Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter VI
ThenIwasafraid—orno,notafraid,butdisturbed—oh,shakentomyveryheart’score.Iresolvedtogonofurtherinthematter,neveragaintoputittotest.ForalongtimeIstayedawayfromtheMission,occupyingmyselfwithmywork,keepingitoutofmymind.Butthetemptationwastoostrong.OnenightIfoundmyselfthereagain,undertheblackshadowofthepeartreescallingforAngele,summoningherfromoutthedark,fromoutthenight.ThistimetheAnswerwasprompt,unmistakable.Icannotexplaintoyouwhatitwas,norhowitcametome,fortherewasnosound.Isawabsolutelynothingbuttheemptynight.Therewasnomoon.Butsomewhereoffthereoverthelittlevalley,faroff,thedarknesswastroubled;thatMEthatwentoutuponmythought—outfromtheMissiongarden,outoverthevalley,callingforher,searchingforher,found,Idon’tknowwhat,butfoundarestingplace—acompanion.ThreetimessincethenIhavegonetotheMissiongardenatnight.Lastnightwasthethirdtime.”
Hepaused,hiseyesshiningwithexcitement.Presleyleanedforwardtowardhim,motionlesswithintenseabsorption.
“Well—andlastnight,”heprompted.
Vanameestirredinhisseat,hisglancefell,hedrummedaninstantuponthetable.
“Lastnight,”heanswered,“therewas—therewasachange.TheAnswerwas—”hedrewadeepbreath—“nearer.”
“Youaresure?”
Theothersmiledwithabsolutecertainty.
“ItwasnotthatIfoundtheAnswersooner,easier.Icouldnotbemistaken.
