rrow, still,
sweet-scented by-ways which seem to be paths rather than roads. Often
we had to put aside the heavy drooping branches which barred the way,
and once, when a sharp twig struck William in the face, he announced
with such spirit that somebody ought to go through there with an axe,
that I felt unexpectedly guilty. So far as I now remember, this was
William's only remark all the way through the woods to Thankful Hight's
folks, but from time to time he pointed or nodded at something which I
might have missed: a sleepy little owl snuggled into the bend of a
branch, or a tall stalk of cardinal flowers where the sunlight came
down at the edge of a small, bright piece of marsh. Many times, being
used to the company of Mrs. Todd and other friends who were in the
habit of talking, I came near making an idle remark to William, but I
was for the most part happily preserved; to be with him only for a
short time was to live on a different level, where thoughts served best
because they were thoughts in common; the primary effect upon our minds
of the simple things and beauties that we saw. Once when I caught
sight of a lovely gay pigeon-woodpecker eyeing us curiously from a dead
branch, and instinctively turned toward William, he gave an indulgent,
comprehending nod which silenced me all the rest of the way. The
wood-road was not a place for common noisy conversation; one would
interrupt the birds and all the still little beasts that belonged
there. But it was mortifying to find how strong the habit of idle
speech may become in one's self. One need not always be saying
something in this noisy world. I grew conscious of the difference
between William's usual fashion of life and mine; for him there were
long days of silence in a sea-going boat, and I could believe that he
and his mother usually spoke very little because they so perfectly
understood each other. There was something peculiarly unresponding
about their quiet island in the sea, solidly fixed into the still
foundations of the world, against whose rocky shores the sea beats and
calls and is unanswered.

We were quite half an hour going through the woods; the horse's feet
made no sound on the brown, soft track under the dark evergreens. I
thought that we should come out at last into more pastures, but there
was no half-wooded strip of land at the end; the high woods grew
squarely against an old stone wall and a sunshiny open field, and we
came out suddenly