The other terror
overwhelmed it.
The sun was already tinting the hilltops with ruddy, golden hues. The
frigid snow-caps no longer wore their sheen of alabaster. There was a
golden radiance everywhere, a suggestion of a perfect peace, such as
the woman felt could never again find place in her heart.
She turned her eyes from the splendor of the scene in silent protest.
The green of the wide-spreading valley, even the dark purple shadows of
the lower mountain slopes were better in harmony with her mood. But
even these she denied in her nervous irritation, and again, and yet
again, her searching gaze was flung out to the northwest along the
trail over which she knew her husband must come.
The waiting seemed endless. And the woman's heart literally stood
still when at last she detected an infinitesimal flurry of dust away on
the far distance of the trail. A mad desire surged through her to flee
for hiding to those vast purple solitudes she knew to lie in the heart
of the hills.
She remained where she was, however.
Pages:
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385