His greeting was simple and glad, and without restraint. Susan wore a
dress like a white vapour, sprigged with pale buds, her throat and arms
bare. She smiled the familiar, hesitating smile, met his questioning
gaze with her undeviating courage. Jasper Penny took a chair opposite
her. Little was said. Peace deepened about his spirit.
Graham, he saw, had a new ruddiness of health; he laid a shawl tenderly
about his wife's shoulders; and Jasper remembered that a birth was
imminent. Later he drifted with Susan to the door, and they passed out
into the obscurity beyond. Even now he was reluctant to speak, to break
with importunities the serene mood. "All the iron making," she spoke at
last, "lovely. I have stood night after night in the cast house watching
the metal pour out in its glorious colours. And, when I wake, I go to my
window and see the reflections of the blast on the trees, on the first
leaves. The charcoal burners come down like giants out of the mythology
of the forest. And, when I first came, there was a raccoon hunt, with a
great stirring of lanterns and barking dogs in the dark ... all lovely."
"It is yours," he said, bending over her. "You can come here at your
will. A house built. And Myrtle Forge, too; whatever I have, am.
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