Those days when we were waiting Craig's return we spent in the woods or on the mountain sides, or down in the canyon beside the stream that danced down to meet the Black Rock river, I talking and sketching and reading, and she listening and dreaming, with often a happy smile upon her face. But there were moments when a cloud of shuddering fear would sweep the smile away, and then I would talk of Craig till the smile came back again.
But the woods and the mountains and the river were her best, her wisest, friends during those days. How sweet the ministry of the woods to her! The trees were in their new summer leaves, fresh and full of life. They swayed and rustled above us, flinging their interlacing shadows upon us, and their swaying and their rustling soothed and comforted like the voice and touch of a mother. And the mountains, too, in all the glory of their varying robes of blues and purples, stood calmly, solemnly about us, uplifting our souls into regions of rest. The changing lights and shadows flitted swiftly over their rugged fronts, but left them ever as before in their steadfast majesty. 'God's in His heaven.' What would you have? And ever the little river sang its cheerful courage, fearing not the great mountains that threatened to bar its passage to the sea. Mrs. Mavor heard the song and her courage rose.
'We too shall find our way,' she said, and I believed her.
But through these days I could not make her out, and I found myself studying her as I might a new acquaintance. Years had fallen from her; she was a girl again, full of young warm life. She was as sweet as before, but there was a soft shyness over her, a half-shamed, half-frank consciousness in her face, a glad light in her eyes that made her all new to me. Her perfect trust in Craig was touching to see.
'He will tell me what to do,' she would say, till I began to realise how impossible it would be for him to betray such trust, and be anything but true to the best.
So much did I dread Craig's home-coming, that I sent for Graeme and old man Nelson, who was more and more Graeme's trusted counsellor and friend. They were both highly excited by the story I had to tell, for I thought it best to tell them all; but I was not a little surprised and disgusted that they did not see the matter in my light. In vain I protested against the madness of allowing anything to send these two from each other. Graeme summed up the discussion in his own emphatic way, but with an earnestness in his words not usual with him.
'Craig will know better than any of us what is right to do, and he will do that, and no man can turn him from it; and,' he added, 'Ishould be sorry to try.'
Then my wrath rose, and I cried--
'It's a tremendous shame! They love each other. You are talking sentimental humbug and nonsense!'
'He must do the right,' said Nelson in his deep, quiet voice.
'Right! Nonsense! By what right does he send from him the woman he loves?'
'"He pleased not Himself,"' quoted Nelson reverently.
'Nelson is right,' said Graeme. 'I should not like to see him weaken.'
'Look here,' I stormed; 'I didn't bring you men to back him up in his nonsense. I thought you could keep your heads level.'
'Now, Connor,' said Graeme, 'don't rage--leave that for the heathen; it's bad form, and useless besides. Craig will walk his way where his light falls; and by all that's holy, I should hate to see him fail; for if he weakens like the rest of us my North Star will have dropped from my sky.'
'Nice selfish spirit,' I muttered.
'Entirely so. I'm not a saint, but I feel like steering by one when I see him.'
When after a week had gone, Craig rode up one early morning to his shack door, his face told me that he had fought his fight and had not been beaten. He had ridden all night and was ready to drop with weariness.
'Connor, old boy,' he said, putting out his hand; 'I'm rather played. There was a bad row at the Landing. I have just closed poor Colley's eyes. It was awful. I must get sleep. Look after Dandy, will you, like a good chap?'
'Oh, Dandy be hanged,!' I said, for I knew it was not the fight, nor the watching, nor the long ride that had shaken his iron nerve and given him that face. 'Go in and lie down I'll bring you something.'
'Wake me in the afternoon,' he said; 'she is waiting. Perhaps you will go to her'--his lips quivered--'my nerve is rather gone.'
Then with a very wan smile he added, 'I am giving you a lot of trouble.'
'You go to thunder!' I burst out, for my throat was hot and sore with grief for him.
'I think I'd rather go to sleep,' he replied, still smiling. Icould not speak, and was glad of the chance of being alone with Dandy.
When I came in I found him sitting with his head in his arms upon the table fast asleep. I made him tea, forced him to take a warm bath, and sent him to bed, while I went to Mrs. Mavor. I went with a fearful heart, but that was because I had forgotten the kind of woman she was.
She was standing in the light of the window waiting for me. Her face was pale but steady, there was a proud light in her fathomless eyes, a slight smile parted her lips, and she carried her head like a queen.
'Come in,' she said. 'You need not fear to tell me. I saw him ride home. He has not failed, thank God! I am proud of him; Iknew he would be true. He loves me'--she drew in her breath sharply, and a faint colour tinged her cheek--'but he knows love is not all--ah, love is not all! Oh! I am glad and proud!'
'Glad!' I gasped, amazed.
'You would not have him prove faithless!' she said with proud defiance.
'Oh, it is high sentimental nonsense,' I could not help saying.
'You should not say so,' she replied, and her voice rang clear.
'Honour, faith, and duty are sentiments, but they are not nonsense.'
In spite of my rage I was lost in amazed admiration of the high spirit of the woman who stood up so straight before me. But, as Itold how worn and broken he was, she listened with changing colour and swelling bosom, her proud courage all gone, and only love, anxious and pitying, in her eyes.
'Shall I go to him?' she asked with timid eagerness and deepening colour.
'He is sleeping. He said he would come to you,' I replied.
