"It's a wonderful effect, isn't it? Must we talk about it?" he inquired
softly.
"Don't you think it deserves to be talked about?" she answered, trying
to speak naturally.
"No. There's only one thing in the world I want to talk about. I can't
even see that sky, for looking at--you. I've stood at the top of this
slope more times than I can tell you, wondering if I should dare to
build this little cabin. The idea possessed me, I couldn't get away from
it. I bought the land--and still I was afraid. I gave the order to the
builder--and all but took it back. I knew I ran every kind of risk that
you wouldn't understand me--that you would think I still had that
abominable confidence that I was fool enough to express to you
last--February. Does it look so?"
She nodded slowly without turning her head.
His voice grew even more solicitous; she could hear a little tremble in
it, such as surely had not been there last February, such as she had
never heard there before. "But it isn't so! With every log that's gone
in, a fresh fear has gone in with it. Even on the way here to-day I had
all I could do not to turn off some other way.
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