"Nick? But this--this was an eagle."
She was drawing away from him, and he could not hold her, could not
even hope to follow her whither she went. A great sob broke from him,
and in a moment, like the rush of an overwhelming flood from behind
gates long closed, the anguish of the man burst its bonds.
"Muriel!" he cried passionately. "Muriel! Stay with me, look at
me, love me! There is nothing in the mountains to draw you. It is
here--here beside you, touching you, holding you. O God," he prayed
brokenly, "she doesn't understand me. Let her understand,--open her
eyes,--make her see!"
His agony reached her, touched her, for a moment held her. She turned
her eyes back to his tortured face.
"But, Nick," she said softly, "I can see."
He bent lower. "Yes?" he said, in a choked voice. "Yes?"
She regarded him with a faint wonder. Her eyes were growing heavy, as
the eyes of a tired child. She raised one hand and pointed vaguely.
"Over there," she said wearily. "Can't you see them? Then perhaps it
was a dream, or even--perhaps--a vision. Don't you remember how
it went? 'And behold--the mountain--was full--of horses--and
chariots--of--fire!' God sent them, you know."
The tired voice ceased. Her head sank lower upon Nick's breast. She
gave a little quivering sigh, and seemed to sleep.
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