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Edith Wharton: Ethan Frome2. CHAPTER II (continued)Frome heard the girl's voice, gaily incredulous: "What on earth's your father's cutter doin' down there?" "Why, waiting for me to take a ride. I got the roan colt too. I kinder knew I'd want to take a ride to-night," Eady, in his triumph, tried to put a sentimental note into his bragging voice. The girl seemed to waver, and Frome saw her twirl the end of her scarf irresolutely about her fingers. Not for the world would he have made a sign to her, though it seemed to him that his life hung on her next gesture. "Hold on a minute while I unhitch the colt," Denis called to her, springing toward the shed. She stood perfectly still, looking after him, in an attitude of tranquil expectancy torturing to the hidden watcher. Frome noticed that she no longer turned her head from side to side, as though peering through the night for another figure. She let Denis Eady lead out the horse, climb into the cutter and fling back the bearskin to make room for her at his side; then, with a swift motion of flight, she turned about and darted up the slope toward the front of the church. "Good-bye! Hope you'll have a lovely ride!" she called back to him over her shoulder. Denis laughed, and gave the horse a cut that brought him quickly abreast of her retreating figure. "Come along! Get in quick! It's as slippery as thunder on this turn," he cried, leaning over to reach out a hand to her. She laughed back at him: "Good-night! I'm not getting in." By this time they had passed beyond Frome's earshot and he could only follow the shadowy pantomime of their silhouettes as they continued to move along the crest of the slope above him. He saw Eady, after a moment, jump from the cutter and go toward the girl with the reins over one arm. The other he tried to slip through hers; but she eluded him nimbly, and Frome's heart, which had swung out over a black void, trembled back to safety. A moment later he heard the jingle of departing sleigh bells and discerned a figure advancing alone toward the empty expanse of snow before the church. This is page 22 of 101. [Marked] This title is on Your Bookshelf. Buy a copy of Ethan Frome at Amazon.com
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