One, a broad, lacy sheet, thin as smoke, slid over the western notch and struck a ledge in its downward fall, to bound into broader leap, to burst far below into white and gold and rosy mist.
Venters prepared for the day, knowing himself a different man.
"It's a glorious morning," said Bess, in greeting.
"Yes.

After the storm the west wind," he replied.
"Last night was I--very much of a baby ?" she asked, watching him.
"Pretty much." "Oh, I couldn't help it!" "I'm glad you were afraid." "Why ?" she asked, in slow surprise.
"I'll tell you some day," he answered, soberly.

Then around the camp-fire and through the morning meal he was silent; afterward he strolled thoughtfully off alone along the terrace.

He climbed a great yellow rock raising its crest among the spruces, and there he sat down to face the valley and the west.
"I love her!" Aloud he spoke--unburdened his heart--confessed his secret.

For an instant the golden valley swam before his eyes, and the walls waved, and all about him whirled with tumult within.
"I love her!...