Part 9 (2/2)
A slight cry, a swaying of the vision, a voice replying: ”Oh, I did not know there was any one in here. I have stopped in out of the rain.”
And now his blood jumped. ”Is that you, Miss Strand?”
”Oh, yes, but I do not know you. Oh, is it Mr. Milford? How strange! But you do not live here?”
”No, I've simply dodged in out of the wet. It's pouring down.”
”Yes, the clouds were a long time here, but the rain was quick. I went far over after a laundress. Mrs. Stuvic would have sent me in the buggy, but I wanted to walk; and now I shall be made sorry.”
”I hope not. Let me see if I can't make it more comfortable for you.”
He struck a match, and looked about. The room was bare. In places the floor was broken. She said, with a laugh, that she would not mind it so much but for the dark.
”I hope you have many matches,” she said.
”I haven't, but I can remedy it. Here is an old smudge pan. I'll build a fire in it.”
He broke up a piece of board, split fine pieces with his knife, tore up a letter, and made a fire in the pan. In a shed-room he found a bench, dusted it, and brought it in for her. She sat down, and he stood looking at the play of the shadows and the light on her hair. The spirit of the cider was gone. He wondered why he had run down the road, laughing. He got down on his knees to feed the fire. It was a trick; it was stealing an att.i.tude to pay a homage.
”Mrs. Goodwin will be very much worried,” she said. ”I wish that I did not come. It was so much further than they said. I left when the sun was down. Now it is late, and I walked all the time.”
”I will run over there and bring the buggy for you.”
”Oh, no, no. The rain pours too much. When it is done I will go with you. The road is hard. There will be not much mud. We found many flowers in the woods to-day.”
”I saw you with an armful.”
”Did you see me wave at you when you stand on the high place in the oats?”
”I did, but I was almost afraid to believe it.”
”Almost afraid? Why, what harm? There is no harm to wave a flower. Now it rains easier. It will soon quit.”
Never did a promised clearing of the sky so mock a man. He mended the fire, for, in his enraptured gazing, he had neglected it. He got up and looked out, to see a glimmer of the threatening moon and a star peeping from a nest of glinted cloud-wool. He returned and knelt near the fire-pan.
”Is it clearing away?” she asked.
”It's going to pour down.”
”But it is getting lighter.”
”I know, but another cloud is coming.”
”I may get home before the new rain falls.”
”No, I hear it in the woods off yonder.”
”If I run I may get to a house where some one lives.”
”The rain will catch you. A wind is behind it.”
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