And even then she was afraid it might lead to the breaking of
her dream. For there was only one thing that would make her happy, and
that was _his_ world. She wanted it just as it was--the big tundras, his
people, the herds, the mountains--with the glory and greatness of God
all about them in the open spaces. She now understood what he had meant
when he said he was an Alaskan and not an American; she was that, too,
an Alaskan first of all, and for Alaska she would go on fighting with
him, hand in hand, until the very end. His heart throbbed until it
seemed it would break, and all the time she was whispering her hopes and
secrets to him he stroked her silken hair, until it lay spread over his
breast, and against his lips, and for the first time in years a hot
flood of tears filled his eyes.
So happiness came to them; and only strange voices outside raised Mary's
head from where it lay, and took her quickly to the window where she
stood a vision of sweet loveliness, radiant in the tumbled confusion and
glory of her hair. Then she turned with a little cry, and her eyes were
shining like stars as she looked at Alan.
"It is Amuk Toolik," she said. "He has returned."
"And--is he alone?" Alan asked, and his heart stood still while he
waited for her answer.
Demurely she came to his side, and smoothed his pillow, and stroked back
his hair.
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