Before him the black,
threatening cloud-shadows hung over the dark water of the lake; far
below resounded the ceaseless clatter of hoofs along the fashionable
avenue. He neither saw nor heard. Over and over again he reviewed the
past, bringing back to memory each word and glance which had ever,
passed between them. He was again with the "Heart of the World"
strollers, he was struggling with Burke in the depths of the mine, he
was passing through that day and night of misfortune on the ridge
overlooking Echo Canyon, he was riding for life--her life--across the
trackless desert. It all came before him in unnatural vividness,
seemingly as though each separate scene had been painted across that
black sky without. Then he perceived the great playhouse he had just
left, the glorious glitter of lights, the reverberation of applause,
the cheering mob of men and women, and her--her bowing and smiling at
them, her dark eyes dancing with happiness and ignoring him utterly,
her whole body trembling to the intoxication of success.
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