She looked up at Mink gravely, earnestly. She had sat down on one of the rocks beside the basket; her hand toyed with a sprig of the herbs within; her dense golden hair, heavily undulating, was all the brighter for the contrast with the dark green vine that draped the gray rocks behind and above her, the delicate coloring of her face the finer, the tint of the saffron kerchief, knotted beneath her chin, the more intense. Her brown gown lay in straight, simple folds about her lithe figure; the gaunt old hound sat down at her feet and leaned his head on her knee. Mink had not always been definitely aware of her beauty,—it was not of the type which most appeals to the rural admirer; but its subtle, unrealized fascinations had swayed him unconsciously. Now he looked at her critically, speculatively, striving to behold her as she appeared to Gwinnan, to adjust his estimate to Mrs. Purvine’s report of the florid judicial compliments. He cared naught for the rumor of the impending trial. He felt no gratulation that Harshaw had been able to compass the jeopardy, if not the disgrace, of the man he hated. He gazed at her with sedulous attention, to see her with Gwinnan’s eyes. “Lethe,” he said, suddenly,—he had dropped down upon the ground near her feet, and leaned back against the rock,—“did Jedge Gwinnan say ennything ter you-uns ’bout me?” She was in a tremor instantly. He did not seem to notice. He was affecting to offer the dog a morsel in a deceptive bit of stone, and as the creature, with a dubiously wrinkling and sniffing nose, would attempt to take it he would snatch it away. “Did he?” he persisted, looking up at her from under the brim of the old white hat. “Whenst I talked ter him an’ begged him ter git ye a pardon or suthin’,” she said. She was not without the tact to avail herself of discreet ellipses; but she forecast with dread that with these he would not be content. “What did he say?” He was suffering the hound to lick the stone in baffled reproach, and turn away disdainful. Mink’s lip was curling with fierce sarcasm as he reiterated, “What did he say?” “I couldn’t ondertake ter remember all he said, Reuben. ’Twar down yander at the post-office at Locust Levels. Me an’ Jerry Price rid thar in the wagin ter see ef thar war enny letter fur Mis’ Purvine.” “I’ll be bound I kin tell ye suthin’ _ye_ said!” exclaimed Mink. “Ye tole him ez he war powerful good ter hold no gredge agin me.” She turned her despairing eyes upon him. He could read the truth in their clear depths. “An’ he tole ye ez ye war too good ter marry me.” There was no need to answer. “An’ ye b’lieved him!” “Oh, Reuben, ye know better ’n that!” she exclaimed, reassured to speak freely. “He jes’ talked ’bout’n ye like my step-mother, an’ aunt Dely, an’ Jake Jessup’s wife; none o’ them air gamesome, an’ they don’t set store on gamesome ways. ’Twar jes’ sech talk ez theirn.”