulled out, drop off the step and dodge quickly behind a woodpile beside the track. Here I waited, peeping over the top till the down-train had gone and I saw Doctor Copin get into the carriage to drive off with Uncle Jerdon. Then I walked leisurely back to Midmeadows, went into the cabin and waited with what patience I could.
I had to stay from ten till two o'clock, before I saw the carriage go back with its passenger. That wait had been long, but it was not so anxious a time as I had spent before, for I knew that Joy would be quite able to cope with the situation. But I was relieved to see the carriage go back, and left the cabin the moment the vehicle was out of sight.
I had gone only half-way up the lane when I saw Joy coming to meet me. She looked tired and pale. She ran to my arms and kissed me.
"Oh, he's infamous!" she cried. "I never would have believed it of him!"