The Wedding Journey

XV

UNDER the folds of her cloak, Mrs. Ransom hugged her knees. Her throat made a clear, youthful line to the tilted chin. Bella thought she had never seen anyone more beautiful — not even Clorinda. Clorinda always gave one a sense of coolness; but Mrs. Ransom had warmth and sympathy under her unruffled poise. She shifted herself to lean lightly against Bella’s shoulder, and as she did so a faint sweet perfume came from her.

‘That’s a lovely scent,’Bella said. ‘Do you mind telling me what it is?’

Mrs. Ransom lowered her face. The mischievous light had left her eyes; they seemed somnolent and much darker.

‘Not at all. It’s Palm of Roses. My husband is very partial to it.'

Bella made a mental note of the name. Her parents had always discouraged the use of perfume.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Mrs. Ransom went on. ‘If you’d like to try it, I ‘ll give you a bottle. I’ve some extra.’

‘Thank you, I’d love it,’Bella said. ‘I’ve never been allowed to have any.'

Mrs. Ransom smiled.

‘You’re just married, are n’t you, my dear?’

Bella nodded.

‘George and I thought so. It made us both feel as if we were on a second honeymoon ourselves. We’ve decided to go off somewhere after his business is finished in Syracuse.’

Bella asked, ‘Have you been married long?’

‘It does n’t seem so to-night. But as a matter of fact we were married more than twenty years ago. I was hardly seventeen.’

‘Were you?’ Bella looked at her.

Mrs. Ransom was silent.

Bella asked, ‘ Were you ever frightened then? I don’t mean really scared—’ Her voice broke off.

‘When? Oh, then? No, not really, I suppose. I was terribly excited. We went to Trenton Falls in a stage.’

‘We’re going to Niagara Falls.’

‘That’s nice. Are n’t you a lucky girl! We spent two weeks at Trenton Falls. I had the most marvelous time. Are you frightened, my dear?’

‘I don’t know.'

‘You must n’t be. Your husband seems a fine young man.’

‘He is,’ Bella said stoutly. ‘I’m terribly in love with him. I’m not frightened that way. It’s myself.’

‘I understand. Only I was n’t frightened. I did n’t care. It seems to me I forgot I was a lady when the wedding ring went over my finger. And I ‘ve never quite managed to feel like one since. Do you know, I’ve always thought of my girlhood as being like a cut flower in a vase, kept in a shady corner of the best parlor and watered every day to keep me fresh.’

‘Oh no — not that! ‘ Bella’s voice was troubled. ‘ It’s only that I’m not sure of myself, and Roger.’

‘You won’t be sure of anything till you’ve had a baby.’

‘Have you had any?’

‘Five.’

‘I want a big family, too.’ Bella was very serious. ‘And I’m not going to treat the girls like dolls, either.’

‘You don’t have to, if you live in the country the way we do. Hideous, noisy little guttersnipes, my relatives thought mine were. Perhaps they were right. But they’re turning out quite nice now that they’re growing up.’

‘We’re going to live in Pittsburgh.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes. Roger works there in his father’s business. He has n’t much of a salary, but his father is giving us our house, and Roger’s managed to save enough for our honeymnoon.’

‘You’ve never been west?’

‘No.’

‘It’s an adventure.’

‘Yes. I’m terribly excited. I hope his family will like me.’

‘Of course they’ll like you.’

Far down the line they heard a boat horn. Then they saw the light on their left through the trees. The boat came to them round a wide bend. The driver looked down at them silently from beside his team. In the cabin they heard a man’s voice and a woman crying.

‘When I said I was afraid,’ Bella said in a small voice, ‘I meant I did n’t know whether I was really in love with Roger.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Mrs. Ransom.

‘But what could I do if I was n’t?’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘Roger seems different since yesterday.’

Mrs. Ransom said gently, ‘He does n’t seem so wonderful or wise?’

Bella nodded.

