He saw her
properly provided for what seemed to her an adventure--with short
skirts, and stockings over her shoes--and they set out together, in
the brilliant light of a sun rapidly declining toward the western
horizon, though it had but just passed the low noon. The moment she
stepped from the threshold, Joan was invaded by an almost giddy
sense of freedom. The keen air and the impeding snow sent the warm
blood to her cheeks, and her heart beat as if new-born into a
better world. She was annoyed with herself, but in vain she called
herself heartless; in vain she accused herself of indifference to
the loss of her father, said to herself she was a worthless girl:
there was the sun in the sky--not warm, but dazzling-bright and
shining straight into her very being! while the air, instinct with
life, was filling her lungs like water drunk by a thirsty soul, and
making her heart beat like the heart of Eve when first she woke
alive, and felt what her Maker had willed! Life indeed was good! it
was a blessed thing for the eyes to behold the sun!--Let death do
what it can, there is just one thing it cannot destroy, and that is
life. Never in itself, only in the unfaith of man, does life
recognize any sway of death.--A fresh burst of healthy vigour
seemed born to answer each fresh effort. Over the torrent they
walked on a bridge of snow, and listening could hear, far down,
below the thick white blanket, the noise of its hidden rushing.
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