Літо
XV
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WhenAllylefther,shefellsobbingacrossherbed.
Thelongstormwasfollowedbyanorth-westgale,andwhenitwasover,thehillstookontheirfirstumbertints,theskygrewmoredenselyblue,andthebigwhitecloudslayagainstthehillslikesnow-banks.Thefirstcrispmaple-leavesbegantospinacrossMissHatchard’slawn,andtheVirginiacreeperontheMemorialsplashedthewhiteporchwithscarlet.ItwasagoldentriumphantSeptember.DaybydaytheflameoftheVirginiacreeperspreadtothehillsidesinwiderwavesofcarmineandcrimson,thelarchesglowedlikethethinyellowhaloaboutafire,themaplesblazedandsmouldered,andtheblackhemlocksturnedtoindigoagainsttheincandescenceoftheforest.
Thenightswerecold,withadryglitterofstarssohighupthattheyseemedsmallerandmorevivid.Sometimes,asCharitylaysleeplessonherbedthroughthelonghours,shefeltasthoughshewereboundtothosewheelingfiresandswingingwiththemaroundthegreatblackvault.Atnightsheplannedmanythings...itwasthenshewrotetoHarney.Buttheletterswereneverputonpaper,forshedidnotknowhowtoexpresswhatshewantedtotellhim.Soshewaited.SincehertalkwithAllyshehadfeltsurethatHarneywasengagedtoAnnabelBalch,andthattheprocessof“settlingthings”wouldinvolvethebreakingofthistie.Herfirstrageofjealousyover,shefeltnofearonthisscore.ShewasstillsurethatHarneywouldcomeback,andshewasequallysurethat,forthemomentatleast,itwasshewhomhelovedandnotMissBalch.
