CHAPTER XXII. FACING REALITIES.
March came and April followed. Muriel thought that never before had therebeen so lovely a spring. The returning birds surely sang more wonderfulsongs than in the springs that were past. The melting snow on the cliffstrickled down, forming sparkling miniature waterfalls. Then, after a warmspell, out of every crevice in the rocks wild flowers blossomed.
The girl, running to the highest peak one glorious morning, flung herarms out toward the sky, letting the wind blow her red-brown hair as itwould, and if Gene had seen his Storm Maiden at that moment he would havehad a third picture of her that he would never wish to forget.
"Oh, it's glad I am to be livin'," she said aloud. "The world is sowonderful and friends are so kind. I'm that happy, so happy." The birds,her birds, were soon circling about her, for, although there was plentyfor them to eat, Muriel fed them just for the joy of it.
"I love every one of yo'," she told them. "An' yo', too, poor ol' lamepelican," she called to a larger bird that descended when the flock ofwhite gulls had swooped down to the sea, one of them having sighted aluckless fish that was glinting too near the surface of the water.
Then, scrambling down to her Treasure Cave, the girl brought from itshiding place in a crevice the well-worn Second Reader. Going out on thesun-flooded ledge, she sat for a moment just gazing at the sparkling surfthat was crashing far beneath her.
Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew forth a letter bearing theNew York postmark. It was the last that she had received from Gene,having been left at the lighthouse by little Sol.
Muriel had been in the middle of breadmaking then, but all the hour shehad been filled with eager anticipation, for in his last letter Gene hadtold her that in the spring he was to have a vacation (he had been atcollege since the beginning of the midwinter term), and that even if hecould only spare a day for it, he was going to visit Windy Island.
Muriel, while finishing the baking, had been happily wondering how hercomrade would look after his month's confinement at his studies. Perhapsthe bronze from the wind and the sun would be worn away and again hewould be pale as he was when she had first known him. How she hoped not!She wanted him to keep every bit of the strength he had gained during hismonth's visit on Windy Island.
Muriel removed the letter, her heart beating rapidly. She was sure thatin it he would tell the day of his coming. Soon, very soon, she hoped, asshe wished him to see how lovely her rock-ribbed island home was when thewild flowers blossomed.
During the past months Muriel had become familiar with many of the simplewords that Gene used in writing to her and she had to refer lessfrequently to the well-worn Second Reader.
With comparative ease she read the few lines:
"Dear Friend Muriel:
"I hoped to have good news to tell you today, but, after all, I am not to have my longed-for visit with you. Last night Helen received a cablegram from our father telling us to join them at once in London, and so we are to depart without delay, as Dad has reserved passage for us on the steamship 'The Liverpool,' which leaves its dock tomorrow at dawn.
"Dear good friend, don't forget me! I don't know what this command from our father means. I surely hope that mother is not ill, but, of course, it is a command which Helen and I must obey. I shall write you, however, as soon as I reach the other side of the broad Atlantic.
"Tell your grandfather, please, how grateful I am and ever shall be to him for having permitted me to share his home for that wonderful, never-to-be-forgotten month.
"Muriel, come what may, believe me when I say that next to Helen your friendship is dearer to me than that of any girl whom I know.
"This letter sounds as though I hardly expect to come back to the only country under the sun, but that isn't true. Heaven willing, I'll return when I'm twenty-one, if I have to remain over there until then.
"Goodbye, Storm Maiden, your closer-than-a-brother friend,
"Gene."
The sun was still shining and the waves sparkling, the birds stillsinging and the flowers blooming when Muriel had deciphered the messagein that letter, but the glory of the day was gone for her and there wasno echo of song in her heart.
She arose, saddened, and after replacing the Second Reader in its niche,climbed the steep trail up the cliff and returned to the light.