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She
threw
her
head
back
defiantly
.
“
To
my
home
—
up
yonder
:
to
the
Mountain
.
”
As
she
spoke
she
became
aware
of
a
change
in
his
face
.
He
was
no
longer
listening
to
her
,
he
was
only
looking
at
her
,
with
the
passionate
absorbed
expression
she
had
seen
in
his
eyes
after
they
had
kissed
on
the
stand
at
Nettleton
.
He
was
the
new
Harney
again
,
the
Harney
abruptly
revealed
in
that
embrace
,
who
seemed
so
penetrated
with
the
joy
of
her
presence
that
he
was
utterly
careless
of
what
she
was
thinking
or
feeling
.
He
caught
her
hands
with
a
laugh
.
“
How
do
you
suppose
I
found
you
?
”
he
said
gaily
.
He
drew
out
the
little
packet
of
his
letters
and
flourished
them
before
her
bewildered
eyes
.
“
You
dropped
them
,
you
imprudent
young
person
—
dropped
them
in
the
middle
of
the
road
,
not
far
from
here
;
and
the
young
man
who
is
running
the
Gospel
tent
picked
them
up
just
as
I
was
riding
by
.
”
He
drew
back
,
holding
her
at
arm
’
s
length
,
and
scrutinizing
her
troubled
face
with
the
minute
searching
gaze
of
his
short
-
sighted
eyes
.
“
Did
you
really
think
you
could
run
away
from
me
?
You
see
you
weren
’
t
meant
to
,
”
he
said
;
and
before
she
could
answer
he
had
kissed
her
again
,
not
vehemently
,
but
tenderly
,
almost
fraternally
,
as
if
he
had
guessed
her
confused
pain
,
and
wanted
her
to
know
he
understood
it
.
He
wound
his
fingers
through
hers
.
“
Come
let
’
s
walk
a
little
.
I
want
to
talk
to
you
.
There
’
s
so
much
to
say
.
”
He
spoke
with
a
boy
’
s
gaiety
,
carelessly
and
confidently
,
as
if
nothing
had
happened
that
could
shame
or
embarrass
them
;
and
for
a
moment
,
in
the
sudden
relief
of
her
release
from
lonely
pain
,
she
felt
herself
yielding
to
his
mood
.
But
he
had
turned
,
and
was
drawing
her
back
along
the
road
by
which
she
had
come
.
She
stiffened
herself
and
stopped
short
.
“
I
won
’
t
go
back
,
”
she
said
.
