By a devious track between the fields they wound back to the Starkfield road.  Under the open sky the light was still clear, with a reflection of cold red on the eastern hills.  The clumps of trees in the snow seemed to draw together in ruffled lumps, like birds with their heads under their wings; and the sky, as it paled, rose higher, leaving the earth more alone.

As they turned into the Starkfield road Ethan said:  “Matt, what do you mean to do?”

She did not answer at once, but at length she said:  “I’ll try to get a place in a store.”

“You know you can’t do it.  The bad air and the standing all day nearly killed you before.”

“I’m a lot stronger than I was before I came to Starkfield.”

“And now you’re going to throw away all the good it’s done you!”

There seemed to be no answer to this, and again they drove on for a while without speaking.  With every yard of the way some spot where they had stood, and laughed together or been silent, clutched at Ethan and dragged him back.

“Isn’t there any of your father’s folks could help you?”

“There isn’t any of ’em I’d ask.”

He lowered his voice to say:  “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you if I could.”

“I know there isn’t.”

“But I can’t-”

She was silent, but he felt a slight tremor in the shoulder against his.

“Oh, Matt,” he broke out, “if I could ha’ gone with you now I’d ha’ done it-”

She turned to him, pulling a scrap of paper from her breast.  “Ethan-I found this,” she stammered.  Even in the failing light he saw it was the letter to his wife that he had begun the night before and forgotten to destroy.  Through his astonishment there ran a fierce thrill of joy.  “Matt-” he cried; “if I could ha’ done it, would you?”

“Oh, Ethan, Ethan-what’s the use?” With a sudden movement she tore the letter in shreds and sent them fluttering off into the snow.

“Tell me, Matt!  Tell me!” he adjured her.

She was silent for a moment; then she said, in such a low tone that he had to stoop his head to hear her:  “I used to think of it sometimes, summer nights, when the moon was so bright I couldn’t sleep.”

His heart reeled with the sweetness of it.  “As long ago as that?”

She answered, as if the date had long been fixed for her:  “The first time was at Shadow Pond.”

“Was that why you gave me my coffee before the others?”

“I don’t know.  Did I?  I was dreadfully put out when you wouldn’t go to the picnic with me; and then, when I saw you coming down the road, I thought maybe you’d gone home that way o’ purpose; and that made me glad.”

They were silent again.  They had reached the point where the road dipped to the hollow by Ethan’s mill and as they descended the darkness descended with them, dropping down like a black veil from the heavy hemlock boughs.