Page:Caroline Lockhart--The Fighting Shepherdess.djvu/327

 about the shaft and laid her cheek against it as if in some way she might draw consolation from it. But its cold- ness chilled her. Then, with her face upturned in sup- plication, as though his soul might be somewhere in the infinite space above her, she cried aloud in her anguish as she had in another and different kind of crisis:

" Uncle Joe, Tm lost ! I don't know which way to go — there's no signboard to direct me. Please, please, if you can, come back and help me — please — help Katie Prentice! "

The sheep dog with his head on his paws watched her gravely. In the corral below there was the sound of stirring horses ; otherwise only silence answered her. No light, no help came to her. Her hands dropped gradually to her sides. It was always so — in the end she was thrown back upon herself. Nothing came to her save by her own efforts. There were no miracles performed for Kate Prentice. A sullen defiance filled her. If this was all life had for her she could stand it; she could go on as usual taking her medicine with as little fuss as possible. That's all life seemed to be — taking the medicine the Fates doled out in one form or another. To live bravely, to die with all the courage one could muster, were the principal things anyhow. She got up from her knees by the sunken grave slowly and stood erect once more, hold- ing her chin high in self-sufficient arrogance. She would take the best out of life as it offered and be done with ideals that ended in emotional hysteria like this present experience. Life was a compromise anyhow. If she couldn't have the substance, she would have the shadow. If she couldn't have friendships given her, she'd buy imi- tations that would answer. If love and romance were not for her, she'd accept the expedient that offered and be satisfied!