He had been to see Sister Theresa, and Marian was
walking with him to the gate. I saw her quite plainly
in the light that fell from the lamp overhead. A long
cloak covered her, and a fur toque capped her graceful
head. My grandfather and his guide were apparently
in high spirits. Their laughter smote harshly upon me.
It seemed to shut me out,-to lift a barrier against me.
The world lay there within the radius of that swaying
light, and I hung aloof, hearing her voice and jealous of
the very companionship and sympathy between them.
But the light led me. I remembered with bitterness
that I had always followed her,-whether as Olivia,
trailing in her girlish race across the snow, or as the
girl in gray, whom I had followed, wondering, on that
night journey at Christmas Eve; and I followed now.
The distrust, my shattered faith, my utter loneliness,
could not weigh against the joy of hearing that laugh
of hers breaking mellowly on the night.
I paused to allow the two figures to widen the distance
between us as they traversed the path that curved
away toward the chapel. I could still hear their voices,
and see the lantern flash and disappear. I felt an impulse
to turn back, or plunge into the woodland; but I
was carried on uncontrollably. The light glimmered,
and her voice still floated back to me. It stole through
the keen winter dark like a memory of spring; and so
her voice and the light led me.
Then I heard an exclamation of dismay followed by
laughter in which my grandfather joined merrily.
"Oh, never mind; we're not afraid," she exclaimed.
I had rounded the curve in the path where I should
have seen the light; but the darkness was unbroken.
There was silence for a moment, in which I drew quite
near to them.
Then my grandfather's voice broke out cheerily.
"Now I must go back with you! A fine person you
are to guide an old man! A foolish virgin, indeed, with
no oil in her lamp!"
"Please do not! Of course I'm going to see you quite
to your own door! I don't intend to put my hand to
the lantern and then turn back!"
"This walk isn't what it should be," said my grandfather,
"we'll have to provide something better in the
spring."
They were still silent and I heard him futilely striking
a match. Then the lantern fell, its wires rattling
as it struck the ground, and the two exclaimed with renewed
merriment upon their misfortune.
"If you will allow me!" I called out, my hand fumbling
in my pocket for my own match-box.
I have sometimes thought that there is really some
sort of decent courtesy in me. An old man caught in
a rough path that was none too good at best! And a
girl, even though my enemy! These were, I fancy, the
thoughts that crossed my mind.