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She
knew
at
last
:
knew
that
she
was
the
child
of
a
drunken
convict
and
of
a
mother
who
wasn
’
t
“
half
human
,
”
and
was
glad
to
have
her
go
;
and
she
had
heard
this
history
of
her
origin
related
to
the
one
being
in
whose
eyes
she
longed
to
appear
superior
to
the
people
about
her
!
She
had
noticed
that
Mr
.
Royall
had
not
named
her
,
had
even
avoided
any
allusion
that
might
identify
her
with
the
child
he
had
brought
down
from
the
Mountain
;
and
she
knew
it
was
out
of
regard
for
her
that
he
had
kept
silent
.
But
of
what
use
was
his
discretion
,
since
only
that
afternoon
,
misled
by
Harney
’
s
interest
in
the
out
-
law
colony
,
she
had
boasted
to
him
of
coming
from
the
Mountain
?
Now
every
word
that
had
been
spoken
showed
her
how
such
an
origin
must
widen
the
distance
between
them
.
During
his
ten
days
’
sojourn
at
North
Dormer
Lucius
Harney
had
not
spoken
a
word
of
love
to
her
.
He
had
intervened
in
her
behalf
with
his
cousin
,
and
had
convinced
Miss
Hatchard
of
her
merits
as
a
librarian
;
but
that
was
a
simple
act
of
justice
,
since
it
was
by
his
own
fault
that
those
merits
had
been
questioned
.
He
had
asked
her
to
drive
him
about
the
country
when
he
hired
lawyer
Royall
’
s
buggy
to
go
on
his
sketching
expeditions
;
but
that
too
was
natural
enough
,
since
he
was
unfamiliar
with
the
region
.
Lastly
,
when
his
cousin
was
called
to
Springfield
,
he
had
begged
Mr
.
Royall
to
receive
him
as
a
boarder
;
but
where
else
in
North
Dormer
could
he
have
boarded
?
Not
with
Carrick
Fry
,
whose
wife
was
paralysed
,
and
whose
large
family
crowded
his
table
to
over
-
flowing
;
not
with
the
Targatts
,
who
lived
a
mile
up
the
road
,
nor
with
poor
old
Mrs
.
Hawes
,
who
,
since
her
eldest
daughter
had
deserted
her
,
barely
had
the
strength
to
cook
her
own
meals
while
Ally
picked
up
her
living
as
a
seamstress
.
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
was
the
only
house
where
the
young
man
could
have
been
offered
a
decent
hospitality
.
There
had
been
nothing
,
therefore
,
in
the
outward
course
of
events
to
raise
in
Charity
’
s
breast
the
hopes
with
which
it
trembled
.
But
beneath
the
visible
incidents
resulting
from
Lucius
Harney
’
s
arrival
there
ran
an
undercurrent
as
mysterious
and
potent
as
the
influence
that
makes
the
forest
break
into
leaf
before
the
ice
is
off
the
pools
.
The
business
on
which
Harney
had
come
was
authentic
;
Charity
had
seen
the
letter
from
a
New
York
publisher
commissioning
him
to
make
a
study
of
the
eighteenth
century
houses
in
the
less
familiar
districts
of
New
England
.
But
incomprehensible
as
the
whole
affair
was
to
her
,
and
hard
as
she
found
it
to
understand
why
he
paused
enchanted
before
certain
neglected
and
paintless
houses
,
while
others
,
refurbished
and
“
improved
”
by
the
local
builder
,
did
not
arrest
a
glance
,
she
could
not
but
suspect
that
Eagle
County
was
less
rich
in
architecture
than
he
averred
,
and
that
the
duration
of
his
stay
(
which
he
had
fixed
at
a
month
)
was
not
unconnected
with
the
look
in
his
eyes
when
he
had
first
paused
before
her
in
the
library
.
Everything
that
had
followed
seemed
to
have
grown
out
of
that
look
:
his
way
of
speaking
to
her
,
his
quickness
in
catching
her
meaning
,
his
evident
eagerness
to
prolong
their
excursions
and
to
seize
on
every
chance
of
being
with
her
.
The
signs
of
his
liking
were
manifest
enough
;
but
it
was
hard
to
guess
how
much
they
meant
,
because
his
manner
was
so
different
from
anything
North
Dormer
had
ever
shown
her
.
He
was
at
once
simpler
and
more
deferential
than
any
one
she
had
known
;
and
sometimes
it
was
just
when
he
was
simplest
that
she
most
felt
the
distance
between
them
.
Education
and
opportunity
had
divided
them
by
a
width
that
no
effort
of
hers
could
bridge
,
and
even
when
his
youth
and
his
admiration
brought
him
nearest
,
some
chance
word
,
some
unconscious
allusion
,
seemed
to
thrust
her
back
across
the
gulf
.
Never
had
it
yawned
so
wide
as
when
she
fled
up
to
her
room
carrying
with
her
the
echo
of
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
tale
.
Her
first
confused
thought
was
the
prayer
that
she
might
never
see
young
Harney
again
.
It
was
too
bitter
to
picture
him
as
the
detached
impartial
listener
to
such
a
story
.
“
I
wish
he
’
d
go
away
:
I
wish
he
’
d
go
tomorrow
,
and
never
come
back
!
”
she
moaned
to
her
pillow
;
and
far
into
the
night
she
lay
there
,
in
the
disordered
dress
she
had
forgotten
to
take
off
,
her
whole
soul
a
tossing
misery
on
which
her
hopes
and
dreams
spun
about
like
drowning
straws
.
Of
all
this
tumult
only
a
vague
heart
-
soreness
was
left
when
she
opened
her
eyes
the
next
morning
.
Her
first
thought
was
of
the
weather
,
for
Harney
had
asked
her
to
take
him
to
the
brown
house
under
Porcupine
,
and
then
around
by
Hamblin
;
and
as
the
trip
was
a
long
one
they
were
to
start
at
nine
.
The
sun
rose
without
a
cloud
,
and
earlier
than
usual
she
was
in
the
kitchen
,
making
cheese
sandwiches
,
decanting
buttermilk
into
a
bottle
,
wrapping
up
slices
of
apple
pie
,
and
accusing
Verena
of
having
given
away
a
basket
she
needed
,
which
had
always
hung
on
a
hook
in
the
passage
.
When
she
came
out
into
the
porch
,
in
her
pink
calico
,
which
had
run
a
little
in
the
washing
,
but
was
still
bright
enough
to
set
off
her
dark
tints
,
she
had
such
a
triumphant
sense
of
being
a
part
of
the
sunlight
and
the
morning
that
the
last
trace
of
her
misery
vanished
.
What
did
it
matter
where
she
came
from
,
or
whose
child
she
was
,
when
love
was
dancing
in
her
veins
,
and
down
the
road
she
saw
young
Harney
coming
toward
her
?
Mr
.
Royall
was
in
the
porch
too
.
He
had
said
nothing
at
breakfast
,
but
when
she
came
out
in
her
pink
dress
,
the
basket
in
her
hand
,
he
looked
at
her
with
surprise
.
“
Where
you
going
to
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Why
—
Mr
.
Harney
’
s
starting
earlier
than
usual
today
,
”
she
answered
.
