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Page 14
"Is this where Glenn lay--when he was sick?" queried Carley.
"Yes," replied Flo, gravely, and a shadow darkened her eyes. "I ought to
tell you all about it. I will some day. But you must not be made unhappy
now. . . . Glenn nearly died here. Mother or I never left his side--for a
while there--when life was so bad."
She showed Carley how to open the little stove and put the short billets of
wood inside and work the damper; and cautioning her to keep an eye on it so
that it would not get too hot, she left Carley to herself.
Carley found herself in an unfamiliar mood. There came a leap of her heart
every time she thought of the meeting with Glenn, so soon now to be, but it
was not that which was unfamiliar. She seemed to have a difficult approach
to undefined and unusual thoughts. All this was so different from her regular
life. Besides she was tired. But these explanations did not suffice. There
was a pang in her breast which must owe its origin to the fact that Glenn
Kilbourne had been ill in this little room and some other girl than Carley
Burch had nursed him. "Am I jealous?" she whispered. "No!" But she knew in
her heart that she lied. A woman could no more help being jealous, under
such circumstances, than she could help the beat and throb of her blood.
Nevertheless, Carley was glad Flo Hutter had been there, and always she
would be grateful to her for that kindness.
Carley disrobed and, donning her dressing gown, she unpacked her bags and
hung her things upon pegs under the curtained shelves. Then she lay down to
rest, with no intention of slumber. But there was a strange magic in the
fragrance of the room, like the piny tang outdoors, and in the feel of the
bed, and especially in the low, dreamy hum and murmur of the waterfall. She
fell asleep. When she awakened it was five o'clock. The fire in the stove
was out, but the water was still warm. She bathed and dressed, not without
care, yet as swiftly as was her habit at home; and she wore white because
Glenn had always liked her best in white. But it was assuredly not a gown
to wear in a country house where draughts of cold air filled the unheated
rooms and halls. So she threw round her a warm sweater-shawl, with colorful
bars becoming to her dark eyes and hair.
All the time that she dressed and thought, her very being seemed to be
permeated by that soft murmuring sound of falling water. No moment of
waking life there at Lolomi Lodge, or perhaps of slumber hours, could be
wholly free of that sound. It vaguely tormented Carley, yet was not
uncomfortable. She went out upon the porch. The small alcove space held a
bed and a rustic chair. Above her the peeled poles of the roof descended to
within a few feet of her head. She had to lean over the rail of the porch
to look up. The green and red rock wall sheered ponderously near. The
waterfall showed first at the notch of a fissure, where the cliff split;
and down over smooth places the water gleamed, to narrow in a crack with
little drops, and suddenly to leap into a thin white sheet.
Out from the porch the view was restricted to glimpses between the pines,
and beyond to the opposite wall of the canyon. How shut-in, how walled in
this home!
"In summer it might be good to spend a couple of weeks here," soliloquized
Carley. "But to live here? Heavens! A person might as well be buried."
Heavy footsteps upon the porch below accompanied by a man's voice quickened
Carley's pulse. Did they belong to Glenn? After a strained second she
decided not. Nevertheless, the acceleration of her blood and an unwonted
glow of excitement, long a stranger to her, persisted as she left the porch
and entered the boarded hall. How gray and barn-like this upper part of the
house! From the head of the stairway, however, the big living room
presented a cheerful contrast. There were warm colors, some comfortable
rockers, a lamp that shed a bright light, and an open fire which alone
would have dispelled the raw gloom of the day.
A large man in corduroys and top boots advanced to meet Carley. He had a
clean-shaven face that might have been hard and stern but for his smile,
and one look into his eyes revealed their resemblance to Flo's.
"I'm Tom Hutter, an' I'm shore glad to welcome you to Lolomi, Miss Carley,"
he said. His voice was deep and slow. There were ease and force in his
presence, and the grip he gave Carley's hand was that of a man who made no
distinction in hand-shaking. Carley, quick in her perceptions, instantly
liked him and sensed in him a strong personality. She greeted him in turn
and expressed her thanks for his goodness to Glenn. Naturally Carley
expected him to say something about her fiance, but he did not.
"Well, Miss Carley, if you don't mind, I'll say you're prettier than your
picture," said Hutter. "An' that is shore sayin' a lot. All the sheep
herders in the country have taken a peep at your picture. Without
permission, you understand."
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