“Then I heard some'n' else,” Pole said; “an' I'm goin' to feel mean about totin' it to you, beca'se women has a right to the'r secrets, an' who they pick an' choose fer the'r life-mates ort to be a sacred matter, but this is a thing I think you have a right to be onto.” “What is that, Pole?” Floyd seemed to be holding his breath. He was almost pale in his great suspense. “Why I heard Cynthia deny up an' down flatfooted that she was engaged to Hillhouse. Lord, you ort to 'a' heard her snort when Sally told 'er it had been the general belief about here ever since her an' him went off to Cartersville. She was good mad. I know that fer I heard Sally tryin' to pacify 'er. I heard Cynthia say all of a sudden: 'My mother put that report into circulation. I know it now, and she had no right to do it.'” Floyd breathed more freely, a gleam of hope was in his eyes, his face was flushed. He said nothing. Pole suddenly drew his feet back from the fire. “Don't you want a drink o' fresh water, Nelson?” he asked. “No, thank you,” Floyd said. “Well, I do. Keep yore seat. Since I left off whiskey I'm a great water-drinker.” Pole had been gone only a minute when Floyd heard light steps in the entry leading to the kitchen. He sprang up, for Cynthia stood in the door-way. “Why--why,” she stammered, “Mr. Baker told me some one wanted to see me. I--I had no idea that you--” “I want to see you bad enough, God knows, Cynthia,” Floyd found himself saying, “but I did not tell him so. That, you know, would not be respecting the message you sent me.” “The message?” she said. “I'm sure I don't understand you.” “I mean the message you sent me by your mother,” Floyd explained. “But I didn't send you any message,” Cynthia said, still mystified, as she stared frankly into his eyes. “I mean the--the night I came for you,” Floyd pursued, “the night I was so presumptuous as to think you'd run away with me.” “Oh, did she--did my mother tell you--” Cynthia was beginning to understand. “Did she say that I--” “She told me you said you wanted me never to bother you again.” The girl lowered her head, the fire lighted up her face as she stood, her eyes on the rough floor. She was silent a moment as if in deep thought, then she looked into his eyes again. “I begin to see it all now,” she said. “I wondered why you--how you could have treated me that way after--after all you'd said.” “Cynthia, what do you mean? Do, _do_ tell me!” He leaned closer to her--she could feel his quick, excited breath. “Surely you could not believe I'd have left if you hadn't wished it. Oh, little girl, I have been the most miserable man alive over losing you. I know I am unworthy of you--I always shall be that--but losing you has nearly killed me. Your mother told me that awful night that you not only wanted me to let you alone, but that you were going to marry Hillhouse.”