The Rim of the Desert
_To the Memory of_ MY MOTHER A gentle and appreciative critic, the only one, perhaps, who re-read my previous books with pleasure and found no flaw in them, and who would have had a greater interest than any other in this publication. FOREWORD The desert of this story is that semi-arid region east of the upper Columbia. It is cut off from the moisture laden winds of the Pacific by the lofty summits of the Cascade Mountains which form its western rim, and for many miles the great river crowds the barrier, winding, breaking in rapids, seeking a way through. To one approaching this rim from the dense forests of the westward slopes, the sage grown levels seem to stretch limitless into the far horizon, but they are broken by hidden coulees; in
[Coming close to him.] Oh, let us live our life together as long as
we can!
ALLMERS. [Shrugging his shoulders.] Live our life, yes! And have
nothing to fill life with. An empty void on all sides--wherever I
look.
RITA. [In fear.] Oh, sooner or later you will go away from me,
Alfred! I feel it! I can see it in your face! You will go away
from me.
ALLMERS. With my fellow-traveller, do you mean?
RITA. No, I mean worse than that. Of your own free will--you will
leave me--for you think it's only here, with me, that you have
nothing to live for. Is not that what is in your thoughts?
ALLMERS. [Looking steadfastly at her.] What if it were--?
[A disturbance, and the noise of angry, quarrelling voices is heard
from down below, in the distance. ALLMERS goes to the railing.]
RITA. What is that? [With an outburst.] Oh, you'll see, they have
found him!
ALLMERS. He will never be found.
_To the Memory of_ MY MOTHER A gentle and appreciative critic, the only one, perhaps, who re-read my previous books with pleasure and found no flaw in them, and who would have had a greater interest than any other in this publication. FOREWORD The desert of this story is that semi-arid region east of the upper Columbia. It is cut off from the moisture laden winds of the Pacific by the lofty summits of the Cascade Mountains which form its western rim, and for many miles the great river crowds the barrier, winding, breaking in rapids, seeking a way through. To one approaching this rim from the dense forests of the westward slopes, the sage grown levels seem to stretch limitless into the far horizon, but they are broken by hidden coulees; in