"Don'—don't prosecute me, Riley!" he pleaded in a shaking voice. "I'll do anything you say. What do you want?"
CHAPTER XL
SIGNS AND OMENS
The reason of the temporary residence of Angus and his wife at her cottage lay principally in her whim. Angus laughed at it, but yielded, and found it rather pleasant to be alone with his wife. From force of habit he found a number of jobs which needed doing, things which should be put in order before the winter; but Faith insisted that it was to be a holiday. And so by day they rode leisurely along the base of the hills, rested at noon beside clear springs, ate with healthy appetites, and in the evenings returned to the cottage. Then there would be the cheery open fire against the chill of the fall night, and by its flickering light the banjo would talk and whimper, and chuckle, until Faith, laying it aside, would snuggle against her husband, watching the red heart of the fire, giving free rein to fancy.
So, she thought and said, men and women had sat in the dim, forgotten nights of the world, when the Red Flower first bloomed on the rude hearts of cave and forest and beside the lone beaches of dead seas. Angus laughed at her fancies, but in his own heart the spell of gut and string and fire stirred something, too; and when the winds soughed around the cottage and strained through the tree-tops he found himself listening subconsciously for he knew not what.
"You are a dreamer, too," Faith accused him.
"I will be in about ten minutes."
"You might as well 'fess up. I wonder if you and I ever sat before a fire in a cave, together?"
"I don't remember it, myself."