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Updated: May 6, 2025
The Indian's next move was to pick up a piece of weathered rock and throw it against the wall. It broke. He snatched up parts, and showed the broken edges to Gale. They contained yellow steaks, dull glints, faint tracings of green. It was gold. Gale found his legs shaking under him; and he sat down, trying to take all the bits of stone into his lap.
A weapon old as time as light, as destructible, as possessed of subtle powers as woman herself. Strand upon strand, he drew it out, following the glints of light with dazed, questioning eyes. A woman's hair! A woman's hair, woven to blind men's eyes! Max leaned forward, quivering to a new impulse, and, raising the heavy coils, twisted them swiftly about his head.
Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or eddies in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden bridge, striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a dusky tunnel through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of sunlight, that struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of the boards, and set dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a stuffy passage with odors a century old who does not know the pungent smell of an old bridge? a structure that groaned in all its big timbers when a wagon invaded it.
"'My daddy, Philip, I whispered; I could hardly speak at all, for my throat was aching and I was crying." She was crying, now, but did not realize it. "'A sweet-faced woman, with wavy brown hair in which were golden glints like yours, he went on, monotonously; but this time I could not answer at all."
There was something about Primrose Court—the rows of trees welded into a yellow arch high over their heads, the sky showing through in diamond-shaped glints of blue, the tiny trim houses and their tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing everywhere, their throats bubbling color as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the Beacon Street house, the children running and shouting, the very smell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up—something in the look of all this made Maida’s spirits leap.
I felt that, if I walked here alone, I might see something more mysterious than alder-trees, than giant beeches, and ancient oaks; than glints of flower-strewn waters shining out of shadow in green darkness deep and cool; than rustic bridges twined with creepers, or kiosks glimmering at the end of long, straight alleys.
Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or eddies in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden bridge, striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a dusky tunnel through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of sunlight, that struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of the boards, and set dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a stuffy passage with odors a century old who does not know the pungent smell of an old bridge? a structure that groaned in all its big timbers when a wagon invaded it.
A gude stock baith: but gin ye'd cross the breed ye maun unite the spirits, and no the manners, o' the men. Why maun ilk a one the noo steal his neebor's barnacles, before he glints out o' windows?
The morning light disclosed new glints of color in her wondrous hair, as it lay broad and silken on the tiger-skin. This she had secured at the throat and waist with bits of metal taken from the wreckage of the filing-cabinet.
I tried in vain to drive away the remembrance of her greenish eyes, which in the darkness seemed still to gleam upon me, and of those glints which, like electric sparks, shone in her long hair whenever she stroked it with her hand. Finally, however, I retired for the night; but scarcely was my head upon the pillow when I felt some moving body descend upon my feet. The cat had appeared again.
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