The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-05-06

he gasped, the gusts tearing the words
from his lips. as he saw that she was max
ing for the thick growth OF trees that bor-
dered the cliff. Her high. light laughter al
most frightened him, so weird and not
human as IL came to him on the wind.
why should 1 be afraid? The woods are
so beautiful in a storm. They bow and nod
and throw their branches about-oh.
they're best of all, them"
A sweeping blast nearly threw him down
since there was no feeling of protection
possible for her, her footing was so sure,
her balance so perfect. AS he righted him
self and staggered to the shelter of the tree
under which she was standing. he stopped,
lost in wonder and admiration. She had
impatiently thrown off the shawl and stood
ir a CLEAN of moonlight under the tree.
Her long, straight hair flew out in two
fiuttering wisps at either side; her straight
fine brows. her dark long lashes, her slen-
der curved mouth were painted against her
pale face in clear relief. Her eyes were
widely open. the pupils dark and cleaning.
1t seemed to his excited glance that rays
of light streamed from them to him as he
said under his breath: Heavens! she's a
beauty II only I could catch that pose!"
Gomez she called to him again, we're
wasting time! 1 want to get to the cliff"
He pressed on to her, but she slipped
around the tree and eluded him, keeping
a little In advance as he painted on, fight
ing with all the force of a fairly power
full man against the gale that seemed to
offer her no resistance. It occurre to him,
as he watched with a greedy, artists eye
the almost unnatural ease and lightness
of her walk, that she caught intuitively
the turns of the wind, guiding along cur
rents and channels unknown to him, for
she seemed with it always. never against
II. Once she threw out both her arms in
an abandon of delight, and actually leaned
on the gust that tossed him against a
tree, bafled and wearied with his efforts
to keep pace with her, and confusedly
wondering if he would wake soon from
this improbable dream.
Speech was impossible. TIL whistling Of
the wind alone was deafening. and his
voice was blown in twenty directions when
he attempted to call to her. Small twigs
lased his face. slippery boughs glided from
his grasp, and the trees fed by in a thick
grown crowd to his dazed eyes. To his
right, a birch suddenly fell with a snapp-
ing crash. He leaped to one side. only to
feel about his face a binding storm Of pat
tering acorns from the great oak that with
a rending sigh and swish tottered through
the air at his left.
Good Godi" he cried in terror, as he
saw her standing apparently in its track.
A veer in the gale altered the direction OF
the great trunk, that sank TO the ground
across her path. AS it fell, with an indie
scribable, swaying bound she leaped from
the ground, n before 1t quite touched the
earth, she rested lightly upon it. She SEEM
ed absolutely unreal-a dryad Of the windy
wood. All fear for her left him. AS she
stood poised on the still trembling trunk,
a quick gust blew out her skirt to a bubble
on one side, and drove it close to her
slender body on the other, while her loose
hair streamed like a banner along the wind
She curved her figure towards him and
made a cup of one hand, laying it beside
her opened lips. What she said he did not
hear. He was wrapt in delighted wonder
at the consummate grace of her attitude,
the perfect poise of her body. She was a
figure in a Greek frieze-a bas-relief-a
breathing statue.
Unable to make him hear, she turned
slightly and pointed ahead. He realized
the effect of the Wingless Victory In its
unbroken beauty. She was not a woman,
but an i~ncarnate art, a miracle OF chang
ing line and curve, a ceaseleSs inspiration.
Suddenly he heard the pound and boom
of the surf. In an ecstacy of impotence
she hurried back, seized his hand, and
fairly dragged him on. The crash of the
waves and the wind together took from
him all power of connected thought. He
chung TO her hand like a child, and when
she threw herself down on her face to
breathe, he grasped her dress and painted
in her ear: 1--WE = cam get much =
farther - unless - you can - walk -
the - Atlantic!' She smiled happily back
at him, and the thickness of her hair.
blown by the wind from the ocean about
his face, brought him a strange unspeak-
able content.
"Shall we ever go back?" he whispered
half to himself. "Or will you float down
the cliff and wake me by your going?"
Her wide, dark eyes answered him ST.
lently. cit is like a dream, though" her
high, sweet voice added. And then he
20
realized that she had hardly spoken since
they left the house. The house? AS in a
dream he tried vaguely to connect this
Undine of the wood with the girl whose
BODY she had stolen for this nights
pranks. AS in a dream he rose and fol-
lowed her back, through the bowling.
sweeping wind. Her cold, slim hand held
his, her light, shrill voice sang little
snatches of songs-hymns. he
afterward. AS the moonlight fell on her,
he wondered dreamily why he had thought
her too thin. And all the while he fought.
half-unconsciously, the resistless gale, that
spared him only when he yielded utterly.
The house cleaned white and square be-
fore them. Silently he raised the window
for her. He had no thought of lifting her
in. That she could slip lightly through
was of course. The house was still lighted,
and he heard the creaking of her mothers
rocking chair in the bedroom over his head.
He looked at his watch. Does her mother
rock all night?" he thought duly, for 1t
was nearly. II o'clock. She read his ques-
ton from the perplexed glance he threw
at her.
she's sitting up to watch the door so
that 1 sna'I't get out" she whispered,