Diane of the Green Van
Page 23
CHAPTER XXIII
LETTERS
Buckwheat was cut, harvest brooded hazily over the land and the fieldswere bright with goldenrod when Diane turned sharply across Virginia toKentucky.
"It is already autumn," she wrote to Ann Sherrill. "The summer hasflown by like a bright-winged bird. For days now the forests have beensplashed with red and gold. The orchards are heavy with harvestapples, the tassels of the corn are dark and rusty, and the dooryardsof the country houses riot gorgeously in scarlet sage and marigold,asters and gladiolas. The twilight falls more swiftly now and thenights are cooler but before the frost sweeps across the land I shallbe in Georgia.
"For all it is autumn elsewhere, here in this wonderful blue grassland, it is spring again, a second spring. The autumn sunlight overthe woods and pastures is deeply, richly yellow. There are meadowlarks and off somewhere the tinkle of a cow bell. Oh, Ann, how good itis to be alive!
"Ages ago, in that remote and barbarous past when I lived with a roofabove my head, there were times when every pulse of my body cried andbegged for life--for gypsy life and gypsy wind and the song of theroaring river! Now, somehow, I feel that I have lived indeed--so fullythat a wonderful flood tide of peace and happiness flows strongly in myveins. I am brown and happy. Each day I cook and tramp and fish andswim and sleep--how I sleep with the leaves rustling a lullaby ofinfinite peace above me! Would you believe that I lived for two daysand nights in a mountain cave? I did indeed, but Johnny was greatlytroubled. Aunt Agatha stuffed his head with commands.
"The South thrills and calls. After all, though I was born in theAdirondacks, I am Southern, every inch of me. The Westfalls have beenFlorida folk since the beginning of time.
"There is an interesting nomad in a picturesque suit of corduroy whocrosses my path from time to time with an eccentric music-machine.Sometimes I see him gravely organ-grinding for a crowd of youngsters,sometimes--with an innate courtliness characteristic of him--for awhite-haired couple by a garden gate. He is wandering about in searchof health. Oddly, his way lies, too, through Kentucky and Tennessee,to Florida. He--and Ann, dear, this confidence of his I must beg youto respect, as I know you will--is a Hungarian nobleman, picturesquelydisguised because of some political quarrel with his country. Hewrites excellent verse in French and Latin, is a clever linguist, andhas a marvelous fund of knowledge about birds and flowers. Altogetherhe is a cultured, courtly, handsome man whom I have found vastlyentertaining. Romantic, isn't it?
"A letter to Eadsville, Kentucky, will reach me if you write as soon asthis reaches you.
"Ever yours,
"Diane."
Let him who is more versed in the science of a nomad's mind than I, saywhy there was no mention of the hay-camp!
Ann's answer came in course of time to Eadsville. As Ann talked insprightly italics, so was her letter made striking and emphatic bynumberless underlinings.
"How _very_ romantic!" ran a part of it. "I am _mad_ about yournobleman! Isn't it _wonderful_ to have such unique and thrillingadventures? I suppose you hung things up on the walls of the cave andbuilt a delightfully smoky fire and that the Hungarian--_bless_ hisheart!--trimmed his corduroy suit with an ancestral stiletto, and paidhis courtly respects to the beautiful gypsy hermit and fell_desperately_ in love with her, as well he might. I would _myself_!
"Diane, I simply _must_ see him! I'm dying for a new sensation. Eversince Baron Tregar's car was stolen from the farm garage and hishandsome secretary _mysteriously_ disappeared (by the way, it's PhilipPoynter--Carl knows him--do you?) and then reappeared with a mostunsatisfactory explanation which didn't in the least explain where hehad been--only to up and disappear again as strangely as before, andthe _very_ next morning--life has been terribly monotonous. And motherhad a rustic seizure and made us stay at the farm _all_ summer.Imagine! Dick's aeroplaned the tops off _all_ the trees!
"_Do_ beg your Hungarian to join us at Palm Beach in January. It wouldbe _most interesting_ and novel and I'll _swear_ on the ancestralstiletto to preserve his incognito! You remember you solemnly promisedto come to me in January, no matter _where_ you were! My enthusiasmgrows as I write--it always does. I'm planning a _fete denuit_--masked of course. Do please induce the romantic musician toattend. I _must_ have him. I'm sure he'll enjoy a few days ofconventional respectability and so will you. I'll lend you as manygowns as you need, you dear, delightful gypsy!"
To which Diane's answer was eminently satisfactory.
"Last night as Johnny was getting supper," she wrote, "our minstrelappeared with a great bunch of silver-rod and I begged him to stay tosupper. He was greatly gratified and when later I confessed myindiscreet revelation to you--and your invitation--he accepted itinstantly. He will be honored to be your guest, he said, provided ofcourse he may depend upon us to preserve his incognito. That is veryimportant. Do you know it is astonishing how I find myself keyed up tothe most amazing pitch of interest in him--he's so mysterious andromantic and magnetic.
"Your constant craving for new and original sensations brings back alot of memories. Will you never get over it?
"I shall probably leave the van with Johnny at Jacksonville and go downby rail. There are certain spectacular complications incident to anarrival at Palm Beach in the van which would be very distasteful, tosay the least. Besides, I'd be later than we planned."
For most likely, reflected Diane, nibbling intently at the end of herpen, most likely Palm Beach had never seen a hay-camp and much Mr.Poynter would care!