The Call Of The Canyon by Zane Grey (most inspirational books .txt) 📕

Hoped For Some Incredible Reversion Of Glenn's Mind Or Of Her Own? A Sense

Of Irreparable Loss Flooded Over Her--The First Check To Shame And Humiliation.

From Her Window She Looked Out To The Southwest. Somewhere Across The Cedar

And Pine-Greened Uplands Lay Oak Creek Canyon,  Going To Sleep In Its Purple

And Gold Shadows Of Sunset. Banks Of Broken Clouds Hung To The Horizon,

Like Continents And Islands And Reefs Set In A Turquoise Sea. Shafts Of

Sunlight Streaked Down Through Creamy-Edged And Purple-Centered Clouds.

Vast Flare Of Gold Dominated The Sunset Background.

When The Train Rounded A Curve Carley's Strained Vision Became Filled With

The Upheaved Bulk Of The San Francisco Mountains. Ragged Gray Grass Slopes

And Green Forests On End,  And Black Fringed Sky Lines,  All Pointed To The

Sharp Clear Peaks Spearing The Sky. And As She Watched,  The Peaks Slowly

Flushed With Sunset Hues,  And The Sky Flared Golden,  And The Strength Of

The Eternal Mountains Stood Out In Sculptured Sublimity. Every Day For Two

Months And More Carley Had Watched These Peaks,  At All Hours,  In Every

Mood; And They Had Unconsciously Become A Part Of Her Thought. The Train

Was Relentlessly Whirling Her Eastward. Soon They Must Become A Memory.

Tears Blurred Her Sight. Poignant Regret Seemed Added To The Anguish She

Was Suffering. Why Had She Not Learned Sooner To See The Glory Of The

Mountains,  To Appreciate The Beauty And Solitude? Why Had She Not

Understood Herself?

The Next Day Through New Mexico She Followed Magnificent Ranges And

Valleys--So Different From The Country She Had Seen Coming West--So

Supremely Beautiful That She Wondered If She Had Only Acquired The Harvest

Of A Seeing Eye.

But It Was At Sunset Of The Following Clay,  When The Train Was Speeding

Down The Continental Slope Of Prairie Land Beyond The Rockies,  That The

West Took Its Ruthless Revenge.

Masses Of Strange Cloud And Singular Light Upon The Green Prairie,  And A

Luminosity In The Sky,  Drew Carley To The Platform Of Her Car,  Which Was

The Last Of The Train. There She Stood,  Gripping The Iron Gate,  Feeling The

Wind Whip Her Hair And The Iron-Tracked Ground Speed From Under Her,

Spellbound And Stricken At The Sheer Wonder And Glory Of The Firmament,  And

The Mountain Range That It Canopied So Exquisitely.

A Rich And Mellow Light,  Singularly Clear,  Seemed To Flood Out Of Some

Unknown Source. For The Sun Was Hidden. The Clouds Just Above Carley Hung

Low,  And They Were Like Thick,  Heavy Smoke,  Mushrooming,  Coalescing,

Forming And Massing,  Of Strange Yellow Cast Of Mative. It Shaded Westward

Into Heliotrope And This Into A Purple So Royal,  So Matchless And Rare That

Carley Understood Why The Purple Of The Heavens Could Never Be Reproduced

In Paint. Here The Cloud Mass Thinned And Paled,  And A Tint Of Rose Began

To Flush The Billowy,  Flowery,  Creamy White. Then Came The Surpassing

Splendor Of This Cloud Pageant--A Vast Canopy Of Shell Pink,  A Sun-Fired

Surface Like An Opal Sea,  Rippled And Webbed,  With The Exquisite Texture Of

An Oriental Fabric,  Pure,  Delicate,  Lovely--As No Work Of Human Hands Could

Be. It Mirrored All The Warm,  Pearly Tints Of The Inside Whorl Of The

Tropic Nautilus. And It Ended Abruptly,  A Rounded Depth Of Bank,  On A Broad

Stream Of Clear Sky,  Intensely Blue,  Transparently Blue,  As If Through The

Lambent Depths Shone The Infinite Firmament. The Lower Edge Of This Stream

Took The Golden Lightning Of The Sunset And Was Notched For All Its

Horizon-Long Length By The Wondrous White Glistening-Peaked Range Of The

Rockies. Far To The North,  Standing Aloof From The Range,  Loomed Up The

Grand Black Bulk And Noble White Dome Of Pikes Peak.

Carley Watched The Sunset Transfiguration Of Cloud And Sky And Mountain

Until All Were Cold And Gray. And Then She Returned To Her Seat,  Thoughtful

And Sad,  Feeling That The West Had Mockingly Flung At Her One Of Its

Transient Moments Of Loveliness.

Nor Had The West Wholly Finished With Her. Next Day The Mellow Gold Of The

Kansas Wheat Fields,  Endless And Boundless As A Sunny Sea,  Rich,  Waving In

The Wind,  Stretched Away Before Her Aching Eyes For Hours And Hours. Here

Was The Promise Fulfilled,  The Bountiful Harvest Of The Land,  The Strength

Of The West. The Great Middle State Had A Heart Of Gold.

East Of Chicago Carley Began To Feel That The Long Days And Nights Of

Riding,  The Ceaseless Turning Of The Wheels,  The Constant And Wearing

Stress Of Emotion,  Had Removed Her An Immeasurable Distance Of Miles And

Time And Feeling From The Scene Of Her Catastrophe. Many Days Seemed To

Have Passed. Many Had Been The Hours Of Her Bitter Regret And Anguish.

