The Lilac Girl | Page 9

his way back to the cottage, but many a
curious gaze followed him from behind curtained windows, and, since
the ripples had not yet widened, he left many excited discussions in his
wake. Back in the cottage he threw off coat and vest, lighted his pipe
and set to work. First of all, up went the parlor windows and shades.
But a dubious examination of that apartment was sufficient. If he
should ever really live here the parlor could be made habitable, but for
the present its demands were too many. He closed the windows again
and abandoned the room to its musty solitude. From the spare room
upstairs he brought bed and bedding and placed it in the sitting room. It
required some ingenuity to convert the latter apartment into a bedroom,
but the difficulty was at last solved by relegating the sewing machine to
the parlor and moving the couch. When the bed was made Wade went
out to the kitchen and looked over the situation there. Closet and
cup-board displayed more dishes and utensils than he would have
known what to do with. He tried the pump and after a moment's
vigorous work was rewarded with a rushing stream of ice-cold water
that tasted pure and fresh. Then he looked for fuel. The lean-to shed,
built behind the kitchen, was locked, and, after a fruitless search for the
key, he pried off the hasp with a screw-driver. The shed held the
accumulated rubbish of many years, but Wade didn't examine it. Fuel
was what he wanted and he found plenty of it. There was a pile of old
shingles and several feet of maple and hickory neatly stowed against
the back wall. Near at hand was a chopping-block, the axe still leaning
against it. There was a saw-horse, too, and a saw hung above it on a

nail. But there was no wood cut in stove size, and so Wade swung the
door wide open to let in light, and set to work with the saw and axe. It
felt good to get his muscles into play again and he was soon whistling
merrily. Fifteen minutes later he was building a fire in the kitchen stove.
It was too early for supper, but the iron kettle looked very lonely
without any steam curling from its impertinent spout. After he had
solved the secrets of the perplexing drafts, and ascertained by the
simple expedient of placing a sooty finger in it that the water was really
getting warm, he washed his hands at the sink and returned to the
sitting-room to don vest and coat. He had done that and was ruminantly
filling his pipe when something drew his gaze to one of the side
windows. The pipe fell to the floor and the tobacco trailed across the
carpet.
For a moment, for just the tiny space of time which it took his heart to
charge madly up into his throat, turn over and race back again, the open
casement framed the shoulders and face of a woman. There were
greens and blues in the background, and sunlight everywhere, and a
blue shadow fell athwart the sill. The picture glared with light and color,
but for that brief fragment of time Wade's eyes, half-blinded by the
dazzlement, looked into the woman's. His widened with wonder and
dawning recognition; hers--but the vision passed. The frame was empty
again.
Wade passed a hand over his eyes, blinked and asked himself startledly
what it meant. Had he dreamed? He gazed dazedly from the fallen pipe
to the empty window. The sunlight dazzled and hurt, and he closed his
eyes for an instant. And in that instant another vision came.... It was
twilight on Saddle Pass.... Two starlit eyes looked wonderingly down
into his. The mouth beneath was like a crimson bud with parted petals....
A slim, warm hand was in his and his heart danced on his lips.... The
slender form lessened and softened in the tender darkness and became
only a pale blur far down the track, and he was standing alone under the
cold white stars, with a spray of lilac against his mouth.
He opened his eyes with a shiver. It was uncanny. All that had been
five years ago, five years filled to the brim with work and struggle and

final attainment, all making for forgetfulness. The thing was utterly
absurd and impossible! His senses had tricked him! The light had
blinded his eyes and imagination had done the rest! And yet--
He strode to the window and looked out. The garden was empty and
still. Only, under the window, at the edge of the path, lay a spray of
purple lilac.

IV.
"Eh? Yes? What is it?"
Wade sat up in bed and stared stupidly about him.