THE HEAVENS OPEN
Conrad and Lucy rode along a street skirting the brow of the mesa until the houses of the town in the valley below became few and straggling. Down the last roadway cut across the sides of the canyon they descended to the bottom of the ravine. Thence upward it was so narrow that the bed of the creek and the road left only scant margins of rocky soil. In these grew cottonwoods, willows, and a few other trees, whose overarching branches made a green and pleasant vista. The creek wound crookedly down the valley, frequently crossing the road, while here and there the walls of the gulch drew so close together that the track was forced into the bed of the stream. Notwithstanding the recent rains, the water was too shallow to reach above their horses’ knees.
The way was quite deserted, and after leaving the town they saw no other travellers. A cool, damp wind came down the ravine and Lucy took off her hat and let it toss back her brown curls. They had grown longer since the early Spring, and now clustered in soft rings around her ears and neck. A touch of sadness lingered upon her spirits, because of the distressing scene with Miss Dent. It was the first difference that had ever arisen between them. A poignant longing filled her heart, also, because this was to be her final interview with the man she loved. The painful duty she had set herself filled the background of her consciousness and laid upon her manner an unusual reserve.
But these more sombre emotions mingled with the gladness of the knowledge that she was beloved, and all combined to invest her with a new maturity of womanliness, a sweet dignity that sent filtering through Conrad’s eager love a sensation of wonder and reverence. It could not be possible that this lovely, this adorable being would receive his homage, would consent to love him! But he would try. She was willing to ride with him, and there was hope in that. And, yes, he would not forget that he must tell her about his unworthy life—he must tell her even before he asked her to marry him. But oh, how beautiful she was, how sweet! Every movement of her head, her arm, her body, every twinkling smile, every fleeting dimple, poured fresh wine into his blood. A torrent of love and admiration was sweeping through him, and from it were constantly breaking off and flowing over their friendly talk little cascades of compliment, of admiring speech, of sentences glowing with hints of his feeling.
But Lucy quickly caught the trend of every one and turned it back with laughing retort and merry speech. He could not get within her guard, and every deft turn of her jesting, foiling replies made him only the more eager. He forgot that he was going to make confession, forgot to watch the dark clouds that were rising above the mountain tops, forgot everything but this alluring creature, who grew more alluring every moment, and yet would not let him loose the torrents of loving speech. And Lucy, in the sweet excitement of letting him say a little, and again a little, and then a little more, yet keeping up her guard and never letting him reach the danger point, Lucy also forgot what she had meant to keep constantly in mind. Now and then duty put out a warning hand. But—the exhilaration of the present moment, the precious consciousness of his love, the thrilling pleasure of this Cupid’s dance—she could not give it up so quickly. Presently she would tell him.
Thus has it been Love’s habit, ever since Love came to live in this world, to dance with happy and forgetful foot over volcanoes ready to engulf him in their fires, beneath clouds ready to drown him with their pouring sorrows. No matter what the dangers, when the maid lures and the man pursues, Love knows only his own delight. So went Lucy and Curtis up the beautiful canyon road, thrilling with the happiness that can be but once,—before the first kiss has brushed away the exquisite bloom of love,—forgetting alike the bonds they had put upon themselves and the dangers that lurked in the threatening storm.
At last the darkening atmosphere caused Conrad to notice how high the clouds had risen. “I’m afraid there’s going to be a bad storm, Miss Bancroft,” he said, “and perhaps we’d better turn back. When we started I didn’t think it would rain before night, but those clouds are piling up fast and they look as if they meant business. I’m sorry, for a little ways above here there’s a beautiful place, where the walls of the canyon spread out and you get a splendid view. I wanted to take you there, and tell you—” It was not so easy after all, to loose the torrents of speech, and for a bare instant he hesitated. It was enough to give Lucy her chance.
She shot at him a single sparkling glance, and broke in with, “Oh, I’ll race you there!” As she spoke she touched her horse and darted ahead, leaving him alone in the middle of the road at the very beginning of his declaration. The wind blew her curls into a tangled frame for her laughing face as she looked back over her shoulder. He quickly spurred Brown Betty forward, but she had got so much the start that it was some moments before he was again at her side.
“You took me by surprise,” he said as they slowed their horses at the foot of a steeper incline, “and handicapped me, or you wouldn’t have got so far away. When we go back I’ll race you all the way down the canyon, if you like.”
“Agreed!” she laughed. “Wouldn’t it be jolly to go at a gallop all the way down the canyon, from the mountains to Golden? But the poor horses!”