Clement was the antidote. His whole manner of treatment was of the
hopeful, buoyant sort. He spoke of the magnificent weather, of the
mountains, of the purity of the water.
"After I get back from my ride I wish you'd let me come and talk with
you. Perhaps," he added, "you'll be able to walk a little way with
me."
He made the breakfast almost cheerful by his presence, and went away
saying:
"I'll be back by ten o'clock and I shall expect to find you ready for
a walk."
Miss Ross was astonished both at his assurance and at Ellice's
singular interest and apparent acquiescence.
"Well, that is a most extraordinary man. I wonder if that's the
Western way."
"I wish I were able to do as he says," the girl said quietly. The old
people looked up in astonishment.
"Aunt Sarah, I want you to help me dress. I'm going to try to walk a
little."
"Not with that man?" the aunt inquired in protest.
"Yes, Aunt." Her voice was vibrant with fixed purpose.
"But think how you would look leaning on his arm."
"Auntie, dear, I have gone long past that point. It doesn't matter how
it looks. I cannot live merely to please the world. He has asked me,
and if I can I will go."
Mr. Ross broke in, "Why, of course, what harm can it do? I'd let her
lean on the arm of 'Cherokee Bill' if she wanted to." They all smiled
at this, and he added, "The trouble has been she didn't want to do
anything at all, and now she shall do what she likes."
It all seemed very coarse and common now, and she could not tell them
the secret of the dream that had so impressed her, and of her growing
faith that this strong man could help her back to health and life. She
only smiled in her slow, faint way, and made preparation to go with
him who meant so much to her.
He met her on the veranda in a handsome Prince Albert suit of gray
with a broad-brimmed gray hat to match. He looked like some of the
pictures of Western Congressmen she had seen, only more refined and
gentle. He wore his coat unbuttoned, and it had the effect of draping
his tall, erect frame, and the hat suited well with the large lines of
his nose and chin. It seemed to her she had never seen a more striking
and picturesque figure.
"I'll carry you down the stairs if you'll say the word," he said as
they paused a moment at the topmost step.
"Oh, no. I can walk if you will give me time."
"Time! Time is money. I can't afford it." He stooped and lifted her in
his right arm, and before she could protest he was half way down the
stairway. He laughed at the horrified face of the aunt. He was
following impulses now. As they walked side by side slowly--she, not
without considerable effort--up toward the spring, he said abruptly,
but tenderly:
"You must think you're better--that's half the battle. See that
stream? Some day I'm going to show you where it starts. Do you know if
you drink of that water up at its source above timber-line it will
cure you?"
She saw his intent and said, "I'm afraid I'll be cured before I get to
the spring."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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