The black, glistening rocks, tricked out
with moss and trailing vines, the great elms and low green cedars, the
oaks and shivering poplars, the clematis and columbine hanging from
the rocky nooks, and the violets and maiden-hair deep bedded in their
mosses. All this and far more he showed her with a touch so light as not
to shake the morning dew from bell or leaf or frond, and with a voice so
soft and full of music as to fill our hearts with the canyon's mingling
sounds, and, as I looked upon her face, I said to myself: "Dear old
Pilot! for this I shall always love you well." As poor Gwen listened,
the rapture of it drew the big tears down her cheeks--alas! no longer
brown, but white, and for that day at least the dull, dead weariness was
lifted from her heart.
CHAPTER XIII
THE CANYON FLOWERS
The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew better
than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were
thoughts whose pain made her forget all other.
"Was it God let me fall?" she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot
knew the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly into her
eyes:
"Yes, Gwen dear."
"Why did He let me fall?" and her voice was very deliberate.
"I don't know, Gwen dear," said The Pilot steadily.
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