‘My dear, does n’t that make him all the more worth loving ? ‘

Bella felt tears close under her lids. She could not speak.

‘He’s almost as young and maybe he’s just as worried as you are.’ Mrs. Ransom’s hand moved over hers.

‘Oh, but it’s not really the same,’ said Bella.

‘Why not? He’s been brought up with much the same ideas you have. And now he finds he’s got a live woman on his hands. And as long as he’s on this boat he does n’t know.’

The boat went on in stillness. In the south, lightning forked through a cloud. There was no thunder.

Behind them voices broke out in the saloon. They heard a short rueful laugh.

‘It sounds as if the game were breaking up.’

‘I’m glad,’ said Bella.

‘Still worried about your husband’s playing for money?’

‘ A little.’

‘My dear, all men gamble. If they did n’t you would n’t be here now.’

Bella laughed.

‘We’re worse than they, are n’t we?’

‘A hundred times. And willing to cheat any amount to win.’

‘You’ve won, have n’t you?’

‘It took me a good many years before I was sure of it.’

Bella did not quite understand Mrs. Ransom’s tone, but she felt indescribably comforted. She lay back and closed her eyes. She heard a dim mutter of thunder, but it was far away.

XVI

It was much later when she woke. She found Mrs. Ransom’s arm about her and her hand lightly upon her mouth.

‘Hush.’

Mrs. Ransom whispered close to her ear.

‘Don’t move.’

Bella opened her eyes. They had just passed a relay stable, and the boat was moving slowly once more into darkness. Somewhere behind her she heard water running.

‘We’ve passed Limestone Creek.’

Bella nodded. She did not know where that was, but she understood the need of quiet, for she heard footsteps on the saloon deck behind her head. Two men were talking. One of the voices belonged to Mr. Jason.

‘How much did we make?’

‘About a hundred and fifty dollars, adding yours to mine.’

‘It was easy as dealing faro to a pair of frogs.’

Mr. Atterbury laughed.

‘L. D. Jones backed out, though,’ he added more soberly.

‘I guess he got suspicious.’

‘He can’t prove anything, and he’s scared.’

‘What’ll we do?’

‘If it was n’t for Jones, I’d say hang on till Buffalo.’

‘Jones makes it bad. I guess we’d better jump boat.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Bella felt herself frozen. She heard, but even yet she hardly understood.

Mr. Jason made a snickering sound.

‘Don’t want to, hey? I saw you confab with that Willcox girl. She don’t like me much, though.’

‘All right, Jason.’

‘Oh, all right. But she’s a neat piece of goods. Why don’t you try to take her along?’

‘Shut up.’

‘All right, all right. You’ve got his money anyway. Though I don’t see why you passed him the last hand that way.’

‘We decided to stop at a hundred and fifty. That’s out of Ransom’s pocket. You don’t lose anything.’

‘It’s a damn waste.’ Jason’s voice was sour. But Bella heard no more. The men were moving back softly towards the steersman. There was a moment’s colloquy. Then the boat swung gently in towards the bank. It barely touched, letting the grass scrape along the side.

Mrs. Ransom’s hand squeezed Bella’s tight as they swung back into midstream. They had both heard the men light on the towpath.

’Well, my dear,’ said Mrs. Ransom.

Bella looked up at her.

‘A hundred and fifty dollars!’

‘That’s good-bye to our trip,’ Mrs. Ransom said.

Bella wanted to cry. Poor Roger. Suddenly she remembered Jason’s grumbling.

‘Roger will have to pay that last hand back to Mr. Ransom.’

‘Why should he?’

‘He did n’t win it honestly.’

‘Nonsense, my dear. We’ve had our honeymoon. If your husband had n’t won it, you’d have to go straight on to Pittsburgh.’

‘That does n’t matter.’

‘But he was perfectly honest. Besides, I’m used to it now. My husband has one weakness. That’s why we’ve made our home in the country. We both know it and avoid it as well as we can. It was only business that brought us on this trip. You must n’t be upset,’ said Mrs. Ransom. ‘ George will be very nice to me after his “bad luck.”’

