Aftersupperthatnighthewentouttothebarn，andMrs。Ripleyheardhimsawingandhammering。Thenthenoiseceased，andhecameinandsatdowninhisusualplace。
“Whaty’be’nmakin’？“sheinquired。Tewksburyhadgonetobed。
Shesatdarningastocking。
“IjestthoughtI’dgitthestagin’readyf’rpaintin’，“hesaidevasively。
“Wal!I’llbegladwhenit’scoveredup。“Whenshegotreadyforbed，hewasstillseatedinhischair，andaftershehaddozedofftwoorthreetimesshebegantowonderwhyhedidn’tcomeWhentheclockstruckten，andsherealizedthathehadnotstirred，shebegantogetimpatient。“Come，arey’goin’tositthereallnight？“
Therewasnoreply。Sheroseupinbedandlookedabouttheroom。Thebroadmoonfloodeditwithlight，sothatshecouldseehewasnotasleepinhischair，asshehadsupposed。Therewassomethingominousinhisdisappearance。
“Ethan!EthanRipley，whereareyeh？“Therewasnoreplytohersharpcall。Sheroseanddistractedlylookedaboutamongthefurniture，asifheinightsomehowbeacatandbehidinginacornersomewhere。Thenshewentupstairswheretheboyslept，herhardlittleheelsmakingacurioustunkingnoiseonthebareboards。
Themoonfellacrossthesleepinghoylikearobeofsilver。Hewasalone。
Shebegantobealarmed。Hereyeswidenedinfear。Ansortsofvaguehorrorssprangunbiddenintoherbrain。Shestillhadthemistofsleepinherbrain。
Shehurrieddownthestairsandoutintothefragrantnight。Thekatydidsweresingingininfinitepeaceunderthesolemnsplendorofthemoon。Thecattlesniffedandsighed，janglingtheirbellsnowandthen，andthechickensinthecoopstirreduneasilyasifoverheated。Theoldwomanstoodthereinherbarefeetandlongnightgown，horror-stricken。Theghastlystoryofamanwhohadhunghimseifinhisbarnbecausehiswifedesertedhimcameintohermindandstayedtherewithfrightfulpersistency。Herthroatfilledchokingly。
Shefeltawildrushofloneliness。Shehadasuddenrealizationofhowdearthatgauntoldfigurewas，withitsgrizzledfaceandreadysmile。Herbreathcamequickandquicker，andshewasatthepointofburstingintoawildcrytoTewksburywhensheheardastrangenoise。Itcamefromthebarn，acreakingnoise。Shelookedthatwayandsawintheshadowedsideadeepershadowmovingtoandfro。
Arevulsiontoastonishmentandangertookplaceinher。
“Lando’Bungay!Ifheain’tpaintin’thatbarn，likeaperfectoldidiot，inthenight。“
UncleEthan，workingdesperately，didnothearherfeetpatteringdownthepath，andwasstartledbyhershrillvoice。
“Well，EthanRipley，whaddyy’thinkyou’redoin’now？“
Hemadetwoorthreeslappingpasseswiththebrushandthensnappedout，“I’ma-paintin’thisbarn-whaddyyes’pose？IIyehadeyesy’wouldn’task。“
“Well，youcomerightstraighttobed。Whatd’youmeanbyactin’
so？“
“Yougobackintothehousean’letmebe。IknowwhatI’ma-doin’。
You’vepesteredmeaboutthissignjestaboutenough。“Hedabbedhisbrushtoandfroashespoke。Hisgauntfiguretoweredaboveherinshadow。Hisslappingbrushhadavicioussound。
Neitherspokeforsometime。Atlengthshesaidmoregently，“Ain’tyoucomin’in？“
“No-nottillIgeta-ready。Yougo’longan’tendtoy’rownbusiness。
Don’tstan’therean’ketchcold。“
Shemovedoffslowlytowardthehouse。Hisshoutsubduedher。
Workingaloneouttherehadrenderedhimsavage；hewasnottobepushedanyfurther。Sheknewbythetoneofhisvoicethathemustnowberespected。
Sheslippedonhershoesandashawl，andcamebackwherehewasworking，andtookaseatonasawhorse。
“I’mgoin’tosetrightheretillyoucomein，EthanRipley，“shesaidinafirmvoice，butgentlerthanusual。
