This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Gilbert Parker
"My, nothing's the matter with the world to-day! It's so good it almosthurts."
She raised her head from the white petticoat she was ironing, and gazedout of the doorway and down the valley with a warm light in her eyes anda glowing face. The snow-tipped mountains far above and away, the fir-covered, cedar-ranged foothills, and, lower down, the wonderful maple andash woods, with their hundred autumn tints, all merging to one soft, redtone, the roar of the stream tumbling down the ravine from the heights,the air that braced the nerves—it all seemed to be part of her, thepassion of life corresponding to the passion of living in her.
After watching the scene dreamily for a moment, she turned and laid theiron she had been using upon the hot stove near. Taking up another, shetouched it with a moistened finger to test the heat, and, leaning abovethe table again, passed it over the linen for a few moments, smiling atsomething that was in her mind. Presently she held the petticoat up,turned it round, then hung it in front of her, eyeing it with criticalpleasure.
"To-morrow!" she said, nodding at it. "You won't be seen, I suppose,but I'll know you're nice enough for a queen—and that's enough to know."
She blushed a little, as though someone had heard her words and waslooking at her, then she carefully laid the petticoat over the back of achair. "No queen's got one whiter, if I do say it," she continued,tossing her head.
In that, at any rate, she was right, for the water of the mountainsprings was pure, the air was clear, and the sun was clarifying; andlittle ornamented or frilled as it was, the petticoat was exquisitelysoft and delicate. It would have appealed to more eyes than a woman's.
"To-morrow!" She nodded at it again and turned again to the bright worldoutside. With arms raised and hands resting against the timbers of thedoorway, she stood dreaming. A flock of pigeons passed with a whir notfar away, and skirted the woods making down the valley. She watchedtheir flight abstractedly, yet with a subconscious sense of pleasure.Life—they were Life, eager, buoyant, belonging to this wild region,where still the heart could feel so much at home, where the great worldwas missed so little.
Suddenly, as she gazed, a shot rang out down the valley, and two of thepigeons came tumbling to the ground, a stray feather floating after.With a startled exclamation she took a step forward. Her brain becameconfused and disturbed. She had looked out on Eden, and it had beenravaged before her eyes. She had been thinking of to-morrow, and thisvast prospect of beauty and serenity had been part of the pageant inwhich it moved. Not the valley alone had been marauded, but that "To-morrow," and all it meant to her.
Instantly the valley had become clouded over for her, its glory and itsgrace despoiled. She turned back to the room where the white petticoatlay upon the chair, but stopped with a little cry of alarm.
A man was standing in the centre of the room. He had entered stealthilyby the back door, and had waited for her to turn round. He was h