Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-12-02
CHAPTER I.
The Music.

The words came in a gentle whisper
from the woman's lips. One white, thin
hand lifted itself weakly to the rough
face Of the man who was kneeling beside
her bed, and the great dark eyes from
which he had hidden his own grew lumi-
nously bright for a moment, as she whis-
pered again:
"John-I hear-music-"
A sigh fiuttered from her lips. The
mans head dropped until 1t rested very
near to her bosom. He felt the culver
of her hand against his cheek. and in its
touch there was something which told
John Cummins that the end Of all life had
come for him and for her. His heart beat
fiercely, and his great shoulders shook
with the agony that was eating at his
SOUL
Eyes. it is the pretty music. my Me-
lisse." he murmured, softly, choking back
his sobs. ut is the pretty music in the
skies.''
his face.
ITS not the music in the skies, John.
1t is real-real music that hear
It's the sky music. my sweet Melissa!
Shall l open the door so that we can
hear it better?'
The hand slipped from his cheek. Cum
Minis lifted his head, slowly Strengthening
his great shoulders as he looked down
upon the white face, from which even the
flush of fever was disappearing, as he
had seen the pale glow Of the northern
sun fade before thickening snow. He
stretched his long, gaunt arms straight
up to the low roof of the cabin, and for
the first time in his life he prayed
prayed to the God who had made for him
this world Of snow and ice and endless
forest very near to the dome Of the earth,
who had given him this woman and who
was now taking her from him.
When he looked again at the woman
her eyes were open. and there glowed In
them still the feeble fire Of a great love
Her lips, too, pleaded with him in their
old. sweet way! which always meant that
he was to kiss Them. and stroke her hair
and tell her again that she was the most
my Melisse!''
He crushed his face to her, his sobbing
breath smothering itself in the soft masses
of her hair. while her arms rose weakly
and fell around his neck. He heard the
quick, gasping struggle for breath within
her BOSOM and, family again, the words:
''Itls-the-music-of-
''It is the music of the angels in the
skies, my sweet Melissa! 1t is our music.
1 will open the door,"
The arms had slipped from his shout
ders. Gently he ran his rough fingers
through the loose glory Of the woman's
hair. and stroked her face as softly as he
might have caressed the cheek Of Sleep
ing child.
II will open the door, Melissa
His moccasined feet made no sound as
he moved across the little room which
was their home. At the door he paused
and listened; then he opened it. and the
floods Of the white night poured in upon
him as he stood with his eyes turned to
where the cold. pale flashes of the aurora
were playing over the pole. There came
to him the Kissing, saddening song of the
northern lights-a song Of vast. unending
loneliness, which they two had come to
know as the music of the skies.
Beyond that mystery-musfc there was
no sound. To the eyes Of John Cummins
there was visible movement of life.
drew his breath from him in choking
gulps, and which sent him out into the
night, so that the woman might not hear
1t was an hour past midnight at the
post, which had the barren lands at its
back door. 1t was the hour Of deep slum-
Der for its people; but tonight there was
no sleep for any of them. Lights burned
dimly in the few rough log homes. The
companys store was aglow, and the fac
tors Office. a haven for the men of the
wilderness, shot one cleaning yellow eye
out into the white gloom. The post was
awake. 1t was waiting. 1t was listening.
1t was watching.
AS the woman's door opened, wide and
OIL ilSnt, d uOOT OIL OIle OIL The lOS
houses opened, and then another, and out
into the night like dim shadows. trod the
moccasined men from the factors Office,
and stood there waiting for the word of
life or death from John Cummtns. In
their own fashion these men. who, with
out knowing it, lived very near to the
ways Of God, sent mute prayers into the
starry heavens that the most beautiful
thing in the world might yet be spared
to them.
r. 30, ;,,c+ +p,o S,yor,oro heforo {bot
this beautiful thing had come into Cum
MINIS life, and into the life Of the post.
Cummins. red-headed. 1.-THE as cat. big
souled as the eternal mountain of the
hunters. had brought Melissa thither as
his bride. Seventeen rough hearts had
welcomed her. They had assembled about
that little cabin in which the light was
shining now. speeches. In their adora-
ton Of this woman who had come among
them, their caps in their hands, their
faces shining their eyes shifting before
the glorious ones that looked at them and
smiled at them as the woman shook their
hands, one by one.
Perhaps she was not strictly beautiful.
as most people Judge; but she was beau
tiful here four hundred miles beyond
civilization. Mukee, the half-Cree. had
never seen a white woman. for even the
no one of the others went down to the
edge of the southern wilderness more
than once each twelvemonth or so.
Melisse's hair was brown and soft, and
it shone with sunny glory that reached
far back into their conception of things
dreamed Of but never seen. Her eyes
were as blue as the early wild flowers
that came after the spring floods, and her
voice was the sweetest sound that mad
ever fallen upon their ears So these men
thought when Cummins first brought
home his wife, and the masterpiece which
each had painted in his soul and brain
was never changed. Each week and month
added to the deep-toned value OF that
picture. as the Passing of a century
might add to a Raphael or Vandyke.
The woman became more human and
less an angel. Of course, but that only
made her more real. and allowed them TO
become acquainted with her. to talk with
her and to love her more There was no
thought of wrong. for the devotion OF
these men was q great. passfonless love
unhinting of sin. Cummins and his wife
accented it, and added to 1t when they
could, and were the happiest pair IN all
that vast northland.
The girl-she was scarce more than
budding into womanhood-fell happily
into the ways of her new life. She did
nothing that was elementally unusual,
nothing more than any pure woman
reared in the love of God and OF home
would have done. In her spare hours
she began to teach the half-dozen wild
little children about the post. and every
Sunday she told them wonderful stories
out of the Bible. She ministered to the
sick, for that was part of her code OF
life. Everywhere she carried her glad
smile her CHEEKY greeting, her wfstful
earnestness, to brighten what seemed to
her the sad and lonely lives Of these