He always slept till he was awakened; the children, having stayed up
past their usual bedtime, would sleep late also; she had the white
dawn to herself in quietness.
She needed it.
Sleep could not have come to her had she wished. She had not slept and
she had not lain down, and the sole endeavor during those shattered
hours had been to prepare herself for his awakening. She was not yet
ready--she felt that during the rest of her life she should never be
quite ready to meet him again. Scant time remained now.
Soon all over the Shield indoor merriment and outdoor noises would
begin. Wherever in the lowlands any many-chimneyed city, proud of its
size, rose by the sweep of watercourses, or any little inland town was
proud of its smallness and of streets that terminated in the fields;
whereever any hamlet marked the point at which two country roads this
morning made the sign of the white cross, or homesteads stood proudly
castled on woody hilltops, or warmed the heart of the beholder from
amid their olive-dark winter pastures; or far away on the shaggy
uplift of the Shield wherever any cabin clung like a swallow's nest
against the gray Appalachian wall--everywhere soon would begin the
healthy outbreak of joy among men and women and children--glad about
themselves, glad in one another, glad of human life in a happy
world.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124