the fortunes of oliver horn-第46章
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adge〃 when they forgot themselves and each other in their work。
To Margaret this free and happy life together seemed natural enough。 She had decided on the day of their first meeting that Oliver's interest in her was due wholly to his love of companionship； and not because of any special liking he might feel for her。 Had she not seen him quite as cordial and as friendly to the men he knew？ Satisfied on this point； Oliver began to take the place of a brother； or cousin； or some friend of her youth who loved another woman； perhaps； and was； therefore； safe against all contingencies； while she gave herself up to the enjoyment of that rare luxurythe rarest that comes to a womandaily association with a man who could be big and strong and sympathetic； and yet ask nothing in return for what she gave him but her companionship and confidence。
In the joy of this new intercourse； and with his habit of trusting implicitly everyone whom he loved man； woman； or childOliver； long before the first month was over； had emptied his heart to Margaret as completely as he had ever done to Miss Clendenning。 He had told her of Sue and of Miss Lavinia's boudoir； and of Mr。 Crocker and his pictures； and of his poor father's struggles and his dear mother's determination to send him from homenot about the mortgage； that was his mother's secret； not his ownand of the great receptions given by his Uncle Tilghman； and of all the other wonderful doings in Kennedy Square。
She had listened at first in astonishment； and then with impatience。 Many of the things that seemed so important to him were valueless in her more practical eyes。 Instead of a regime which ennobled those who enjoyed its privileges； she saw only a slavish devotion to worn…out traditions； and a clannish provincialism which proved to her all the more clearly the narrow…mindedness of the people who sustained and defended them。 So far as she could judge； the qualities that she deemed necessary in the make…up of a robust life； instinct with purpose and accomplishment； seemed to be entirely lacking in Kennedy Square formulas。 She saw； too； with a certain undefined pain； that Oliver's mind had been greatly warped by these influences。 Mrs。 Horn's domination over him； strange to say； greatly disturbed her； why； she could not tell。 〃She must be a proud； aristocratic woman；〃 she had said to herself after one of Oliver's outbursts of enthusiasm over his mother； 〃wedded to patrician customs and with no consideration for anyone outside of her class。〃
And yet none of these doubts and criticisms made the summer days less enjoyable。
One bright； beautiful morning when the sky was a turquoise； the air a breath of heaven； and the brooks could be heard laughing clear out on the main road； Oliver and Margaret； who had been separated for some days while she paid a visit to her family at home； started to find a camp that Hank had built the winter before as a refuge while he was hunting deer。 They had reached a point in the forest where two paths met； when Margaret's quick ear caught the sound of a human voice； and she stopped to listen。
〃Quick〃 she cried〃get behind these spruces； or he will see us and stop singing。 It's old Mr。 Burton。 He is such a dear！ He spends his summers here。 I often meet him and he always bows to me so politely； although he doesn't know me。〃
A man of sixtybare…headed； dressed in a gray suit； with his collar and coat over his arm and hands filled with wild…flowers； was passing leisurely along； singing at the top of his voice。 Once he stopped； and； bending over； picked a bunch of mountain…berries which he tucked into a buttonhole of his flannel shirt； just before disappearing in a turn of the path。
Oliver looked after him for a moment。 He had caught the look of sweet serenity on the idler's face； and the air of joyousness that seemed to linger behind him like a perfume； and it filled him with delight。
〃There； Margaret！ that's what I call a happy man。 I'll wager you he has never done anything all his life but that which he loved to dojust lives out here and throws his heart wide open for every beautiful thing that can crowd into it。 That's the kind of a man I want to be。 Oh！ I'm so glad I saw him。〃
Margaret was silent。 She was walking ahead； her staff in her hand； the fallen trunks and heavy under… brush making it difficult for them to walk abreast。
〃Do you think that he never had to work； to be able to enjoy himself as he does？〃 she asked over her shoulder； with a toss of her head。
〃Perhapsbut he loved what he was doing。〃
〃No； he didn'the hated ithated it all his life。〃 The tone carried a touch of defiance that was new to Oliver。 He stepped quickly after her； with a sudden desire to look into her face。 Ten minutes； at least； had passed during which he had seen only the back of her head。
Margaret heard his step behind her and quickened her own。 Something was disturbing the joyousness of our young Diana this lovely summer morning。
〃What did the old fellow do for a living； Margaret？〃 Oliver called； still trying to keep up with Margaret's springing step。
〃Sold lard and provisions； and over the counter； too；〃 she answered； with a note almost of exultation in her voice （she was thinking of Mrs。 Horn and Kennedy Square）。 〃Mrs。 Taft knows him and used to send him her bacon。 He retired rich some years ago； and now he can sing all day if he wants to。〃
It was Oliver's turn to be silent。 The tones of Margaret's voice had hurt him。 For some minutes he made no reply。 Then wheeling suddenly he sprang over a moss…covered trunk that blocked her path； stepped in front of her； and laid his hand on her shoulder。
〃Not offended； Margaret； are you？〃 he asked； looking earnestly into her eyes。
〃Nowhat nonsense！ Of course not。 Why do you ask？〃
〃Well； somehow you spoke as if you were。〃
〃No； I didn't； I only said how dear Mr。 Burton was； and he IS。 How silly you are！ Comewe will be late for the camp。〃
They both walked on in silence； now； he ahead this time； brushing aside the thick undergrowth that blocked the path。
The exultant tones in her voice which had hurt her companion； and which had escaped her unconsciously； still rang in her own ears。 She felt ashamed of the outburst now as she watched him cutting the branches ahead of her； and thought how gentle and tender he had always been to her and how watchful over her comfort。 She wondered at the cause of her frequent discontent。 Then； like an evil spirit that would not down； there arose in her mind； as she walked on； the picture she had formed of Kennedy Square。 She thought of his mother's imperious nature absorbing all the love of his heart and inspiring and guiding his every action and emotion； of the unpractical fathera dreamer and an enthusiast； the worst possible example he could have； of the false standards and class distinctions which had warped his early life and which were still dominating him。 With an abrupt gesture of impatience she stood still in the path and looked down upon the ground。 An angry flush suffused her face。
〃What a stupid fool you are； Margaret Grant；〃 she burst out impatiently。 〃What are Kennedy Square and the whole Horn family to you？〃
Oliver's halloo brought her to consciousness。
〃Here's that slant； Margaretoh； such a lovely spot！ Hurry up。〃
〃The slant〃 had been built between two great trees and stood on a little mound of earth surrounded by beds of velvety green mosshuge green winding sheets； under which lay the bodies of many giant pines and hemlocks。 The shelter was made of bark and bedded down with boughs of sweet…balsam。 Outside； on a birch sapling； supported by two forked sticks； hung a rusty kettle。 Beneath the rude spit； half…hidden by the growth of the summer； lay the embers of the abandoned camp…fires that had warmed and comforted Hank and his companions the preceding winter。
Oliver raked the charred embers from under the tangled vines that hid them； while Margaret peeled the bark from a silver…birch for kindling。 Soon a curl of blue smoke mounted heavenward； hung suspended over the tree…tops； and then drifted away in scarfs of silver haze dimming the forms of the giant trunks。
Our young enthusiast watched the Diaz of a wood interior tur
