The National tribune., 1894-08-02

eyes were full of questionings. He gave q
hearty sign OF admiration. She flushed
with pleasure, but made a naive, protesting
gesture. She was deaf and dumb.
Talton bad once a sister who was mute,
He knew that amazing primal gesture-lan-
guage of this silent race whom God has
blown like one-winged birds into the world.
He bad watched on his sister Just such
looks of absolute nature as flashed from
this girl. They were comrades on the in
stant; he, reverential, gentle, protective
she, sanguine, candid, beautifully aboriginal
in the freshness of her cipher thoughts
She saw the world naked, with a naked eye.
She was utterly natural. She was the
maker of exquisite, vital gesture-speech
She glided out from among the May
apples and the long silken grass to charm
his horse with her hand. AS she started TO
do go, he hastened to prevent her, but,
utterly surprised, he saw the horse whinny
to her cheek, and arch his neck under her
white palm-it was very white. Then the
animals chin sought her shoulder and
stayed placid. 1t had never done so to any
one before save Talton. Once, indeed, il
had kicked a stable man to death. 1t lifted
its head and caught with playful, shaking
lips at her ear. Talton smiled; and so, as
we said, their comradesbip began.
He was a new officer OF the Hudson Bay
Company at Fort Gudon. She was the
daughter of ranchman. She had been
educated by Father Corraine, the Jesuit
missionary, Protestant though she was. He
had learned the sign-language while Assist
ant Priest in Partisan chapel for mutes
He taught her this gesture-tongue, which
she, taking, rendered divine and with this
OH laaPuaa fn
Her name was Ida.
Ida was faultless. Talton was not; but
no man is. To her, however, he was the
best that man can be. He was unseIfsh
and altogether honest and that is much for
a man not saint.
When Pierre came to know of their
friendship he shook his head doubtfully
One day ne was sitting on the hot side of
pine near his mountain-hnt, soaking the
sun. He saw them passing below him,
along the edge of the hill across the ravine
He said to some one behind him in the
shade who was looking also: "What will
be the end of that, eh?"
And the some one replied Faith, what
the serpent i'll the wilderness couldn't cure"
:" You think he'll play with her?"
think he'll do it without wishin' or
willin', maybe. It'll be a case of kiss and
ride away"
There was silence. Soon Pierre pointed
down again. She stood upon a green
mound with q cool hedge OF rock behind
her. her feet on a margin of solid sunlight,
her forehead barred. Her hair sprinkled
round her as she gently threw back her
head. Her face was full ON TatOn. She
was telling him something. Her gestures
were rythmical, and adOrably balanced.
Because they were continuous or only reg
ularly broken, it was clear she was tell
ing him story. Taiton, gravely, delight
edly, nodded response now and then, or
raised his eyebrows in fascinated surprise.
Pierre, watching, was only aware OF vague
mpressions-n0t any distinct outline of
the tale. At last he guessed it as perfect
pastoral-birds, hunting, deer, winds, sum
dials, cattle, shepherds, reaping. TO Talton
it was a new revelation. She was telling
him things she had thought; she was re-
calling her life.
Towards the last she said, or gestured:
"You can forget the Winter but not the
Spring. You like to remember the Spring
1t is the beginning. When the daisy first
peeps, when the tall young deer first stands
upon IFS feet, when the first egg is seen in
the orioles nest, when the sap first sweats
from the tree, when you first look into the
eye of your friend: these you want to re-
member. <
She paused upon this gesture-a light
touch upon the forehead, then the hands
stretched out, palms upward, with coaxing
fingers. She seemed lost in it. Her eyes
rippled, her lips pressed slightly, delicate
wine crept through her cheek, and ten
derness wimpled ALL She glided slowly
from that almost statue-like repose into an
other gesture. Her eyes drew up from his,