She shook her head. "I cannot tell about that. You see, I only dance when
I must--when the music, somehow, doesn't seem quite enough. When I--when
I"--she searched for a word, then finished abruptly--"oh, I can't tell you
about it--it's just something you feel--there are no words for it. When I
first come to the mountains,--after living in Fairlands all winter,--I
always dance--the mountains feel so big and strong. And sometimes I dance
in the moonlight--when it feels so soft and light and clean; or in the
twilight--when it's so still, and the air is so--so full of the day that
has come home to rest and sleep; and sometimes when I am away up under the
big pines and the wind, from off the mountain tops, under the sky, sings
through the dark branches."
"But don't you ever dance to please your friends?"
"Oh, no--I don't dance to _please_ any one--only just when it's for
myself--when nothing else will do--when I _must_. Of course, sometimes,
Myra or Brian Oakley or Mrs. Oakley are with me--but they don't matter,
you know. They are so much a part of me that I don't mind."
"I wonder if you will ever dance for me?"
Again, she shook her head. "I don't think so. How could I? You see, you
are not like anybody that I have ever known.
Pages:
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250