"Yes, I know," she faltered, looking away; for the sight of his grief had conquered. "It's hard to believe--wretchedly hard--that you and I should have been born to hate and destroy each other;--and that you, with the hand I've so patiently taught to write, killed--him!" He groaned. "But, Dale," she stepped closer, "I've just been facing facts, and believe that our strong wills can adjust it all;--that through our old feud may come a truer understanding, a surer sympathy, than enters often into this _comedie humaine_. Those are the real things which make life worth while; not inherited hatreds because our ancestors were at war! It may be hard to forgive, furiously hard; but certainly it is wrong to keep such ghastly things alive! The world is such a wide marvel of the beautiful out-of-doors to wander in!--there is so much to do and learn and see and be!--so much to read and think about and live for!--so much of the glories of life--that surely you and I can be given the boon of forgetfulness and the bounty of friendship! Go back to the house, pick up the book I threw away, and look at the last line you read!--then rub your eyes, and pretend you've just awakened from an ugly dream!" He was slowly drawing his hands down from his face, and looking as though this itself might be a dream. In bewilderment he asked: "Is this true?" "Ah, yes, yes," she hurriedly answered. "It is all true. The nobility which made old Ben French and Leister Mann be friends, has reached into the valley and calmed the hatred which by our law should live between you and me. Go back to your book. Tomorrow when I see you, today will not have been. No, don't thank me! You might--thank Ruth!" And quickly she was gone. But Dale was following. At the end of the arbor he caught her by the shoulders, as he would have caught a fleeing boy. Springing about, she saw the new light of happiness in his face, and her irritation at being thus stopped changed almost into laughter. "I will thank you anyhow," he said, with a silent chuckle of honest fellowship. "This is like givin' me a new life after I'd been shot to death. Just watch those lessons fly now!" "But you mustn't stop ladies roughly that way!" He stepped back, stammering and visibly embarrassed as she knew he would be; and, believing it well for him to continue so to be, she went toward the horse. But he was again at her side, not to apologize;--just humbly to help her mount. He watched as she cantered around the circle and passed between the old gate posts; then threw back his head and gazed into the sky, solemnly, earnestly; taking deep, deep breaths, as famished kine will dip their muzzles in a stream and gluttonously swallow. After this he went slowly to the library, took up the book, and reverently opened it at the place where he had begun to dream a dream. CHAPTER XXXII THE SHERIFF FORGETS HIS PRISONER