I hev heerd it, 'n' I hev seed him a-lookin' at a picter in
his room ez a man don't look at his sister. They say hit's her.
"Thar's one thing more, Easter," he concluded, as he stepped from
the porch. "He is a-goin' away. I heard him say it yestiddy. What
will ye do when he's gone ef ye lets yerself git to thinkin' so much
of him now? I've warned ye now, Easter, fer yer own good, though
ye mought think I'm a-workin' fer myself. But I know I hev done
whut I ought. I've warned ye, 'n' ye kin do whut ye please, but I'm
a-watchin' ye."
The girl said nothing, but stood rigid, with eyes wide open and
face tense, as the mountaineer's steps died away. She was
bewildered by the confused emotions that swayed her. Why had
she not indignantly denied that she was in love with the "furriner"?
Raines had not hinted it as a suspicion. He had spoken it outright
as a fact, and he must have thought that her silence confirmed it.
He had said that the "furriner" cared nothing for her, and had dared
to tell her that she was in love with him. Her cheeks began to bum.
She would call him back and tell him that she cared no more for
the "furriner " than she did for him. She started from the steps, but
paused, straining her eyes through the darkness. It was too late,
and, with a helpless little cry, she began pacing the porch.
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