She lingered among the last of the trees. They lifted their black spires against the sky, the air was filled with their resinous scent, and faint, elfin music fell from their tops. Far above, the bald summit of Long Mountain shone a deep purple, though trails of mist that looked like lace were drawn about its shoulders. Then the pines rolled down, straggling at first, but growing thicker and taller until they merged into the dark forest that hid the giant's feet. The wild beauty of the scene and the calm of the evening reacted upon the girl; she felt it was a trivial life that she and her friends led.
Rousing herself with an effort, she left the woods and entered the well-kept garden. It had an exotic look; the bright-colored borders that edged the lawn jarred upon the austere beauty of the wilderness. Banner's Post was tamely pretty, and Nature had meant the spot to be grand. Still, the nickeled sprinklers that flung glistening showers across the smooth grass, and the big gasolene mower, belonged to her world, in which Nature was kept in her place by civilized art.
She saw Gore at the bottom of the steps in the midst of a group which included two attractive girls, and she was conscious of some satisfaction when he left his companions and came toward her.
"Luck has been against me all day," he said when he came up. "It seemed impossible to find you except in the center of what was going on. Now we'll run away for a little while."
His manner suggested a right to her society, and he turned toward the woods without waiting for her consent, but Evelyn thought he would have acted more wisely had he chosen a quiet nook on the veranda. Reggie was a product of his luxurious age; he was in his right place in a comfortable chair or moving gracefully about a polished floor with smartly dressed people in the background. Though not wholly artificial, and having some force of character, he failed to harmonize with the note of primitive grandeur struck by the rugged pines.
It was different with Evelyn when they sat down on a boulder. Her dress was in the latest fashion, but she had the gift of revealing something of her real personality through her attire. Its blue-gray tint matched the soft coloring of the lichened rock, and the lines of her tall figure were marked by a classical severity of grace. Then, her eyes were grave and her face was calm. It was her misfortune that she had not yet realized herself, but had accepted without much question the manners of her caste and the character Mrs. Cliffe had, so to speak, superimposed upon her.
"It's good to be quiet for a change," Gore said. "When I'm with you I feel that I needn't talk unless I want to. That's a relief, because it's when I feel least that I talk the most. You're tranquilizing."
"I'm not sure you're complimentary. Nowadays a girl is expected to be bright if she can't be brilliant."
"That's not your real line. Brilliance is often shallow, a cold, reflected sparkle. One has to get beneath the surface to understand you."
"Perhaps it's true of everybody," Evelyn answered with a smile. "Still, we're not taught to cultivate virtues that can't be seen."