O Pioneers! Page 19

  II

  If Alexandra had had much imagination she might have guessed whatwas going on in Marie's mind, and she would have seen long beforewhat was going on in Emil's. But that, as Emil himself had morethan once reflected, was Alexandra's blind side, and her life hadnot been of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had allbeen toward the end of making her proficient in what she had undertakento do. Her personal life, her own realization of herself, wasalmost a subconscious existence; like an underground river thatcame to the surface only here and there, at intervals months apart,and then sank again to flow on under her own fields. Nevertheless,the underground stream was there, and it was because she had so muchpersonality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in puttingit into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better thanthose of her neighbors.

  There were certain days in her life, outwardly uneventful, whichAlexandra remembered as peculiarly happy; days when she was closeto the flat, fallow world about her, and felt, as it were, in herown body the joyous germination in the soil. There were days,too, which she and Emil had spent together, upon which she lovedto look back. There had been such a day when they were down onthe river in the dry year, looking over the land. They had madean early start one morning and had driven a long way before noon.When Emil said he was hungry, they drew back from the road, gaveBrigham his oats among the bushes, and climbed up to the top of agrassy bluff to eat their lunch under the shade of some little elmtrees. The river was clear there, and shallow, since there hadbeen no rain, and it ran in ripples over the sparkling sand. Underthe overhanging willows of the opposite bank there was an inlet wherethe water was deeper and flowed so slowly that it seemed to sleepin the sun. In this little bay a single wild duck was swimming anddiving and preening her feathers, disporting herself very happilyin the flickering light and shade. They sat for a long time,watching the solitary bird take its pleasure. No living thinghad ever seemed to Alexandra as beautiful as that wild duck. Emilmust have felt about it as she did, for afterward, when they wereat home, he used sometimes to say, "Sister, you know our duck downthere--" Alexandra remembered that day as one of the happiest inher life. Years afterward she thought of the duck as still there,swimming and diving all by herself in the sunlight, a kind ofenchanted bird that did not know age or change.

  Most of Alexandra's happy memories were as impersonal as this one;yet to her they were very personal. Her mind was a white book,with clear writing about weather and beasts and growing things.Not many people would have cared to read it; only a happy few.She had never been in love, she had never indulged in sentimentalreveries. Even as a girl she had looked upon men as work-fellows.She had grown up in serious times.

  There was one fancy indeed, which persisted through her girlhood.It most often came to her on Sunday mornings, the one day inthe week when she lay late abed listening to the familiar morningsounds; the windmill singing in the brisk breeze, Emil whistlingas he blacked his boots down by the kitchen door. Sometimes, asshe lay thus luxuriously idle, her eyes closed, she used to havean illusion of being lifted up bodily and carried lightly by someone very strong. It was a man, certainly, who carried her, buthe was like no man she knew; he was much larger and stronger andswifter, and he carried her as easily as if she were a sheaf ofwheat. She never saw him, but, with eyes closed, she could feelthat he was yellow like the sunlight, and there was the smell ofripe cornfields about him. She could feel him approach, bend overher and lift her, and then she could feel herself being carriedswiftly off across the fields. After such a reverie she would risehastily, angry with herself, and go down to the bath-house thatwas partitioned off the kitchen shed. There she would stand in atin tub and prosecute her bath with vigor, finishing it by pouringbuckets of cold well-water over her gleaming white body which noman on the Divide could have carried very far.

  As she grew older, this fancy more often came to her when she wastired than when she was fresh and strong. Sometimes, after she hadbeen in the open all day, overseeing the branding of the cattle orthe loading of the pigs, she would come in chilled, take a concoctionof spices and warm home-made wine, and go to bed with her bodyactually aching with fatigue. Then, just before she went to sleep,she had the old sensation of being lifted and carried by a strongbeing who took from her all her bodily weariness.

  PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree