She did not see me perhaps clearly. Certainly she did not
recognize me. An instant's scrutiny and her face turned again to the
open exposure of hill and field, stream and cloud-flecked sky.
"Alca had observed my gestures of delight, and, perhaps reading my
thoughts by that intuition of mind so wonderful in the Martians, pushed
me toward her gently and moved away from us toward the brink of the
river.
"I stood for a moment hesitating, overwhelmed with the marvel of this
new thing. I stole on, and finally pushing aside the high grown grass,
was at her side--at the side of the very form and feature of the woman
who had taught me on earth the worth of living and the meaning and the
glory of rectitude.
"She was breathing fast, her bosom rising and falling with quick
respirations, and her cheeks flushed with color, made a delicious foil
to the pearly tone of her face, concealed on her neck and forehead by
the escaping tresses of her dark hair.
"I drew back, trembling with anticipation, my heart beating, and my
clasped hands folded on my breast in an agony of restraint. She was
talking, talking to herself in the low musical voice of the Martians.
The wind had ceased, a dark shadow from a crossing cloud moved toward us
from the river over the blue sprinkled field, a haze stole upward from
the farther view, and, bending at the margin of the water the figure of
Alca bathed in light, seemed to watch us like some calm incarnate
response to my own hopes and prayers.
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