He could not see her
eyes, for they were turned away, but he knew quite well the color; he
had settled that point when he looked up from coiling his rope the day
she came. They were big, baffling, blue-brown eyes, the like of which he
had never seen before in his life--and he had thought he had seen every
color and every shade under the sun. Thinking of them and their
wonderful deeps and shadows, he got hungry for a sight of them. And
suddenly she turned to ask a question, and found him staring at her, and
surprised a look in his eyes he did not know was there.
For ten pulse-beats they stared, and the cheeks of Beatrice grew red as
healthy young blood could paint them; Keith's were the same, only that
his blood showed darkly through the tan. What question had been on her
tongue she forgot to ask. Indeed, for the time, I think she forgot the
whole English language, and every other--but the strange, wordless
language of Keith's clear eyes.
And then it was gone, and Keith was looking away, and chewing a corner
of his lip till it hurt. His horse backed restlessly from the
tight-gripped rein, and Keith was guilty of kicking him with his spur,
which did not better matters. Redcloud snorted and shook his outraged
head, and Keith came to himself and eased the rein, and spoke
remorseful, soothing words that somehow clung long in the memory of
Beatrice.
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