Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1903-11-12


THIS no morer lie flung himsef off
MS bronco and said, MS " thinking
aloud: at Is too awful. Oh, 1t is
cruel! I don't wonder at her, God
help me, what can say to herr"
He threw himself down upon the
grass and turned over on his face.
After few minutes he appealed to
me, and his face was sorcly troubled.
How can one go to her? It seems
10 me sheerest mocksry to speak Of pa
tencc and submission to a wild Toung
thing from whom all this is suddenly
snatched forever and this was very
lie to her, too, remember"
Then he sprang up and we rode hard
Tor an hour till we came to the mouth
OF the canyon. Here the trail grew diff
hcult and we came to a walk. AS we
went down into the cool depths the
spirit of the canyon came to meet us
and took the Pilot in it's grip. He rode
III front. feusting his eyes on all the
wonders in that storchousc of beauty.
Trccs of many kinds deepeucd the
shadows OF the canyon. over us
waved the big clus that grow up here
and there ont of the bottom and around
their feet clustered low cedars and
hcnloCks and balsams. while the
sturdy, rugged oaks and delicate, trem-
bling poplnrs chung TO the rocky sides
and clambcrcd up and out to the can
yon's sunny lips.
Back Of all the great black rocks.
deckcd with messy bits and clinging
things. glistencd cool and moist be
tween the parting trees. From many
an oozy nook the dainty clematis and
columbine shook out their bells, and.
lower down. from beds Of many colored
moss the late wind flower and maiden
hair and tiny violet lifted up brave,
sweet faces. And through the canyon
the Little Swan sarg its song to rocks
and flowers and overhanging trees, a
song of many tones. deep booming
whore ii took its first sheer plunge. gay
chattering whore IT threw itself down
the ragged rocks and soft murmuring
whore II fingered about the roots Of the
loving, listening clms. A cool. sweet,
soothing place II was, with all its
shades and sounds and silences. and,
lest it should be sad to any, the sharp,
quick sunbeams danced and laughed
down through all its leaves upon moss
es flowers and rocks. No wonder that
the Pilot. drawing a deep breath as be
touched the prairie sod again. said:
THAT does me good 1t s better at
times even than the sunny hills. This
was Ovens best spot"
| saw that the canyon had done its
and calm as the hills on a summer
morning, and with this face he looked
in upon Gwen. II was one of her bad
days and one of her bad moods but like
summer breeze he burst into the lit
tie room.
"Oh. Gwen" he cried, without a
word of greeting much less of COM
miseration. I'VE have had such ride
And he spread out the sunlit. round
torped hills before her till | could feel
their very breeZes in my face. This
the Duke had never dared to do. fear
ing to grieve her with pictures of what
she should look upon no more. But as
the Pilot talked, before she knew.
Gwen was out again upon her beloved
hills brea thing their fresh, sunny air,
filing her heart with their multitu-
dinous delights till her eyes grew bright
and the lines of fretting Smoothed out
of her face and she forgot her pain.
Then. before she could remember, he
had her down into the canyon. feasting
her heart with its airs and sights and
sounds. The black. glistening rocks,
tricked out with moss and trailing
vines the great elms and low green
cedars, the oaks and shivering pop
lars. the clematis and columblne hang
ing from the rocky hooks and the VIC
Its and maiden hair deep bedded In
their MOSES.
All this aud far more he showed her
with touch SO light AZ not to shake
the morning dew from bell or leaf o,
frond, and with voice so soft and
full OF music as to Ill our hearts with
the canyons mingling sounds and as
| looked upon her face | said TO my.
self, "Dear old Pilot, for this | shall
always love you we'll" AS poor Gwen
listened the rapture Of ii drew the big
tears down her cheeks. alas. no longer
brown. but white. and for that day al
least the dull. dead WEAKNESS was
lifted from her heart.