She was on her Road, bound for her Heart's
Desire! No doubt, no misgiving, assailed the moment of joy. Forward, just
a little beyond, success awaited her. The possibility of defeat was over
forever. From now on, through weariness, toil, and perhaps suffering, she
was going to her own. She had never realized the tense mental and
physical strain through which she had passed; she did not realize it now,
but with the relaxation came an almost dangerous exhilaration. The
present, only so far as it verified the past, had no hold upon her;
she let herself go.
Back again was she in Kenmore. It was springtime, and the red rocks and
hemlocks shone and the water sparkled; she heard it lapping against the
tiny islands, so glad was it to be free of the winter's grasp. Some one
was dancing to the Spring's Call--a small, graceful thing with a bright
red cape flying on the wind, the soft wind of the In-Place. There was
music, too! Oh! how clearly it came rising and falling; and then, in the
bare hospital room, the blue-clad nurse tripped this way and that, while
memory held true to note and step!
Oh! It was on again, on again, that dear old dance.
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