“Wal，you’llsetagoodwhile，“washisungraciousreply，buteachfeltafurtivetendernessfortheother。Heworkedoninsilence。Theboardscreakedheavilyashewalkedtoandfro，andtheslappingsoundofthepaintbrushsoundedloudinthesweetharmonyofthenight。Themajesticmoonswungslowlyroundthecornerofthebarnandfellupontheoldman’sgrizzledheadandbentshoulders。
Thehorsesinsidecouldbeheardstampingthemosquitoesawayandchewingtheirhayinpleasantchorus。
Thelittlefigureseatedonthesawhorsedrewtheshawlcloserahoutherthinshoulders。Hereyeswereinshadow，andherhandswerewrappedinhershawl。Atlastshespokeinacurioustone。
“Wal，Idon’tknowasyouwassoverymuchtoblame。Ididn’twantthatBiblemyself-IholdoutIdid，butIdidn’t。“
Ethanworkedonuntilthefullmeaningofthisunprecedentedsurrenderpenetratedhishead，andthenhethrewdownhisbrush。
“Wal，IguessI’lllet’ergoatthat。I’yecoveredupthemostofit，anyhow。Guesswebettergoin。“
GOD’SRAVENS
I
CHICAGOhasthreewindsthatblowuponit。OnecomesfromtheEast，andthemindgoesouttothecoldgray-bluelake。OnefromtheNorth，andmenthinkofillimitablespacesofpinelandsandmaple-cladridgeswhichleadtotheunknowndeepsofthearcticwoods。
ButthethirdistheWestofSouthwestwind，dry，magnetic，fullofsmellofunmeasuredmilesofgrowinggraininsummer，orripeningcornandwheatinautumn。Whenitcomesinwintertheairglitterswithincrediblebrilliancy。Thesnowofthecountrydazzlesandflamesintheeyes；deepblueshadowseverywherestreamlikestainsofink。Sleighbellswranglefromearlymorningtilllateatnight，andeverystepisquickandalert。Inthecity，smokedimsitsclarity，butitiswelcome。
Butitsgreatestmomentofdominationisspring。ThebittergraywindoftheEasthashelduncheckedrulefordays，givingplacetoitsbrothertheNorthwindonlyatintervals，tillsomedayinMarchthewindofthesouthwestbeginstoblow。Thentheeavesbegintodrip。Hereandthereafowlinahousethatisreallyaprison
beginstosangthesongitsangonthefarm，andtowardnoonitssongbecomesachantofarticulatejoy。
ThenthepoorcrawloutoftheirreekinghovelsontheSouthandWestsidestostandinthesun-theblessedsun-andfelicitatethemselvesonbeingalive。Windowsofsickroomsareopened，themerrysmallboygoestoschoolwithouthistippet，andmenlayofftheirlongulstersfortheirbeavercoats。Capsgiveplacetohats，andmenwomenpausetochatwhentheymeeteachotherthestreet。Theopendooristhesignofthegreatchangeofwind。
Thereareimaginativesoulswhoarestirredyetdeeperbythiswind-menlikeRobertBloom，towhomcomevagueandverysweetreminiscencesoffarmlifewhenthesnowismeltingandthedrygroundbeginstoappear。TothesepeoplethewindcomesfromthewideunendingspacesoftheprairieWest。Theycansmellthestrangethrillingodorofnewlyuncoveredsodandmoistbrownplowedlands。Tothemitisliketheopeningdoorofaprison。
RoberthadcrawleddowntownanduptohisofficehighintheStarblockafteramonth’ssickness。Hehadresolutelypulledapadofpaperunderhishandtowrite，butthewindowwasopenandthatwindcomingin，andhecouldnotwrite-hecouldonlydream。
Hisbrownhairfelloverthethinwhitehandwhichproppedhishead。Hisfacewaslikeivorywithdullyellowishstainsinit。Hiseyesdidnotseethemountainousroofshumpedandpiledintovastmassesofbrickandstone，crossedandrivenbystreets，andsweptbymassesofgray-whitevapor；theysawalittlevalleycircledbylow-woodedbluffs-hisnativetowninWisconsin。
Ashisweaknessgrewhisambitionfellaway，andhisheartturnedbacktonatureandtothethingshehadknowninhisyouth，tothekindlypeopleoftheoldentime。Itdidnotoccurtohimthatthespiritofthecountrymighthavechanged。
