r father and Hilary had broken her reverie, and a new
thought, like a pain, had clutched her. The buggy rolled slowly down the
drive, and Mr. Flint, staring after it a moment, went in the house. After
a few minutes he emerged again, an old felt hat on his head which he was
wont to wear in the country and a stick in his hand. Without raising his
eyes, he started slowly across the lawn; and to Victoria, leaning forward
intently over the balcony rail, there seemed an unwonted lack of purpose
in his movements. Usually he struck out briskly in the direction of the
pastures where his prize Guernseys were feeding, stopping on the way to
pick up the manager of his farm. There are signs, unknown to men, which
women read, and Victoria felt her heart beating, as she turned and
entered the sitting room through the French window. A trained nurse was
softly closing the door of the bedroom on the right.

"Mrs. Flint is asleep," she said.

"I am going out for a little while, Miss Oliver," Victoria answered, and
the nurse returned a gentle smile of understanding.

Victoria, descending the stairs, hastily pinned on a hat which she kept
in the coat closet, and hurried across the lawn in the direction Mr.
Flint had taken. Reaching the pine grove, thinned by a famous landscape
architect, she paused involuntarily to wonder again at the ultramarine of
Sawanec through the upright columns of the trunks under the high canopy
of boughs. The grove was on a plateau, which was cut on the side nearest
the mountain by the line of a gray stone wall, under which the land fell
away sharply. Mr. Flint was seated on a bench, his hands clasped across
his stick, and as she came softly over the carpet of the needles he did
not hear her until she stood beside him.

"You didn't tell me that you were going for a walk," she said
reproachfully.

He started, and dropped his stick. She stooped quickly, picked it up for
him, and settled herself at his side.

"I--I didn't expect to go, Victoria," he answered.

"You see," she said, "it's useless to try to slip away. I saw you from
the balcony."

"How's your mother feeling?" he asked.

"She's asleep. She seems better to me since she's come back to Fairview."

Mr. Flint stared at the mountain with unseeing eyes.

"Father," said Victoria, "don't you think you ought to stay up here at
least a week, and rest? I think so."

"No," he said, "no. There's a directors' meeting of a trust company
to-morrow which I ha