She laughed again and her cheeks this time flushed a rosy hue, unaccountably disconcerting to her.
“But that, after all, was as it should have been,” he went on after a moment, smiling. “We men need your bidding to send us to the heights, always.”
“I do not agree with you,” she said, recovering her poise instantly; and summoning a girlish perversity, she led him straightway from sentiment to the substantial. “Each one must mount up in his own strength, like these splendid old trees, without prop or help, only the light from above to draw it upward,” and a very demure look crossed her ever-changing face as she finished the little speech.
“You are right,” said Steve smiling and remembering Mrs. Polk’s lesson from the giant beech so long ago. “And yet, after all, many things help the tree in its growth besides the light from above,––the sun. There are the winds and the rain, and”––he paused a moment,––“its mates. Don’t you know a tree rarely stands alone unless man has cut down its companions. They like comradeship. I believe they are dependent upon it in ways we do not know.”
“How stupid of me to forget I was talking with a professor,” said Nancy archly.
“And worse still for me to forget that I was trying to enlighten the lady who initiated me into the world of books,” replied he promptly, yielding to her mood.
“Oh, how lovely that graceful, clinging vine is,” she exclaimed, ignoring his retort and pointing up to a vine covered tree, while Steve thrust back into the secret place of his heart all the cherished memories which the old wood held for him, realizing decidedly that Nancy was no longer a shy, timid little girl ready to place her hand in his, but a young woman who would need to be wooed before she was won,––even though there were no Raymond.
“What had he expected anyway?” he reiterated sternly. “That she would be waiting his coming, all ready for the plucking?” He straightened himself in the saddle. He had long since learned how to work and wait for things he wanted; he could do it again.
He led the conversation away from the personal. They talked of nature, each finding under the spur of companionship many new interests in the old wood; and being a devoted nature lover, Steve was pleased to find that Nancy had added to her tender interest in the feathered folk much information as to peculiar characteristics of varying species. It was an easy transition from nature to nature’s interpreters, 173 the poets, and the two found mutual interest in recalling some choice things of literature. She had spent four years at a fine old Kentucky college, graduating in June with high honours. There was still a sweet seriousness about her as in the little Nancy of old, in spite of her girlish gaiety, and while the years of study had brought her an unmistakable breadth and culture, there was also a quaint freshness of speech and manner that made her especially attractive. Steve found keen satisfaction in the conversation, for the girl understood his view-point and yet had fresh conceptions of her own which she knew how to express.