The world had taken
from her everything, the very little that she had ever possessed, the
purity that every creature has once, the innocence that she had never
understood, left her this tipsy, degraded, abandoned, tragic atom of
evil. And a great glory was hers. She could have fallen upon her knees
in blessing and thankfulness, forgetful of all her tribe of sorrows,
conscious only that she was a woman crowned and throned. By degrees she
forgot that she was starving, forgot everything in an ecstasy of pure
passion and pride, an ecstasy that brought food, rest, calm, to her.
In the dawn Julian stirred and murmured incoherent words. Cuckoo bent
down to hear them. But he slept again. And as the dawn grew, the light
and airy feeling within her grew with it, till she seemed to be floating
in the air and among soft, billowing clouds. At first there was light
through them, light of the sun, strong and beautiful. But then it faded.
And darkness came, and strange sounds like far-off voices, and a murmur
as of waters deepening in volume and rushing upon her. They reached her.
She put out her hands and thought she cried out.
The waters swept her away.
* * * * *
"Cuckoo! Cuckoo! What is it? Cuckoo!"
"She's a-comin'--she's a-comin' to.
Pages:
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732