‘No,’said Bella, “I can’t allow it.’

‘Yes, you can. I’ll tell you what. I want to make you a present of your honeymoon. There! In memory of my own.’

Bella stared hard at her. Mrs. Ransom was looking out again at the darkness above the bow lantern. She told the truth — Bella felt sure of that. She felt very humble.

‘Thank you.’

Mrs. Ransom leaned towards Bella, her eyes tender, and kissed her.

‘Don’t worry, my dear.’

Bella said she would n’t.

The lightning forked brighter.

‘We’d better go in.’

Suddenly a puff of wind snatched a ripple from the canal. They stole into the window and handed Viney the blankets to fold. Lightning played beyond the window slats. Thunder rolled across the woods.

When Bella finally went to sleep, however, it had passed over, and there was only the sound of rain falling upon the deck.

XVII

Bella had made up her mind that Roger must return the money he had won from Mr. Ransom on the last hand. But when the bugle woke her on the following morning, to bright sunlight and a fresh cool wind, the ladies’ cabin was empty.

‘Viney,’ she called.

The washroom door opened, and Viney came through with a broad smile.

‘Morning, Mis’ Willcox.’

‘Good morning, Viney. When did Mrs. Ransom get up?’

‘Oh, she’s done dressed and et her breakfas’ and lef’ the boat.’

‘Left the boat?’

‘Yes, mis’. Her and Mr. Ransom done got off at Sy’cuse. She said fo’ me not to wake you, mis’.’

‘Thank you, Viney. I’ll get up now.’

‘Yes, mis’.’

As Bella dressed leisurely, she saw that there was nothing she could do. She knew only their name. She had no idea where they lived. But she thought she would always remember Mrs. Ransom as the loveliest person she had ever met.

The saloon seemed strangely empty. Only one place was laid at table — the others had finished and gone on deck. Bella could hear their feet walking back and forth above her head.

She smiled mechanically at the steward as he brought her peach and took her order for eggs and tea and toast. He was a young man with a long Hibernian lip, a sober mouth, and dancing gray eyes.

‘It’s a fine morning, this morning, ma’am.’

‘Is n’t it?’ said Bella.

He disappeared into his kitchen, to return finally with Bella’s eggs, golden and white; he set down her tea with a flourish and some slop, begged her pardon, and mopped untidily with a wet rag.

‘Was n’t the thunder terrible, though?’ he asked.

‘It was quite a storm,’ Bella said, looking up at his long face.

He nodded. ‘My knees rattled like beads, ma’am. And the gentlemen calling for whiskey most of the night, too, and me giving my soul for a drink of the same, but the captain was up, ma’am, watching the play.’ He slapped at a fly with his rag and leaned heavily on the table. ‘The gentry had some heavy play — indeed yes. Oh, you should have seen it, ma’am. And Mr. Willcox as steady as a hog on ice. “Give me two cards,” he says. And he looks at ‘em, and puts up ten dollars like the President of the United States.’

‘What time shall we get to Buffalo?’ Bella asked.

‘Some time to-morrow morning, ma’am. The captain’s half killing the horses. Three fines since sunrise for speeding, with the wash on the banks like the ocean waves. “Give it to the commission,” he says, howlding out ten dollars. “Have n’t they anny ambition,” he says, “damn their souls?” Begging your pardon, ma’am.’

‘Three hours ahead of time? That’s wonderful, is n’t it?’

‘Yes, ma’am. “Lather the lazy beast,” says the captain. “If he falls down dead I’ll put the collar round me own neck,” he says. He says if we can pick up two hours between here and Buffalo we’ll have the record, ma’am. I’ve got ten shilling on it with the steersman.’

Bella smiled at his excited face.

‘I hope you’ll win, then.’

The steward grinned and thanked her and retreated with abrupt bashfulness to his kitchen.

