He followed her up the steep side of the cañon, through brush so dense that they were quickly out of sight, and through a bewildering fragrance. At the top they were in the dark forest again, and pushed along as best they could. They found themselves among the straggling outposts of an under-forest of fronds. A few redwoods spread their spiked arms above it, but the sun touched many a rustling fan. The heights beyond lifted away irregularly, in steeps and galleries and higher levels, a gracious blue mist softening the austerity of the crowding trees. A creek roared softly above the low rhythmic murmur of the forest. Even these slight sounds seemed to intrude on the great primeval silence.
“What is it?” asked Helena, “the peculiar influence of these redwood forests? I have been in other forests in many parts of the world, and I have never known anything like this. It lifts one up, makes one feel capable of anything, and yet gives one a terrible longing and loneliness—when one is alone.”
“It is partly spiritual, partly sensual. The forest seems to hold in essence the two principles of the universe. Do you want to go in among these ferns? They are pretty thick, but I can hold them back for you.”
“Yes, I want to see what is in there.”
They pushed in among the fronds, which grew taller as they penetrated. Soon Clive had no need to hold the leaves apart for his companion; they spread out a foot and more above their heads. The place, a young forest of slender columns, was filled with green light. Small feathery ferns nodded in a little breeze. The creek seemed to murmur above them. Clive turned and looked at Helena. Her face was glorified. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She did not shrink from him, and they clung together.
After a few moments she moved her head back and looked up at him. His eyes were not laughing.
“There is something I want to say,” she said. “A woman doesn’t usually say it until she is asked. I love you. I want you to know that I couldn’t kiss you like that if I did not.”
“I believe that you love me,” he said.
“Did you guess the reason I did not kiss you the other night? I had intended to, but it suddenly came to me that you did not love me enough, that you were merely in love with me; and I could not give myself like that. I intended to wait longer than this. But I forgot.” She hesitated a moment—the color left her face. “Do you love me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “I love you.”