Page:Harold Titus--Timber.djvu/129

Rh "Perhaps. That is vanity. Nothing that is easy seems worth while."

He watched the trout rising and smoked thoughtfully. "Is that why you buried yourself here in this forest? Because it is hard?"

"I haven't buried myself. I belong to it. I'm a part of it."

"And you've never wanted anything else?"

"I've never had the time."

"It satisfied all your impulses?"

"No. Not all. What aren't satisfied will have to wait—a while."

Pause. Helen's mind was not wholly on what she had been saying; the flush still lingered in her cheeks and she did not look at Taylor. The pause grew to a moment of silence and then, as though to overcome the confusion that he had put upon her, or as if fearful that he would commence again where the wren had ended, she began:

"My father used to say that want was entirely a matter of environment. This has been my environment, so I've never wanted anything very strongly that couldn't be had here. I was born here. I grew up along with the trees, though most of them had a big start on me. I never knew my mother. I never knew many people except my father, and those few men who came here because they were interested in—my environment. I think my father would rather I'd been a boy. He never said that; he was very kind. But he trained me as he would have trained a boy.

"I ramble," she said laughing and more at ease.

"No—please tell me about him. I've been here weeks and I know nothing about this forest he started.