Max Brand (30 page)

Out of the Room of Silence he fled as if a curse lived in it, and
without following any conscious direction, he went to the room of Ruth.

The fragrance had left the wild flowers, and the great golden blossoms
at the window hung thin and limp, the bell lips hanging close together,
the color faded to a dim yellow. The green things must be taken away
before they molded. He raised his hand to tear down the transplanted
vine, but his fingers fell away from it. To remove it was to destroy the
last trace of her. She had seen these flowers; on account of them she
had smiled at him with tears of happiness in her eyes. The skin of the
mountain lion on the floor was still rumpled where her foot had fallen,
and he could see the indistinct outline where the heel of her shoe had
pressed.

He avoided that place when he stepped back, and turning, he saw her bed.
The dappled deerskin lay crumpled back where her hand had tossed it as
she rose that morning, and in the blankets was the distinct outline of
her body. He knew where her body had pressed, and there was the hollow
made by her head in the pillow.

Something snapped in the heart of David. The sustaining pride which had
kept his head high all day slipped from him like the strength of the
runner when he crosses the mark. David fell upon his knees and buried
his face where her head had lain, and his arms curved as though around
her body. Connor had been right. He had made himself his god, and this
was the punishment. The mildness of a new humility came to him in the
agony of his grief. He found that he could pray, not the proud prayers
of the old days when David talked as an equal to the voice, but that
most ancient prayer of sinners:

"O Lord, I believe. Help Thou mine unbelief!"

And the moment the whisper had passed his lips there was a blessed
relief from pain. There was a sound at the window, and turning to it, he
saw the head and the arched neck of Glani against the red of the
sunset—Glani looking at him with pricked ears. He went to the stallion,
incredulous, with steps as short as a child which is afraid, and at his
coming Glani whinnied softly. At that the last of David's pride fell
from him. He cast his arms around the neck of the stallion and wept with
deep sobs that tore his throat, and under the grip of his arms he felt
the stallion trembling. He was calmer, at length, and he climbed through
the window and stood beside Glani under the brilliant sunset sky.

"And the others, O Glani," he said. "Have they returned likewise? Timeh
shall live. I, who have judged others so often, have been myself judged
and found wanting. Timeh shall live. What am I that I should speak of
the life or the death of so much as the last bird in the trees? But have
they all returned, all my horses?"

He whistled that call which every gray knew as a rallying sound, a call
that would bring them at a dead gallop with answering neighs. But when
the thin sound of the whistle died out there was no reply. Only Glani
had moved away and was looking back to David as if he bid the master
follow.

"Is it so, Glani?" said the master. "They have not come back, but you
have returned to lead me to them? The woman, the man, the servants, and
the horses. But we shall leave the valley, walking together. Let the
horses go, and the man and the woman and the servants; but we shall go
forth together and find the world beyond the mountains."

And with his hand tangled in the mane of the stallion, he walked down
the road, away from the hill, the house, the lake. He would not look
back, for the house on the hill seemed to him a tomb, the monument of
the four dead men who had made this little kingdom.

By the time he reached the gate the Garden of Eden was awash with the
shadows of the evening, but the higher mountain-tops before him were
still rosy with the sunset. He paused at the gate and looked out on
them, and when he turned to Glani again, he saw a figure crouched
against the base of the rock wall. It was Ruth, weeping, her head fallen
into her hands with weariness. Above her stood Glani, his head turned to
the master in almost human inquiry. The deep cry of David wakened her.
The gentle hands of David raised her to her feet.

"You have not come to drive me away again?"

"To drive you from the Garden? Look back. It is black. It is full of
death, and the world and our life is before us. I have been a king in
the Garden. It is better to be a man among men. All the Garden was mine.
Now my hands are empty. I bring you nothing, Ruth. Is it enough? Ah, my
dear, you are weeping!"

"With happiness. My heart is breaking with happiness, David."

He tipped up her face and held it between his hands. Whatever he saw in
the darkness that was gathering it was enough to make him sigh. Then he
raised her to the back of Glani, and the stallion, which had never borne
a weight except that of David, stood like a stone. So David went up the
valley holding the hand of Ruth and looking up to her with laughter in
his eyes, and she, with one hand pressed against her breast, laughed
back to him, and the great stallion went with his head turned to watch
them.

"How wonderful are the ways of God!" said David. "Through a thief he has
taught me wisdom; through a horse he has taught me faith; and you, oh,
my love, are the key with which he has unlocked my heart!"

And they began to climb the mountain.