Part One - FIVE

by Willa Cather

　　Niel went up the hill the next afternoon, just as the cutter withthe two black ponies jingled round the driveway and stopped at thefront door. Mrs. Forrester came out on the porch, dressed for asleigh ride. Ellinger followed her, buttoned up in a long fur-lined coat, showily befrogged down the front, with a glossyastrachan collar. He looked even more powerful and bursting withvigour than last night. His highly-coloured, well-visoredcountenance shone with a good opinion of himself and of the world.

　　Mrs. Forrester called to Niel gaily. "We are going down to theSweet Water to cut cedar boughs for Christmas. Will you keepConstance company? She seems a trifle disappointed at being leftbehind, but we can't take the big sleigh,--the pole is broken. Benice to her, there's a good boy!" She pressed his hand, gave him ameaning, confidential smile, and stepped into the sleigh. Ellingersprang in beside her, and they glided down the hill with a merrytinkle of sleighbells.

　　Niel found Miss Ogden in the back parlour, playing solitaire by thefire. She was clearly out of humour.

　　"Come in, Mr. Herbert. I think they might have taken us along,don't you? I want to see the river my own self. I hate bein' shutup in the house!"

　　"Let's go out, then. Wouldn't you like to see the town?"

　　Constance seemed not to hear him. She was wrinkling and unwrinklingher short nose, and the restless lines about her mouth werefluttering. "What's to hinder us from getting a sleigh at thelivery barn and going down to the Sweet Water? I don't suppose theriver's private property?" She gave a nervous, angry laugh andlooked hopefully at Niel.

　　"We couldn't get anything at this hour. The livery teams are allout," he said with firmness.

　　Constance glanced at him suspiciously, then sat down at the cardtable and leaned over it, drawing her plump shoulders together.Her fluffy yellow hair was wound round her head like a scarf andheld in place by narrow bands of black velvet.

　　The ponies had crossed the second creek and were trotting down thehigh road toward the river. Mrs. Forrester expressed her feelingsin a laugh full of mischief. "Is she running after us? Where didshe get the idea that she was to come? What a relief to get away!"She lifted her chin and sniffed the air. The day was grey, withoutsun, and the air was still and dry, a warm cold. "Poor Mr. Ogden,"she went on, "how much livelier he is without his ladies! Theyalmost extinguish him. Now aren't you glad you never married?"

　　"I'm certainly glad I never married a homely woman. What does aman do it for, anyway? She had no money,--and he's always had it,or been on the way to it."

　　"Well, they're off tomorrow. And Connie! You've reduced her to astate of imbecility, really! What an afternoon Niel must behaving!" She laughed as if the idea of his predicament delightedher.

　　"Who's this kid, anyway?" Ellinger asked her to take the reins fora moment while he drew a cigar from his pocket. "He's a triflestiff. Does he make himself useful?"

　　"Oh, he's a nice boy, stranded here like the rest of us. I'm goingto train him to be very useful. He's devoted to Mr. Forrester.Handsome, don't you think?"

　　"So-so." They turned into a by-road that wound along the SweetWater. Ellinger held the ponies in a little and turned down hishigh astrachan collar. "Let's have a look at you, Marian."

　　Mrs. Forrester was holding her muff before her face, to catch theflying particles of snow the ponies kicked up. From behind it sheglanced at him sidewise. "Well?" she said teasingly.

　　He put his arm through hers and settled himself low in the sleigh."You ought to look at me better than that. It's been a devil of along while since I've seen you."

　　"Perhaps it's been too long," she murmured. The mocking spark inher eyes softened perceptibly under the long pressure of his arm."Yes, it's been long," she admitted lightly.

　　"You didn't answer the letter I wrote you on the eleventh."

　　"Didn't I? Well, at any rate I answered your telegram." She drewher head away as his face came nearer. "You'll really have towatch the ponies, my dear, or they'll tumble us out in the snow."

　　"I don't care. I wish they would!" he said between his teeth."Why didn't you answer my letter?"