Indiana And Ohio,  With Their Green Pastoral Farms,  And Numberless Villages,

And Thriving Cities,  Denoted A Country Far Removed And Different From The

West,  And An Approach To The Populous East. Carley Felt Like A Wanderer

Coming Home. She Was Restlessly And Impatiently Glad. But Her Weariness Of

Body And Mind,  And The Close Atmosphere Of The Car,  Rendered Her Extreme

Discomfort. Summer Had Laid Its Hot Hand On The Low Country East Of The

Mississippi.

Carley Had Wired Her Aunt And Two Of Her Intimate Friends To Meet Her At

The Grand Central Station. This Reunion Soon To Come Affected Carley In

Recurrent Emotions Of Relief,  Gladness,  And Shame. She Did Not Sleep Well,

And Arose Early,  And When The Train Reached Albany She Felt That She Could

Hardly Endure The Tedious Hours. The Majestic Hudson And The Palatial

Mansions On The Wooded Bluffs Proclaimed To Carley That She Was Back In The

East. How Long A Time Seemed To Have Passed! Either She Was Not The Same Or

The Aspect Of Everything Had Changed. But She Believed That As Soon As She

Got Over The Ordeal Of Meeting Her Friends,  And Was Home Again,  She Would

Soon See Things Rationally.

At Last The Train Sheered Away From The Broad Hudson And Entered The

Environs Of New York. Carley Sat Perfectly Still,  To All Outward Appearances

A Calm,  Superbly-Poised New York Woman Returning Home,  But Inwardly

Raging With Contending Tides. In Her Own Sight She Was A Disgraceful

Failure,  A Prodigal Sneaking Back To The Ease And Protection Of Loyal

Friends Who Did Not Know Her Truly. Every Familiar Landmark In The Approach

To The City Gave Her A Thrill,  Yet A Vague Unsatisfied Something Lingered

After Each Sensation.

Then The Train With Rush And Roar Crossed The Harlem River To Enter New

York City. As One Waking From A Dream Carley Saw The Blocks And Squares Of

Gray Apartment Houses And Red Buildings,  The Miles Of Roofs And Chimneys,

The Long Hot Glaring Streets Full Of Playing Children And Cars. Then Above

The Roar Of The Train Sounded The High Notes Of A Hurdy-Gurdy. Indeed She

Was Home. Next To Startle Her Was The Dark Tunnel,  And Then The Slowing Of

The Train To A Stop. As She Walked Behind A Porter Up The Long Incline

Toward The Station Gate Her Legs Seemed To Be Dead.

In The Circle Of Expectant Faces Beyond The Gate She Saw Her Aunt's,  Eager

And Agitated,  Then The Handsome Pale Face Of Eleanor Harmon,  And Beside Her

The Sweet Thin One Of Beatrice Lovell. As They Saw Her How Quick The Change

From Expectancy To Joy! It Seemed They All Rushed Upon Her,  And Embraced

Her,  And Exclaimed Over Her Together. Carley Never Recalled What She Said.

But Her Heart Was Full.

"Oh,  How Perfectly Stunning You Look!" Cried Eleanor,  Backing Away From

Carley And Gazing With Glad,  Surprised Eyes.

"Carley!" Gasped Beatrice. "You Wonderful Golden-Skinned Goddess! . . .

You're Young Again,  Like You Were In Our School Days."

It Was Before Aunt Mary's Shrewd,  Penetrating,  Loving Gaze That Carley

Quailed.

"Yes,  Carley,  You Look Well--Better Than I Ever Saw You,  But--But--"

"But I Don't Look Happy," Interrupted Carley. "I Am Happy To Get Home--To

See You All . . . But--My--My Heart Is Broken!"

A Little Shocked Silence Ensued,  Then Carley Found Herself Being Led Across

The Lower Level And Up The Wide Stairway. As She Mounted To The Vast-Domed

Cathedral-Like Chamber Of The Station A Strange Sensation Pierced Her With

A Pang. Not The Old Thrill Of Leaving New York Or Returning! Nor Was It

The Welcome Sight Of The Hurrying,  Well-Dressed Throng Of Travelers And

Commuters,  Nor The Stately Beauty Of The Station. Carley Shut Her Eyes,  And

Then She Knew. The Dim Light Of Vast Space Above,  The Looming Gray Walls,

Shadowy With Tracery Of Figures,  The Lofty Dome Like The Blue Sky,  Brought

Back To Her The Walls Of Oak Creek Canyon And The Great Caverns Under The

Ramparts. As Suddenly As She Had Shut Her Eyes Carley Opened Them To Face

Her Friends.

"Let Me Get It Over--Quickly," She Burst Out,  With Hot Blood Surging To Her

Face. "I--I Hated The West. It Was So Raw--So Violent--So Big. I Think I

Hate It More--Now. . . . But It Changed Me--Made Me Over Physically--And

Did Something To My Soul--God Knows What. . . . And It Has Saved Glenn. Oh!

He Is Wonderful! You Would Never Know Him. . . . For Long I Had Not The

Courage To Tell Him I Came To Bring Him Back East. I Kept Putting It Off.

And I Rode,  I Climbed,  I Camped,  I Lived Outdoors. At First It Nearly

Killed Me. Then It Grew Bearable,  And Easier,  Until I Forgot. I Wouldn't Be

Honest If I Didn't Admit Now That Somehow I Had A Wonderful Time,  In