CHAPTER 5
THE HOME COMING
Dr. David Blythe had sent his horse and buggy to meet them, and theurchin who had brought it slipped away with a sympathetic grin, leavingthem to the delight of driving alone to their new home through theradiant evening.
Anne never forgot the loveliness of the view that broke upon them whenthey had driven over the hill behind the village. Her new home couldnot yet be seen; but before her lay Four Winds Harbor like a great,shining mirror of rose and silver. Far down, she saw its entrancebetween the bar of sand dunes on one side and a steep, high, grim, redsandstone cliff on the other. Beyond the bar the sea, calm andaustere, dreamed in the afterlight. The little fishing village,nestled in the cove where the sand-dunes met the harbor shore, lookedlike a great opal in the haze. The sky over them was like a jewelledcup from which the dusk was pouring; the air was crisp with thecompelling tang of the sea, and the whole landscape was infused withthe subtleties of a sea evening. A few dim sails drifted along thedarkening, fir-clad harbor shores. A bell was ringing from the towerof a little white church on the far side; mellowly and dreamily sweet,the chime floated across the water blent with the moan of the sea. Thegreat revolving light on the cliff at the channel flashed warm andgolden against the clear northern sky, a trembling, quivering star ofgood hope. Far out along the horizon was the crinkled gray ribbon of apassing steamer's smoke.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful," murmured Anne. "I shall love Four Winds,Gilbert. Where is our house?"
"We can't see it yet--the belt of birch running up from that littlecove hides it. It's about two miles from Glen St. Mary, and there'sanother mile between it and the light-house. We won't have manyneighbors, Anne. There's only one house near us and I don't know wholives in it. Shall you be lonely when I'm away?"
"Not with that light and that loveliness for company. Who lives inthat house, Gilbert?"
"I don't know. It doesn't look--exactly--as if the occupants would bekindred spirits, Anne, does it?"
The house was a large, substantial affair, painted such a vivid greenthat the landscape seemed quite faded by contrast. There was anorchard behind it, and a nicely kept lawn before it, but, somehow,there was a certain bareness about it. Perhaps its neatness wasresponsible for this; the whole establishment, house, barns, orchard,garden, lawn and lane, was so starkly neat.
"It doesn't seem probable that anyone with that taste in paint could beVERY kindred," acknowledged Anne, "unless it were an accident--like ourblue hall. I feel certain there are no children there, at least. It'seven neater than the old Copp place on the Tory road, and I neverexpected to see anything neater than that."
They had not met anybody on the moist, red road that wound along theharbor shore. But just before they came to the belt of birch which hidtheir home, Anne saw a girl who was driving a flock of snow-white geesealong the crest of a velvety green hill on the right. Great, scatteredfirs grew along it. Between their trunks one saw glimpses of yellowharvest fields, gleams of golden sand-hills, and bits of blue sea. Thegirl was tall and wore a dress of pale blue print. She walked with acertain springiness of step and erectness of bearing. She and hergeese came out of the gate at the foot of the hill as Anne and Gilbertpassed. She stood with her hand on the fastening of the gate, andlooked steadily at them, with an expression that hardly attained tointerest, but did not descend to curiosity. It seemed to Anne, for afleeting moment, that there was even a veiled hint of hostility in it.But it was the girl's beauty which made Anne give a little gasp--abeauty so marked that it must have attracted attention anywhere. Shewas hatless, but heavy braids of burnished hair, the hue of ripe wheat,were twisted about her head like a coronet; her eyes were blue andstar-like; her figure, in its plain print gown, was magnificent; andher lips were as crimson as the bunch of blood-red poppies she wore ather belt.
"Gilbert, who is the girl we have just passed?" asked Anne, in a lowvoice.
"I didn't notice any girl," said Gilbert, who had eyes only for hisbride.
"She was standing by that gate--no, don't look back. She is stillwatching us. I never saw such a beautiful face."
"I don't remember seeing any very handsome girls while I was here.There are some pretty girls up at the Glen, but I hardly think theycould be called beautiful."
"This girl is. You can't have seen her, or you would remember her.Nobody could forget her. I never saw such a face except in pictures.And her hair! It made me think of Browning's 'cord of gold' and'gorgeous snake'!"
"Probably she's some visitor in Four Winds--likely some one from thatbig summer hotel over the harbor."
"She wore a white apron and she was driving geese."
"She might do that for amusement. Look, Anne--there's our house."
Anne looked and forgot for a time the girl with the splendid, resentfuleyes. The first glimpse of her new home was a delight to eye andspirit--it looked so like a big, creamy seashell stranded on the harborshore. The rows of tall Lombardy poplars down its lane stood out instately, purple silhouette against the sky. Behind it, sheltering itsgarden from the too keen breath of sea winds, was a cloudy fir wood, inwhich the winds might make all kinds of weird and haunting music. Likeall woods, it seemed to be holding and enfolding secrets in itsrecesses,--secrets whose charm is only to be won by entering in andpatiently seeking. Outwardly, dark green arms keep them inviolate fromcurious or indifferent eyes.
The night winds were beginning their wild dances beyond the bar and thefishing hamlet across the harbor was gemmed with lights as Anne andGilbert drove up the poplar lane. The door of the little house opened,and a warm glow of firelight flickered out into the dusk. Gilbertlifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the garden, through thelittle gate between the ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to thesandstone step.
"Welcome home," he whispered, and hand in hand they stepped over thethreshold of their house of dreams.
Anne's House of Dreams Page 5