There was silence. The two men sat facing each other. Suddenly the mountaineer leaned over and said: “Give me your hand on it, Nelson. You'll never regret this as long as you live.” Floyd extended his hand and then got up and began to walk back and forth across the room again. “I've got another trouble to bear, Pole,” he said, gloomily. “You say you have, Nelson?” “Yes, and it is worse than all. Pole, I've lost the love of the only woman I ever really cared for.” “You mean Cynthia Porter?” said Pole, and he leaned forward, his eyes burning. Floyd nodded, took one or two steps, and then paused near to Pole. “You don't know it, perhaps, but I've been back up there lately.” “Oh no!” “Yes, I went back to see her. I couldn't stay away from her. I had been on a protracted spree. I was on the brink of suicide, in a disordered condition of mind and body, when all at once it occurred to me that perhaps she might not absolutely scorn me. Pole, the very hope that she might be willing to share my misfortune suddenly sobered me. I was in an awful condition, but I stopped drinking and went up there one night. I secretly met her and proposed an elopement. The poor little girl was so excited that she would not decide then, but she agreed to give me her final decision a week later.” “Great God! you don't mean it, Nelson!” the mountaineer cried in surprise--“shorely you don't!” “Yes, I do. Then I went back to fill the appointment, but she had confided it all to her mother, and the old lady came out and told me that Cynthia not only refused me, but that she earnestly hoped I would never bother her again.” “My Lord!” Pole exclaimed; “and there was a time when I actually thought--but that's _her_ matter, Nelson. A man hain't got no right on earth dabblin' in a woman's heart-affairs. To me nothin' ain't more sacred than a woman's choice of her life-partner.” “Mrs. Porter hinted plainly that Cynthia was thinking of marrying Hillhouse,” said Floyd. “Ah, now I begin to see ahead!” the farmer said, reflectively. “Cynthia's down at Cartersville now, on a visit to her cousins, and the long-legged parson is there, too, filling in for another preacher. I don't pretend to understand women, Nelson. Thar's been a lots o' talk about her and Hillhouse since you went off. I axed Sally what she thought about it, an' she seemed to think if Cynthia had quit thinkin' o' you it was due to the reports in circulation that you had started in to drinkin'. Sally thought that Cynthia was one woman that 'ud not resk her chance with a drinkin' man. Cynthia's a good girl, Nelson, and maybe she thinks she kin make herse'f useful in life by marrying a preacher. I dunno. And then he is a bright sort of fellow; he is sharp enough to know that she is the smartest and best unmarried woman in Georgia. Well, that will be purty hard fer you to bear, but you must face it along with the other, my boy.”