She climbed to the low rounded rock, her erstwhile throne of dreams,
where she sat with knees gathered to her in her clasped hands. The pony
paused in his grazing to lift his head and look at her with gently
wondering eyes.
The utter solitude of the place, far above the viewless valley, allowed
her thought a horizon impossible at the Moonstone Rancho. Alone she
faced the grave question of making an unalterable choice. Collie had
asked her to marry him. She had evaded direct reply to his direct
question. She knew of no good reason why she should marry him. She knew
of no better reason why she should not. She thought she was content with
being loved. She was, for the moment.
The Old Meadow, that had once before revealed a sprightly and ragged
romance, slumbered in the southern night; slumbered to awaken to the
hushed tread of men and strange whisperings.
Down in the valley the coyotes called dismally, with that infinite
shrill sadness of wild things that hunger, and in their wailing pulsed
the eternal and unanswerable "Why?" challenging the peaceful stars.
Something in their questioning cry impelled Louise to lift her hands to
the night. "What is it? What is it up there--behind everything--that
never, never answers?"
The moon was lost somewhere behind the ragged peaks.
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