A cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with all its
shades and sounds and silences, and, lest it should be sad to any, the
sharp, quick sunbeams danced and laughed down through all its leaves
upon mosses, flowers and rocks. No wonder that The Pilot, drawing a deep
breath as he touched the prairie sod again, said:
"That does me good. It is better at times even than the sunny hills.
This was Gwen's best spot."
I saw that the canyon had done its work with him. His face was strong
and calm as the hills on a summer morning, and with this face he looked
in upon Gwen. It was one of her bad days and one of her bad moods, but
like a summer breeze he burst into the little room.
"Oh, Gwen!" he cried, without a word of greeting, much less of
Commiseration, "we have had such a ride!" And he spread out the sunlit,
round-topped hills before her, till I could feel their very breezes in
my face. This The Duke had never dared to do, fearing to grieve her with
pictures of what she should look upon no more. But, as The Pilot talked,
before she knew, Gwen was out again upon her beloved hills, breathing
their fresh, sunny air, filling her heart with their multitudinous
delights, till her eyes grew bright and the lines of fretting smoothed
out of her face and she forgot her pain. Then, before she could
remember, he had her down into the canyon, feasting her heart with its
airs and sights and sounds.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111