David and Connie allowed her to pass inside
without comment.

"Connie," said David when they were alone, "I believe God will give you
a whole chest of stars for your crown for the sweetness that brought
you out here. Carol was sick for something of home. I wanted her to
go back for a visit but she would not leave me. But she was sick. She
needed some outside life. I can give her nothing, I take my life from
her. And she needed fresh inspiration, and you have brought it."
David was silent a moment. "Connie, whenever things do get shadowy for
us, the clouds are pulled back so we may see the sun shining on the
slopes more brilliantly than ever."

Turning quickly she followed his gaze, and a softness came into her
eyes as she looked. Truly the darkness of the canyons seemed only to
emphasize the brightness of the ridges above them.

She laid her hand on David's arm, that strong, shapely, capable hand,
and whispered, "David, if I might have what you and Carol have, if I
could be happy in the way that you are, I think I should be willing to
lose the sunshine on the slopes and dwell entirely in the darkness of
the canyons. But I haven't got it, I don't know how to get it." Then
she added slowly, "But I suppose, having what you two have, one could
not lose the sunshine on the slopes."

CHAPTER XIX

RE-CREATION

Were you ever wakened in the early morning by the clear whistle of a
meadow-lark over your head, with the rich scent of the mountain pines
coming to you on the pure light air of a new day, with the sun wrapping
the earth in misty blue, and staining the mountains with rose? To
David, lying on his cot in the open air, every dawning morning was a
new creation, a brand new promise of hope. To be sure, the enchantment
was like to be broken in a moment, still the call of the morning had
fired his blood, and given him a new impetus,--impetus, not for work,
not for ambition, not for activity, just an impetus to lie quietly on
his cot and be happy.

The birds were shortly rivaled by the sweeter, dearer, not less
heavenly voice of little Julia, calling an imaginary dog, counting her
mother's eyes, or singing to herself an original improvise upon the
exalted subject of two brown bugs. And a moment later, came the sound
of rapturous kissing, and Carol was awake. And before the smile of
content left his face, she stood in the doorway, her face flushed with
sleep, her hair tumbling about her face, a warm