She smiled at her cleverness in inventing such good Bible language, and then the thought came to her mind that they were going into the promised land.  Once she turned her head to get a last glimpse of the church tower, and perhaps be able to pick out the roof of the post office among the other roofs, but the high mass of furniture shut out all the view.  Only the sky was visible, with the sun quite low, and so bright that it was almost blinding.  And she thought that this chance of the hour being late and the sun being nearly down was a lucky omen.  Straight ahead of them the road was sunlit, and the long slanting sunbeams appeared to hurry on before them as if to light up and glorify the land of promise.  “If,” she said to herself, “we get there before it has dipped and I catch the sunshine on the ricks, I shall know we are going to be happy.”

Then all at once she saw Dale’s straw hat and face rise above the fore boards of the wagon.  He had swung himself on the shaft to see how she was getting on.

“All right, old lady?”

“Yes—­lovely.”

The tone of his voice had made her heart bound.  It was the dear old voice, speaking to her just as he used to speak before their bad time began.

“We’ll be there sooner than you know where you are.  I think I’ll rest my bones a bit.”

Then he got into the wagon, and carefully clambering over impediments came toward her.  For a moment as he stood over her the sunlight was on his face, and she, looking up at him, thought that he was not only a fine but quite a beautiful man.  The light seemed to soften and yet ennoble his features, and his eyes, unblinking in the glare, were blue and clear as water.  When he sat down close to her little nest she pushed the basket away from her, and raising her hand laid it on his knees.  To her delight he put his hand on hers, and left it there.  He was in shadow now, showing a dark profile, and again she admired him—­her strong, big, handsome man, her man that she was pining for.

“Will,” she said tremulously, “don’t move, but just look behind you, and tell me all you see.”

“I don’t see anything, Mav, unless I heft meself up again.”

“No, sit as you are.  It just bears out what you said.  We’re never more to look back.  We’re only to look forward.  Will?”

He had taken his hand away, and turned the back of his head toward her.

“Will,” she repeated; but he did not answer.  “Will, my dear one, this is going to be a fresh start, isn’t it?  Like a new beginning for us.”

“Yes,” he said, very seriously, “that’s what I build on its being.  Take it so.  You and I are beginning life again in our new home.”

“Bless you for saying it.  The one thing I wished to hear.”

“Yes, we must help each other.  I’ll do—­I mean to do.  But, maybe, it’ll be more ‘v o’ fight than I’m reckoning, and there’s a many ways that you can make the fight easier—­beyond the one great thing you’ve done a’ready.”