God was everywhere to
her open eyes. Everything that was beautiful, everything that was good,
seemed to have been created for her delight during that homeward walk. She
was mightily lifted up. Nature seemed so strong, so kind, such a guardian
angel for a maiden. And the birds sang out that "Mister Jan" was Nature's
priest and could do no wrong; and that to obey Nature was the highest good.
From which reflection rose a hazy happiness--dim, beautiful and indefinable
as the twinkling gold upon the sea under the throne of the sun. Joan dwelt
on the memory of the day which was now over for her, and on the thought of
morning hours which to-morrow would bring. But she looked no further; and
backward she did not gaze at all. No thought of Joe Noy dimmed her mental
delight; no shadowy cloud darkened the horizon then. All was bright, all
perfect. Her mind seemed to be breaking its little case, as the butterfly
bursts the chrysalis. Her life till then had been mere grub existence; now
she could fly and had seen the sun drawing the scent from flowers. Great
ideas filled her soul; new emotions awoke; she was like a baby trying to
utter the thing he has no word for; her vocabulary broke down under the
strain, and as she walked she gave thanks to Nature in a mere wordless
song, like the lark, because she could not put her acknowledgment into
language. But the great Mother, to whom Life is all in all, the living
individual nothing, looked on at a world wakening from sleep and viewed the
loves of the flowers and the loves of the birds and beasts and fishes with
concern as keen as the love in the blue eyes of Joan upon her homeward way.
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