XXXIV

Beatrice’s dreams were troubled after Ben’s departure into the forest.  She tossed and murmured, secretly aware that all was not well with her.  Yet in the moments that she half-wakened she ascribed the vague warning to nervousness only, falling immediately to sleep again.  Wakefulness came vividly to her only with the beginnings of twilight.

She opened her eyes; the cavern was deep with shadow.  She lay resting a short time, adjusting her eyes to the soft light.  In an instant all the dramatic events of the day were recalled to her:  the tin cup that had held the poison still lay against the wall, and the liquor still stained the sandy floor, or was it only a patch of deeper shadow?

She wondered why Ben did not come into the cave.  Was he embittered against her, after all; had he spoken as he did just from kindness, to save her remorse?  She listened for the familiar sounds of his fuel cutting, or his other work about the camp.  Wherever he was, he made no sound at all.

She sat up then, staring out through the cavern maw.  For an instant she experienced a deep sense of bewilderment at the pressing gloom, so mysterious and unbroken over the face of the land.  But soon she understood what was missing.  The fire was out.

The fact went home to her with an inexplicable shock.  She had become so accustomed to seeing the bright, cheerful blaze at the cavern mouth that its absence was like a little tragedy in itself.  Always it had been the last vista of her closing eyes as she dropped off to sleep—­the soft, warm glow of the coals—­and the sight always comforted her.  She could scarcely remember the morning that it wasn’t crackling cheerily when she wakened.  Ben had always been so considerate of her in this regard—­removing the chill of the cave with its radiating heat to make it comfortable for her to dress.  Not even coals were left now—­only ashes, gray as death.

She got up, then walked to the cavern maw.  For a moment she stood peering into the gloom, one hand resting against the portals of stone.  The twilight was already deep.  It was the supper hour and past; dark night was almost at hand.  There could be no further doubt of Ben’s absence.  He was not at the little creek getting water, nor did she hear the ring of his axe in the forest.  She wondered if he had gone out on one of his scouting expeditions and had not yet returned.  Of course this was the true explanation; she had no real cause to worry.

Likely enough he had little desire to return to the cavern now.  She could picture him following at his tireless pace one of the winding woods trails, lost in contemplation, his vivid eyes clouded with thought.

She looked up for the sight of the familiar stars that might guide him home.  They were all hidden to-night.  Not a gleam of light softened the stark gloom of the spruce.  As she watched the first drops of rain fell softly on the grass.