Thismanunderstoodthingsliterally:onemustlivewithoutpleasuretodiewithoutfear；tosavethesoul，itwasnecessarytostarvethesoul。
ThesunhunglowabovethecornfieldswhenMargaretandhercavalierleftSt。Anne。SouthofthetownthereisastretchofroadthatrunsforsomethreemilesthroughtheFrenchsettlement，wheretheprairieisaslevelasthesurfaceofalake。Therethefieldsofflaxandwheatandryeareborderedbypreciserowsofslender，taperingLombardpoplars。ItwasayellowworldthatMargaretElliotsawunderthewidelightofthesettingsun。
ThegirlgatheredupherreinsandcalledbacktoEric，“Itwillbesafetorunthehorseshere，won’tit？“
“Yes，Ithinkso，now，“heanswered，touchinghisspurtohispony’sflank。Theywereofflikethewind。ItisanoldsayingintheWestthatnewcomersalwaysrideahorseortwotodeathbeforetheygetbrokenintothecountry。Theyaretemptedbythegreatopenspacesandtrytooutridethehorizon，togettotheendofsomething。Margaretgallopedoverthelevelroad，andEric，frombehind，sawherlongveilflutteringinthewind。Ithadflutteredjustsoinhisdreamslastnightandthenightbefore。Withasuddeninspirationofcourageheovertookherandrodebesideher，lookingintentlyatherhalf-avertedface。
Before，hehadonlystolenoccasionalglancesatit，seenitinblindingflashes，alwayswithmoreorlessembarrassment，butnowhedeterminedtoleteverylineofitsinkintohismemory。Menoftheworldwouldhavesaidthatitwasanunusualface，nervous，finelycut，withclear，elegantlinesthatbetokenedancestry。Menofletterswouldhavecalleditahistoricface，andwouldhaveconjecturedatwhatoldpassions，longasleep，whatoldsorrowsforgottentimeoutofmind，doingbattletogetherinagesgone，hadcurvedthosedelicatenostrils，lefttheirunconsciousmemoryinthoseeyes。ButEricreadnomeaninginthesedetails。Tohimthisbeautywassomethingmorethancolourandline；itwasaflashofwhitelight，inwhichonecannotdistinguishcolourbecauseallcoloursarethere。Tohimitwasacompleterevelation，anembodimentofthosedreamsofimpossiblelovelinessthatlingerbyayoungman’spillowonmidsummernights；yet，becauseitheldsomethingmorethantheattractionofhealthandyouthandshapeliness，ittroubledhim，andinitspresencehefeltastheGothsbeforethewhitemarblesintheRomanCapitol，notknowingwhethertheyweremenorgods。Attimeshefeltlikeuncoveringhisheadbeforeit，againthefuryseizedhimtobreakanddespoil，tofindtheclayinthisspirit-thingandstampuponit。Awayfromher，helongedtostrikeoutwithhisarms，andtakeandhold；itmaddenedhimthatthiswomanwhomhecouldbreakinhishandsshouldbesomuchstrongerthanhe。Butnearher，heneverquestionedthisstrength；headmitteditspotentialityasheadmittedthemiraclesoftheBible；itenervatedandconqueredhim。
Tonight，whenherodesoclosetoherthathecouldhavetouchedher，heknewthathemightaswellreachouthishandtotakeastar。
Margaretstirreduneasilyunderhisgazeandturnedquestioninglyinhersaddle。
“Thiswindputsmealittleoutofbreathwhenweridefast，“
shesaid。
Ericturnedhiseyesaway。
“IwanttoaskyouifIgotoNewYorktowork，ifImaybehearmusiclikeyousanglastnight？Ibeenapurtygoodhandtowork，“heasked，timidly。
Margaretlookedathimwithsurprise，andthen，asshestudiedtheoutlineofhisface，pityingly。
“Well，youmight——butyou’dloseagooddealelse。Ishouldn’tlikeyoutogotoNewYork——andbepoor，you’dbeoutofatmosphere，someway，“shesaid，slowly。Inwardlyshewasthinking:Therehewouldbealtogethersordid，impossible——amachinewhowouldcarryone’strunksupstairs，perhaps。Hereheiseveryinchaman，ratherpicturesque；whyisit？“No，“sheaddedaloud，“Ishouldn’tlikethat。“
“ThenInotgo，“saidEric，decidedly。
Margaretturnedherfacetohideasmile。Shewasatrifleamusedandatrifleannoyed。Suddenlyshespokeagain。
“ButI’lltellyouwhatIdowantyoutodo，Eric。IwantyoutodancewithustomorrownightandteachmesomeoftheNorwegiandances；theysayyouknowthemall。Won’tyou？“
EricstraightenedhimselfinhissaddleandhiseyesflashedastheyhaddoneintheLoneStarschoolhousewhenhebrokehisviolinacrosshisknee。
“Yes，Iwill，“hesaid，quietly，andhebelievedthathedeliveredhissoultohellashesaidit。
Theyhadreachedtheroughercountrynow，wheretheroadwoundthroughanarrowcutinoneofthebluffsalongthecreek，whenabeatofhoofsaheadandthesharpneighingofhorsesmadetheponiesstartandEricroseinhisstirrups。Thendownthegulchinfrontofthemandoverthesteepclaybanksthunderedaherdofwildponies，nimbleasmonkeysandwildasrabbits，suchashorse-
