Miriam Van Waters

“ The tears which she could not shed were in her voice.
"Margaret Hill—the great fire came again, and burned the cabin and the forest—and—Sea Cliff'."
"Yes, Killamah."
"I cannot go—go on."
"And Sea Cliff died?"
"No."
"Did—did he go away, little one?"
"No." I could scarcely hear the faint whisper. At last: "He—he worked in the mill, and a—a log fell on him. They sent him away from me—to the hospital—you call it. A moon ago, and he has not come back. The Sea Wind dies, and Sea Cliff is alone—alone. Killamah cannot go to him— she knows not where—she has no money. ”

“ And my father's people—his people—said they would kill him if he came back. And his father, the great chief, told none to speak his name, or they, too, would die as he had—to them. But Sea Cliff only laughed at them. He would take me in his arms and say, 'Killamah, little one, my people are the Sea. They storm, and beat their tempests against the Sea Cliff, but the Sea Cliff stands silent and stern and unmoved. And Killamah is the dancing waterfall, which dashes over the cold rock and makes it beautiful—beautiful. "The Great Whiteness melted, and went back to the river and to the sea. ”

“ I could feel the strength of the great plains and the long, barren sandhills. I could hear the roar of mighty waterfalls. I could feel the latent force of the passionate love and hate which surged through the girl's blood—the passion of the primitive. ”