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The evening closed in stormy. They had supper, a small bright feast,with talk and laughter. Randall proved lively, good company. Drew wasmuch the quieter of the two. Supper over, they returned to the bigparlor and the generous fire. The boy Jim had brought in a great armfulof wood. It was a night to heap logs, as the rain drummed against thepane.[Pg 70] Randall was talkative. He flowed like a mountain stream, trilledlike a care-free bird.
That night Curtin, also, increased his sense of life, life that includedthose that were said to be dead. There had been no repetition of thehour when, lying in the room where now slept Robert and Frances Dane, hehad touched with an inward sense that brother who had fallen from theaeroplane, who had been jostled out of the body, but who lived! Surelythe life was not quite that of the old life, though surely built fromthat; certainly Curtin might not fully understand until he, too, slippedthe body. Yet there was life and living. He had not experienced thathour again, and he had tried doubting if he had ever experienced it. Butdoubt did not prove to be a going proposition.[Pg 160] Memory smiled it down.Yet the experience had not been repeated, or rather what had come haddiffused itself in the wide awakening of these Sweet Rocket weeks. Nordid its distinctive klang return to-night. There was not the samewhite keenness. That which beamed about him now was more like that whichMarget had spoken of on the summerhouse steps. Not one now, but many ofhis dead; not the human only, but the flower and the tree, the bird andthe beast, the scene, the water, land and sky. \"The old and sweet ishere, but chosen, redeemed, gathered up, understood, become immortal!And we have had it all the time. It has been here all the time! Just aswe had electricity and did not know it.\"
Across the hall Robert Dane lay thinking. In his youth he had thepassion of a Shelley for a regenerate world. Older, the vision dulled,and yet he worked on doggedly, heroically, one with thousands of othersbreaking and making a road for the feet of Coming Man. He worked[Pg 165]heroically, never sparing himself, a devoted life. Sometimes the gleamshone fair before him, oftener mists made it faint, sometimes he lostit. Then it shone again. He worked on. To-night, lying here at SweetRocket, his youth came back, but higher, fuller, wiser! He saw whatmight be done, what was doing. He saw the interrelated roads and thetravelers upon them, the hosts of travelers. A vision came to him in thenight. His body lay very still, but he himself saw clearly a greatthing.
She spoke to Anna. \"You remember my tellin' you about that feeling Ihad I 'ain't had it full again. But I've caught glimpses of it, maybein the day, maybe in the night. I know the minute when anything like itcomes my way. When you've had a feeling like that all your life's set tofeeling it again.\" 153554b96e
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