CHAPTER XXXIV
AFTER THE DELUGE
In one elemental instant there was loosed in the soul of Mary Gage apent flood of emotion. She let her heart go, let in the wilderness ofprimitive things again. She was alive! She could see! She could beas other women!
The flood of relief, of joy, of yearning, was a thing cosmic, so strongthat regret and grief were for the time swept on and buried in thewelter of emotions running free.
It was as though she had stepped absolutely from one world intoanother. Suddenly, the people of her old world were gone. There hadbeen a shadow, a strange, magnified shadow of a soul, this man who hadbeen called her husband. But now with astonishing swiftness andclarity of vision she knew that he never had been a husband to her.What another had told her was the truth. He never had allowed her totouch his hand, his face, he never had laid a hand on hers, never hadcalled her by any name of love, never had kissed her or sought to doso. And he was gone now, so absolutely that not even the image of himcould remain had she ever owned an image of him. She never had knownhim, and now never could.
Alas! Sim Gage, shall we say? By no means. Happy Sim Gage! For hepassed at the climax of his life and took with him forever all he evercould have gained of delight and comfort. Happy Sim Gage! to have awoman like Mary, his wife, stand and weep for him now. He had lost herhad she ever seen his face, and now, at least, he owned her tears. Avast and noble flood carried happy Sim Gage out to the ocean at the endof all, to the rest and the absorption and the peace.
Mary Gage pushed back the bandage from her eyes furtively, unable toobey longer any command which cut her off from this new world to whichshe had come. Before she dropped the bandage once more she had caughtsight of a figure not looking toward her at the moment.
Allen Barnes was standing with his head up, his eyes looking out overthe abysmal scene below. Behind his back he had gripped tight togetherhis long and sinewy hands. He was a lean and broad man, so shethought. He stood in the uniform of his country, made for manly men,and beseeming only such. The neatness of good rearing even now wasapparent in every line of him. Dust seemed not to have touched him.He was clean and trim and fine, a picture of an officer and a gentleman.
Light, and the new music of the spheres--to whom did she owe thosethings? It was to this man standing yonder.
"McQueston," she heard a sharp voice command, "take your men and godown to the lower dam--any way you can get across the mountains. Bringyour report up by one of these cars when you get back here. I'll go upabove to the upper station with these people. It's going to rain.That will end the fire."
He saluted sharply in return, and turned again to those under hispersonal charge.
"Get into the car," he said. Mary Gage felt his hand steadying herarm. He took his place at the steering wheel, Wid Gardner alongside,Annie and herself being left to the rear seat of the tonneau. It wasreckless driving that Doctor Allen Barnes did once more. They out-ranthe approaching valley storm, and so presently came into the gate ofthat place where once had lived Sim Gage. They dismounted from the carand stood, a forlorn group, looking at the scene before them as funeralmourners returning, not liking the thought of going into a desertedhome from which a man is gone never to return.