What was it that had thrilled him so? Only a tall dark
fir in the birches. But looming in there like a shadowy phantom it had
recalled a memory of a dusk far back in his boyhood, when seeing a shadow
just like this he had thought it a ghost in very truth and had run for the
house like a rabbit! How terribly real that fright had been! The
recollection suddenly became so vivid in his mind, that as though a veil
had been lifted he felt the living presence here, close by his side, of a
small barefoot mountain lad, clothed in sober homespun gray, but filled
with warm desires, dreams and curiosities, exploring upon every hand, now
marching boldly forward, now stealing up so cautiously, now galloping away
like mad! "I was once a child." To most of us these are mere words. To few
is it ever given to attain so much as even a glimpse into the warm and
quivering soul of that little stranger of long ago. We do not know how we
were made.
"I moulded you, my little son. And as I have been to you, so you will be to
your children. In their lives, too, we shall be there."
Darker, darker grew the copse and the chill of the night descended. But to
Roger's eyes there was no gloom. For he had seen a vision.
CHAPTER XV
On his return to the city, Roger found that Deborah's school had apparently
swept all other interests out of her mind. Baird hardly ever came to the
house, and she herself was seldom there except for a hasty dinner at night.
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