Two days later there was a little dinner given at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon, and strange to say, Helen and Worthington were among those present. From that time on it was Jack who chased away the shadows and kept Helen amused. There was something wonderfully sweet and soothing about this strong, self-reliant man of the West. Life cannot exist without sunshine, and this man was slowly becoming the sunshine of Helen's life, with each walk in the moonlight along the banks of the Truckee, and with each ride through the wonderful, silent places, while they enjoyed Nevada's matchless sunsets, and glorious freedom of open country.
[Illustration with caption: GLENBROOK]
In spite of all Jack could do in the way of chasing away the shadows, Helen continued to grow more like the lily and less like the rose. It was terribly hot in Reno as the summer months came on, and there were reasons why Helen could not have all the comforts. Worthington, with his thousands, was hopeless. She should be up to the lake where the cool, fresh breezes could fan the roses back into her cheeks, but how could he manage it?
"I know, I shall have the Sheldons go up to their camp at Glenbrook, and invite us up for the week."….
The very next morning a very sweet feminine voice called Helen over the 'phone. "Good morning, Helen dear, aren't you nearly cooked? Yes, I know it's a hundred and ten in the shade. I say, dear, Mr. Sheldon and I have a cozy nook up at Glenbrook, on Lake Tahoe. Won't you come up and spend the week with us there?…. Oh, yes, we will call for you at 8 A.M. tomorrow …. Oh, no, don't thank us, you will be so welcome…. All right, good-bye."
When Helen tripped lightly down to the big touring car the next morning, she showed no surprise when Jack jumped from the back seat and assisted her to a place by his side. It was a gay party that landed at the camp a few hours later. Did these two people know that they had grown to love each other? There had been no word of love spoken between them but that night they went for a row on the lake of many colors, just as the sun dropped over the hills and the moon shone out in all its glory. Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon stood on the shore and watched them with a knowing smile. Jack was the salt of the earth, and he meant so well…. He did not mean to speak to Helen until she was free, but alas! for the infinite cry of infinite hearts that yearn. For weeks and weeks, when the days were the darkest, it had been Jack who happened along just at the right moment with a book or some flowers, accompanied by a funny story or a joke, some little kindness that would brighten the path a bit. What a mixture he was, of tenderness and brusqueness; of common sense and poetry; of fun and seriousness, this adopted son of the sagebrush. These were Helen's thoughts as she watched his strong body bend gracefully over the oars, which sent them flying through the sapphire water of Lake Tahoe.
Already the color was beginning to appear in Helen's cheeks and she looked happier and more bewitching than ever before. "An angel pointing the way to Paradise," thought Jack. They discussed the moon- kissed glades and leafy woods of shadowland. Did they know that in each leafy bough Cupid awaited with love's weapon poised? Jack drew in the oars and allowed the little boat to drift; it is sometimes wonderfully sweet to drift; sometimes we drift into the harbor of happiness; sometimes we smash against the rocks, and are left shipwrecked. Little did Helen dream that soon this new found happiness was to vanish; that her lips burning for kisses yet unborn, might soon unbend and voice deepest anguish and piteous appeal; that those eyes which betokened unsolved depths of fondest affection, of laughter, love and life, might soon lose their lustre and dreamy languor, in an ocean of tears….. There two people drifted silently along, conscious only of the fact that they were supremely happy in each other's company …. But lo! out of the quiet a storm is born: why had they not noticed that the moon had hidden her silvery face behind a black cloud? The spray and rain beating upon their happy faces was the first incident which made them aware that a terrific storm was upon them, and that they were many miles from home. The wind was whipping the waves into a perfect fury, thus rendering unmanageable the little boat. The thunder rolled and roared, and finally the wind drove the frail craft against the stony wall of Cave Rock. Jack managed to grasp a part of the jagged surface and drag Helen with him; the boat hit against the rocks several times and finally broke up.
[Illustration with caption: CAVE ROCK] All through the struggle Helen had sat motionless and fascinated at the strength and skill this man displayed in his efforts to pull for the shore, but when at last they were there, and she felt his strong arms about her, all her courage and strength failed her, and she fainted. He clasped her closer to his heart and looked into her colorless face. Her clothes were dripping, and her golden hair was streaming about her face. Jack stopped for a moment and pressed his burning lips to hers—they were icy.
"My sweet burden of glorious womanhood," he whispered. "Thank God you are safe!" And he climbed up the rocky mountainside to the only available shelter…. Cave Rock. There he took his dripping burden and laid it on the damp, cold stones. There was no sign of life. He took off his coat, rang the water out as best he could, and spread it on the rocks and laid Helen upon it. He rubbed her hands and arms, and bathed her head, but she remained chilled.
If he only had a dry match to start a fire with, or some brandy, but alas! they were storm-tossed souls, with no means of warmth, except that of the man's palpitating body….. He was aglow with warmth from the exertion of rowing and climbing up the mountainside. He would bring back life and pulsation to this woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul, by the warmth of his own glowing body. As he drew off his waistcoat and threw it aside, something fell to the ground. He felt about in the dark until he found the object; it was a tiny silver match case, some silly Christmas present which he never used and had forgotten all about, but it was surely a welcome friend at this particular moment. Were there any matches in it?…. He held his breath for a moment while he opened it …. His sigh of relief told the story. The rest now was only the work of a minute: some bits of driftwood and the remains of some previous camp fire quickly started a blaze.