But if it never reach?”
The Thracian sighed, as looming through the mist
The stone came whirling back. “Fool,” said the ghost,
“Then mine at worst is everlasting hope!”
Again up rose the stone.
Holding the paper clasped against her breast, again Brooke’s thoughts sought counsel of the river, but now between her and it, a silhouette standing against the water, on the slope below the ploughman guided the horses to and fro unceasingly across the corn-field.
CHAPTER XIV
THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
April flew by on the wings of the migrating birds, and it was almost the last week, that brought the fragile wind flower to the wood edges and the swallows to the old barn, before Brooke realized that the month had fairly begun. For not more relentless is the rush of the city itself than life on a farm in the springtime, when the power that drives is the vital force of Nature herself, while a day dropped at this time slips back beyond recall.