The impulse did not shape itself in thought: she only knew
she must save her baby, and hide herself with it somewhere where no one
would ever come to trouble them.
She walked on and on, growing more heavy-footed as the day advanced. It
seemed a cruel chance that compelled her to retrace every step of the
way to the deserted house; and when she came in sight of the orchard,
and the silver-gray roof slanting crookedly through the laden branches,
her strength failed her and she sat down by the road-side. She sat there
a long time, trying to gather the courage to start again, and walk past
the broken gate and the untrimmed rose-bushes strung with scarlet hips.
A few drops of rain were falling, and she thought of the warm evenings
when she and Harney had sat embraced in the shadowy room, and the noise
of summer showers on the roof had rustled through their kisses. At
length she understood that if she stayed any longer the rain might
compel her to take shelter in the house overnight, and she got up and
walked on, averting her eyes as she came abreast of the white gate and
the tangled garden.
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