Volume I Part 32 (2/2)

Consciousness of the present hangs so heavily upon us.”

”Yes,” a.s.sented Vixen.

They had come to the end of the enclosure, and stood leaning against a gate, waiting for the arrival of the children.

”And after all, perhaps, it is better to live in the present, and look back at the past, as at an old picture which we shall sooner or later turn with its face to the wall.”

”I like best to think of my old self as if it were someone else,” said Violet. ”I know there was a little girl whom her father called Vixen, who used to ride after the hounds, and roam about the Forest on her pony; and who was herself almost as wild as the Forest ponies. But I can't a.s.sociate her with this present me,” concluded Violet, pointing to herself with a half-scornful gesture.

”And which is the better, do you think,” asked Rorie, ”the wild Violet of the past, or the elegant exotic of the present?”

”I know which was the happier.”

”Ah,” sighed Rorie, ”happiness is a habit we outgrow when we get out of our teens. But you, at nineteen, ought to have a year or so to the good.”

The children came in sight, tramping along the rutty green walk, singing l.u.s.tily, Mr. Scobel walking at their head, and swinging his stick in time with the tuneful choir.

”He only is the Maker Of all things near and far; He paints the wayside flower, He lights the evening star.”

END OF VOL. I.

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