The Spirit of Sweetwater | Page 7

and that she was dressing for a walk. Clement had called for her to climb the mountains with him, and she was making preparation to go, working swiftly and unhesitatingly--and it seemed deliciously sweet to be swift and active once more. She had put on a short walking-skirt and leggins and was nearly ready. She stood before the glass to put on her cap, and as she saw how round and pink her cheeks were she hardly recognized herself.
She seemed to hear his impatient feet outside on the veranda, and she smiled to think how typical it all was of husbands and wives--and at that thought her face grew pinker and she turned away--she didn't want her own eyes to see how she flushed.
But suddenly all warmth--all flushing--left her. She turned cold with a familiar creep and weakness. She could not proceed. Her glove was half on, but her strength was not sufficient to pull it further. She could not lift her feet.
His steady, strong tramp up and down the veranda continued, but she was in the grasp of her old enemy. A terrible fear and an agony of desire seized her. She wanted to go out into the bright sunlight with him, but she could neither move nor whisper. All her resolution, her hope, fell away, and her heart was heavy and cold. It was all over. He would wait for a while and then go away, and she would stand there desolate, helpless, inert as clay, with life dark and empty before her.
"Oh, if he would only call me!" was her last breath of resolution.
Once, twice the feet went up and down the veranda. Then they paused before her door.
"Are you ready?" his voice called.
She struggled to speak, but could only whisper, "Yes."
The door swung quickly open and he stood there in the streaming sunlight of the morning--so tall he was he seemed to fill the doorway--and he smiled and extended his hands.
"Come," he said, "the sturdy old mountains are wonderfully grand this morning."
His hand closed over hers, and the sunlight fell upon her, warming her to the heart, but before she could lift her eyes to the shining peaks she awoke and found that the morning sun had stolen its way through a half-opened shutter and lay upon her hand.
At first she was ready to weep with sadness and despair, but as she thought upon it she came to see in the dream a good omen. It had been long since she had dreamed a vision of perfect health with no touch of impotence at its close. There was something of hope in this vision; a man's hand had broken the spell of weakness.


Part II

APRIL DAYS
Days of witchery subtly sweet, When every hill and tree finds heart, When winter and spring like lovers meet In the mist of noon and part-- In the April days.
Nights when the wood-frogs faintly peep-- Tr-eep, tr-eep--and then are still, And the woodpeckers' martial voices sweep Like bugle-blasts, from hill to hill, Through the breathless haze.
Days when the soil is warm with rain, And through the wood the shy wind steals, Rich with the pine and the poplar smell,-- And the joyous soul like a dancer, reels Through the broadening days.
--From "Prairie Songs."
CHAPTER I
This dream gave to Clement, in Ellice's eyes, a glamour of mystery and power--beyond the subtlety of words, and she met him in a spirit of awe and wonder, such as a child might feel to find one of its dream-heroes actually beside the fireside in the full sunlight of the morning. The fear and agony and joy of the night's vision gave a singular charm to the meeting.
It startled her to find she still retained the capability of being moved by the sound of a man's voice. It seemed like a wave of returning life.
Her heart quickened as she saw him enter the dining-room and look around for her--and when his eyes fell upon her a light filled his face which was akin to the morning. She did not attempt to analyze the emotion thus revealed, but she could not help seeing that he looked the embodiment of health and happiness.
He wore a suit of light brown corduroy with laced miner's boots, and they became him very well.
He smiled down at her as he drew near.
"You are better this morning, I can see that."
It was exactly as if he knew of her dream, and that the walk had been actual, and a flush of pink crept into her face--so faint it was no one noticed it--while it seemed to her that her cheeks were scarlet. What magic was this which made her flush--she whom Death had claimed as his own?
Mr. Ross invited Clement to sit with them, as she hoped he would. Clement had, indeed, intended to force