She gazed about at the valley, the half-distant maple
grove: suddenly the youth momentarily returned to
her, the frightened expression of a child abruptly
conscious of isolation in an alien, unexpected setting.

"Gordon," she said rapidly, "I had to come --
find you... something--" her voice sharpened
with apprehension. "Tell me it will be all right.
It won't... kill me." She stumbled toward him,
he caught her, and half-carried her to the buggy,
where he lifted her over the step and into the seat.
A red-clad arm was supporting her on the other side:
it was Meta Beggs.

"You drive," he directed Mrs. Caley. He held
Lettice with her face hidden against his shoulder.
The valley was refulgent with early summer, the
wheat was swelling greenly, the meadows, threaded
by shining streams were sown with flowers, grazed
by herds of cattle with hides like satin, the pellucid
air was filled with indefinite birdsong. The buggy
lurched over a hillock of grass, his wife shuddered
in his arms, and an unaccustomed, vicarious pain
contracted his heart. Where the fields gave upon
the road the buggy dropped sharply; Lettice cried
out uncontrollably. He cursed Mrs. Caley savagely
under his breath, "Can't you drive," he asked;
"can't you?"

The ascent to the crown of the ridge was rough,
but beyond, winding down to the Greenstream valley,

[[261]]

p260 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p261w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p262

v?