Through the open door to the steersman’s deck, Bella saw Roger’s legs. The cry, ‘Bridge! Low bridge!’ came and echoed.

Bella’s heart flopped when she saw his face. His eyes would not meet hers. They wore circles, and were tired and bewildered. As they were alone together, she lifted her mouth for a kiss, but his lips missed hers and barely brushed her cheek. He sat down across the table from her and asked how she had slept.

‘Not very well till after the storm.’

He stared moodily out of the window.

‘It must have been hot in there, especially for you with a headache. I wish I had n’t got into that card game.’

She said, ‘ It was better for me to get to bed, Roger.’

He put his hands on the table and stared at them.

‘What did you think of Mr. Atterbury?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Mr. Atterbury? Why, I liked him very much.’

She spoke brightly, trying to catch his eye and give him a smile. He looked so upset, she wanted to comfort him. If he wanted to play cards, she did n’t care, as long as he loved her. But she did not know how to go about it without hurting his feelings.

Roger nodded.

‘I liked him very much myself. Mr. Ransom said he thought he was a very gentlemanly sort.’

He seemed to derive a meagre comfort from that. Then he looked up at Bella, meeting her smile.

‘Bella—’

‘Yes, Roger.’

She put her teacup down carefully.

But he was silent, moodily examining his hands again.

She tried to divert his thoughts. ‘It won’t be long,’ she said softly, reaching out to cover his restless hands with her own. ‘The steward says we shall get into Buffalo to-morrow morning. We’ll take a stage for Niagara the first thing and go right down to the hotel.’

But he did n’t respond. He said, ‘Bella — oh, Lord!’ and swallowed. He looked so miserable that she thought she had better tell him that she knew.

‘I understand, Roger dear. I was awake last night. Mrs. Ransom and I went out on the front deck and we were out there when Mr. Atterbury went off the boat with Mr. Jason. We heard them talking. So don’t bother to tell me. I don’t mind, as long as we’re together. What if he did win most of our money?

He said you’d won the last hand and that will leave us enough.’

Roger looked at her for a long time.

‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘When we found Atterbury had jumped the boat, all of us understood that he must be a professional gambler and that the game had been crooked. And we looked at the cards this morning and found that on the last hand he had better cards than mine. He used them only to run up Mr. Ransom’s betting. Then he dropped out. I don’t know why. The cards were marked.’

For a moment Bella felt a prick of friendliness for Mr. Atterbury.

‘Perhaps he was n’t all bad,’ she said.

‘No. Perhaps not. But, Bella, when I found that out I could n’t keep Ransom’s money. You see, he’d told me he and his wife were planning to take a sort of second honeymoon together. They could n’t very well after last night. He did n’t want to take it back, but I made him.’

He let out his breath.

‘I don’t mind losing money to a gambler. But I could n’t take what should have been Ransom’s. Do you mind very much?’

He looked at her squarely, but she could see the question in his mind. Then she saw his eyes change and she could read some of the change, too. She had taken away her hand and was sitting very straight in her chair. She felt unexplainably happy and proud.

‘Mind? Roger, do you want to know something?’

‘Yes.’ A hint of the old teasing look came round his eyes.

‘I’m the happiest woman on earth this morning. Do you know why?’

‘No,’ he said soberly.

‘Because I’m your wife.’

She looked so gallant and so eager and so small. He thought she had the same look in her eyes that she had when she watched the hawk, and he had made fun of her. And Bella, watching him, felt that a barrier between them had just been broken down. He knew it too, she thought; it seemed to her that in its breaking down they had just become aware of its existence.

He said suddenly, ‘ Don’t just sit there looking beautiful. Come here.’

But when she came round the table to join him he swung her up off her feet, and kissed her, practically in mid-air.

XVIII

They went on deck together. The steersman greeted them cheerfully. The team were trotting with pricked ears. The wind was fresh and clear to breathe. Mr. and Mrs. Neilson had chairs in the lee of the saloon on the steersman’s deck. Mr. L. D. Jones was sitting on the saloon deck, his legs stretched out in front of him, his back to the wind, puffing his segar. For a wonder it was burning, and the smoke came out as thick as the smoke from the galley pipe.

