Snow-Blind

peopled only by voices-Pete's modest, rare boy speeches, Bella's brief, smothered statements. The great music of Hugh's utterance must indeed have filled her narr

y struggled against conscientiously, and as she talked, she gesticulated with her slim little hands. She was a touching thing sitting there in Hug

de a stream, up in Massachusetts-farming country, but poor farming, hard farming, the kind that twists the men with rheumatism, and makes the women all pinched and worn. Mother was like that. She died when I was thirteen. You see-there I was, so queerly fixed. I had to live with Mr. Pynche-there was no o

than me, making lots of money. I borrowed some money from a drug-store clerk who wanted to keep com

e town off there beyond your woods, and the train was stalled in a snowstorm. We got on a stage-coach, but it got stuck in a drift on one of those dreadful roads. I was freezing c

woods where it was so silent and sort of solemn-like being in a church again. I can't think how I got so lost. I meant to come round back to the road, but before I knew it, I didn't know which way the road was. The pines were so dense, so all alike, they looked almost a

gently. "Even if there had been bears about

lf to tell you abou

w did you live throug

to hurt almost at once, and by the time night came, it was agony. The darkness didn't seem to help me any either; the glare still seemed to come in under my lids. I couldn't sleep for the pain. I knew I'd fre

belong to me now-I saved you from dying alone there in the cold and brought you back

the memory, and he patted her hand. "I don't know why a man like you lives off here in this wild place, but thank God, you do live here! Though," she added with wistfulness, twisting her soft mouth, "though I can't

he added half-grudgingly, "i

t love to see you. Y

that?" he asked, his

. "If I'd been blind a long time, I suppose I could just run my hand over your face, and I'd know what you look like. But I can't tell a thing." She felt for his face and bru

's nurse. And the kid's my young brother-a great

em. I wouldn't have thought he was so big. Is he about fourteen

tty near too big to lic

a, what's

p mummy of

k over his shoulder. Bella stood on the kitchen thres

ump?" asked Sy

. "Nothing. The door creaked. Go

r about you now. T

arkly. He glanced over his shoulder w

lvie. Will you promise me never to spea

ce beamed with the pride of a

f persecuted and heroic innocence, of reckless adventure, of daring self-sacrifice. The girl listen

and again by Sylvie's ejaculations. Behind the door Bella stood like a wooden block, colorless and stolid as though she understo

the cloudy softness premonitory of a spring storm; the sun glowed like a dying fire through a long, narrow rift in the shrouded west. Pete had thrown aside his coat and drawn in his belt. The collar of his flannel shirt was open and turned back; his head was bare. The bright gold of his short hair, the scarlet of

of the strong forward sweeps. He stopped, l

le gone: "Wh

se face. "We've got to stop it,

Bella." He was pulling his own shirt-sleeves dow

ot to talk. I-Do you know what Hugh's doing-what he

ame time turned his blue eyes awa

he's buried himself out here for the sake of somebody else. Oh, it's a regular romance, and it's been going on for hours-it's still going on. By now he believes it all himself. He's putting in t

es from the west, even

aithful-an old servant. And you're a child, an overgr

-the woman clutching at his arm, her face twisted, her eyes afire, all the colo

at me,

ppy. I don't grudge him his joy, Bella, do you? It can't last long, anyway. Fairy tales can't hurt her-Hugh believes-almost-in his own inventions. She'll be

t suppose I care-so much," she said

d a little and

ing in love

nd laughed aloud. "Oh, Bel

. It's horrible. You'l

poke dreamily. "It's a ve

gh's robb

M

her to you, to get you out of this desolation, to lead you back

drew himself away. "Shut up, Bella," he said with