XXVIII. NO DREAM TO WAKE FROM
For a long while after she had left him, he lay still, stretched inhis chair. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the open window and thesunshine outside. There he watched the movement of the leaves upon thegreen cottonwoods. What had she said to him when she went? She had said,"Now I know how unhappy I have been." These sweet words he repeated tohimself over and over, fearing in some way that he might lose them. Theyalmost slipped from him at times; but with a jump of his mind he caughtthem again and held them,--and then--"I'm not all strong yet," hemurmured. "I must have been very sick." And, weak from his bulletwound and fever, he closed his eyes without knowing it. There were thecottonwoods again, waving, waving; and he felt the cool, pleasant airfrom the window. He saw the light draught stir the ashes in the greatstone fireplace. "I have been asleep," he said. "But she was cert'nlyhere herself. Oh, yes. Surely. She always has to go away every daybecause the doctor says--why, she was readin'!" he broke off, aloud."DAVID COPPERFIELD." There it was on the floor. "Aha! nailed youanyway!" he said. "But how scared I am of myself!--You're a fool. Ofcourse it's so. No fever business could make yu' feel like this."
His eye dwelt awhile on the fireplace, next on the deer horns, andnext it travelled toward the shelf where her books were; but it stoppedbefore reaching them.
"Better say off the names before I look," said he. "I've had a heap o'misreading visions. And--and supposin'--if this was just my sicknessfooling me some more--I'd want to die. I would die! Now we'll see. IfCOPPERFIELD is on the floor" (he looked stealthily to be sure that itwas), "then she was readin' to me when everything happened, and thenthere should be a hole in the book row, top, left. Top, left," herepeated, and warily brought his glance to the place. "Proved!" hecried. "It's all so!"
He now noticed the miniature of Grandmother Stark. "You are awful likeher," he whispered. "You're cert'nly awful like her. May I kiss you too,ma'am?"
Then, tottering, he rose from his sick-chair. The Navajo blanket fellfrom his shoulders, and gradually, experimentally, he stood upright.
Helping himself with his hand slowly along the wall of the room, andround to the opposite wall with many a pause, he reached the picture,and very gently touched the forehead of the ancestral dame with hislips. "I promise to make your little girl happy," he whispered.
He almost fell in stooping to the portrait, but caught himself and stoodcarefully quiet, trembling, and speaking to himself. "Where is yourstrength?" he demanded. "I reckon it is joy that has unsteadied yourlaigs."
The door opened. It was she, come back with his dinner.
"My Heavens!" she said; and setting the tray down, she rushed to him.She helped him back to his chair, and covered him again. He had sufferedno hurt, but she clung to him; and presently he moved and let himselfkiss her with fuller passion.
"I will be good," he whispered.
"You must," she said. "You looked so pale!"
"You are speakin' low like me," he answered. "But we have no dream wecan wake from."
Had she surrendered on this day to her cow-puncher, her wild man? Was sheforever wholly his? Had the Virginian's fire so melted her heart that norift in it remained? So she would have thought if any thought had cometo her. But in his arms to-day, thought was lost in something moredivine.