Part 4 (1/2)

newfangled forks, 'n' sichlike.” A conscious flush came into the girl's face, and she rose hastily and went into the house.

”I was afeard,” continued the mother, ” that she would hev her hair cut short, 'n' be a-flyin' with ribbons, 'n' spangled out like a rainbow, like old 'Lige Hicks's gal, ef I hadn't heerd the furriner tell her it was ' beastly.' Thar ain't no fear now, fer what that furriner don't like, Easter don't nother.”

For an instant the mountaineer's eyes had flashed on Clayton, but when the latter, a trifle embarra.s.sed, looked up, Raines apparently had heard nothing. Easter did not reappear until the mountaineer was gone.

There were othcr hopeful signs. Whenever Clayton spoke of his friends, she always listened eagerly, and asked innumerable questions about them. If his attention was caught by any queer custom or phrase of the mountain dialect, she was quick to ask in return how he would say the same thing, and what the custom was in the settlemints.” She even made feeble attempts to model her own speech after his.

In a conscious glow that he imagined was philanthropy, Clayton began his task of elevation. She was not so ignorant as he had supposed. Apparently she had been taught by somebody, but when asked by whom, she hesitated answering; and he had taken it for granted that what she knew she had puzzled out alone. He was astonished by her quickness, her docility, and the pa.s.sionate energy with which she worked. Her instant obedience to every suggestion, her trust in every word he uttered, made him acutely and at times uncomfortably conscious of his responsibility. At the same time there was in the task something of the pleasure that a young sculptor feels when, for the first time, the clay begins to yield obedience to his fingers, and something of the delight that must have thrilled Pygmalion when he saw his statue tremulous with conscious life.

VI

THE possibility of lifting the girl above her own people, and of creating a spirit of discontent that might embitter her whole life, had occurred to Clayton; but at such moments the figure of Raines came into the philanthropic picture forming slowly in his mind, and his conscience was quieted. He could see them together; the gradual change that Easter would bring about in him, the influence of the two on their fellows. The mining-camp grew into a town with a modest church on the outskirts, and a cottage where Raines and Easter were installed. They stood between the old civilization and the new, understanding both, and protecting the native strength of the one from the vices of the other, and training it after more breadth and refinement. But Raines and Easter did not lend themselves to the picture so readily, and gradually it grew vague and shadowy, and the figure of the mountaineer was blurred.

Clayton did not bring harmony to the two. At first he saw nothing of the mountaineer, and when they met at the cabin Raines remained only a short time. If Easter cared for him at all, she did not show it. How he was regarded by the mother, Clayton had learned long ago, when, in answer to one of his questions, she had said, with a look at Easter, that ” Raines was the likeliest young feller in them mountains ”; that ”he knew morn'n anybody round thar”; that ” he had spent a year in the settlemints, was mighty religious, and would one day be a circuit-rider. Anyhow,” she concluded, ” he was a mighty good friend o' theirn.”

But as for Easter, she treated him with unvarying indifference, though Clayton noticed she was more quiet and reserved in the mountaineer's presence; and, what was unintelligible to him, she refused to speak of her studies when Raines was at the cabin, and warned her mother with an angry frown when the latter began telling the mountaineer of ”whut a change had come over Easter, and how she reckoned the gal was a-gittin' eddicated enough fer to teach anybody in the mountains, she was a-larnin' so much.”

After that little incident, he met Raines at the cabin oftener. The mountaineer was always taciturn, though he listened closely when anything was said, and even when addressed by Easter's mother his attention, Clayton noticed, was fixed on Easter and himself. He felt that he was being watched, and it irritated him. He had tried to be friendly with the mountaineer, but his advances were received with a reserve that was almost suspicion. As time went on, the mountaineer's visits increased in frequency and in length, and at last one night he stayed so long that, for the first time, Clayton left him there.

Neither spoke after the young engineer was gone. The mountaineer sat looking closely at Easter, who was listlessly watching the moon as it rose above the c.u.mberland Range and brought into view the wavering outline of Pine Mountain and the shadowed valley below. It was evident from his face and his eyes, which glowed with the suppressed fire of some powerful emotion within, that he had remained for a purpose; and when he rose and said, ”I reckon I better be a-goin', Easter,” his voice was so unnatural that the girl looked up quickly.

Hit air late,” she said, after a slight pause.

His face flushed, but he set his lips and caught the back of his chair, as though to steady himself.

”I reckon,” he said, with slow bitterness, ”that hit would 'a' been early long as the furriner was hyeh.”

The girl was roused instantly, but she said nothing, and he continued, in a determined tone:

”Easter, thar's a good deal I've wanted to say to ye fer a long time, but I hev kept a-puttin' hit off until I'm afeard maybe hit air too late. But I'm a-goin' to say hit now, and I want ye to listen.” He cleared his throat huskily. ” Do ye know, Easter, what folks in the mountains is a-sayin'?

The girl's quick insight told her what was coming, and her face hardened.

”Have ye ever knowed me, Sherd Raines, to keer what folks in the mountains say? I reckon ye mean as how they air a-talkin' about me

That's what I mean,” said the mountaineer-” you 'n' him.”

”Whut air they a-sayin'?” she asked, defiantly. Raines watched her narrowly.

”They air a-sayin' as how he air a-comin' up here mighty often; as how Easter Hicks, who hev never keered fer no man, air in love with this furriner from the settlemints.”

The girl reddened, in spite of her a.s.sumed indifference.

”They- say, too, as how he air not in love with her, 'n' that somebody oughter warn Easter that he air not a-meanin' good to her. You hev been seed a-walkin' in the mountains together.”

”Who seed me? ” she asked, with quick suspicion. The mountaineer hesitated.

I hev,” he said, doggedly.

The girl's anger, which had been kindling against her gossiping fellows, blazed out against Raines.

You've been watchin' me,” she said, angrily. ”Who give ye the right to do it? What call hev ye to come hyar and tell me whut folks is asayin'? Is it any o' yo' business? I want to tell ye, Sherd Raines”-her utterance grew thick-” that I kin take keer o' myself; that I don't keer what folks say; 'n' I want ye to keep away from me.

'N' ef I sees ye a-hangin' round 'n' a-spyin', ye'll be sorry fer it.” Her eyes blazed, she had risen and drawn herself straight, and her hands were clinched.

The mountaineer stood motionless. ” Thar's another who's seed ye,” he said, quietly-” up thar,” pointing to a wooded mountain, the top of which was lost in mist. The girl's att.i.tude changed instantly into - vague alarm, and her eyes flashed upon Raines as though they would sear their way into the meaning hidden in his quiet face. Gradually his motive seemed to become clear, and she advanced a step toward him.