CHAPTER XVII.—An AWAKENING.
ANCE GILDER was not of a morose nature. The following morning he ate as hearty a breakfast as ever, and while smoking his morning cigar, acknowledged to himself that he had fallen in love with the picturesque scenery of the mountains, rivers, valleys and everything about him was restful, while an alluring contentment stole into his heart. He congratulated himself that he was far away from the hot and crowded metropolis of the Atlantic seaboard. Here, far removed from “the busy marts of men,” and the restless commotion of commerce and traffic, he could rest and wait.
The day passed quickly by; the afternoons and evenings usually in the society of Louise. They were bewildering days in their completeness. The night claimed the day all too soon when in her society.
He was surprised, after the first shock of disappointment had passed away, to find how indifferent he was becoming in regard to the loss of his position on the Banner.
One morning he awakened to a keen sense of incompleteness where completeness had dwelt. Also around Gold Bluff, he covered a vein of discontent where contentment had reigned supreme. His love of the mountains, the rivers, and the picturesque scenery was but a prelude of promise, thumbing sweetly of the great, unselfish love awakened in him for Louise.
This unrest dated from a certain evening when Louise first sang for him. He was quite entranced by the full, rich volume of her contralto voice.