ur
and with white canvas in the place of clouds. She wondered if time crept
with him as slowly as it did with her; if he had as much faith in her
courage as she had in his return. She knew he would come back, and she
had trained herself to patience: indeed, it was no hard matter, for hers
had always been a world in which there was no haste. The seasons had
their leisured way; the people moved with heavy feet; the moor lay in
its wisdom, suffering decay and growth. Even the Brent Farm cattle made
bright but stationary patches in the field before the house, and as she
drew nearer she came upon John and Lily leaning on a fence. Their elbows
touched; their faces were content, as slowly they discussed the fate of
the cow they contemplated, and Helen sat down to await their leisure.

Before her, the moor sloped to the road and rose again, lifting
Pinderwell House on its bosom, and to her right, from the hidden
chimneys of Halkett's Farm, she could see smoke rising as though it were
the easy breath of some monster lying snug among the trees. There was no
other movement, though the sober front of Pinderwell House was animated
for an instant by the shaking of some white substance from a window.
Miriam was at her household tasks, and Helen waved a hand to the dark
being who had made life smoother for her since her night of stormy
weeping. She waved a hand of gratitude and friendship, but the signal
was not noticed, the house returned to its discretion, John and Lily
talked sparsely but with complete understanding, and Helen grew drowsy
in the sunshine. She was happier than she had ever been, for Zebedee had
laid peace on her, like a spell, and the warmth of that happiness stole
up from her feet and spread over her breast; it curled the corners of
her mouth so that John, turning to look at her, asked her why she
smiled.

"I'm comfortable," she said.

"Never been comfortable before?"

She gave him the clear depths of her eyes. "Not often."

He went away, driving the cow before him, and Lily stood looking after
him.

"He's wonderful," she said. "He comes along and takes hold of things and
begins to teach me my own business."

"So you're pleased with him?" Helen said demurely.

"Yes," the other answered with twitching lips, "he's doing very well."
Her laughter faded, and she said softly, "I wonder if they often
happen--marriages like ours."

"Tell me about it."

"Nothing to tell. It's just as if it's always been, and eve