Part 31 (1/2)

He did not say one word, but as he stood there, bareheaded, there was a look in his face that gave her pause. Had she been too forward? Was he so changed? She drew her hands away, and taking up the bridle, looked uncertainly from side to side.

”Aren't we friends any more, Harry? Aren't you glad to see me?” she asked. Her voice was unsteady like her look. He had never seen her like this.

”Glad to see you, Dorothy?” he cried. ”You seem like an angel straight from Heaven, only a hundred thousand million times better!”

A sudden explosion boomed out, putting a period to this emphatic declaration. Wakefield seized the rein of the startled horse, that sprang s.h.i.+vering to one side; but Dorothy only said, quite composedly: ”I suppose you were blasting up there. Will there be another?”

”No; but how did you know it was I?”

”Why, I knew all about it, of course. f.a.n.n.y told me, and Mrs. d.i.c.k Dayton wrote home, and,--well, I knew about it a great deal better than anybody else!”

”And you knew I was up here?”

”Of course I did! Why, else, should I have come up at daybreak?”

”But, Dorothy,” Wakefield persisted, determined to make a clean breast of it at the outset. ”Did you know I had made a fizzle of everything out here?”

”I knew you had lost your money,” she replied, with an air of misprizing such sordid considerations. ”And f.a.n.n.y told me you were going to California, and,--I just thought I would come out with the Dennimans!”

she added irrelevantly.

He was walking beside her horse up the broad clean road he had once taken such pride in;--ages ago he thought it must have been. On either hand, the solemn cliffs, familiars of the past three months, stood decked with gleaming bits of color; the brook went careering in their shadow, calling and crooning its little tale. What was that over yonder under the big pine-tree? Only a pair of bright eyes, that twinkled curiously, then vanished in a whisking bit of fur! On a sudden he had become estranged and disa.s.sociated from these intimate surroundings, these sights and sounds which had so long been his companions. What had they to do with Dorothy!

She was telling him of her journey out and of the friends she was travelling with. She would have given him the home news, but, ”Don't talk about anybody but yourself, Dorothy,” he said. ”That's all that I care about!”

At last they stood fronting the big boulder, whose side had been blasted off. Dorothy looked at the fragments of stone strewing the road, and at the ma.s.sive granite surface, now withdrawn among the pine-trees. One huge branch, broken by a flying rock, hung down across its face. The whole scene told of the play of tremendous forces, and Wakefield's was the hand that had controlled and directed them. Obedient to long habit, he stooped, and lifting a good-sized fragment, sent it cras.h.i.+ng down the bank into the brook.

”How strong you are, Harry!” she said.

There was something in the way she said it, that made him feel that he must break the spell, then and there, or he should be playing the mischief with his own peace of mind. Yet he was conscious of a strange absence of conviction, as he asked abruptly: ”Dorothy, whom are you going to marry?”

So he had heard that foolish gossip, and that was why there was that look in his face!

She was too generous to think of herself, too sure, indeed, of him and of herself, to weigh her words. With the little, half-defiant toss of the head he knew so well, yet gathering up the reins as if for instant flight, she said:

”I should think that was for you to say, Harry!”

XII.

THE BLIZZARD PICNIC.

”Ah, there, Mr. Burns! Glad to see you! This is what we call real Colorado weather!”

The speaker, a mercurial youth of two and twenty, was one of a group of young people a.s.sembled, some on horseback, some in yellow buckboards, in front of a stately Springtown mansion.

”Nothing conceited about us!” a girlish voice retorted. ”I am sure you understand by this time, Mr. Burns, that Colorado is a synonym for perfection.”

The new-comer laughed appreciatively as he drew rein close beside the girl, who sat her part-thoroughbred with the ease and grace of lifelong habit.

”I had learned my lesson pretty well before I came out, thanks to you,”