"Preston," I said, after a silence of a few minutes,—"there seemed to be no women in those cottages. I did not see any."
"I suppose not," said Preston; "because there were not any to see."
"But had all those little babies no mothers?"
"Yes, of course, Daisy; but they were in the field."
"The mothers of those little babies?"
"Yes. What about it? Look here—are you getting tired?"
I said no; and he put his arm round me fondly, so as to hold me up a little; and we wandered gently on, back to the avenue, then down its smooth course further yet from the house, then off by another wood path through the pines on the other side. This was a narrower path, amidst sweeping pine branches and hanging creepers, some of them prickly, which threw themselves all across the way. It was not easy getting along. I remarked that nobody seemed to come there much.
"I never came here myself," said Preston, "but I know it must lead out upon the river somewhere, and that's what I am
after. Hollo! we are coming to something. There is something white through the trees. I declare, I believe——"
Preston had been out in his reckoning, and a second time had brought me where he did not wish to bring me. We came presently to an open place, or rather a place where the pines stood a little apart; and there in the midst was a small enclosure. A low brick wall surrounded a square bit of ground, with an iron gate on one side of the square; within, the grassy plot was spotted with the white marble of tombstones. There were large and small. Overhead, the great pine trees stood and waved their long branches gently in the wind. The place was lonely and lovely. We had come, as Preston guessed, to the river, and the shore was here high; so that we looked down upon the dark little stream far below us. The sunlight, getting low by this time, hardly touched it; but streamed through the pine trees and over the grass, and gilded the white marble with gold.