The captain waved to them from the bow deck and shouted, ‘Morning!’

‘Let’s go down to him,’ Roger said.

They edged forward along the outside catwalk, Roger steadying his wife, though she needed no help, while her skirts whipped back to entangle his knees. The captain was smoking a deep cob pipe. He pointed the stem at the team.

‘Brand-new,’ he said. ‘They’re pulling me faster than any I’ve ever been hitched to.’

‘They look fine and fat, don’t they?’ said Bella.

‘They do,’ said the captain. ‘Poor devils, they don’t know any better.’

Bella and Roger sat down and let the wind blow over them, while the captain walked up and down, three steps each way. Now and then he pulled out his watch.

‘Young man,’ he said suddenly, ‘I’m going to get you to Buffalo the fastest any honeymoon pair got there in the history of the United States.’

Roger and Bella laughed and he laughed back, boomingly, one hand steadying his beard.

‘Who’s that coming?’ Bella pointed to an old man walking the towpath, with a bag full of straw on one shoulder and a long stick in the opposite hand.

‘Bank watch,’ said the captain, and shouted, ‘Hello, Hank!’

‘Hey!’ cried the old man. ‘You’re traveling.’ He touched the towline with his stick, letting it slide along till the angle carried it out of reach. ‘You’re busting the limit.’

‘Wide open and ready to fry!’ yelled the captain. ‘ Watch the wash. They’ve had the hurry-up boats tailing us from Schenectady.’

‘What is a hurry-up boat?’ Bella asked.

The captain bowed courteously to her. It was obvious that he enjoyed being asked questions by a pretty girl.

‘It’s the gang that mends the big leaks. The bank watch can stuff ratholes with the straw he carries. But a big leak needs a gang with shovels. And when they’re wanted, they’re wanted in a hurry, Mrs. Willcox.’

The team slowed a little on the drag of a sharp bend, and the steersman had to go neat to avoid a line boat coming towards them. It was close, and the captain addressed some general remarks towards the line-boat steersman. Then he turned back to his passengers with a wave of his hand.

‘You going straight to Niagara?’

‘I don’t know,’ Roger said. ‘I’ve not got much money left.’

The captain looked sober.

‘I did n’t know that cuss, though I did n’t fancy his looks. I’ll know him next time. We’ve no law against cards, but I won’t have sharpers on my boat. Did he skin you clean?’

‘Very nearly,’ Roger admitted wryly. ‘I’ve got only ten dollars left for our week there, and no hotel would put us up for that.’

‘It’s a damn shame.’ The captain pursed his lips. ‘I’ll tell you, though. If you would n’t mind boarding on a farm, I’m pretty sure I know of one. My sister married a farmer,’ he said rather diffidently. ‘They live pretty close to the falls, about two miles down the Lewiston road. They’ve got a nice house and my sister’s clean and there’s only one child. They had bad luck with their crops last season and they’d be glad of boarders.’

Bella and Roger exchanged glances.

‘I could catch the mail out of Rochester,’ said the captain, ‘and send them a letter to say you’re coming. They’d get it to-morrow, because the driver drops their post for them.’

He turned tactfully to curse the driver boy for letting the horses loaf. Under cover of his exhortations, Roger said, ‘What do you think?’

‘Let’s,’ said Bella.

When they told the captain, he beamed on them.

‘I’ll go right down and commence the letter now. I ought to have it ready when we reach Rochester,’ he said.

They stayed out all day, watching the small new towns slide by, seeing the boats coming cast with their smell of wheat and new flour, or livestock; overtaking west-bound boats, with ploughs on board, machinery, ironware, and merchandise, or immigrants with round staring eyes. All along the canal the harvest was going forward. They saw men cradling oats and barley, fields of buckwheat beginning to turn; they saw the stage overtake them, pursued by its own dust. They saw the treetops at Irondequoit far under them as they crossed on the embankment; and they saw the sun setting as they came into Rochester.

