THE CANYON FLOWERS
The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph.But none knew better than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were thoughts whose pain made her forget all other.
"Was it God let me fall?" she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot knew the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly into her eyes:
"Yes, Gwen dear."
"Why did He let me fall?" and her voice was very deliberate.
"I don't know, Gwen dear," said The Pilot steadily."He knows.""And does He know I shall never ride again? Does He know how long the days are, and the nights when I can't sleep? Does He know?""Yes, Gwen dear," said The Pilot, and the tears were standing in his eyes, though his voice was still steady enough.
"Are you sure He knows?" The voice was painfully intense.
"Listen to me, Gwen," began The Pilot, in great distress, but she cut him short.
"Are you quite sure He knows? Answer me!" she cried, with her old imperiousness.
"Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you."
"Then what do you think of Him, just because He's big and strong, treating a little girl that way?" Then she added, viciously: "Ihate Him! I don't care! I hate Him!"
But The Pilot did not wince.I wondered how he would solve that problem that was puzzling, not only Gwen, but her father and The Duke, and all of us--the WHY of human pain.
"Gwen," said The Pilot, as if changing the subject, "did it hurt to put on the plaster jacket?""You just bet!" said Gwen, lapsing in her English, as The Duke was not present; "it was worse than anything--awful! They had to straighten me out, you know," and she shuddered at the memory of that pain.
"What a pity your father or The Duke was not here!" said The Pilot, earnestly.
"Why, they were both here!"
"What a cruel shame!" burst out The Pilot."Don't they care for you any more?""Of course they do," said Gwen, indignantly.
"Why didn't they stop the doctors from hurting you so cruelly?""Why, they let the doctors.It is going to help me to sit up and perhaps to walk about a little," answered Gwen, with blue-gray eyes open wide.
"Oh," said The Pilot, "it was very mean to stand by and see you hurt like that.""Why, you silly," replied Owen, impatiently, "they want my back to get straight and strong.""Oh, then they didn't do it just for fun or for nothing?" said The Pilot, innocently.
Gwen gazed at him in amazed and speechless wrath, and he went on:
"I mean they love you though they let you be hurt; or rather they let the doctors hurt you BECAUSE they loved you and wanted to make you better."Gwen kept her eyes fixed with curious earnestness upon his face till the light began to dawn.
"Do you mean," she began slowly, "that though God let me fall, He loves me?"The Pilot nodded; he could not trust his voice.
"I wonder if that can be true," she said, as if to herself; and soon we said good-by and came away--The Pilot, limp and voiceless, but I triumphant, for I began to see a little light for Gwen.
But the fight was by no means over; indeed, it was hardly well begun.For when the autumn came, with its misty, purple days, most glorious of all days in the cattle country, the old restlessness came back and the fierce refusal of her lot.Then came the day of the round-up.Why should she have to stay while all went after the cattle? The Duke would have remained, but she impatiently sent him away.She was weary and heart-sick, and, worst of all, she began to feel that most terrible of burdens, the burden of her life to others.I was much relieved when The Pilot came in fresh and bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his hand.
"I thought they were all gone," he cried."Where do you think Ifound them? Right down by the big elm root," and, though he saw by the settled gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went bravely on picturing the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn dress.But the spell would not work.Her heart was out on the sloping hills, where the cattle were bunching and crowding with tossing heads and rattling horns, and it was in a voice very bitter and impatient that she cried:
"Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the cattle and the men and--and--and all the things outside." The Pilot was cowboy enough to know the longing that tugged at her heart for one wild race after the calves or steers, but he could only say:
"Wait, Gwen.Try to be patient."
"I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, and it's no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!""Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us," replied The Pilot, earnestly.
"No, He does not care," she answered, with angry emphasis, and The Pilot made no reply.
"Perhaps," she went on, hesitatingly, "He's angry because I said Ididn't care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked.But don't you think I'm punished nearly enough now? You made me very angry, and I didn't really mean it."Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks of pain, and very terrible.The Pilot looked down a moment into the blue-gray eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly dropping on his knees beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady voice:
"Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that.Don't you remember how Jesus was with the poor sick people? That's what He's like.""Could Jesus make me well?"
"Yes, Gwen."
"Then why doesn't He?" she asked; and there was no impatience now, but only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: "Iasked Him to, over and over, and said I would wait two months, and now it's more than three.Are you quite sure He hears now?" She raised herself on her elbow and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's face.I was glad it was not into mine.As she uttered the words, "Are you quite sure?" one felt that things were in the balance.Icould not help looking at The Pilot with intense anxiety.What would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window upon the hills for a few moments.How long the silence seemed! Then, turning, looked into the eyes that searched his so steadily and answered simply:
