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indifferent to the figure he cut beside his Amazon。 His gentleness of
disposition； his brilliant conversations with those whom； like her
father； he knew and trusted； captivated Augusta。 At this period of her
life she was awakening to the glories of literature and taking a special
course in that branch。 He talked to her of Gogol； Turgenief； and
Dostoievsky； and seated on the log piazza read in excellent French 〃Dead
Souls；〃 〃Peres et Enfants；〃 and 〃The Brothers Karamazoff。〃 At the end of
August he went homeward almost gaily； quite ignorant of the arrow in his
heart； until he began to miss Augusta Wishart's ministrationsand
Augusta Wishart herself。。。。 Then had followed that too brief period of
intensive happiness。。。。
The idea of remarriage had never occurred to her。 At eight and thirty；
though tragedy had left its mark； it had been powerless to destroy the
sweetness of a nature of such vitality as hers。 The innate necessity of
loving remained； and as time went on had grown more wistful and
insistent。 Insall and her Silliston neighbours were wont； indeed； gently
to rally her on her enthusiams； while understanding and sympathizing with
this need in her。 A creature of intuition； Janet had appealed to her
from the beginning； arousing first her curiosity； and then the maternal
instinct that craved a mind to mould； a soul to respond to her touch。。。。
Mrs。 Maturin often talked to Janet of Insall； who had； in a way； long
been connected with Silliston。 In his early wandering days； when
tramping over New England； he used unexpectedly to turn up at Dr。
Ledyard's； the principal's； remain for several weeks and disappear again。
Even then he； had been a sort of institution； a professor emeritus in
botany； bird lore； and woodcraft； taking the boys on long walks through
the neighbouring hills； and suddenly he had surprised everybody by
fancying the tumble…down farmhouse in Judith's Lane； which he had
restored with his own hands into the quaintest of old world dwellings。
Behind it he had made a dam in the brook； and put in a water wheel that
ran his workshop。 In play hours the place was usually overrun by
boys。。。。 But sometimes the old craving for tramping would overtake him；
one day his friends would find the house shut up； and he would be absent
for a fortnight； perhaps for a monthone never knew when he was going；
or when he would return。 He went； like his hero； Silas Simpkins； through
the byways of New England； stopping at night at the farm…houses； or often
sleeping out under the stars。 And then； perhaps； he would write another
book。 He wrote only when he felt like writing。
It was this book of Insall's； 〃The Travels of Silas Simpkins；〃rather than
his 〃Epworth Green〃 or 〃The Hermit of Blue Mountain；〃 that Mrs。 Maturin
chose to read to Janet。 Unlike the sage of Walden； than whom he was more
gregarious； instead of a log house for his castle Silas Simpkins chose a
cart； which he drove in a most leisurely manner from the sea to the
mountains； penetrating even to hamlets beside the silent lakes on the
Canadian border； and then went back to the sea again。 Two chunky grey
horses with wide foreheads and sagacious eyes propelled him at the rate
of three miles an hour； for these； as their master； had learned the
lesson that if life is to be fully savoured it is not to be bolted。
Silas cooked and ate； and sometimes read under the maples beside the
stone walls： usually he slept in the cart in the midst of the assortment
of goods that proclaimed him； to the astute； an expert in applied
psychology。 At first you might have thought Silos merely a peddler； but
if you knew your Thoreau you would presently begin to perceive that
peddling was the paltry price he paid for liberty。 Silos was in a way a
sagebut such a human sage！ He never intruded with theories； he never
even hinted at the folly of the mortals who bought or despised his goods；
or with whom he chatted by the wayside； though he may have had his ideas
on the subject： it is certain that presently one began to have one's own：
nor did he exclaim with George Sand； 〃 Il n'y a rien de plus betement
mechant que l'habitant des petites villes！〃 Somehow the meannesses and
jealousies were accounted for； if not excused。 To understand is to
pardon。
It was so like Insall； this book； in its whimsicality； in its feeling of
space and freedom； in its hidden wisdom that gradually revealed itself as
one thought it over before falling off to sleep！ New England in the
early summer！ Here； beside the tender greens of the Ipswich downs was
