Her
whole demeanor had changed, she even condescended to banter Jose, and
she took his jibes in good part; and in the evenings when Jose and
Gallito, Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas, had sat down to the silence of
their cards, and Hughie played softly on the piano in a dim corner, she
talked to Seagreave; in fact, their conversations became more prolonged
every evening.
One morning, a few days before Hanson arrived, she had chosen to stroll
up the mountainside, instead of riding as usual. Absorbed in her glowing
anticipations, she had walked almost above timber line, then, presently,
just as she realized that she was growing tired, the trail had led her
to an ideal and natural resting place, a little chamber of ease. It was
an open space where the pine needles lay thick upon the ground, so thick
that Pearl's feet sank deeply into them as she entered. All about it
were gnarled and stunted pine trees, bent and twisted by the high
mountain winds, until they appeared as strange, Japanese silhouettes
against the deep, blue sky. It was delightfully warm here, where the sun
fell so broadly, and Pearl threw herself down upon the pine needles. The
wind sighed softly through the forest, barely penetrating her retreat,
and finally, under the spell of the soft and dreamy atmosphere, she fell
asleep. After a time she wakened, and slowly opening her eyes saw to her
surprise that Seagreave was sitting a few feet away from her. He held a
book in his hand, but he was not reading, neither was he looking at her,
but out through a break in the trees at innumerable blue ranges,
floating, unsubstantial as mist in a flood of sunshine.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163