The things we do!

If it is at
night that the shadows fall upon the soul, then most of all does
woman, weak and timorous animal, long for some safe and accustomed
refuge place, for a home; and most of all does she shrink from
unfamiliar surroundings. Yet she slept, wearied to exhaustion.
The night was cool, the air fresh from the mountains coming in
through the opened window, and bringing with it calm.
Dawn came. A chirping cedar bird, busy in the near-by shrubbery,
wakened her with a care-free note. She started up and gazed out
with that sudden wonder and terror which at times seize upon us
when we awake in strange environment. Youth and vitality resumed
sway. She was alive, then. The night had passed, then. She was
as she had been, herself, her own, still. The surge of young blood
came back in her veins. The morning was there, the hills were
there, the world was there. Hope began once more with the throb of
her perfect pulse. She stretched a round white arm and looked down
it to her hand.


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