Part 19 (1/2)
He left her at the entrance of the wide hall and, ascending to his room, began to put his traps together in readiness for departure by stage next day.
Constance descended the veranda steps and crossed over to the guides'
cabin, where a light still shone. As she approached the open door she saw Edith and Robin sitting on the bench, talking earnestly. Edith had been crying, but appeared now in a calmer frame of mind. Robin held both her hands in his, and she made no apparent attempt to withdraw them.
Then came the sound of footsteps and Constance stood in the doorway.
For a moment Edith was startled. Then, seeing who it was, she sprang up and ran forward with extended arms.
”Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!” she cried; ”I did not know! I did not know!”
CHAPTER XVI
THE LUCKY PIECE
True to her promise, Constance was at the Lodge early next morning.
Frank, a trifle pale and solemn, waited on the veranda steps. Yet he greeted her cheerfully enough, for the Circle of Industry, daily dwindling in numbers but still a quorum, was already in session, and Miss Carroway and the little woman in black had sharp eyes and ears.
Constance went over to speak to this group. With Miss Carroway she shook hands.
Frank lingered by the steps, waiting for her, but instead of returning she disappeared into the Lodge and was gone several minutes.
”I wanted to see Miss Morrison,” she exclaimed, in a voice loud enough for all to hear. ”She did not seem very well last night. I find she is much better this morning.”
Frank did not make any reply, or look at her. He could not at all comprehend. They set out in the old way, only they did not carry the basket and book of former days, nor did the group on the veranda call after them with warning and advice. But Miss Carroway looked over to the little woman in black with a smile of triumph. And Mrs. Kitcher grimly returned the look with another which may have meant ”wait and see.”
A wonderful September morning had followed the perfect September night.
There was a smack of frost in the air, but now, with the flooding sunlight, the glow of early autumn and the odors of dying summer time, the world seemed filled with anodyne and glory. Frank and Constance followed the road a little way and then, just beyond the turn, the girl led off into a narrow wood trail to the right--the same they had followed that day when they had visited the Devil's Garden.
She did not pause for that now. She pushed ahead as one who knew her ground from old acquaintance, with that rapid swinging walk of hers which seemed always to make her a part of these mountains, and their uncertain barricaded trails. Frank followed behind, rarely speaking save to comment upon some unusual appearance in nature--wondering at her purpose in it all, realizing that they had never continued so far in this direction before.
They had gone something less than a mile, perhaps, when they heard the sound of tumbling water, and a few moments later were upon the banks of a broad stream that rushed and foamed between the bowlders. Frank said, quietly:
”This is like the stream where I caught the big trout--you remember?”
”It is the same,” she said, ”only that was much farther up. Come, we will cross.”
He put out his hand as if to a.s.sist her. She did not take it, but stepped lightly to a large stone, then to another and another--springing a little to one side here, just touching a bowlder all but covered with water there, and so on, almost more rapidly than Frank could follow--as one who knew every footing of that uncertain causeway. They were on the other side presently, and took up the trail there.
”I did not know you were so handy crossing streams,” said Frank. ”I never saw you do it before.”
”But that was not hard. I have crossed many worse ones. Perhaps I was lighter of foot then.”
They now pa.s.sed through another stretch of timber, Constance still leading the way. The trail was scarcely discernible here and there, as one not often used, but she did not pause. They had gone nearly a mile farther when a break of light appeared ahead, and presently they came to a stone wall and a traveled road. Constance did not scale the wall, but seated herself on it as if to rest. A few feet away Frank leaned against the barrier, looking at the road and then at his companion, curious but silent. Presently Constance said:
”You are wondering what I have to tell you, and why I have brought you all this way to tell it. Also, how I could follow the trail so easily--aren't you?” and she smiled up at him in the old way.
”Yes,” admitted Frank; ”though as for the trail, I suppose you must have been over it before--some of those times before I came.”
She nodded.