in the air.

Venters walked with Bess, once more in a dream, and watched the lights
change on the walls, and faced the wind from out of the west.

Always it brought softly to him strange, sweet tidings of far-off
things. It blew from a place that was old and whispered of youth. It
blew down the grooves of time. It brought a story of the passing hours.
It breathed low of fighting men and praying women. It sang clearly the
song of love. That ever was the burden of its tidings--youth in the
shady woods, waders through the wet meadows, boy and girl at the
hedgerow stile, bathers in the booming surf, sweet, idle hours on
grassy, windy hills, long strolls down moonlit lanes--everywhere in
far-off lands, fingers locked and bursting hearts and longing lips--from
all the world tidings of unquenchable love.

Often, in these hours of dreams he watched the girl, and asked himself
of what was she dreaming? For the changing light of the valley reflected
its gleam and its color and its meaning in the changing light of her
eyes. He saw in them infinitely more than he saw in his dreams. He saw
thought and soul and nature--strong vision of life. All tidings the west
wind blew from distance and age he found deep in those dark-blue depths,
and found them mysteries solved. Under their wistful shadow he softened,
and in the softening felt himself grow a sadder, a wiser, and a better
man.

While the west wind blew its tidings, filling his heart full, teaching
him a man's part, the days passed, the purple clouds changed to white,
and the storms were over for that summer.

"I must go now," he said.

"When?" she asked.

"At once--to-night."

"I'm glad the time has come. It dragged at me. Go--for you'll come back
the sooner."

Late in the afternoon, as the ruddy sun split its last flame in the
ragged notch of the western wall, Bess walked with Venters along the
eastern terrace, up the long, weathered slope, under the great stone
bridge. They entered the narrow gorge to climb around the fence long
before built there by Venters. Farther than this she had never been.
Twilight had already fallen in the gorge. It brightened to waning shadow
in the wider ascent. He showed her Balancing Rock, of which he had
often told her, and explained its sinister leaning over the outlet.
Shuddering, she looked down the long, pale incline with its closed-in,
toppling walls.

"What an awful trail! Did you carry me up here?"

"I did, surely," replied he