"
A swift change had fallen into the depth of her golden voice, a subtle
wistfulness that sang with weird pathos, and the eyes raised toward the
western rim of the forest were suddenly far and sombre.
"Forgive!" said her sister gently; "I had forgot. I know the dream, but
is it not better that we rest and gain new strength for another season?
Here might well be home, here on this pretty river. We have come a
mighty length already. What could be fairer, cherie,--even though we
leave another to win to the untracked West."
A small spasm drew across the features of Maren, a twitching of the
full lips.
"Faint heart of you," she said sadly. "Oh, Marie, 'tis your voice has
ever held us back. They would prod faster but for you. Is there no
glory within you, no daring, no dreams of conquest? Bien! But I could
go alone. This dallying stiffles the breath in me!"
She put up a hand and tore open the garment at her throat, taking a
deep breath of the sunlit air.
"But it is poverty that must be reckoned with. By spring again we may
be better equipped than ever."
So rode up the hope that was ever in her.
"Yes," sighed Marie, "as the good God wills.
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