Sittingthus，hehadamightylongingcomeuponhimtogiveupthestruggle，togobacktothesimplestlifewithhiswifeandtwoboys。Whyshouldhetreadinthemill，wheneverydaywastakingthelifebloodoutofhisheart？
Slowlyhislongingtookresolution。Atlasthedrewhisdeskdown，andasthelockclickeditseemedliketheshuttingofaprisongatebehindhim。
Attheelevatordoorhemetafelloweditor。“Hello，Bloom!Didn’tknowyouweredowntoday。“
“I’monlytryingit。I’mgoingtotakeavacationforawhile。“
“That’sright，man。Youlooklikeaghost。“
“Hehadn’tthecouragetotellhimheneverexpectedtoworkthereagain。Hissteponthewayhomewasfirmerthanithadbeenforweeks。Inhiswhitefacehiswifesawsomesubtlechange。
“Whatisit，Robert？“
“Mate，let’sgiveitup。“
“Whatdoyoumean？“
“Thestruggleistoohard。Ican’tstandit。I’mhungryforthecountryagain。Let’sgetoutofthis。“
“Where’llwego？“
“Backtomynativetown-upamongtheWisconsinhillsandcoulees。Goanywhere，sothatweescapethispressure-it’skillingme。Let’sgotoBluffSidingforayear。Itwilldomegood-maybringmebacktolife。Icandoenoughspecialworktopayourgrocerybill；andtheMerrillplace-soJacktellsme-isempty。Wecangetitforseventy-fivedollarsforayear。Wecanpullthroughsomeway。“
“Verywell，Robert。“
“Imusthaverest。Allthebouncehasgoneoutofme，Mate，“hesaidwithsadlinesinhisface。“Anyextraworkhereisoutofthequestion。Icanonlyshamblearound-anexcuseforaman。“
Thewifehadceasedtosmile。Herstrenuouscheerfulnesscouldnotholdbeforehistragicallydrawnandbloodlessface。
“I’llgowhereveryouthinkbest，RobertItwillbejustaswellfortheboys。Isupposethereisaschoolthere？“
“Oh，yes。Atanyrate，theycangetayear’sschoolinginnature。“
“Well-nomatter，Robert；youaretheonetobeconsidered。“Shehadtheself-sacrfficingdevotionoftheaveragewoman。Shefanciedherselfhopelesslyhisinferior。
Theyhaddweltsolongonthecrumblingedgeofpovertythattheywerehardenedtoitsthreat，andyetthefailureofRobert’shealthhadbeenofthesortwhichterrifies。Itwasaslowbutsteadysinkingofvitalforce。Ithaditsupsanddowns，butitwasadownwardtrail，alwaysdownward。Thetimeforsell-deceptionhadpassed。
Hispaperpaidhimameagersalary，forhisworkwasprizedonlybythemorethoughtfulreadersoftheStar。
Inadditiontohis’regularworkheoccasionallyhazardedastoryforthejuvenilemagazinesoftheEast。Inthiswayheturnedtheanticsofhisgrowingboystoaccount，asheoftensaidtohiswife。
HehadalsopassedthepreliminarystagesofliterarysuccessbygettingacoupleofstoriesacceptedbyanEasternmagazine，andhestillconfidentlylookedforwardtoseeingthemprinted。
Hiswife，asturdy，practicallittlebody，didherpartinthebitterstrugglebykeepingtheirlittlehomeoneofthemostattractiveontheWestSide，theNorthSidebeingaltogethertoohighforthem。
Inaddition，hersorelypressedbrainsoughtoutotherwaysofhelping。Shewroteoutallherhusband’sstoriesonthetypewriter，andsecretlyshehadtriedcomposingothersherself，theresultsbeingqueerdrylittlechroniclesofthedoingsofmenandwomen，strungtogetherwithoutatouchofliterarygrace。
Sheproposedtakingalargehouseandrerentingrooms，butRobertwouldnotheartoit。“AslongasIcancrawlaboutwe’llleavethattoothers。“
Inthemonthofpreparationwhichfollowedhetalkedagreatdealabouttheirventure。
“Iwanttogetthere，“hesaid，“justwhentheleavesarecomingoutonthetrees。Iwanttoseethecherrytreesblossomonthehillside。
Thepoppletreesalwaysgetgreenfirst。“
Atothertimeshetalkedaboutthepeople。“Itwillbearestjusttogetbackamongpeoplewhoaren’treadytotreadonyourheadinordertoliftthemselvesup。Ibelieveayearamongthosekind，unhurriedpeoplewillglvemeallthematerialI’llneedforyears。