"Why, you might—I say might—fall low enough to try to use the poor girl’s little indiscretion against her. But if you do, my boy, I’ll go back on you. I’ll do it as sure as there is a God in heaven. I wish you luck with her, but it all depends on you. If you will be a man, you may be happy in the end, get a beautiful, trusting wife, and wipe the mire off your soul which is making you so miserable. Go straight home and set about it in the right way. Begin with a humble proposal of marriage. That will show your intentions at the outset. Now, let’s get out in the open air." They walked through the gay throng again to the carriage, and as they were getting in Langdon said, almost cheerfully: "I’m going to take your advice. I know I love her, honestly and truly, for I want her with every nerve in my body. I haven’t slept a single night through since the thing happened. I’ve simply been crazy." "Well, the whole thing lies with you," said Sively. "The girl must have cared _something_ for you at one time, and you must recover your lost place in her estimation. A humble proposal of marriage will, in my judgment, soften her more than anything else. It will be balm to her wounded pride, too, and you may win. You’ve got a fair chance. Most poor mountain girls would be flattered by the opportunity to marry a man above them in social position, and she may be that way. Be a man, and pay no attention to your father’s objections. When the proper time comes, I’ll talk to him." XXXI After leaving Atlanta, with only her normal strength and flesh to regain, Jane Hemingway returned to her mountain home in most excellent spirits. She had heartily enjoyed her stay, and was quite in her best mood before the eager group of neighbors who gathered at her cottage the afternoon of her return. "What _I_ can’t understand," remarked old Mrs. Penuckle, "is why you don’t say more about the cutting. Why, the knife wasn’t going into _me_ at all, and yet on the day I thought the doctors would be at work on you I couldn’t eat my dinner. I went around shuddering, fancying I could feel the blade rake, rake through my vitals. Wasn’t you awfully afraid?" "Bless your soul, no!" Jane laughed merrily. "There wasn’t a bit more of a quiver on me than there is right now. We was all talking in a funny sort of way and passing jokes to the last minute before they gave me ether. They gave it to me in a tin thing full of cotton that they clapped over my mouth and nose. I had to laugh, I remember, for, just as he got ready, Dr. Putnam said, with his sly grin, ’Look here, I’m going to muzzle you, old lady, so you can’t talk any more about your neighbors.’" "Well, he certainly give you a bliff there without knowing it," remarked Sam Hemingway, dryly. "But he’s a fool if he thinks a tin thing full o’ drugs would do that." "Oh, go on and tell us about the cutting," said Mrs. Penuckle, wholly oblivious of Sam’s sarcasm. "That’s what _I_ come to hear about."