the sparkling cobalt of the sea； and she could almost smell its cool salt
breath mingling with the warm odours of hay and the pungent scents of
roadside flowers。 Weathered grey cottages were scattered over the
landscape； and dark copses of cedars； while oceanward the eye was caught
by the gleam of a lighthouse or a lonely sail。
Even in that sandy plain； covered with sickly； stunted pines and burned
patches； stretching westward from the Merrimac； Silas saw beauty and
colour； life in the once prosperous houses not yet abandoned。。。。
Presently； the hills； all hyacinth blue； rise up against the sunset； and
the horses' feet are on the 〃Boston Road〃or rud； according to the
authorized pronunciation of that land。 Hardly； indeed； in many places； a
〃rud〃 to…day； reverting picturesquely into the forest trail over which
the early inland settlers rode their horses or drove their oxen with
upcountry produce to the sea。 They were not a people who sought the
easiest way； and the Boston Road reflects their characters： few valleys
are deep enough to turn it aside； few mountains can appal it： railroads
have given it a wide berth。 Here and there the forest opens out to
reveal； on a knoll or 〃flat；〃 a forgotten village or tavern…stand。 Over
the high shelf of Washington Town it runs where the air is keen and the
lakes are blue； where long…stemmed wild flowers nod on its sunny banks；
to reach at length the rounded； classic hills and sentinel mountain that
mark the sheep country of the Connecticut。。。。
It was before Janet's convalescence began that Mrs。 Maturin had consulted
Insall concerning her proposed experiment in literature。 Afterwards he
had left Silliston for a lumber camp on a remote river in northern Maine；
abruptly to reappear； on a mild afternoon late in April； in Augusta
Maturin's garden。 The crocuses and tulips were in bloom； and his friend；
in a gardening apron； was on her knees； trowel in hand； assisting a hired
man to set out marigolds and snapdragons。
〃Well； it's time you were home again；〃 she exclaimed； as she rose to
greet him and led him to a chair on the little flagged terrace beside the
windows of her library。 〃I've got so much to tell you about our
invalid。〃
〃Our invalid！〃 Insall retorted。
〃Of course。 I look to you to divide the responsibility with me； and
you've shirked by running off to Maine。 You found her； you knowand
she's really remarkable。〃
〃Now see here； Augusta； you can't expect me to share the guardianship of
an attractive andwell； a dynamic young woman。 If she affects you this
way； what will she do to me？ I'm much too susceptible。〃
〃Susceptible〃 she scoffed。 〃But you can't get out of it。 I need you。
I've never been so interested and so perplexed in my life。〃
〃How is she？〃 Insall asked。
〃Frankly； I'm worried；〃 said Mrs。 Maturin。 〃At first she seemed to be
getting along beautifully。 I read to her； a little every day； and it was
wonderful how she responded to it。 I'll tell you about that I've got so
much to tell you！ Young Dr。 Trent is puzzled； too； it seems there are
symptoms in the case for which he cannot account。 Some three weeks ago
he asked me what I made out of her； and I can't make anythingthat's the
trouble； except that she seems pathetically grateful； and that I've grown
absurdly fond of her。 But she isn't improving as fast as she should； and
Dr。 Trent doesn't know whether or not to suspect functional
complications。 Her constitution seems excellent； her vitality unusual。
Trent's impressed by her； he inclines to the theory that she has
something on her mind； and if this is so she should get rid of it； tell
it to somebodyin short； tell it to me。 I know she's fond of me； but
she's so maddeningly self…contained； and at moments when I look at her
she baffles me； she makes me feel like an atom。 Twenty times at least
I've almost screwed up my courage to ask her； but when it comes to the
point； I simply can't do it。〃
〃You ought to be able to get at it； if any one can；〃 said Insall。
〃I've a notion it may be connected with the strike；〃 Augusta Maturin
continued。 〃I never could account for her being mixed up in that；
plunging into Syndicalism。 It seemed so foreign to her nature。 I wish
I'd waited a little longer before telling her about the strike； but one
day she asked me how it had come outand she seemed to be getting along
so nicely I didn't see any reason for not telling her。 I said that the
strike was over； that the millowners had accepted the I。W。W。 terms； but
that Antonelli and Jastro had been sent to jail and were awaiting trial
because they had been accused of instigating the mur