　　"Oh, I don't remember! You don't write so many."

　　"It's no satisfaction. You won't let me write you love letters.You say it's risky."

　　"So it is, and foolish. But now you needn't be so careful. Nottoo careful!" she laughed softly. "When I'm off in the country fora whole winter, alone, and growing older, I like to . . ." she puther hand on his, "to be reminded of pleasanter things."

　　Ellinger took off his glove with his teeth. His eyes, sweeping thewinding road and the low, snow-covered bluffs, had somethingwolfish in them.

　　"Be careful, Frank. My rings! You hurt me!"

　　"Then why didn't you take them off? You used to. Are these yourcedars, shall we stop here?"

　　"No, not here." She spoke very low. "The best ones are fartheron, in a deep ravine that winds back into the hills."

　　Ellinger glanced at her averted head, and his heavy lips twitchedin a smile at one corner. The quality of her voice had changed,and he knew the change. They went spinning along the curves of thewinding road, saying not a word. Mrs. Forrester sat with her headbent forward, her face half hidden in her muff. At last she toldhim to stop. To the right of the road he saw a thicket. Behind ita dry watercourse wound into the bluffs. The tops of the dark,still cedars, just visible from the road, indicated its windings.

　　"Sit still," he said, "while I take out the horses."

　　When the blue shadows of approaching dusk were beginning to fallover the snow, one of the Blum boys, slipping quietly along throughthe timber in search of rabbits, came upon the empty cutterstanding in the brush, and near it the two ponies, stampingimpatiently where they were tied. Adolph slid back into thethicket and lay down behind a fallen log to see what would happen.Not much ever happened to him but weather. Presently he heard lowvoices, coming nearer from the ravine. The big stranger who wasvisiting at the Forresters' emerged, carrying the buffalo robes onone arm; Mrs. Forrester herself was clinging to the other. Theywalked slowly, wholly absorbed by what they were saying to eachother. When they came up to the sleigh, the man spread the robeson the seat and put his hands under Mrs. Forrester's arms to lifther in. But he did not lift her; he stood for a long while holdingher crushed up against his breast, her face hidden in his blackovercoat.

　　"What about those damned cedar boughs?" he asked, after he had puther in and covered her up. "Shall I go back and cut some?"

　　"It doesn't matter," she murmured.

　　He reached under the seat for a hatchet and went back to theravine. Mrs. Forrester sat with her eyes closed, her cheekpillowed on her muff, a faint, soft smile on her lips. The air wasstill and blue; the Blum boy could almost hear her breathe. Whenthe strokes of the hatchet rang out from the ravine, he could seeher eyelids flutter . . . soft shivers went through her body.

　　The man came back and threw the evergreens into the sleigh. Whenhe got in beside her, she slipped her hand through his arm andsettled softly against him. "Drive slowly," she murmured, as ifshe were talking in her sleep. "It doesn't matter if we are latefor dinner. Nothing matters." The ponies trotted off.

　　The pale Blum boy rose from behind his log and followed the tracksup the ravine. When the orange moon rose over the bluffs, he wasstill sitting under the cedars, his gun on his knee. While Mrs.Forrester had been waiting there in the sleigh, with her eyesclosed, feeling so safe, he could almost have touched her with hishand. He had never seen her before when her mocking eyes andlively manner were not between her and all the world. If it hadbeen Thad Grimes who lay behind that log, now, or Ivy Peters?

　　But with Adolph Blum her secrets were safe. His mind was feudal;the rich and fortunate were also the privileged. These warm-blooded, quick-breathing people took chances,--followed impulsesonly dimly understandable to a boy who was wet and weather-chappedall the year; who waded in the mud fishing for cat, or lay in themarsh waiting for wild duck. Mrs. Forrester had never been toohaughty to smile at him when he came to the back door with hisfish. She never haggled about the price. She treated him like ahuman being. His little chats with her, her nod and smile when shepassed him on the street, were among the pleasantest things he hadto remember. She bought game of him in the closed season, anddidn't give him away.