tradersdriveeastfromtheplainsofMontanatosellinthefarmingcountry。Margaret’sponymadeashrillsound，aneighthatwasalmostascream，andstarteduptheclaybanktomeetthem，allthewildbloodoftherangebreakingoutinaninstant。MargaretcalledtoEricjustashethrewhimselfoutofthesaddleandcaughtherpony’sbit。Butthewirylittleanimalhadgonemadandwaskickingandbitinglikeadevil。Herwildbrothersoftherangewereallabouther，neighing，andpawingtheearth，andstrikingherwiththeirforefeetandsnappingatherflanks。Itwastheoldlibertyoftherangethatthelittlebeastfoughtfor。
“Dropthereinsandholdtight，tight！“Ericcalled，throwingallhisweightuponthebit，strugglingunderthosefranticforefeetthatnowbeatathisbreast，andnowkickedatthewildmustangsthatsurgedandtossedabouthim。Hesucceededinwrenchingthepony’sheadtowardhimandcrowdingherwithersagainsttheclaybank，sothatshecouldnotroll。
“Holdtight，tight！“heshoutedagain，launchingakickatasnortinganimalthatrearedbackagainstMargaret’ssaddle。Ifsheshouldlosehercourageandfallnow，underthosehoofs——Hestruckoutagainandagain，kickingrightandleftwithallhismight。Alreadythenegligentdrivershadgallopedintothecut，andtheirlongquirtswerewhistlingovertheheadsoftheherd。
Assuddenlyasithadcome，thestruggling，franticwaveofwildlifesweptupoutofthegulchandonacrosstheopenprairie，andwithalongdespairingwhinnyoffarewelltheponydroppedherheadandstoodtremblinginhersweat，shakingthefoamandbloodfromherbit。
EricsteppedclosetoMargaret’ssideandlaidhishandonhersaddle。“Youarenothurt？“heasked，hoarsely。Asheraisedhisfaceinthesoftstarlightshesawthatitwaswhiteanddrawnandthathislipswereworkingnervously。
“No，no，notatall。Butyou，youaresuffering；theystruckyou！“shecriedinsharpalarm。
Hesteppedbackanddrewhishandacrosshisbrow。
“No，itisnotthat，“hespokerapidlynow，withhishandsclenchedathisside。“Butiftheyhadhurtyou，Iwouldbeattheirbrainsoutwithmyhands。Iwouldkillthemall。I
wasneverafraidbefore。Youaretheonlybeautifulthingthathasevercomeclosetome。Youcamelikeanangeloutofthesky。
Youarelikethemusicyousing，youarelikethestarsandthesnowonthemountainswhereIplayedwhenIwasalittleboy。YouarelikeallthatIwantedonceandneverhad，youareallthattheyhavekilledinme。Idieforyoutonight，tomorrow，foralleternity。Iamnotacoward；IwasafraidbecauseIloveyoumorethanChristwhodiedforme，morethanIamafraidofhell，orhopeforheaven。Iwasneverafraidbefore。Ifyouhadfallen——oh，myGod！“Hethrewhisarmsoutblindlyanddroppedhisheaduponthepony’smane，leaning]implyagainsttheanimallikeamanstruckbysomesickness。Hisshouldersroseandfellperceptiblywithhislabouredbreathing。Thehorsestoodcowedwithexhaustionandfear。PresentlyMargaretlaidherhandonEric’sheadandsaidgently:
“Youarebetternow，shallwegoon？Canyougetyourhorse？“
“No，hehasgonewiththeherd。Iwillleadyours，sheisnotsafe。Iwillnotfrightenyouagain。“Hisvoicewasstillhusky，butitwassteadynow。Hetookholdofthebitandtrampedhomeinsilence。
Whentheyreachedthehouse，Ericstoodstolidlybythepony’sheaduntilWylliscametolifthissisterfromthesaddle。
“Thehorseswerebadlyfrightened，Wyllis。IthinkIwasprettythoroughlyscaredmyself，“shesaidasshetookherbrother’sarmandwentslowlyupthehilltowardthehouse。“No，I’mnothurt，thankstoEric。Youmustthankhimfortakingsuchgoodcareofme。He’samightyfinefellow。I’lltellyouallaboutitinthemorning，dear。IwasprettywellshakenupandI’mgoingrighttobednow。Goodnight。“
Whenshereachedthelowroominwhichsheslept，shesankuponthebedinherridingdress，facedownward。
“Oh，Ipityhim！Ipityhim！“shemurmured，withalongsighofexhaustion。Shemusthavesleptalittle。Whensheroseagain，shetookfromherdressaletterthathadbeenwaitingforheratthevillagepost-office。Itwascloselywritteninalong，angularhand，coveringadozenpagesofforeignnote-paper，andbegan:
MyDearestMargaret:ifIshouldattempttosayhowlikeawinterhaththineabsencebeen，Ishouldincurtheriskofbeingtedious。Really，ittakesthesparkleoutofeverything。
Havingnothingbettertodo，andnotcaringtogoanywhereinparticularwithoutyou，IremainedinthecityuntilJackCourtwellnotedmygeneraldespondencyandbroughtmedownheretohisplaceonthesoundtomanagesomeopen-airtheatricalsheisgettingup。
AsYouLikeItisofcoursethepieceselected。MissHarrisonplaysRosalind。Iwishyouhadbeenheretotakethepart。MissHarrisonreadsherlineswell，butsheiseitheramaiden-all-forlornoratomboy；insistsonreadingintothepartallsortsofdeepermeaningsandhighlycolouredsuggestionswhollyoutofharmonywiththepastoralsetting。Likemostoftheprofessionals，sheexaggeratestheemotionalelementandquitefailstodojusticetoRosalind’sfacilewitandreallybrilliantmentalqualities。GerardwilldoOrlando，butrumorsaysheiseprisofyoursometimefriend，MissMeredith，andhismemoryistreacherousandhisinterestfitful。