A Certain Crossroad: A classic heart-warming romance by Emilie Loring

Author:Emilie Loring [Loring, Emilie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2021-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

With the disappearance of the sun behind the tree-tops and the creeping up of forest chill Judith’s high spirits which had persisted through the afternoon unaccountably declined. As a sop to the conventions of the approaching supper hour she had slipped a skirt over her green knickers. Seated on the steps of her cabin she watched Diane Turkin and Neil Peyton push off from the float in a flat-bottom rowboat. They were laden with fishing impedimenta from landing nets and rods to the book of flies which Di carried with the solicitous care she might have bestowed upon a priceless first edition of The Compleat Angler.

Luminous pink clouds trailed reflected glory across the surface of the lake. The tips of stately pines looked down upon their doubles mirrored in the clear water along shore. The mad laughter of a loon shook the air and frayed out among the tree-tops. There was no breeze. A trout broke the surface of the lake. The water rippled into widening circles. A streak of silver flashed upward, fell and disappeared in a splash of iridescent spray. The acid smell of wood-smoke permeated the air as it spiraled aloft from the cook-house chimney like an Indian signal. Only the cautious dip of oars broke the silence which the oncoming twilight flung ahead as a dancer might fling a mist of cloudy tulle.

With elbow on her knee, chin on her rosy palm, Judith forced her attention from the departing boat to her cousin who stood upon the float looking after it. He was tugging as his short mustache as though pondering a problem of immense magnitude. Once this afternoon she had seen him surreptitiously regarding Diane and Peyton with just that absorbed attention. They had been sitting with heads close together, he rigging his rod, she selecting flies. The utter content in the face of her hostess, Neil’s boyish enthusiasm—he seemed to have shaken off years—the laughing comradeship between the two had hurt Judith intolerably. She seemed to be looking through bars at something beautiful just beyond her reach. For an instant when Neil’s arms had closed about her this afternoon she had felt herself forgiven, had told herself that before the forest night closed in she would tell him that she was sorry, but he had hardened to indifference before their return to camp. Ollie had been right. Neil Peyton was absorbed in Diane.

Unreasoning anger against him roughly extinguished the lingering glow of radiant happiness of the afternoon. He had warned her against Boris. She would flaunt her indifference to his counsel as he had emphasized his indifference to her. With the appositiveness of a stage entrance Stetson emerged from his cabin door at the extreme end of the row of buildings. Judith waved to him and called gaily:

“Isn’t this an ideal night for our jacking-party, Boris?” Not until that moment had she had the slightest intention of embarking upon the expedition.

Stetson referred to her request as after supper the campers sat within the smoke protection of the fire on the shore.

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