Some weeks later, at dusk on a calm evening, Miles and his sole companion sat outdoors for the first time that year. A little bench--Tony’s handiwork--girdled the hackmatack, so that while leaning against the same trunk, each saw a different quarter of the valley, and talked over the shoulder lazily, facing two cardinal points, with thoughts as far asunder. The time was neither spring nor summer, but that rare Arcadian interval, too brief for a season, too elusive for even a transition, and yet in the calendar of sense marked off as plain as a festival. The night fell neither warm nor cool; a tempered fragrance of blossoms drew down, without stir of air, from the orchard over the hill; lower field and shore, river and farthest ridge, lay confounded in blackness under the stars, land and water parted only by faint zigzag margins, where the last edge of daylight lined some inlet or hooked about a promontory. “Them days,” continued Ella in a distant monotone, “the Injuns camped in back of ar house at Sweet Water. Old Lewie Neptune, he was chieft. An’ nights he got drunk, he’d pitch ’em outdoor, so’s all hands would come beg for in. Midnight an’ bitter cold, sometimes, women-fo’ks an’ youngsters, they rout us out o’ bed. Big Mary, Æneas Moon an’ his brother Peter, an’ Lolas an’ Francises an’ Socabasins,--whol’ slews of ’em, all wropped an’ huddledt up in blankets, scairt, an’ sayin’ they’d be killed. I see the kitchen floor covered with ’em, many the time, sleepin’ curled round the stove--Who’s that?” A flurry of footsteps came up out of the dark; some one raced by them toward the house. “We’re out here,” called Miles, rising. “What’s wanted?” “Oh!” The runner stopped, and returned panting. “I’ve come. You told me to.” “Anna!” he cried joyfully. She stood for an instant motionless, breathing hard; gave a little failure of a laugh; then spoke quickly, in a voice meant to be calm. “I stood them as long as I could. Now you must tell me where to go. Those men! While my father stayed himself, I had somebody; but now he’s--they’re both against me.” She broke off, as though stifled. “I’ll never go back; I won’t, I won’t!” Ella suddenly moved between them. “Come in the house,” she ordered coldly. “Can’t see ye. If the’ ’s trouble, we’ll take a light to it, first thing.” They went in together to the front room. Miles lighted the candle (which, since Tony’s day, replaced the lamp) and over the trembling leaf-point of flame saw the girl’s head start into radiance like a vision. She stood before them with a half-shy, half-defiant composure; but her eyes and her brown cheeks told another story, a pulse throbbed in her bare throat, and under the thin blue cloth her breathing fluttered deeply. “He tried to beat me,” she said, with the same quiet scorn. “Me, after all the time I was--”