horse, who responded in whinnying welcome. An instant's delay, another
word, and they were gone.

Dorcas stood listening to the scatter of hoofs down the dusty road and
over the hollow ledge. She sank back on the sill, and, step by step,
tried to retrace the lovely arabesque the hour had made. At last, she
had some groping sense of the full beauty of living, when friendship
says to its mate, "Tell me about yourself!" and the frozen fountain
wells out, every drop cheered and warmed, as it falls, in the sunshine
of sympathy. She saw in him that perfection of life lying in strength,
which he undoubtedly had, and beauty, of which he had little or much
according as one chose to think well of him. To her aching sense, he
was a very perfect creature, gifted with, infinite capacities for help
and comfort.

But the footfalls ceased, and the garden darkened by delicate yet swift
degrees; a cloud had gone over the moon, fleecy, silver-edged, but
still a cloud. The waning of the light seemed to her significant; she
feared lest some bitter change might befall the moment; and went in,
bolting the door behind her. Once within her own little bedroom, she
loosened her hair, and moved about aimlessly, for a time, careless of
sleep, because it seemed so far. Then a sudden resolve nerved her, and
she stole back again to the front door, and opened it. The night was
blossoming there, glowing now, abundant. It was so rich, so full! The
moonlight here, and star upon star above, hidden not by clouds but by
the light! Need she waste this one night out of all her unregarded
life? She stepped forth among the flower-beds, stooping, in a
passionate fervor, to the blossoms she could reach; but, coming back to
the southernwood, she took it in her arms. She laid her face upon it,
and crushed the soft leaves against her cheeks. It made all the world