Harvey took them up in the new stream line touring car which was the outward sign of his increasing prosperity, and while Maud watched a road map to be sure that Harvey would not miss the road which went by the Country Club which the summer-people had built, Horatia sat with her arm around a weary little Jack, breathing in the freshness of the woods with their summer scents and thinking. She felt very old and disappointed and disillusioned, and she thought with envy of the first time she had driven over this road with Anthony in the winter, feeling so happy and full of love for Jim. Maud poured out a steady stream of comment and conjecture—and Horatia hardly listened, knowing that expression and not attention was what Maud sought. She had never liked her sister so well as she had during these past days. Maud had let her alone and asked no questions. She seemed to be waking into a kind of appreciation of Horatia’s feelings and Horatia was very grateful, entirely ignorant as she was of Maud’s unrelinquished plans about Anthony. Horatia had just thought of Anthony for the first time in weeks. She had thought of him as the man who had driven the car when she had gone through these places thinking of Jim, and first rejoicing in the happiness of love.
They reached their cottage and Maud was soon unpacking and opening the house while the cook, imported lest life in the country become too strenuous, began to prepare dinner. Horatia, bravely attired in her rose sweater and hat, started out for a walk. She wanted to adjust her thoughts and get perfectly calm, for she meant to be a gay companion and not a doleful one.
Little leaf-covered paths wandered into the woods here and there. She turned at random into them and went along, anxious to lose her loneliness in the greater loneliness and friendliness of the forest. And here, for the first time, she succeeded. The trees were motionless in the still afternoon. Their branches curved and interlocked and made great, cool, dark green shadows. The ferns stirred as she passed and she heard the lazy chirping of some birds. It was deep and still and calm and sure, so that in the midst of it Horatia became calm and sure for a moment. She felt her ache for Jim’s presence pass, and for the first time since she had gone from him there came a feeling that she was back where she belonged. For the first time she felt awakened pleasure and she stood very still, almost afraid to stir lest the peace that was filling her should change to misery again. After a little she went on. She did not want to go back to the cottage yet. Later she would be ready for them but as yet she was ready only for herself.
And so Anthony came upon her—a bright bit of color in the midst of the woods with her eyes shining with peace. At the sight of her he felt the flush of his own face. It was all very well to be full of bravado before Marjorie but in the presence of Horatia his confidence waned. Yet she was clearly glad to see him.
“I heard you were West.”
“I came back last week and heard that your sister had taken the Warner cottage. I was hoping you’d come out with her. Every month seems the best out here but this one is especially nice. And there are wonderful places to walk and ride. We have a swimming place and a very poor tennis court——”
“I don’t think I shall like the tennis court half as well as just this. I like your woods.”
“So do I,” answered Anthony with happy sympathy. “Let me show you a finer place than this though. Deeper in.”
They went on until they came to a little clearing like a great room with the trees interlocked above it. Along one side ran a tiny clear stream.
“But this is too perfect. This isn’t natural.”