this strange ecstasy, other people nod their heads and say: 'Ah, yes, we
know about that! They are in love.' And they smile. But what a
convention--tradition--that smile!"

There was no sound in the forest at all--not the cry of a bird, not the
rustle of snow falling from a branch--but there was something deeper and
remoter than sound, the approach of night. There was a change on the
face of the forest--an effective silence which was not blankness--a
voiceless expression of attention as the Newcomer settled into his
place. Fanny looked up and saw the labyrinth of trees in the very act of
receiving a guest.

"Oh, what wretched earnest I am in," she thought, suddenly chilled. "And
it can only have one end--parting." But she had a power to evade these
moods. She could slip round them and say to herself: "I am old enough--I
have learnt again and again--that there is only one joy--the Present;
only one Perfection--the Present. If I look into the future it is lost."

She heard the returning car far up the forest drive, and in a moment saw
the gleam of its two lamps as they rocked and swayed. It drew up, and
Stewart put out the lamps, ever remembering that their logs were stolen.
There was still light enough by which they could pack the car with wood.
As they finished Stewart caught her arm: "Look, a fire!" she said,
pointing into the forest. Through a gap in the trees they could see a
red glow which burst up over the horizon.

"And look behind the trees--the whole sky is illumined--What a fire!" As
they watched, the glare grew stronger and brighter, and seemed about to
lift the very tongue of its flame over the horizon.