Master of the Vineyard

l of th

Top of

ter the countless annoyances of the day; to feel the earth springing beneath her step, the keen,

nt her five-and-twenty years, shut in by the hills, and, more surely, by the iron bars of circumstance. To her the heights had always me

s banks, and fragments of broken crystal moved slowly toward the ultimate sea. The late afternoon sun touched the sh

Va

with a certain air of stateliness. The broad, Colonial porch looked out upon the river and the hills beyond it, while all around, upon the southern slope between the op

ed, the tangled black threads were visible. Like the frame surrounding a tapestry, great pines bordered the vineyard save on the side nearest the v

her's mother's before her, and set the hands at four upon the pale gold dial. Then she drew up the worn gold chain that hung around her neck, under her gown, and, w

Red

w tree, took out a small wooden box, opened it, and unwound carefully a wide ribbon of flaming scarlet, a yard or more in length. Digging her heels into the soft earth, she went down to the lowest of the group of birches

at the most, twenty-five, he would come. For three years and more he had never failed to answer the signal, nor, i

birches it fluttered like a living thing, and Rosemary laughed aloud, as she had not done for many days. Th

of R

nd no others upon the hill. The vineyard across the valley was a tapestry, where, from earliest Spring until the grapes were gathered colour and light were caught and impris

he way. Or, sometimes, she was the Elaine of an unknown Launcelot, safely guarding his shield. She placed in the woods all the dear

him coming. A wayfaring squirrel, the first of his family to venture out, scampered madly up a tree and looked down upon the

C

ured, "don't b

a man's voice. "I

you," she laughed, a

he climb. "I wonder if there is anyone else for

own, will

t three full bre

t up, in clumsy masculine fashion, and restored it to the wooden box in

vidly alive to

alive unless you can live?"

r figure. Pensively, she gazed across the valley to the vineyard, where the black, knotted

se

passionately. "I wish

bad to-day?" she

en aspire to the alphabet? Why should I have to teach 'em to read and write when they're determined not to learn? Why do I have to grow grapes whe

her face. Rosemary's eyes were grey and lustreless, her hair ashen, and almost without colour. Her features were irregular and her skin dull and lifeless. She had not even the

oked at her for a moment, still absorbed in himself, then, as he noted the pathos in every line of

ir

brute. I have no right to

n't I bring

mes-not

ook them over," she suggested, pra

cat run? Yes, the cat can run.' Of course they could repeat it after me, but they couldn't connect it in any way with the printed page. I

se do yo

rtainty just what's going to happen to-morrow and next day and the day after that. Point out any day on th

Lo

ray for anchor

h the wind in my face and the thrill of danger in my heart! I want my blood to race through

dy and even eager for use. His thirty years sat lightly upon him, though his dark hair was already slightly grey at the temples, for his great brown eyes were boyish and always would be. In the half-light, his clean-cut profile was o

elf partially free of his mood. "W

crubbing, the endless looking for dust where dust would

s Fig

go on," he urge

It isn't n

t hate your Grandmother and your Aunt Matilda

s

en two men are fighting, you are compelled to adm

d admire Grandmother and Aunt Ma

t a little early f

as coming early this year. She feels it in h

of the seasons, if anyone

ng past

xty times to buy baskets, sell the crop, and hire help-go through the whole process from Spring to frost sixty times, and I've only done it ten times. Fifty more! And when the i

of the

rd?" she asked, though her hea

t vineyard since the first mistaken ancestor went into the grape business. We've fertilised it, pruned it, protected it, tied it up, sat up nights with it, fanned the insects away from it, hired people to pick the fruit and pac

that becomes more sacred every year. It's a family heirloom, like a title, or some very old and valuable piece of jewelry.

py

mary, after a silence. "Do you

ed, very still. Not a twig stirred, and the white trunks were ghostly in the twilight. Seemingly t

d. "No vineyard to look af

Aunt. Nor any dishes or brooms or scrubbing-brus

the big white house on the shore of the river. It was answ

the girl went on. "The first

Mother disli

t-on account of

I brought you two candles this time. You mustn't

g Goo

rsh! Thank

y welcome,

like to have you

en. I've been telling you

elf say it, somehow. You're s

of you, and, as for wisdom, anybody could teach a countr

of that. Come, it

e young man's mood had changed for the better and he was whistling c

ight,"

. I wish I could come

t's better that

gs occasionally. I always read to Mother and you m

ely," she sighed

, shivering. "It's pretty co

ly H

re always cold

lonely, too. Good-night again. Le

was set upon his broad shoulders; she admired his long, swinging stride. When his