When Life Holds No Shadows

Her fair young face was radiant; a wonderful happiness shone in the violet depths of her eyes. Her sweet lips were parted, displaying her even, white teeth, and her whole expression was much that of a child who, for the first time, opens its eyes to the real joy of living. Every now and again she drew a deep, long sigh of content and enjoyment.

For a while they rode in silence, their bodies swaying easily to the rhythmic gait of the horses. Their direction lay toward the sun, that direction which ever makes for hope. Ahead of them, and behind them, lay the forest of tall, garbless trunks, their foliage-crowned, disheveled heads nodding in the light breezes from the hilltops, which left the lower atmosphere undisturbed. The scented air, pungent with pleasant odors, swept them by as their horses loped easily along. It was a moment of perfect peace, a moment when life could hold no shadows.

But such feelings are only for the silent moments of perfect companionship. The spoken word, which indexes thought, robs them of half their charm and beauty. The girl felt something of this as the calm voice of her companion broke the wonderful spell.

"That feller's shaping well," he said, his thoughts for the moment evidently upon the practical side of her comfort.

The girl nodded. That look of rapturous joy had left her, and she too became practical.

"I think so--when Mrs. Ransford leaves him alone," she said, with a little laugh. "She declares it is always necessary to harass a 'hired' man from daylight to dark. If I were he I'd get out into the pastures, or hay sloughs, or forest, or somewhere, and stay there till she'd gone to bed. Really, Buck, she's a terrible woman."