The Girl had ever been a lover of nature.  All her life the mystery and silences of the high mountains had appealed to her soul; but never until now had she realised the marvellous beauty and glory of the great plains.  And yet, though her eyes shone with the wonder of it all, there was an unmistakably sad and reminiscent note in the voice that presently murmured: 

“Another day.”

After a while, and as if under the spell of some unseen power, she slowly turned and faced the west where she gazed long and earnestly at the panorama of the snow-capped peaks, rising range after range, all tipped with dazzling light.

“Oh, Dick, look back!” she cried in distress.  “The foothills are growin’ fainter.”  She paused, but suddenly with a far-off look in her eyes she went on:  “Every dawn—­every dawn they’ll be farther away.  Some night when I’m goin’ to sleep I’ll turn an’ they won’t be there—­red an’ shinin’.”  Again she paused as if almost overwhelmed with emotion, saying at length with a deep sigh:  “Oh, that was indeed the promised land!”

Johnson was greatly moved.  It was some time before he found his voice.  At length he chided her softly: 

“We must always look ahead, Girl—­not backwards.  The promised land is always ahead.”

It was perhaps strange that the Girl failed to see the new light—­the light that reflected his desire for a cleaner life and an honoured place in another community with her ever at his side—­the hope and faith in his eyes as he spoke; but still in that sad, reminiscent mood, with her eyes fixed on the dim distances, she failed to see it, though she replied in a voice of resignation: 

“Always ahead—­yes, it must be.”  And then again with tears in her eyes:  “But, Dick, all the people there in Cloudy, how far off they seem now—­like shadows movin’ in a dream—­like shadows I’ve dreamt of.  Only a few days ago I clasped their hands—­I seen their faces—­their dear faces—­I—­” She broke off; then while the tears streamed down her cheeks:  “An’ now they’re fadin’—­in this little while I’ve lost ’em—­lost ’em.”

“But through you all my old life has faded away . . .  I have lost that . . .”  And so saying he stretched out his arms towards her; but very gently she waved him back with a murmured: 

“Not yet!”

For a little while longer her gaze remained on the mountains in the west.  The mist was still over her eyes when she turned again and saw that the sun was clearing the horizon in opulent splendour.

“See,” she cried with a quick transition of mood, “the sun has risen in the East—­far away—­fair an’ clear!”

Again Johnson held out his arms to her.

“A new day—­a new life—­trust me, Girl.”

In silence she slipped one hand into his; then she bowed her head and repeated solemnly: 

“Yes—­a new life.”

Suddenly she drew a little away from him and faced the west again.  Clinging tightly now to him with one hand, and the other raised high above her head, she cried in a voice that was fraught with such passionate longing that the man felt himself stirred to the very depths of his emotions: