The Spirit of Sweetwater | Page 8

the invitation. "I'm going for a gallop this morning," he said in explanation of his dress. "I wish you could go too," he added, addressing Ellice.
Mr. Ross introduced him to the elderly woman: "Mr. Clement, let me present you to my sister, Miss Ross."
Miss Ross was plump like her brother, and a handsome woman, but irritable like him. She complained, also, of the altitude and of the chill shadows. Neither father nor aunt formed a suitable companion for the sick girl.
Clement was the antidote. His whole manner of treatment was of the hopeful, buoyant sort. He spoke of the magnificent weather, of the mountains, of the purity of the water.
"After I get back from my ride I wish you'd let me come and talk with you. Perhaps," he added, "you'll be able to walk a little way with me."
He made the breakfast almost cheerful by his presence, and went away saying:
"I'll be back by ten o'clock and I shall expect to find you ready for a walk."
Miss Ross was astonished both at his assurance and at Ellice's singular interest and apparent acquiescence.
"Well, that is a most extraordinary man. I wonder if that's the Western way."
"I wish I were able to do as he says," the girl said quietly. The old people looked up in astonishment.
"Aunt Sarah, I want you to help me dress. I'm going to try to walk a little."
"Not with that man?" the aunt inquired in protest.
"Yes, Aunt." Her voice was vibrant with fixed purpose.
"But think how you would look leaning on his arm."
"Auntie, dear, I have gone long past that point. It doesn't matter how it looks. I cannot live merely to please the world. He has asked me, and if I can I will go."
Mr. Ross broke in, "Why, of course, what harm can it do? I'd let her lean on the arm of 'Cherokee Bill' if she wanted to." They all smiled at this, and he added, "The trouble has been she didn't want to do anything at all, and now she shall do what she likes."
It all seemed very coarse and common now, and she could not tell them the secret of the dream that had so impressed her, and of her growing faith that this strong man could help her back to health and life. She only smiled in her slow, faint way, and made preparation to go with him who meant so much to her.
He met her on the veranda in a handsome Prince Albert suit of gray with a broad-brimmed gray hat to match. He looked like some of the pictures of Western Congressmen she had seen, only more refined and gentle. He wore his coat unbuttoned, and it had the effect of draping his tall, erect frame, and the hat suited well with the large lines of his nose and chin. It seemed to her she had never seen a more striking and picturesque figure.
"I'll carry you down the stairs if you'll say the word," he said as they paused a moment at the topmost step.
"Oh, no. I can walk if you will give me time."
"Time! Time is money. I can't afford it." He stooped and lifted her in his right arm, and before she could protest he was half way down the stairway. He laughed at the horrified face of the aunt. He was following impulses now. As they walked side by side slowly--she, not without considerable effort--up toward the spring, he said abruptly, but tenderly:
"You must think you're better--that's half the battle. See that stream? Some day I'm going to show you where it starts. Do you know if you drink of that water up at its source above timber-line it will cure you?"
She saw his intent and said, "I'm afraid I'll be cured before I get to the spring."
"I'm going to make it my aim in life to see you drink at that pool." His directness and simplicity stimulated her like some medi?val elixir. He made her forget her pain. They did not talk much until they were seated on one of the benches near the fountain.
"Sit in the sun," he commanded. "Don't be afraid of the sun. You hear people talk about the sun's rays breeding disease. The sun never does that. It gives life. Beware of the shadow," he added, and she knew he meant her mental indifference. They had a long talk on the bench. He told her of his family, of himself.
"You see," he said, "father had only a small business, though he managed to educate me, and, later, my brother. But when he died it had less value, for I couldn't hold the trade he had and times were harder. I kept brother at college during his last two years, and when he came out I gave the business to him and