Part 7 (1/2)

”Oh, I beg your pardon!” she pleaded hastily. ”He has an engagement with you, of course. I did not think--I can climb McIntyre any time. Besides, Mr. Weatherby is right. It is cloudy up there, and we would be late starting.”

She went over close to Edith. The latter was pale and constrained, though she made an effort to appear cordial, repeating her a.s.surance that Robin was quite free to go--that she really wished him to do so.

Robin himself did not find it easy to speak, and Edith a moment later excused herself, on the plea that she was needed within. Constance followed her, presently, while Frank, lingering on the steps, asked Robin a few questions concerning his trip through the Pa.s.s. Of the rocking-chair circle, perhaps only the small woman in black found comfort in what had just taken place. A silence had fallen upon the little company, and it was a relief to all when the mail came and there was a reason for a general breaking-up. As usual, Frank and Constance had a table to themselves at luncheon and ate rather quietly, though the russulas, by a new recipe, were especially fine. When it was over at last they set out to explore the woods back of the Lodge.

CHAPTER VI

IN THE ”DEVIL'S GARDEN”

Constance Deane had developed a definite ambition. At all events she believed it to be such, which, after all, is much the same thing in the end. It was her dream to pursue this new study of hers until she had made a definite place for herself, either as a recognized authority or by some startling discovery, in mycological annals--in fact, to become in some measure a benefactor of mankind. The spirit of unrest which had possessed her that afternoon in March, when she had lamented that the world held no place for her, had found at least a temporary outlet in this direction. We all have had such dreams as hers. They are a part of youth. Often they seem paltry enough to others--perhaps to us, as well, when the morning hours have pa.s.sed by. But those men and women who have made such dreams real have given us a wiser and better world. Constance had confided something of her intention to Frank, who had at least a.s.sumed to take it seriously, following her in her wanderings--pus.h.i.+ng through tangle and thicket and clambering over slippery logs into uncertain places for possible treasures of discovery. His reluctance to scale McIntyre, though due to the reasons given rather than to any thought of personal discomfort, had annoyed her, the more so because of the unpleasant incident which followed. There had been a truce at luncheon, but once in the woods Miss Deane did not hesitate to unburden her mind.

”Do you know,” she began judicially, as if she had settled the matter in her own mind, ”I have about concluded that you are hopeless, after all.”

The culprit, who had just dragged himself from under a rather low-lying wet log, a.s.sumed an injured air.

”What can I have done, now?” he asked.

”It's not what you have done, but what you haven't done. You're so satisfied to be just comfortable, and----”

Frank regarded his earthy hands and soiled garments rather ruefully.

”Of course,” he admitted, ”I may have looked comfortable just now, rooting and pawing about in the leaves for that specimen, but I didn't really feel so.”

”You know well enough what I mean,” Constance persisted, though a little more pacifically. ”You go with me willingly enough on such jaunts as this, where it doesn't mean any very special exertion, though sometimes I think you don't enjoy them very much. I know you would much rather drift about in a boat on the lake, or sit under a tree, and have me read to you. Do you know, I've never seen any one who cared so much for old tales of knights and their deeds of valor and strove so little to emulate them in real life.”

Frank waited a little before replying. Then he said gently:

”I confess that I would rather listen to the tale of King Arthur in these woods, and as you read it, Conny, than to attempt deeds of valor on my own account. When I am listening to you and looking off through these wonderful woods I can realize and believe in it all, just as I did long ago, when I was a boy and read it for the first time. These are the very woods of romance, and I am expecting any day we shall come upon King Arthur's castle. When we do I shall join the Round Table and ride for you in the lists. Meantime I can dream it all to the sound of your voice, and when I see the people here climbing these mountains and boasting of such achievements I decide that my dream is better than their reality.”

But Miss Deane's memory of the recent circ.u.mstances still rankled. She was not to be easily mollified.

”And while you dream, I am to find my reality as best I may,” she said coldly.

”But, Constance,” he protested, ”haven't I climbed trees, and gone down into pits, and waded through swamps, and burrowed through vines and briars at your command; and haven't I more than once tasted of the things that you were not perfectly sure of, because the book didn't exactly cover the specimen? Now, here I'm told that I'm hopeless, which means that I'm a failure, when even at this moment I bear the marks of my devotion.” He pointed at the knees of his trousers, damp from his recent experience. ”I've done battle with nature,” he went on, ”and entered the lists with your detractors. You said once there are knights we do not recognize and armor we do not see. Now, don't you think you may be overlooking one of those knights, with a suit of armor a little damp at the knees, perhaps, but still stout and serviceable?”

The girl did not, as usual, respond to his gayety and banter.

”You may joke about it, if you like,” she said, ”but true knights, even in the garb of peasants, have been known to scale dizzy heights for a single flower. I have never known of one who refused to accompany a lady on such an errand, especially when it was up an easy mountain trail which even children have climbed.”

”Then this is a notable day, for you have met two.”

She nodded.

”But one was without blame, and but for the first there could not have occurred the humiliation of the second, and that, too”--she smiled in spite of herself--”in the presence of my detractors. It will be hard for you to rectify that, Sir Knight!”

There was an altered tone in the girl's voice. The humorous phase was coming nearer the surface. Frank brightened.

”Really, though,” he persisted, ”I was right about it's being foggy up there. Farnham would have said so, himself.”