No longer would she
humiliate herself by any further delay. Wildenai had not waited, and
even a school teacher can be as proud as an Indian princess! That very
afternoon she would finish her sketch of the cavern. Then tomorrow she
would go back to Pasadena and the long gray round of work. Desolately
she wandered up the secret trail to Wildenai's bower. Never had her
sympathy for the deserted princess been so keen. Perhaps, she mournfully
considered, if the spirit of the Indian maiden still lingered there it
might feel sympathy for her as well. Perhaps she, too, would find
comfort in the spot where that other woman had paid an equal price for
her impulsiveness.
The shadows in the little cavern were dark and cool and, laying aside
her box of colors, for a long time she sat quite motionless, staring out
to where the gulls drifted and glinted against the blue. She heard after
a while the whistle of the approaching steamer but gave no heed. Lying
back against the moss she had almost dropped asleep when something in
the corner opposite attracted her attention. She sat up nervously and
stared into the shadows. Was it only that the darkness was deeper over
there, or was that really something propped against the wall? And had it
moved?
In the years that followed she never knew how long she sat there after
the stones had been lifted away, holding in her lap those shreds of torn
white doeskin.
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