was not so frenzied as he had been. He was playing "Annie Laurie," and
that song has always been a favorite of mine. The storm began gradually
to die away and "Annie Laurie" sounded so beautiful. I was thinking of
Pauline and, I know, to Zebbie, Annie Laurie and Pauline Gorley are one
and the same.

I knew no more until I heard Zebbie call out, "Ho, you sleepy-heads,
it's day." Mrs. O'Shaughnessy turned over and said she was still
sleepy. My former visit had taught me what beauty the early morning
would spread before me, so I dressed hastily and went outdoors. Zebbie
called me to go for a little walk. The amber light of the new day was
chasing the violet and amethyst shadows down the cañons. It was all
more beautiful than I can tell you. On one side the cañon-walls were
almost straight up. It looked as if we might step off into a very world
of mountains. Soon Old Baldy wore a crown of gleaming gold. The sun was
up. We walked on and soon came to a brook. We were washing our faces
in its icy waters when we heard twigs breaking, so we stood perfectly
still. From out the undergrowth of birch and willows came a deer with
two fawns. They stopped to drink, and nibbled the bushes. But soon they
scented strangers, and, looking about with their beautiful, startled
eyes, they saw us and away they went like the wind. We saw many great
trees uptorn by the storm. High up on the cliffs Zebbie showed me where
the eagles built every year.... We turned homeward and sat down upon
the trunk of a fallen pine to rest and take another look at the
magnificent view. Zebbie was silent, but presently he threw a handful
of pebbles down the cañon wall. "I am not sorry Pauline is dead. I have
never shed a tear. I know you think that is odd, but I have never
wanted to mourn. I am glad that it is as it is. I am happy and at peace
because I know she is mine. The little breeze is Pauline's own voice;
she had a little caressing way just like the gentlest breeze when it