The Wrong Woman Read Free

to look like in
her hands, it became a hat the moment she put it on; it had an appearance and an
air; and now the dark surface lent itself all to contrast with her light,
soft-hued hair and clear, delicate skin. It was still further improved, when,
having removed it again, she set it on at a rakish artillery angle. Possibly, if
hers had been the dark, nut-brown beauty, she would have seen that she looked
best lurking beneath its sombre shade, and therefore have turned the rim down
some way to even increase the shade; but Janet fitted that which was frank,
open, and aboveboard. And so she used the black for contrast rather than
obscuritybesides which there was another sort of contrast, for a soldier hat on
Janet was a striking foil for her utter femininity. And its romantic pretense
(so different from the dark gypsy-like romantic) was such an arrant little piece
of make-believe that it had the effect of playful candor, acknowledging how
impossible a man she would make; and while it was, strikingly, a pure case of
art for art's sake, you could not but remark how much better she looked
in it than any soldier could ever have done. To tell the truth, we do not really
pretend to know why Janet did this, or what taught her how to do it; anyway, she
did it; and now, having so easily accomplished one of the most difficult parts
of a self-made woman, she fixed it in position with the hatpin, snapped shut her
chatelaine bag, and rose to go.
    Looking forward in the direction she had turned to, her mind began to be
crossed with doubts as to whether that was the right way. She looked in other
directions. Then she turned slowly about. What she saw was simply prairie all
the way round. Which part of that horizon had she come fromwhat point in space?
There is nothing so answerless.
    She was now in a world where there was no such thing as direction except that
one side was opposite the other. There seemed to be nowhere that she could
really consider as a Place! The spot where she had been sitting seemed to be a
place; but now she realized that she could go far from it in any direction and
still be resting in the middle of nature's lap.
    How she strained her mind out to the very edge of things and tried to think!
What endeavor she made to get out of her mind that which was not in it! She
could not but feel that it was all because she was "such a fool"for she could
hardly believe that a whole country could be so lacking in information.
    Poor Janet! She even looked up toward the high sun and wondered what kind of
sailor science would compel him to divulge his relations with a certain wooden
gate. But there was no recognition there, no acknowledgment. The four quarters
of heaven were fitted together with a viewless joint. All was silent. Everything
was a secret.
    Of course she finally thought of the obvious thing to do; but afterwards she
was sorry that she did, for that was just how she lost a good part of the
afternoon. She found traces of her horse's coursehere some flower stems had
been broken, and a little farther on, some more; and now that all was made plain
she took her slicker, which was tied in a roll behind the saddle, and, putting
her mind straight ahead on the course, she set out.
    In his high gallop her horse had left no trail that she could follow as a
pathnothing but slight records which might be discovered upon close and
particular search. As his shoeless feet had made little or no impression on the
sward, and there were wide spaces where flowers were sparse, she decided, in
order to make progress, to go straight forward in the direction which had been
determined, and then, if the fence did not put in an appearance, to refer to the
trail again.
    After a time, seeing nothing ahead, she began to look about, this side and
that, in doubt; and now, being "all turned round" again, she looked for the
trail. But she could not find it. Looking about everywhere, round and round and
farther and