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If the orchard-gate were open, he could enter there; if not, the wall was easily climbed, as he knew of old; and he would be among them in an instant.
"I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the world!" "Nonsense, child; you'll think your husband better." "Impossible," said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; "husbands are an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order." When they were entering the house with Letty, who had run to join them, Mary saw Fred at the orchard-gate, and went to meet him.
Columbus!" called Juliet's voice. "Come back at once!" "May I come through?" said Mr. Fielding. She arrived at the orchard-gate, flushed and apologetic. "Oh, pray do! Please excuse Columbus! He always speaks before he thinks." She opened the gate with the words, and held out her hand. She was aware of his eyes looking at her very searchingly as he took it.
He had heard the magpie returning, and mad with anger since it was the magpie's theft which had thus destroyed the happiness of his life, for all might have been well had he had the letter he hastened for his gun. As he came to the orchard-gate, Kapchack, with his followers behind him, neared the wall.
Neither out of doors could aught of him be seen or heard; he had vanished in the thickets, in the dusk; the Orchard-gate stood quietly closed: the Stranger was gone once and always. So sudden had the whole transaction been, in the autumn stillness and twilight, so gentle, noiseless, that the Futterals could have fancied it all a trick of Imagination, or some visit from an authentic Spirit.
When the currants and gooseberries were quite ripe, grandmamma had a sheep-shearing. All the sheep stood under the trees to be sheared. They were brought out of the field by old Spot, the shepherd. I stood at the orchard-gate, and saw him drive them all in.
Kapchack was a marvel, and it gradually became a belief with them that he would never die. Outside the orchard-gate, the footpath which crossed the lane, and along which the lady used to come, was also carefully kept in its former condition.
And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where the other woman was, offended and in hiding.
The orchard-gate clicked behind us. Brother Marc Antoine, reclining beside the sow with his back against an apple-tree bole, slewed himself round for a look. Pere Philibert and I, turning together, saw a man and a woman approaching, with hangdog looks, and a priest between them the Cure of Ambialet who seemed to be exhorting them by turns to keep up their courage.
I hesitated for a moment and, almost involuntarily, murmured: "To know a little more ... to see a little farther ... to understand a little better...." Rose repeated, slowly and earnestly: "To know a little more ... to see a little...." But I laughingly stopped her, for the words sounded too serious in our young souls. The orchard-gate closed between us.
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