knowing that he would come to her. But when he stood before her, so tall, his black cocked hat in his hand, his powdered hair shining in the torchlight, she could not speak.
'I didn't think I'd ever find you,' he said, and his voice was the one she had expected, grave, a little harsh, yet softened now by wonder. She knew what he meant, and that he did not refer to this moment.
'What happened to us?' she said simply. 'I don't understand. When I saw you back there in the theater, I felt that I had always known you, that I knew what you were thinking. I had to talk to you. You do not think me common or vulgar that I meet you this way?'
'You know that I don't.'
She looked up at him and smiled. 'This is passing strange,' she said softly.
He nodded. The grim lines about his mouth had vanished so that he seemed young, almost as young as she.
'I've seen you many times before tonight: in the embers of campfires, on the snow-tops of the Alleghenies, reflected in the waters of unnamed rivers. Not your face, perhaps, but you'. His words seemed to her exquisitely fantastic, part of the enchanted borderland in which they wandered together. Louder and more insistent came the wailing of the violins through the trees. A pair of lovers pushed past them and disappeared down the path.
'There is time aplenty to dream in the wilderness,' he added, as though she had questioned.
Wilderness. The thought was alien to her and yet beautiful. She repeated it slowly. 'Wilderness. And what have you to do with the wilderness?'
He raised his head. She saw his eyes darken. 'It has been my mistress, my life. It is where I belong.'
He stepped nearer, but he did not touch her.
'I know nothing of women,' he said, with roughness. 'I do not even think of you as a woman—yet.'
'As what, then?' she whispered.
'As a dream made into flesh: the fulfillment of a longing'. Theo thought, the fulfillment of a longing—yes. This moment, this second, is happiness. Nothing must touch it, I must not think or it will dissolve.
'Hark!' he said. 'What is that song? It's beautiful, part of this—and us.'
She bent her head and listened. It was a recent popular song; she had heard it many times, but it had meant nothing to her. Now, standing beside him, each plaintive tone of the low contralto voice sped to her heart.
Water, parted from the sea, may increase the river's tide,
To the bubbling fount may flee, or through fertile valleys glide;
Tho' in search of lost repose, through the land'tis free to roam,
Still it murmurs as it flows, panting for its native home.
Heart of mine, away from thee, sever'd from its only rest,
Tosses as a troubled sea, bound within my aching breast.
Thou alone canst give release, sprayed my burning eyes with brine.
Swelling e'er with love's increase, let my heart find rest in thine.
The soft notes died away to a distant spatter of hand-clapping.
'Let my heart find rest in thine,' he quoted slowly. 'Do you understand that—my dear?'
She looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with tears.
'Yes, I understand, but——' She broke off with a cry of fear. She heard the light footsteps behind them, even before she heard the voice she knew best in the world, tense with anger.
'Indeed, a most charming little scene,' said Aaron. He stood beside them, his face rigid.
'And just who is this individual with whom I find you philandering in corners like a street wench?'
The Captain grew white as the marble urn behind him; his hand flew to his sword hilt, but he said evenly, 'I am Meriwether Lewis of the First Regiment of Infantry'. He stepped forward, and, presenting his back to Aaron as though he were non-existent, added gently to Theo, 'There are two people who call me Meme, persons for whom I care. Will you, also?'
She dared not answer him; indeed, she no longer saw him clearly; her vision was blurred with fear by the fury she saw in her father's face.
'Father—no—please——' She heard her own hysterical cry and bit her lip.
'I didn't think I'd ever find you,' he said, and his voice was the one she had expected, grave, a little harsh, yet softened now by wonder. She knew what he meant, and that he did not refer to this moment.
'What happened to us?' she said simply. 'I don't understand. When I saw you back there in the theater, I felt that I had always known you, that I knew what you were thinking. I had to talk to you. You do not think me common or vulgar that I meet you this way?'
'You know that I don't.'
She looked up at him and smiled. 'This is passing strange,' she said softly.
He nodded. The grim lines about his mouth had vanished so that he seemed young, almost as young as she.
'I've seen you many times before tonight: in the embers of campfires, on the snow-tops of the Alleghenies, reflected in the waters of unnamed rivers. Not your face, perhaps, but you'. His words seemed to her exquisitely fantastic, part of the enchanted borderland in which they wandered together. Louder and more insistent came the wailing of the violins through the trees. A pair of lovers pushed past them and disappeared down the path.
'There is time aplenty to dream in the wilderness,' he added, as though she had questioned.
Wilderness. The thought was alien to her and yet beautiful. She repeated it slowly. 'Wilderness. And what have you to do with the wilderness?'
He raised his head. She saw his eyes darken. 'It has been my mistress, my life. It is where I belong.'
He stepped nearer, but he did not touch her.
'I know nothing of women,' he said, with roughness. 'I do not even think of you as a woman—yet.'
'As what, then?' she whispered.
'As a dream made into flesh: the fulfillment of a longing'. Theo thought, the fulfillment of a longing—yes. This moment, this second, is happiness. Nothing must touch it, I must not think or it will dissolve.
'Hark!' he said. 'What is that song? It's beautiful, part of this—and us.'
She bent her head and listened. It was a recent popular song; she had heard it many times, but it had meant nothing to her. Now, standing beside him, each plaintive tone of the low contralto voice sped to her heart.
Water, parted from the sea, may increase the river's tide,
To the bubbling fount may flee, or through fertile valleys glide;
Tho' in search of lost repose, through the land'tis free to roam,
Still it murmurs as it flows, panting for its native home.
Heart of mine, away from thee, sever'd from its only rest,
Tosses as a troubled sea, bound within my aching breast.
Thou alone canst give release, sprayed my burning eyes with brine.
Swelling e'er with love's increase, let my heart find rest in thine.
The soft notes died away to a distant spatter of hand-clapping.
'Let my heart find rest in thine,' he quoted slowly. 'Do you understand that—my dear?'
She looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with tears.
'Yes, I understand, but——' She broke off with a cry of fear. She heard the light footsteps behind them, even before she heard the voice she knew best in the world, tense with anger.
'Indeed, a most charming little scene,' said Aaron. He stood beside them, his face rigid.
'And just who is this individual with whom I find you philandering in corners like a street wench?'
The Captain grew white as the marble urn behind him; his hand flew to his sword hilt, but he said evenly, 'I am Meriwether Lewis of the First Regiment of Infantry'. He stepped forward, and, presenting his back to Aaron as though he were non-existent, added gently to Theo, 'There are two people who call me Meme, persons for whom I care. Will you, also?'
She dared not answer him; indeed, she no longer saw him clearly; her vision was blurred with fear by the fury she saw in her father's face.
'Father—no—please——' She heard her own hysterical cry and bit her lip.
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