As he walked on, and the sunrise came nearer to him, he stopped
his song. The broadening heavens had a majesty and sweetness
that made him forget the physical joy of happy youth. He grew
almost sad with the great vague thoughts and emotions which
rolled in his brain as the wonder of the morning grew.
He walked more slowly, mechanically following the road, his eyes
on the ever-shifting streaming banners of rose and pale green,
which made the east too glorious for any words to tell. The air was
so still it seemed to await expectantly the coming of the sun.
Then his mind flew back to Agnes. Would she see it? She was at
work, getting breakfast, but he hoped she had time to see it. He
was in that mood so common to him now, when he could not fully
enjoy any sight or sound unless he could share it with her. Far
down the road he heard the sharp clatter of a wagon. The roosters
were calling near and far, in many keys and tunes. The dogs were
barking, cattle bells jangling in the wooded pastures, and as the
youth passed farmhouses, lights in the kitchen windows showed
that the women were astir about breakfast, and the sound of voices
and curry-combs at the barn told that the men were at their daily
chores.
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