an hour I sat, and mother came home and went in and found him gone.
He never spoke again. He lay there dead."

She paused and drew in a long, sighing breath. "I have never said those
words aloud until now, to you, but hundreds of times when I look up on
the mountain I have said them in my heart. I reckon he meant I was to
bide here until my time was come, and do all like I ought to do it. I
did think I could go to school and learn and come back and teach like he
used to, and so keep myself separate like he did, but the Lord called me
back and laid a hard thing on me, and I must do it. But in my heart I
can keep separate like father did."

She rose and stood calmly, her eyes fixed on the mountain. David stood
near and longed to touch her passive hand--to lift it to his lips--but
forebore to startle her soul by so unusual an act. For all she had given
him a confidence she had never bestowed on another, he felt himself held
aloof, her spirit withdrawn from him and lifted to the mountain top.

CHAPTER XII

IN WHICH CASSANDRA HEARS THE VOICES, AND DAVID LEASES A FARM

That evening David sat long on his rock holding his flute and watching
the thin golden crescent of the new moon floating through a pale amber
sky, and one star near its tip slowly sliding down with it toward the
deepening horizon.

The glowing sky bending to the purple hilltops--the crescent moon and
the lone shining star--the evening breeze singing in the pines above
him--the delicate arbutus blossoms hiding near his feet--the call of a
bird to its mate, and the faint answering call from some distant
shade--the call in his own heart that as yet returned to him unanswered,
but with its quiet surety of ultimate response--the joy of these moments
perfect in beauty and a more abundant assurance of gladness near at
hand--filled him and lifted his soul to follow the star.

Guided by the unseen hand that held the earth, the crescent moon and the
star to their orbits, would he find the great happiness that should be
not his alone, but also for the eyes uplifted to the mountain top and
the heart waiting in the shadows for the one to be sent? Ah, surely,
surely, for this had he come. He stooped to the arbutus blossoms to
inhale their fragrance. He rose and, lifting his flute to his lips,
played to solace his own waiting, inventing new caprices and tossing
forth the notes daringly--delicately--rapturously--now penetrating and
strong, now faintly following