meadow lands and
plowed fields checkering the groves. The house, as he had guessed the
evening before, stood into the lake on a slender peninsula. And due west
a narrow slit of light told of the gate into the Garden. It gave him a
curiously confused emotion, as of a prisoner and spy in one.
He had walked back almost to the edge of the clearing when David, from
the other side went up to the crest of the hill. Connor was already
among the trees and he watched unobserved. The master of the Garden, at
the top of the hill, paused and turned toward Connor. The gambler
flushed; he was about to step out and hail his host when a second
thought assured him that he could not have been noticed behind that
screen of shrubbery and trunks; moreover the glance of David Eden passed
high above him. It might have been the cry of a hawk that made him turn
so sharply; but through several minutes he remained without moving
either hand or head, and as though he were waiting. Even in the distance
Connor marked the smile of happy expectation. If it had been another
place and another man Connor would have thought it a lover waiting for
his mistress.
But, above all, he was glad of the opportunity to see David and remain
unseen. He realized that the evening before it had been difficult to
look directly into David's face. He had carried away little more than
impressions; of strength, dignity, a surface calm and strong passions
under it; but now he was able to see the face. It was full of
contradiction; a profile irregular and deeply cut, but the full face had
a touch of nobility that made it almost handsome.
As he watched, Connor thought he detected a growing excitement in
David—his head was raised, his smile had deepened. Perhaps he came here
to rejoice in his possessions; but a moment later Connor realized that
this could not be the case, for the gaze of the other must be fixed as
high as the mountain peaks.
At that instant came the revelation; there was a stiffening of the whole
body of David; his breast filled and he swayed forward and raised almost
on tiptoe. Connor, by sympathy, grew tense—and then the miracle
happened. Over the face of David fell a sudden radiance. His hair, dull
black the moment before, now glistened with light, and the swarthy skin
became a shining bronze; his lips parted as though he drank in strength
and happiness out of that miraculous light.
The hard-headed Connor was staggered. Back on his mind rushed a score of
details, the background of this picture. He remembered the almost
superhuman strength of Joseph; he saw again the old servants withering
with many years, but still bright-eyed, straight and agile. Perhaps
they, too, knew how to stand here and drink in a mysterious light which
filled their outworn bodies with youth of the spirit, at least. And
David? Was not this the reason that he scorned the world? Here was his
treasure past reckoning, this fountain of youth. Here was the
explanation, too, of that intolerable brightness of his eye.
The gambler bowed his head.
When he looked up again his soul had traveled higher and lower in one
instant than it had ever moved before; he was staring like a child.
Above all, he wanted to see the face of David again, to examine that
mysterious change, but the master was already walking down the hill and
had almost reached the circle of the trees on the opposite side of the
slope. But now Connor noted a difference everywhere surrounding him. The
air was warmer; the wind seemed to have changed its fiber; and then he
saw that the treetops opposite him were shaking and glistening in a
glory of light. Connor went limp and leaned against a tree, laughing
weakly, silently.
"Hell," he said at length, recovering himself. "It was only the sunrise!
And me—I thought—"
He began to laugh again, aloud, and the sound was caught up by the
hillside and thrown back at him in a sharp echo. Connor went
thoughtfully back to the house. In the patio he found the table near the
fountain laid
plowed fields checkering the groves. The house, as he had guessed the
evening before, stood into the lake on a slender peninsula. And due west
a narrow slit of light told of the gate into the Garden. It gave him a
curiously confused emotion, as of a prisoner and spy in one.
He had walked back almost to the edge of the clearing when David, from
the other side went up to the crest of the hill. Connor was already
among the trees and he watched unobserved. The master of the Garden, at
the top of the hill, paused and turned toward Connor. The gambler
flushed; he was about to step out and hail his host when a second
thought assured him that he could not have been noticed behind that
screen of shrubbery and trunks; moreover the glance of David Eden passed
high above him. It might have been the cry of a hawk that made him turn
so sharply; but through several minutes he remained without moving
either hand or head, and as though he were waiting. Even in the distance
Connor marked the smile of happy expectation. If it had been another
place and another man Connor would have thought it a lover waiting for
his mistress.
But, above all, he was glad of the opportunity to see David and remain
unseen. He realized that the evening before it had been difficult to
look directly into David's face. He had carried away little more than
impressions; of strength, dignity, a surface calm and strong passions
under it; but now he was able to see the face. It was full of
contradiction; a profile irregular and deeply cut, but the full face had
a touch of nobility that made it almost handsome.
As he watched, Connor thought he detected a growing excitement in
David—his head was raised, his smile had deepened. Perhaps he came here
to rejoice in his possessions; but a moment later Connor realized that
this could not be the case, for the gaze of the other must be fixed as
high as the mountain peaks.
At that instant came the revelation; there was a stiffening of the whole
body of David; his breast filled and he swayed forward and raised almost
on tiptoe. Connor, by sympathy, grew tense—and then the miracle
happened. Over the face of David fell a sudden radiance. His hair, dull
black the moment before, now glistened with light, and the swarthy skin
became a shining bronze; his lips parted as though he drank in strength
and happiness out of that miraculous light.
The hard-headed Connor was staggered. Back on his mind rushed a score of
details, the background of this picture. He remembered the almost
superhuman strength of Joseph; he saw again the old servants withering
with many years, but still bright-eyed, straight and agile. Perhaps
they, too, knew how to stand here and drink in a mysterious light which
filled their outworn bodies with youth of the spirit, at least. And
David? Was not this the reason that he scorned the world? Here was his
treasure past reckoning, this fountain of youth. Here was the
explanation, too, of that intolerable brightness of his eye.
The gambler bowed his head.
When he looked up again his soul had traveled higher and lower in one
instant than it had ever moved before; he was staring like a child.
Above all, he wanted to see the face of David again, to examine that
mysterious change, but the master was already walking down the hill and
had almost reached the circle of the trees on the opposite side of the
slope. But now Connor noted a difference everywhere surrounding him. The
air was warmer; the wind seemed to have changed its fiber; and then he
saw that the treetops opposite him were shaking and glistening in a
glory of light. Connor went limp and leaned against a tree, laughing
weakly, silently.
"Hell," he said at length, recovering himself. "It was only the sunrise!
And me—I thought—"
He began to laugh again, aloud, and the sound was caught up by the
hillside and thrown back at him in a sharp echo. Connor went
thoughtfully back to the house. In the patio he found the table near the
fountain laid
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