She rode out of the court beside Judkins, through the grove,
across the wide lane into the sage, and she realized that she was
leaving Withersteen House forever, and she did not look back. A
strange, dreamy, calm peace pervaded her soul. Her doom had
fallen upon her, but, instead of finding life no longer worth
living she found it doubly significant, full of sweetness as the
western breeze, beautiful and unknown as the sage-slope
stretching its purple sunset shadows before her. She became aware
of Judkins's hand touching hers; she heard him speak a husky
good-by; then into the place of Bells shot the dead-black, keen,
racy nose of Night, and she knew Lassiter rode beside
her.
"Don't--look--back!" he said, and his voice, too, was not
clear.
Facing straight ahead, seeing only the waving, shadowy sage, Jane
held out her gauntleted hand, to feel it enclosed in strong
clasp. So she rode on without a backward glance at the beautiful
grove of Cottonwoods. She did not seem to think of the past of
what she left forever, but of the color and mystery and wildness
of the sage-slope leading down to Deception Pass, and of the
future. She watched the shadows lengthen down the slope; she felt
the cool west wind sweeping by from the rear; and she wondered at
low, yellow clouds sailing swiftly over her and beyond.
"Don't look--back!" said Lassiter.
Thick-driving belts of smoke traveled by on the wind, and with it
came a strong, pungent odor of burning wood.
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