Onct, fur back, I recollect she
said she had you to live fer. Mebbe thet's the secret. Anyhow, she
loves you as I never seen any man loved.... An', son, I reckon you
oughter be somewhars near the kingdom of heaven!"
Neale stole oil by himself and walked in the twilight. The air was
warm and sultry, full of fragrance and the low chirp of crickets.
Within his breast was a full uneasy sensation of imminent
catastrophe. Something was rising in him--great--terrible--precious.
It bewildered him to try to think of himself, of his strange
emotions, when his mind seemed to hold only Allie.
What then had happened? After a long absence up in the mountains he
had returned to Slingerland's valley home, and to the little girl he
had rescued and left there. He had left her frail, sick-minded,
silent, somber, a pale victim to a horrible memory. He had found her
an amazing contrast to what she had been in the past. She had grown
strong, active, swift. She was as lovely as a wild rose. No dream of
his idle fancy, but a fact! Then last--stirring him even as he tried
to clarify and arrange this magic, this mystery--had come the
unbelievable, the momentous and dazzling assurance that she loved
him. It was so plain that it seemed unreal. While near her he saw
it, yet could not believe his eyes; he felt it, but doubted his
sensibilities.
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