" It was almost a prayer.
He did not answer. They had come to a sharp sudden ascent. He took
her in his arms, scrambled across the tumbled rocks, and set her down
beside him on the great granite crest that rose like the edge of a
gray wave. The clean, wild wind smote her and shook her and pressed
back her hair and dress. She clung to him.
"Is it steep? Are we on the edge of a cliff, Hugh? I'm not afraid!"
"We're on the very top of the world," he told her breathlessly, his
voice filled with a sense of awe, "our world, Sylvie, I'm master here.
There's no greater mind than my own in all that dark green circle.
It's pines, pines, pines to the edge of the earth, Sylvie, an ocean
of purple and green--silver where the wind moves, treading down, like
Christ walking on the water. And the sky is all gray, like stone."
"Can you see the flat, the cabin?"
"The flat, yes--a round green spot, way down there behind us. The
cabin? No. That's in a hollow, you may be sure, well out of sight.
I'm an outlaw, dearest, remember. There's a curve of the river, like
a silver elbow. And Sylvie, up above us, an eagle is turning and
turning in a huge circle. He thinks he's king. But, Sylvie, it's our
world--yours and mine.
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