Through it the road lay,
a well-worn path crossed as with black stripes by the buffalo runs.
Susan's glance, questing ahead for the New York train, ran to the
distance where the crystal glaze of the stream shrunk to a silver
thread imbedded in green velvet. There was a final point where green
and silver converged in a blinding dazzle, and over this the sun hung,
emerging from a nebulous glare to a slowly defining sphere.
Turning to the left her gaze lost itself in the endlessness of the
plains. It was like looking over the sea, especially at the horizon
where the land was drawn in a straight, purplish line. She could
almost see sails there, small sails dark against a sky that was so
remote its color had faded to an aerial pallor. As the journey had
advanced the influence of these spacious areas had crept upon her. In
the beginning there had been times when they woke in her an unexplained
sadness. Now that was gone and she loved to ride onward, the one item
of life in the silence, held in a new correspondence with the solemn
immensity. It affected her as prayer does the devotee. Under its
inspiration she wondered at old worries and felt herself impervious to
new ones.
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