Early Candlelight

XI

XI T was the story of Dark Day retold. Only Mrs. Boles Iwould not go over the falls. She had Msieu Page waiting, tall, handsome, with his clear blue eyes and the smile which cut such quick bright lines in his tanned face. She had the house on the island waiting, with its green damask curtains and its sofas and sideboards and the tall white candles in a shower of crystal drops. Although Deedee's dislike of Mrs. Boles remained-it would always remain-she acknowledged to herself that the presence of so pretty a lady completed the house, fulfilled it, made it lovelier. Deedee kept remembering, although she did not mean to, the way Msieu Page had looked at Mrs. Boles. She kept remembering the movement, harsh yet beautiful, like the bowing of a strong tree in a storm, with which he had bent above her. She did not mean to remember it. She meant to forget it. She knew that that moment belonged only to them. As the wagon lumbered slowly over the rain-soaked prairie, Deedee pondered love: Msieu Page's love for M r s .Boles; Narcisse's love for Light Between Clouds. Her thoughts settled on Narcisse. Dear Narcisse! He would be so disappointed if he missed the steamboat. XI IT was the story of Dark Day retold. Only Mrs. Boles would not go over the falls. She had M'sieu Page waiting, tall, handsome, with his clear blue eyes and the smile which cut such quick bright lines in his tanned face. She had the house on the island waiting, with its green damask curtains and its sofas and sideboards and the tall white candles in a shower of crystal drops. Although Deedee's dislike of Mrs. Boles remained-it would always remain-she acknowledged to herself that the presence of so pretty a lady completed the house, fulfilled it, made it lovelier. Deedee kept remembering, although she did not mean to, the way M'sieu Page had looked at Mrs. Boles. She kept remembering the movement, harsh yet beautiful, like the bowing of a strong tree in a storm, with which he had bent above her. She did not mean to remember it. She meant to forget it. She knew that that moment belonged only to them. As the wagon lumbered slowly over the rain-soaked prairie, Deedee pondered love: M'sieu Page's love for Mrs. Boles; Narcisse's love for Light Between Clouds. Her thoughts settled on Narcisse. Dear Narcisse! He would be so disappointed if he missed the steamboat. 115 XI IT was the story of Dark Day retold. Only Mrs. Boles would not go over the falls. She had M'sieu Page waiting, tall, handsome, with his clear blue eyes and the smile which cut such quick bright lines in his tanned face. She had the house on the island waiting, with its green damask curtains and its sofas and sideboards and the tall white candles in a shower of crystal drops. Although Deedee's dislike of Mrs. Boles remained-it would always remain-she acknowledged to herself that the presence of so pretty a lady completed the house, fulfilled it, made it lovelier. Deedee kept remembering, although she did not mean to, the way M'sieu Page had looked at Mrs. Boles. She kept remembering the movement, harsh yet beautiful, like the bowing of a strong tree in a storm, with which he had bent above her. She did not mean to remember it. She meant to forget it. She knew that that moment belonged only to them. As the wagon lumbered slowly over the rain-soaked prairie, Deedee pondered love: M'sieu Page's love for Mrs. Boles; Narcisse's love for Light Between Clouds. Her thoughts settled on Narcisse. Dear Narcisse! He would be so disappointed if he missed the steamboat. I16 EARLY CANDLELIGHT She hoped that she would fmd him there when she reached home to-night. They were on the last mile of the journey. The rain was over, and the sun was setting. The clouds in the west had lifted first to loose a green light on the world. They had lifted higher, and the light had glowed over the trees and grass. At last the clouds had disappeared completely; the west was revealed drenched in gold. Then the world turned gold, too, and in the charmed brightness birds flew about and sang, above the broken branches, the scattered leaves, and all the...