“You couldn't have done a kinder thing than come here, Betty; I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am--and as for my loving you--why, I'll just keep on doing that to the end. I can see myself a bent, old man still pestering you with my attentions, and you a sweet, old lady with snow-white hair and pink cheeks, still obdurate--still saying no! Oh, Lord, isn't it awful!” He had lifted himself on his elbow, and now sank back on his pillow. Betty paused irresolutely. “Charley--” “Yes, dear?” “Can't you be happy without me?” “No.” “But you don't try to be!” “No use in my making any such foolish effort, I'd be doomed to failure.” “Good-by, Charley--I really must go--” He looked up yearningly into her face, and yielding to a sudden impulse, she stooped and kissed him on the forehead, then she fled from the room. “Oh, come back--Betty--” cried Norton, and his voice rose to a wail of entreaty, but she was gone. She had been quite as much surprised by her act as Charley himself. In the yard, Carrington was waiting for her. Jeff had just brought up Norton's horse, and though he made no display of weapons, the Kentuckian had fully armed himself. “I am going to ride to Belle Plain with you, Miss Malroy,” he said, as he lifted her into her saddle. “Do you think it necessary?” she asked, but she did not look at him. “I hope not. I'll keep a bit in advance,” he added, as he mounted his horse, and all Betty saw of him during their ride of five miles was his broad back. At the entrance to Belle Plain he reined in his horse. “I reckon it's all right, now,” he said briefly. “You will return at once to Mr. Norton?” she asked. He nodded. “And you will not leave him while he is helpless?” “No, I'll not leave him,” said Carrington, giving her a steady glance. “I am so glad, I--his friends will feel so much safer with you there. I will send over in the morning to learn how he passed the night. Good-by, Mr. Carrington.” And still refusing to meet his eyes, she gave him her hand. But Carrington did not quit the mouth of the lane until she had crossed between the great fields of waving corn, and he had seen her pass up the hillside beyond to the oak grove, where the four massive chimneys of Belle Plain house showed their gray stone copings among the foliage. With this last glimpse of her he turned away. CHAPTER XXI. THICKET POINT It WAS a point with Mr. Ware to see just as little as possible of Betty. He had no taste for what he called female chatter. A sane interest in the price of cotton or pork he considered the only rational test of human intelligence, and Betty evinced entire indifference where those great staples were concerned, hence it was agreeable to him to have most of his meals served in his office.