From the Hand of Dolorita
She wandered out of the cabin and into the clearing before it, where she rested her elbows on the top round of the log fence and gave herself up to the charm of the scene about her. In the light of the full moon floating above, every object in the little glen stood out with vivid distinctness. On all sides towered the mountains, from whose mysterious depths came the long-drawn, melancholy cries of woodland things. The stars that sparkled so keenly in the crisp atmosphere seemed very near. New York and the worries of every-day life were strangely remote. Ruth Herrick drew a long breath and thanked the fortune that had borne her out of the turmoil of Park Row for a restful interval in this ideal spot so close to nature's heart.
The sagging rail under her elbows bent as another pair of arms was placed upon it. The mountain Adonis had found his opportunity at last. He knew nothing of the gentle art of approaching by degrees the subject near his heart. He came to the point with characteristic simplicity.
"You 'uns 'lowed in thar thet she wuz
131
