The lamp had a yellow shade, and shone like a full moon among the shadows. Jane, just beyond the circle of light, was a spectral figure with her black hair and the faint blue of her gown.
Her own share in Evans’ future? Had she really linked her life with his? She had promised to pray that he might get back—she had pledged youth, hope and constancy to his cause. And she had promised before she had seen that stumbling figure in the snow!
In the matters of romance, Jane’s thoughts had always ventured. She had dreamed of a gallant lover, a composite hero, one who should combine the reckless courage of a Robin Hood with the high moralities of a Galahad. With such a lover one might gallop through life to a piping tune. Or if the Galahad predominated in her hero, to an inspiring processional!
And here was Evans, gray and gaunt, shaken by tremors, fitting himself into the background of her future. And she didn’t want him there. Oh, not as he had been out there in the snow!
Yet she was sorry for him with a sympathy that wrung her heart. She couldn’t hurt him. She wouldn’t. Was there no way out of it?
Her hands went up to her face. She had a simple and childlike faith. “Oh, God,” she prayed, “make us all—happy——”
Her cheeks were wet as she lay back on her pillows. And a certain serenity followed her little prayer. Things would work together in some way for good.... She would let it rest at that.
When at last the rooster crowed, Jane cast off the covers and went to the windows, drawing back the curtains. There was a faint whiteness in the eastern sky—amethyst and pearl, aquamarine, the day had dawned!
Well, after all, wasn’t every day a new world? And this day of all days. One must think about the thankful things!