He had gone, and left them
trembling. Well as they knew him, he had all the effect of some strange
herald, freighted with wisdom from another sphere.
"Well, I swear!" said Brad Freeman, at length, and as if a word could
shiver the spell, men and woman turned silently about and went down the
hill. When they reached a lower plane, they stopped to talk a little,
and once indoors, discussion had its way. Young Nick and Hattie had
walked side by side, feeling that the eyes of the town were on them,
reading their emblazoned names. But Mary marched behind them, solemnly
and alone. She held her head very high, knowing what her kinsfolk
thought: that gran'ther had disgraced them. A passionate protest rose
within her.
That night, everybody watched the old house, in the shade of the
poplars, to see if Nicholas had "lighted up." But the windows lay dark,
and little Mary, slipping over across the orchard, when her mother
thought her safe in bed, tried the door in vain. She pushed at it
wildly, and then ran round to the front, charging against the sentinel
hollyhocks, and letting the knocker fall with a desperate and repeated
clang. The noise she had herself evoked frightened her more than the
stillness, and she fled home again, crying softly, and pursued by all
the unresponsive presences of night.
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