Almost sobbing, now, she left the sentence incomplete; and then: "Oh,
you wouldn't dared act so to a bluegrass girl! But I know what's right
as well as them. It don't take no book-learnin' to tell me as how a kiss
like that you planned for me would be a sign that really you care for me
no more than for the critters that you hunt an' kill for pastime up hyar
among the mountings."
He would have given much if he had never done the foolish thing. He
stood there with lowered eyes, bent head, abashed, discomfited.
"An' I 'lowed you were my friend!" said she.
Now he looked up at her and spoke out impulsively: "And so I am, Madge,
really! I was ... wrong. Forgive me!"
She dropped her hands with a weary change of manner. "Well, I reckon I
will," said she. "You've been too kind and good for me to bear a grudge
ag'in you; but ... but ... Well, maybe I had better say good-night."
She walked slowly back across the bridge without another word, pulled
on its rope and raised it, made the rope fast and slowly disappeared
within her little cabin.
"Poor child!" said he, and turned away. "I was a brute to wound her."
As he went down the trail, darkening, now, as the moon slid behind the
towering mountain back of him, his heart was in a tumult. "After all,"
he reflected, "education isn't everything. All the culture in the world
wouldn't make her more sincere and true. She has taught _me_ a lesson I
shan't soon forget."
His thoughts turned, then, to the girl who would come up with the party
on the following day.
"I--wonder! Was there ever, really, a time when I loved Barbara?... If
so, that time has gone, now, never to return."
CHAPTER IX
His visitors took Layson by surprise, next morning. They had started
from the valley long before he had supposed they would.
Holton saw him first and nudged his daughter, who was with him. They
were well ahead of Miss Alathea and the Colonel, who had been unable to
keep up with them upon the final sharp ascent of the foot-journey from
the wagon-road. The old man grinned unpleasantly. He had rather vulgar
manners, often annoying to his daughter, who had had all the advantages
which, in his rough, mysterious youth, he had been denied.
"Thar he is, Barb; thar he is," he said, not loudly. Miss Alathea and
the Colonel, following close behind, were a restraint on him.
The girl's face was full of eagerness as she saw the man they sought. He
was busy polishing a gun, but that his thoughts were occupied with
something less mechanical and not wholly pleasant the slight frown upon
his face made evident. "Mr. Layson! Frank!" she cried.
The young man turned, on hearing her, and hurried toward her and her
father with his hands outstretched in welcome. He was not overjoyed to
have the old man visit him, just then; he was even doubtful of the
welcome which his heart had for the daughter; but he was a southerner
and in the gentle-born southerner real hospitality is quite instinctive.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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