CHAPTER XVIII

ValancywasacquaintedwithBarneybynow—wellacquainted,itseemed,thoughshehadspokentohimonlyafewtimes.Butthenshehadfeltjustaswellacquaintedwithhimthefirsttimetheyhadmet.Shehadbeeninthegardenattwilight,huntingforafewstalksofwhitenarcissusforCissy’sroomwhensheheardthatterribleoldGreySlossoncomingdownthroughthewoodsfromMistawis—onecouldhearitmilesaway.Valancydidnotlookupasitdrewnear,thumpingovertherocksinthatcrazylane.Shehadneverlookedup,thoughBarneyhadgonerackettingpasteveryeveningsinceshehadbeenatRoaringAbel’s.Thistimehedidnotracketpast.TheoldGreySlossonstoppedwithevenmoreterriblenoisesthanitmadegoing.ValancywasconsciousthatBarneyhadsprungfromitandwasleaningovertheramshacklegate.Shesuddenlystraightenedupandlookedintohisface.Theireyesmet—Valancywassuddenlyconsciousofadeliciousweakness.Wasoneofherheartattackscomingon?—Butthiswasanewsymptom. Hiseyes,whichshehadalwaysthoughtbrown,nowseenclose,weredeepviolet—translucentandintense.Neitherofhiseyebrowslookedliketheother.Hewasthin—toothin—shewishedshecouldfeedhimupabit—shewishedshecouldsewthebuttonsonhiscoat—andmakehimcuthishair—andshaveeveryday.Therewassomethinginhisface—onehardlyknewwhatitwas.Tiredness?Sadness?Disillusionment?Hehaddimplesinhisthincheekswhenhesmiled.AllthesethoughtsflashedthroughValancy’smindinthatonemomentwhilehiseyeslookedintohers. “Good-evening,MissStirling.” Nothingcouldbemorecommonplaceandconventional.Anyonemighthavesaidit.ButBarneySnaithhadawayofsayingthingsthatgavethempoignancy.Whenhesaidgood-eveningyoufeltthatitwasagoodeveningandthatitwaspartlyhisdoingthatitwas.Also,youfeltthatsomeofthecreditwasyours.Valancyfeltallthisvaguely,butshecouldn’timaginewhyshewastremblingfromheadtofoot—itmustbeherheart.Ifonlyhedidn’tnoticeit! “I’mgoi