Francesca said, “It’s so kind of him to have us. I’ve known Scarth since I was a child and loved it, but I’ve always been to it in the spring.”
And, for some reason Nick was silent as they drove through the darkening lanes. He seemed to have a sudden sharpening of the dull fear he had had with him ever since he knew Francesca and the boy were to come. The trees were thick round them when they reached the drive and he felt a wish to look to left and right.
No, you fool, he told himself, it’s not here anyway, not here but in the wood; and then, because he was not at ease, he spoke of the weather and the lately gathered harvest and realized he was being trite and very uninteresting, indeed.
When they reached the house, the woods crept away from it to the right and the south windows looked away towards the marshland. In the warm hall with the welcome of Richard Ayreton, the housekeeper and the dogs, Nick forgot his anxiety, and it was only on his drive home that he remembered, to the exclusion of Francesca's gray eyes and gentle voice.
To get to his house he had to drive along a part of road which cut through the woods.
Nick was a strong, young man who had been through the war at sea. He was tall and powerful and would have tackled another in fair fight most joyfully, but there was something on his mind which was a far worse thing than flesh and blood. The trees bent towards the road, and though there was a moon it was hidden in cloud. It was where the road crossed through the wood, yes, that was where—God! said Nick, and believed he spoke aloud. He felt the sweat pricking on his forehead, and as the car went on his eyes were strained first on one side of the road and then on the other. There was a menace in each shifting branch, each leaf that fell withered to the ground. But beyond that, there was nothing, nothing at all.
The next morning Nick went to Scarth to get the check for the farm-hands’ wages and in the drive before the house he found Francesca and young Paul throwing sticks for Sebastian, a half-bred spaniel who seemed to have attached himself to them. Francesca called to Nick and her eyes were bright and she had tied up her head in a brightly colored scarf. “Paul’s to start school in the village next week,” she said, “so till then we’re just enjoying ourselves.”
Paul ran up to Nick, followed by Sebastian, and Nick’s hand fell gently on the rough head of
