The Mettle of the Pasture

of her hands lay palm upward on her white lap; in the other, which drooped over the arm

of the house. This turf covered a lawn unroughened by plant or weed; but over it at majestic intervals grew clumps of gray pines and dim-blue, ever wintry firs. Beyond lawn and evergreens a f

air, entering through the windows, flowed over her, lifting the thick curling locks at the nape of her nec

t; they became secret invitations to escape from the house into the privacy of the gar

e her linger; she could scarce bear to be with them, but she could scarce bear to be alone. She paused at her grandmother's chair to stroke the dry bronze puffs on her temples-a unique impulse; she hesitated compassionately a moment beside her aunt, who had never married; then, passing around to the opposite side of the

there would be no outward interruption of its familiar routine; but for her all the bonds of life would have become loosened from old ties and united in him alone whom this evening she was to choose as her lot and destiny. Under the influence of that fresh fondness, therefore, which

pression of pride and love; and they smiled as she smiled radiantly back at them, wavi

abe

ndmother. She faced them again with

he garden, throw somethi

randmother; I

ently noting the effect in profile. She lifted this off and, breaking the rose from part of its stem, pinned that on her breast. Then, stepping aside to on

were not yet returned from driving on the country turnpikes. Once, some belated girls clattered past on ponies. But already little children, bare-armed, bare-necked, swinging lanterns, and attended by proud young mothers, were on their way

nt were set huge green boxes, in which white oleanders grew, and flaming pomegranates, and crepe myrtle thickly roofed with pink. She was used to hover about them at this hour, but she strolled past, unmindful now, the daily habit obliterated, the dumb little tie quite broken. The twisted newspaper lay white on

led at last about a large house situated on a wooded hill some miles from town. A lawn sloped upward to it from the turnpike, and there was a gravelled driveway. She unl

ow walk, passed to the rear of the house and t

h reached her foot through the sole of her slipper. On the plume of a pine, a bird was sending its last call after the bright hours, while out of the firs came the tumult of plainer kinds as the

d its aspiration and its prayer, was one influence, one spell: the warmth of the good wholesome earth, its breath of sweetness, its voices of peac

he very curve of her neck implied generations of mothers who had valued grace. Generations of forefathers had imparted to her walk and bearing their courage and their pride. The precision of the eyebrow, the chiselled perfection of the nostril, the loveliness of the short red lip; the well-arched feet

val, but in a little while the sound of a step on the gravel reached her ear; she paus

under her clasped hands, her eyes filling with wonderful light. Then regaining composure because losing cons

her. Neither spoke. Neither made in advance a sign of greeting. When they were a few yards apart she paused, flushing through her whiteness; and he, dropping his

t was all h

tood before him with her head drooping, her eyes on the ground. T

ests, and without concealing their desire to be alone they passed to a rustic bench under one of the old trees, st

ped on the way or still clung to, torn and darkened. No groups laughed on the verandas; but gas-jets had been lighted and turned low as people undressed for bed. The guests of the family had gone. Even Isabel's grandmother had not been able further to put

ng bough of the tree overhead still brushed with shadow her neck and face. As the evening waned,

ding over touched his lips reverently to the back of

and then h

likewise, requiring nothing more; it w

ntly he began again, choosing his words as a man mig

t, I should never have spoken to you of my past. It would not have been my duty. I should not have had the right. I repeat, Isabel, that until you

w could he wander so far from the happiness of m

on more

e than two years; the way was not clear. Isabel, it will never be clear. I believe now it is wrong to tell you; I believe It is wrong not to tell you. I have thought and thought-it is wrong either way

d a difficult position and were announcing his

ness began to falter and darken like departing sunbeams. She remained for a space uncertain of he

our past life? Have I

poke from the emotions of womanhood, beginn

sted me too m

eyes upon him with surprise. The next moment she

ght reproach, "I have not waited so long an

, with a gestu

he was the first to speak. More deeply moved by the sight of his increasing excitemen

owan? Tell me! It is my duty to

d which had spoken now: it was comradeship which is possible to girlhood and to womanhood through wifehood alone: she was

m again, she sat look

pendence on his strength when he is well and strong, that passion of protection and defence when he is frail or stricken. Into her m

u, of my duty to you

which they were about to enter together. The night being warm, she had not used her shawl. Now she threw it over her head and gathered the weblike folds tightly under her throat as though she were growing co

sight of

he cried miserably. "I

e walked to and fro a long time; and after waiting for him to return, she cam

ated, shaking his h

was turning away again, she stepped forward a

rudely away, and going to the lower end of the pavement, walked there backward and forward with his hat pulled low over his eyes-walked slowly, always more slowly. Twice he laid his hand on the g

er known any eyes to be. He had taken off his hat and held it in his hand, and a light wind blew his thick hair abou

a blow. This, when he had ceased speaking, was succeeded by the expression of one who has received a shock beyond

ang af

ing me!" he c

or slackening her pace nor swerving, althoug

t besi

ed out of his agony. "Do

veranda. Crying out in his longing he thr

hall not! Do you kno

ab

uddered and twisted her body away from him as a bird of the air bends its neck and head as far as possi

he garment he had touched. Then she went quickly up the steps. Before she could reach the door he confronted her again; he pressed his back against it. She stretched out her hand and rang the bell. He stepped aside very quickly

-Isabel!

ran silently up the stairs to

the blinds, as though the glimmering windows were large eyes peering at her with intrusive wounding stare. Then taking her position close to a front window, she listened. He was walking slowly backward and forward on th

ght came how unchanged she looked. She stood there, just as she had stood before going down t

tself in time. It would lie in the first furrows deepening down

r eyes on the floor. Then her head beginning to ache, a new sensation for her, she thought she should bind a wet handkerchief to it as she had often done for h

the time had passed for courtesies from him. When she stooped for the shawl, an owl flew viciously at her, snapping its bill close to her face and stirr

g in the massive foliage of this that the upper part of her pure white figure now stood revealed in the last low, silvery, mystic

sad intensity, figuring from it some counterpart