It was but as two happy,
thoughtless children might have done. They would look at one another
with frank, clear eyes and smile.
Once, when their pathway led through a littered farm-yard, he had taken
her up in his arms and carried her and she had felt a glad pride in him
that he had borne her lightly as if she had been a child, looking up at
her and laughing.
An old bent man paused from his work and watched them. "Lean more over
him, missie," he advised her. "That's the way. Many a mile I've carried
my lass like that, in flood time; and never felt her weight."
Often on returning home, not knowing why, she would look into the glass.
It seemed to her that the girlhood she had somehow missed was awakening
in her, taking possession of her, changing her. The lips she had always
seen pressed close and firm were growing curved, leaving a little
parting, as though they were not quite so satisfied with one another. The
level brows were becoming slightly raised. It gave her a questioning
look that was new to her. The eyes beneath were less confident.
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