The captain dispatched Viney on a frantic race to the Eagle Tavern with his completed letter, and as the packet hauled out of town they left supper and went on deck once more, to see the town wane behind them, with its numberless bridges, clacking mills, and thundering falls. The long arms of sunset shrank. Darkness came as they wound through the small farms, the towpath hemmed with fences. Then they floated into the woods again, skirting the Tonawanda swamp, where sycamores lifted ghostly arms to the starlight and thousands of blackbirds started up at their passage.

XIX

It was only after they had turned into the road to Lewiston that Bella realized she was a prisoner in Fate’s hands. The arrival at Buffalo had found her prepared and excited. They had docked soon after breakfast.

The captain was interviewed on deck by a writing representative of the Advertiser, who came down into the saloon and asked for Mrs. and Mr. Willcox’s impression of the trip. ‘They spoke enthusiastically of the service,’ he wrote down, ‘and Mrs. Willcox observed that the speed was exhilarating.’ While the captain continued to receive congratulations under the proud chaperonage of the company agent, she and Roger walked down the basin to the lake shore and out along the mole.

The lake was vivid blue that morning; there were small somnolent clouds high up, and cat’s-paw ripples on the water; gulls wheeled, monotonously calling, perpetually unhurried, awkward birds made graceful by the sky. Way to the west, sky and lake merged in a drift of haze. And, looking at a schooner slowly growing out of the perspective, Bella was aware of the largeness of the earth, and for the first time in her life she lost all sense of her own smallness of stature. As she stood hand in hand with her husband, she could feel the forces in her taking form and gaining strength.

‘It must be like the sea, Roger.’

She had never seen the sea. She was destined never to see it; but she did not know that.

His only reply was the pressure of his hand. Thinking how handsome he looked, she would have liked to ask what he was thinking of; but intuition closed her lips.

They lingered till the schooner had docked and watched as the dock hands invested her, and the gulls that had followed her in wheeled intricately over the dock, dropping discordant cries.

Then the captain came to them and said he had found a carriage and driver who would take them to his brother-inlaw’s farm for a matter of a dollar and a half. The man wanted to start at once.

They hurriedly returned to the Western Lion to get their bags. The carriage, a dearborn with an extra seat and no top, was waiting for them, the driver sitting with his legs crossed. He only nodded when they said good morning.

Viney and the steward had brought up their bags and a lunch the captain had ordered for them. The whole packet crew wished them luck. But the driver cut short their farewells, whipping up his horses and putting them to a tremendous burst. Once they were out of sight of the canal, however, he slowed down to a jog trot and kept to it.

Bella did not mind how slowly they went. Her nerves were exquisitely keyed. She noticed every flower, every wayside nest. And she found Roger glad to share them with her.

The driver granted them half an hour’s stop for lunch, and they took it away from the road to a piece of meadow under the supervision of a couple of dulleyed ewes. They lay on their backs in the sun, so that Bella felt the grass through her dress, even the crossing of blades, and she smelled the small scents that one finds only close to earth, and she wondered whether her Christian upbringing had abandoned her, but she did not care.

The driver climbed back into the wagon when he judged that the proper time had arrived for continuing the journey, and Roger came to life again and helped her pack the remains of their luncheon. Their hands became shy at the work of gathering papers and they did not look at each other. When they were in the wagon once more, Bella became conscious of a strange breathlessness upon the earth. She felt it in herself. As if they also felt it, cows and horses at pasture lifted their heads to watch her pass, and when she was by and looked back at them she found them still inscrutably staring after the wagon.

It was only when the driver turned them into the road for Lewiston that she realized at last there was no turning back. She had come too far. All that she had been accustomed to lay four days behind her, three and a half by the record run of a packet boat. She had put herself into life’s hands, and now she must go on with it.

