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"Neither neither did I feel that that I could live without you without this wonderful peace of beautiful Roaring River, and and the love that it has brought to me!" A few moments later they heard Big Stefan's familiar shout from the tote-road. The toboggan could no longer be used and he had driven over a shaggy old horse that had pulled a reliable buckboard.
And then, as Anton resumed his walk without a word, Stefan's voice was heard calling Ellerey to breakfast. All the stones which had once served for seats and a table had been piled up against the door, and the food was spread in a little circle in the centre of the floor. It was Stefan's arrangement.
In spite of Stefan's initial success, Mary wondered if his art would at first yield the necessary monthly income, and cast about for some means by which she could increase his earnings. She had come to America to attain independence, and there was nothing in her code to make dependence a necessary element of marriage.
It was Stefan's power to feel love, and not mine to call it out, that painted the Danae," and she looked at him with proud tenderness. But the Sparrow was unconvinced. "You can't tell me. If 'twas all in him, why didn't some other girl over in Paris call it out long ago?" "Lots tried," grinned Stefan, with his cheeky-boy expression. "Ain't he terrible," Miss Mason sighed, smiling.
Here they bought a high, roomy chest of drawers of painted pine, a Morris chair, three single chairs, and a sturdy folding table in cherry, quite old, which Mary felt to be a "find," and which she destined for Stefan's paints.
She no longer sprang swiftly from her chair or ran to fetch him a needed tool; her every movement was matronly. But she was so well, so entirely normal, as practically to be unconscious of a change to which her husband was increasingly alive. Another source of Stefan's dissatisfaction lay in the progress of his Demeter.
"Yes, my dear child, I do," he answered, his mouth twisting into its sad and gentle smile. He had come bringing a sheaf of spring flowers, narcissus, and golden daffodils, which she was holding in her lap. He thought as he said good-bye that she looked much more like Persephone than the Demeter of Stefan's picture.
From her conversation it appeared that he had helped one or two fellows with small sums of money and good advice. In the autumn he had fished out an Indian who had upset his boat while netting whitefish in rough weather, on the lake, and every one knew that Stefan's life had been saved by him. At any rate the Swede said so, for Hugo never liked much to speak of such things.
A mother, none other than the prominently busted lady of Stefan's table, blew forward with admiring cries of gratitude. Other matrons, vocative, surrounded the circle, momentarily cutting off his view. He changed his position to the bulwarks beside the group.
At the end of the room the heavy chest of drawers, with its dark walnut paint, faced the window, bearing the gilded mirror and a strip of embroidery. On the mantlepiece stood Mary's traveling clock and the two brass candlesticks, and above it Stefan's pastoral of the stream and the dancing faun was tacked upon the wall.
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