Part 7 (1/2)

The girl stood still, half-way down the path, and looked steadily into that silver radiance. Moonlight always filled her heart with a vague excitement, a feeling that something ought to happen--soon.

This flat, narrow life, so long, so endlessly long--would nothing ever end it? Nine years since Morton went away! Nine years since the strange, invading thrill of her first kiss! Back of that was only childhood; these years really const.i.tuted Life; and Life, in the girl's eyes, was a dreary treadmill.

She was externally quiet, and by conscience dutiful; so dutiful, so quiet, so without powers of expression, that the ache of an unsatisfied heart, the stir of young ambitions, were wholly unsuspected by those about her. A studious, earnest, thoughtful girl--but study alone does not supply life's needs, nor does such friends.h.i.+p as her life afforded.

Susie was ”a dear”--Susie was Morton's sister, and she was very fond of her. But that bright-haired child did not understand--could not understand--all that she needed.

Then came Mrs. St. Cloud into her life, stirring the depths of romance, of the buried past, and of the unborn future. From her she learned to face a life of utter renunciation, to be true, true to her ideals, true to her principles, true to the past, to be patient; and to wait.

So strengthened, she had turned a deaf ear to such possible voice of admiration as might have come from the scant members.h.i.+p of the Young Men's Bible Cla.s.s, leaving them the more devoted to Scripture study.

There was no thin ring to turn upon her finger; but, for lack of better token, she had saved the rose she wore upon her breast that night, keeping it hidden among her precious things.

And then, into the gray, flat current of her daily life, sharply across the trend of Mrs. St. Cloud's soft influence, had come a new force--Dr. Bellair.

Vivian liked her, yet felt afraid, a slight, s.h.i.+vering hesitancy as before a too cold bath, a subtle sense that this breezy woman, strong, cheerful, full of new ideas, if not ideals, and radiating actual power, power used and enjoyed, might in some way change the movement of her life.

Change she desired, she longed for, but dreaded the unknown.

Slowly she followed the long garden path, paused lingeringly by that rough garden seat, went through and closed the gate.

CHAPTER III.

THE OUTBREAK

There comes a time After white months of ice-- Slow months of ice--long months of ice-- There comes a time when the still floods below Rise, lift, and overflow-- Fast, far they go.

Miss Orella sat in her low armless rocker, lifting perplexed, patient eyes to look up at Dr. Bellair.

Dr. Bellair stood squarely before her, stood easily, on broad-soled, low-heeled shoes, and looked down at Miss Orella; her eyes were earnest, compelling, full of hope and cheer.

”You are as pretty as a girl, Orella,” she observed irrelevantly.

Miss Orella blushed. She was not used to compliments, even from a woman, and did not know how to take them.

”How you talk!” she murmured shyly.

”I mean to talk,” continued the doctor, ”until you listen to reason.”

Reason in this case, to Dr. Bellair's mind, lay in her advice to Miss Elder to come West with her--to live.

”I don't see how I can. It's--it's such a Complete Change.”

Miss Orella spoke as if Change were equivalent to Sin, or at least to Danger.

”Do you good. As a physician, I can prescribe nothing better. You need a complete change if anybody ever did.”

”Why, Jane! I am quite well.”