She longed to take Roger’s and beg him to be good to her, never to hurt her, never to deceive her. But when her hand touched his and he looked at her, her face tilted with its old cock of the chin, and she smiled.

‘Darling.’

Roger sounded choky. His hand hurt hers, and for an instant she wanted to cry to the driver to turn back. But in the same impulse her hand resigned itself to the hurt and returned it. She was alive. She was alive in every nerve, and her heart raced.

She saw the Franklins’ house ahead of them, a low white house set behind trees, with a red barn at an angle. A middleaged woman was staring toward them from the gate. Her eyes were curious, but kindly. She smiled as they turned into the yard, and came over to stand by the wheel.

‘I’m real pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Willcox. We’ll try to make you comfortable, me and my husband.’

She took their bags in her strong hands and led them into the house. She showed them the parlor with windows freshly opened, but still with a faint musty taste in the air.

‘This-here’s to be your setting room for your own. Me and Jim won’t come into it while you’re here.’

She paused, and Bella collected her wits.

‘It’s a lovely room, is n’t it, Roger?’

‘Yes, it is.’

Roger looked embarrassed. His eyes swung wildly about the walls as if seeking an object on which to comment, and Bella was amused at the proud smile Mrs. Franklin bestowed on him. Coughing discreetly, the woman led them upstairs to a bedroom three quarters filled by an old double bed that was piled deep in feather ticks.

‘Oh, it is lovely,’ Bella said.

The ceiling followed the slope of the roof, and the window was a broad dormer that looked directly into the branches of a maple tree.

‘I’m glad you like it, Mrs. Willcox,’ said Mrs. Franklin, adding practically, ‘The bed is a real good one, too. Real comfortable. Them are goose-feather ticks.’

She edged her way to the door.

‘Now I ‘ve showed you over. I always think it’s easiest for persons to learn their way about first off. My husband can show Mr. Willcox anything else. Supper is any time to suit you after milking. I’ll bring it to you in the parlor.’ She smiled and slipped away.

They sat by the open window for a long time, witnessing the order of the evening unfolding itself in the pattern of the farm. First came Mr. Franklin home behind his team, walking beside the load of barley, pitchfork on shoulder, while a small boy shrilly drove. The small boy slid down the load at the barn door and whistled to a shepherd dog; his father drove the team into the mow and left the wagon there, and the team strode with loose strides and jingling traces for the stable. In a little while he came to the kitchen for a glass of buttermilk. He was a middle-aged man, with thick curved shoulders and a smooth-shaven, reddened face. Then the boy brought in the cows, the dog officious at their heels, and Mrs. Franklin carried the pails across the yard to help with the milking. It was so still in the yard that Bella imagined she could hear the spurt of milk against the pail. The sun was sinking through the tree branches, and a robin hopped along a bough and began to call. A veery in the woods beyond the pasture bars made answer.

‘Let’s unpack, Roger, so the room will seem our own.’

They hung their clothes side by side from wooden pegs under a curtained shelf, lingering in the work to look at them and then at each other. When they had finished, Roger kissed her almost shyly.

‘It seems as if we’d lived here, does n’t it?’

His voice expressed his masculine amazement at a settled room.

Bella only nodded and led the way downstairs. There they were introduced to Mr. Franklin, who made them welcome simply and then supplied Roger with the final geographical details of the household. Bella asked for the little boy, but his mother said that he had gone off on an errand. While they were having their supper in the parlor, they heard him come in and sneak upstairs. Coming down again, he gave them an awed welcome over the rail.

They waited till they heard the farmer and his wife retiring in the room behind the parlor. Then they went up together. At the door of their room they understood the little boy’s errand. A large bunch of white clover and daisies stood on the washstand, filling the room with scent. The candle quavered in Bella’s hand.

‘Was n’t it sweet of them, Roger?’

For answer he stooped and blew out the candle.

Bella’s breath caught. She set the candlestick down in the dark. She let her hands fall, then turned slowly and faced him.

