THE SUPERB MOMENT
worst thing at this minute. The thought of Blanche's eyes, meek as they had last looked up at him, those eyes drowned in tears made him shiver. Over-confident, over-sensitive she was. One could fancy the storm of her weeping, and ugh! how it could drench a man's spirits!
He dived into the barn as into a cavern. It was dark, and echoes followed his heels. The door of the smaller stable stood ajar. There was nothing unusual here that he could see, only the odor of harness and fodder, the empty space of floor, and not a sound except that of a horse eating. Looking into the stall he saw the mustang still saddled, with his bridle trailing neglected underfoot. A few steps farther, and he found the rider.
She was sitting on the lowest stair of the ascent to the loft, and except for her gloves and the whip she held in one hand, she might have merely strolled over from the house and stopped here a moment to dream. Hard to believe that red and white gown looking so woman-like and of the fireside, had fluttered bold in the face of the mountains. The knot of her hair had slipped, and, still twisted with its pins, lay on her neck. A longish lock escaped and hung at her cheek. Her chin rested on her hand. Her eyes were fixed on one certain spot on the floor. Her forehead was smooth, her lips relaxed, and
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