He had but half a mind to give to physical senses. Though the wind
howled all night long, he scarce was conscious of it; though the cold
increased, he did not know that he was cold before he had grown numb.
He had given to Gloria all of their bedding, save alone the one blanket
he had wrapped about him; he had kept on all his clothing, buttoned up
his coat, and forgotten that he was not warmly covered. Now he got up
and walked up and down; he made the fire blaze up; he sat huddled over
it until it burned down to a bed of glowing red coals.
Once or twice he heard Gloria stir restlessly upon her fir-bough bed.
But he did not speak. There was nothing to be said between them now;
they would wait until she had rested, until morning. Then there would be
no more delay. They would understand each other then as few men and
women had understood; there would be plain words and but few of them. He
grew impatient for morning and sat looking forward to its coming with a
face set and hard, growing as stern as death.
Gloria, exhausted, had gone to sleep, snuggled warmly into her blankets.
It was the wind that awoke her; she started wide awake, her heart in her
throat, startled by the flapping of the canvas at her head. She lay
still and looked up; the pines were black and swayed dismally; the wind
among them made shuddersome music; the cold began to drive through her
blankets, through her clothing. Her body was stiff and sore; the
branches of fir under her hurt her through the canvas and one blanket
which covered them. She turned, twisting into a position of less
discomfort. The creek babbled and splashed; its voice merged with the
wilds into a bleak, cheerless duet.
She lifted her head a little; the fire was dying out and King had gone!
The darkness bore down upon her; she heard everywhere vague sounds,
noises as of stealthy feet. She knew a moment of blind terror; she tried
to cry out but only a little choking gasp resulted. She saw something
moving, a vague, formless, dreadful something, and lay back, chilled
with fright. It was King; he was bringing fresh fuel. She sank back and
again looked up at the pines swaying against the field of stars. She
began to shiver; a nervous chill. She felt the slow tears form and spill
over and trickle down her cheeks. She gathered her nether lip between
her teeth and lay very still, shaken now and then by a noiseless sob.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account