VII

othefarm,andbylosingherwayandstayingoutsolonghavegivenFritzing'scarefulheartanunnecessarypangofanxiety.Hehadhadsomany,andallbecauseofher.Butthenithadbeentheveryfirsttimeinherlifethatshehadeverwalkedalone,andifwordscannotdescribethejoyandtriumphofithowwasitlikelythatsheshouldhavebeenabletoresistthetemptationtostrayasideupalovelylittlelanethatluredheronandonfromonebendtoanothertillitleftheratlasthighup,breathlessanddazzled,ontheedgeoftheheath,withExmoorrollingfarawayinpurplewavestothesunsetandallthesplendouroftheeveningskyinherface?Shehadgoneon,fascinatedbythebeautyoftheplace,andwhenshewantedtoturnbackfoundshehadlostherself.ThenappearedSirAugustustosetherright,andwithabriefthoughtofhimasausefulpersononanicehorseshefellintosobermeditationsastotheprobableamountoftortureherpoorFritziwasgoingthrough,andAugustusceasedtoexistforherascompletelyasasign-postceasestoexistforhimwhohastakenitsadviceandpassedon. Helookedather,andlooked,andlookedagain.Hehadneverseenanyonequitesobeautiful,andcertainlyneveranyonewithsuchanairofextremedetachment.Hewastwenty-oneandmuchinclinedtopoetry,andhethoughtasshewalkedbesidehimsotallandstraightandaloof,withthenimbusofflaminghairandthenoblelittleheadandslightlysternbrowthatshelookedlikenothinglessthanayoungsaintofGod. TussiewasnotboldlikeRobin.Hewasagentleyouthwholovedquietthings,quietplaces,placidpeople,kinddogs,books,canarieseven,iftheydidnotsingtooloud.Hewassensitiveabouthimself,beingsmallandweakly,andtook,asIhavesaid,greatcareofwhathehadofhealth,suchcareindeedthatsomeofhisrobustfriendscalledhimFussie.Hehatedtheideaofcomingofageandofhavingagreatdealofmoneyandagreatmanyactivedutiesandresponsibilities.Hisdreamwastobeleftinpeacetowritehisversestogetawayintosomesweetimpossiblewilderness,andsittheresingingwithasmuchofthespiritofOmarKayyamascouldreasonablybeexpectedtodescendonayouthwhoonlydrankwater.Hewasnotbold,Isayandafterthatonequellingglancefromtheyoungsaint'seyesdidnotdarespeakagainforalongwhile.ButtheyweregettingnearSymfordtheywerehalfwaydownthehillhecouldnotletherslipawayperhapssuddenlyfromhissideintotheshadowswithoutatleasttryingtofindoutwhereshewasstaying.Helookedathersoftkindmouthandopenedhisowntospeak.Helookedathersternlevelbrowsandshutitagain.Atlast,keepinghiseyesonhermouthheblurtedout,growingred,"IknoweverysoulinSymford,andeverysoulformilesround,butIdon'tknow—"Hestopped.Hewasgoingtosay"you,"buthestopped. Priscilla'sthoughtsweresofarawaythatsheturnedherheadandgazedvaguelyathimforamomentwhileshecollectedthemagain.Thenshefrownedathim.IdonotknowwhyRobinshouldhavehadatleastseveralsmilesandpoorTussieonlyfrowns,unlessitwasthatduringthiswalktheyoungpersonEthelSchult