There was not the least tone of mischief or superiority, or even of patronage in her manner. It was as quiet and cruel as the fate that might have led 'Lige to his destruction. Even her father felt a slight thrill of awe as she paused. “Then he never really spoke to you?” he asked hurriedly. “Only once. I was gathering swamp lilies all alone, a mile below the bend of the creek, and he came upon me suddenly. Perhaps it was that I didn't jump or start--I didn't see anything to jump or start at--that he said, 'You're not frightened at me, Miss Harcourt, like the other girls? You don't think I'm drunk or half mad--as they do?' I don't remember exactly what I said, but it meant that whether he was drunk or half mad or sober I didn't see any reason to be afraid of him. And then he told me that if I was fond of swamp lilies I might have all I wanted at his place, and for the matter of that the place too, as he was going away, for he couldn't stand the loneliness any longer. He said that he had nothing in common with the place and the people--no more than I had--and that was what he had always fancied in me. I told him that if he felt in that way about his place he ought to leave it, or sell it to some one who cared for it, and go away. That must have been in his mind when he offered it to you,--at least that's what I thought when you told us you had bought it. I didn't know but what he might have told you, but you didn't care to say it before mother.” Mr. Harcourt sat gazing at her with breathless amazement. “And you--think that--'Lige Curtis--lov--liked you?” “Yes, I think he did--and that he does now!” “NOW! What do you mean? The man is dead!” said Harcourt starting. “That's just what I don't believe.” “Impossible! Think of what you are saying.” “I never could quite understand or feel that he was dead when everybody said so, and now that I've heard this story I KNOW that he is living.” “But why did he not make himself known in time to claim the property?” “Because he did not care for it.” “What did he care for, then?” “Me, I suppose.” “But this calumny is not like a man who loves you.” “It is like a JEALOUS one.” With an effort Harcourt threw off his bewildered incredulity and grasped the situation. He would have to contend with his enemy in the flesh and blood, but that flesh and blood would be very weak in the hands of the impassive girl beside him. His face lightened. The same idea might have been in Clementina's mind when she spoke again, although her face had remained unchanged. “I do not see why YOU should bother yourself further about it,” she said. “It is only a matter between myself and him; you can leave it to me.” “But if you are mistaken and he should not be living?” “I am not mistaken. I am even certain now that I have seen him.” “Seen him!”