Hush! The light behind her wall is quenched. She is folding herself for sleep. The stars lift their thousand candles above her. The forest shall be the posters of her bed. These great bats fluttering across the dark shall carry her kind dreams from utmost places. Hush! Another pilgrim comes among the waiting trees, but not to stay like him with lean face peering among the trunks. This pilgrim steals into the open and raises the soft doorway of that darkened chamber. See her go in with warning finger, poppies wreathed about her hair, poppies climbing up her staff. She has gone in, and on the drowsy lips of that young child has placed the largest poppy of all to rub out his rough kisses of the day.
Aye, now the child sleeps, and no longer need he creep wakeful here, fingering the rough bark of trees, and stepping clumsy on loud twigs. He can take himself home, and from his own tumbled bed shout loud on timid Sleep to remember him.
Sweet child who lies secure there, where now is your little soul fleeing? What ripe field does it find for its walks? What wide-armed trees hold out their shade to meet it? What flowers lift up their perfumed cups to spy who passes? What painted birds cast out their crystal notes from bush and briar to hail it? What purple hills pile up behind to hide the shabby land where by day it is compelled to dwell? Sweet child, in pity tell this tattered watchman that he may lace winged sandals to his feet, and in a brighter country sweep forward in the flight.
CHAPTER XVII The Errand to the Pool
On the afternoon of the last of those November days Maud Neville chose again the road to Pelican Pool. She had learned of Power's banishment until dark to a corner of the run, and so might take the way without fear of a meeting. Time, if a slow leech, was proving of service, and misery had been exchanged for a jog-along content.
The picture was discovering its proportions, and, from the chair of justice, she could examine it and pronounce verdict. It was crudely drawn when studied thus. A man ran crying for a prize which he would throw away as soon as gained. He demanded the meagre thing because it stayed out of reach. There was humour in the picture if one was in the mood to see it.
To-day an idea had come, building itself to shape during the morning. As a result, when lunch was over, she had saddled the chestnut horse again and taken the road to the river.