Part 17 (1/2)
”About those, you mean,” she said. ”Well, I suppose I need it. I find I know less than I thought I did in the beginning.”
Miss Carroway shook her head.
”No,” she admitted; ”I've give up that question. I guess the books know more than I do. You ain't dead yet, an' if they was pizen you would 'a'
been by this time. It's somethin' else I want to talk about--somethin'
that's made a good many people unhappy, includin' me. That was a long time ago, but I s'pose I ain't quite got over it yet.”
A good deal of the September afternoon slipped away as the two women talked there in the suns.h.i.+ne by the Au Sable Falls. When at last Miss Carroway rose to go, Constance rose, too, and, taking her hand, kissed the old lady on the cheek.
”You are sweet and good,” she said, ”and I wish I could do as much for you as you have done, and are willing to do for me. If I have not confided in you, it is only because I cannot--to-day. But I shall tell you all that there is to tell as soon--almost as soon--as I tell any one. It may be to-morrow, and I promise you that there shall be no unhappiness that I can help.”
”Things never can be set straight too soon,” said the old lady. ”I've had a long time to think of that.”
Miss Deane's eyes grew moist.
”Oh, I thank you for telling me your story!” she said. ”It is beautiful, and you have lived a n.o.ble life.”
The shadows had grown deeper in the woods as Miss Carroway followed a path back to the lake, and so around to the Lodge. The sun had vanished from the tree tops, and some of the light and reflex of youth had faded from the old lady's face.
Perhaps she was a little weary with her walk, and it may be a little disappointed at what she had heard, or rather what she had not heard, in her talk with Constance Deane. At the end of the lake she followed the path through the little birch grove and came upon Frank Weatherby, where he mused, on the stone seat.
Miss Carroway paused as he rose and greeted her.
”I just come from a good walk,” she said peacefully. ”I've been over to the Deanes' camp. It's a pretty place.”
Frank nodded.
”I suppose you saw the family,” he said.
”No; only Miss Deane. She was studyin' tudstools, but I guess they wa'n't pizen. I guess she knows 'em.”
Frank made no comment on this remark, and the old lady looked out on the lake a moment and added, as one reflecting aloud on a matter quite apart from the subject in hand:
”If I was a young man and had anything on my mind, I'd go to the one it was about and get it off as quick as I could.”
Then she started on up the path, Frank stepping aside to let her pa.s.s.
As he did so, he lifted his hat and said:
”I think that is good advice, Miss Carroway, and I thank you for it.”
But he dropped back on the seat when she was gone, and sat staring out on the water, that caught and gave back the colors of the fading sky.
Certainly it was good advice, and he would act on it--to-morrow, perhaps--not to-day. Then he smiled, rather quaintly.
”I wonder who will be next on the scene,” he thought. ”First, the injured girl. Then the good old busybody, whose mission it is to help things along. It would seem about time for the chief characters to appear.”
Once the sun is gone, twilight gathers quickly in the hills. The color blended out of the woods, the mountains around the lake faded into walls of tone, a tide of dusk crept out of the deeper forest and enclosed the birches. Only the highest mountain peaks, Algonquin and Tahawus, caught the gold and amethyst of day's final tokens of good-bye. Then that faded, and only the sky told the story to the lake, that repeated it in its heart.
From among the shadows on the farther side a boat drifted into the evening light. It came noiselessly. Frank's eye did not catch it until it neared the center of the lake. Then presently he recognized the silhoueted figures, holding his breath a little as he watched them to make sure. Evidently Robin had returned with his party and stopped by the Deane camp. Frank's antic.i.p.ation was to be realized. The chief characters in the drama were about to appear.