For it had come, the Beautiful, Wonderful time when they were going to
the House in the Woods! Already the rooms were filled with trunks and
packing boxes, Marthy and Zeb and the housemaids were sorting and
folding incessantly. And around them, wandered, starry-eyed, a useless
young person who hugged to her heart a joyous dream of a woman in a
garden--a woman in a little lace cap and a trailing rose-colored
dressing-gown, a woman who would say,

"Oh Felicia! I hope you'll be happy today in the garden!"

You mustn't blame the Major too much that he did not know what a cruel
thing he had done--he did not even dream that Felicia believed she was
going to find Octavia in the garden. Those long ago evasions that had
silenced her little-girl questions he had forgotten. Indeed I think he
never let himself remember those days in which the child had asked,
"Where is she gone?"

And so they had come to the last night of all, the night before they
should start their journey.

Inside the gloomy library grandfather and Certain Legal Matters
discussed stupid details about where the furniture should go to
storage and whether they should change the route and instead of going
around the coast by steamer and down the St. Lawrence, travel part of
the way overland--they consulted long yellow time-tables.

Felicia drifted across the dismantled library. She was pulling
Octavia's adorable white lace shawl about her firm young shoulders,
the flickering gas lights made her rather pale.