XX

They liked the farm. They liked the Franklins. The little boy could not overcome his puzzlement at the thought of two strangers staying in his parents’ house. But even he, after two days, came to accept them guardedly.

They took their lunch next morning and wandered off across the fields. They found a narrow path in the woods and went down it till they came to the edge of a stream, and followed this up to a broad still pool whose sides seemed mortared by the roots of trees. It was far back from anywhere and it was not deep, but it was deep enough for Roger to cool himself in. As Bella lay back on the bank, idly watching him wallow in the deeper portions, she wondered at the delight she found in what she had been taught to hold indecent. But the sight of Roger, or of her own slimness, or the quiet of the woods gave her heart whatever answer she needed.

They were silent often, but when they spoke, what they said mattered deeply to them both. And in the late afternoon they returned, Roger fishing the likely holes with worms selected for him by the little boy.

Mrs. Franklin fed them suppers of simple homely food in the parlor, and afterwards they sat out a conventional half hour in the kitchen and talked to the woman and her husband. Then hand in hand they went up the narrow stairs to their room, undressing in the dark.

It was on the sixth morning of their stay that Bella said, ‘We ought to go over to Niagara Falls, I suppose.’

‘I suppose so,’ Roger said.

They looked at each other gloomily, then suddenly burst out laughing.

’Why in heaven’s name ought we to do anything?’

Bella looked at him demurely.

‘I ought to write Mamma. I believe five days is the proper lapse for a lady in my case, and here it is going on ten.’

‘Is it?’

Bella said, ‘We could walk over and take our lunch.’

‘I suppose we could. But there was a trout in that third pool.’

‘There’s to-morrow.’

‘But to-day looks right.’

‘I don’t really want to go,’ said Bella.

But they consulted Mr. Franklin, who did not see why they should walk. He said it would be much simpler if he drove them over that very morning, and if they did not care about looking at the falls too long he could get them back by noon. He would be glad to spare the time for them.

So they were driven over, and viewed the falls, and came back in time to take their lunch to the pool. But Bella left Roger on his belly seeking his trout and returned dutifully to write her letter.

She wrote it at the washstand beside the window, with the clover close to her nose. She found it hard to write, partly because she always found writing a task, partly because she knew that what mattered for her to say would not find favor in her mother’s reading, and partly because of something in the room that troubled her.

She looked up several times from her paper to see what it might be, but she could not put her finger on it. And finally she folded the letter and opened it again to read what she had written.

DEAR MAMMA —
I am writing here to tell you that I am very happy, and that I do believe that Roger is the most delightful man I ever met. We are both very well, and send our wishes that you may be also. The weather was most delightful all the way, except for one short storm, but it was not very severe. And since we have been here it has been lovely all the time. We were both very much awed by the falls. They are much grander than the human mind can possibly conceive until it has encountered them. While we examined them, I could not prevent a wish that Lord Byron might have viewed them that their magnificence might be preserved in verse.
Your devoted daughter,
BELLA W.

P. S. Please tell Papa that we made the packet voyage in less than four days. They told us it was the fastest ever made.

She approved thoroughly of the sentence about Lord Byron, knowing that it would gratify her mother, but she giggled as she read it.

Casting an eye over the note, she dipped her pen to add: —

Please give Clorinda and Papa my best love.

She stopped, feeling the beat of her heart. Her best love — that was for her family. Her eyes turned to the bed, where she had tossed down Roger’s coat. She understood now as she stared at the empty sleeves. She was in love, with Roger — plain love.

Her breast rose and her eyes filled as she stared round the little room. Her mind was pervaded by a tragic sense that she would remember it as long as she lived, so that, if she were magically transplanted in her sleep, even though she might be an old woman she would rise up without the candle and move unerringly. And she knew that her first action would be to feel for the empty coat and take it up, as she did now.

She stood with it at the window, watching her young husband marching home across the pasture, hot, disheveled, triumphantly bearing his trout on a forked stick.