X


THE Lake at last--a sheet of shining metal brooded over by drooping
trees. Charity and Harney had secured a boat and, getting away from the
wharves and the refreshment-booths, they drifted idly along, hugging the
shadow of the shore. Where the sun struck the water its shafts flamed
back blindingly at the heat-veiled sky; and the least shade was black by
contrast. The Lake was so smooth that the reflection of the trees on
its edge seemed enamelled on a solid surface; but gradually, as the sun
declined, the water grew transparent, and Charity, leaning over, plunged
her fascinated gaze into depths so clear that she saw the inverted
tree-tops interwoven with the green growths of the bottom.

They rounded a point at the farther end of the Lake, and entering an
inlet pushed their bow against a protruding tree-trunk. A green veil of
willows overhung them. Beyond the trees, wheat-fields sparkled in the
sun; and all along the horizon the clear hills throbbed with light.
Charity leaned back in the stern, and Harney unshipped the oars and lay
in the bottom of the boat without speaking.

Ever since their meeting at the Creston pool he had been subject to
these brooding silences, which were as different as possible from the
pauses when they ceased to speak because words were needless. At such
times his face wore the expression she had seen on it when she had
looked in at him from the darkness and again there came over her a
sense of the mysterious distance between them; but usually his fits
of abstraction were followed by bursts of gaiety that chased away the
shadow before it chilled her.