Susan had been at Graham Jannan's house for nine
weeks. Her sight, he had learned, had almost completely failed in a
general exhaustion; but, with rigorous care, she had nearly recovered.
The Academy had been sold to the assistant mistress; and there was an
expressed uncertainty about Susan's near future. It had, however, no
existence in Jasper Penny's thoughts, plans--she must marry him; any
other course would now be absurd. The track from Myrtle Forge to the
Furnace was bound into his every thought and association; its
familiarity, he mused, had been born in him; his horses, too, took
correctly, without pressure, every turning of the way. The road mounted,
and then dropped between rounded hills to the clustering buildings,
where lighted, pale yellow windows floated on the dusk, crowned by the
wide-flung radiance of the Furnace stack. The air was potent in the
valley with the indeterminate scent of budding earth--the premonitory
fragrance of blossoms; and, hardly less delicate, stars flowered whitely
in blue space.
He paused for a moment before entering Graham Jannan's house, saturated
with the pastoral tranquillity, listening to the flutter of wings under
the eaves. Then he went in. They had finished supper, but were lingering
at the table, with the candles guttering in an air from the open door.
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