The Mountain Girl

  CHAPTER XIX

  IN WHICH DAVID SENDS HOKE BELEW ON A COMMISSION, AND CASSANDRA MAKES ACONFESSION

  Early one morning Hoke Belew put his head in at the door of Thryng'scabin, where Aunt Sally was squatted before the fireplace, preparingbreakfast for the patient.

  "How's doc?" he asked.

  "He's right fa'r. He mount be worse an' he mount be bettah."

  "You reckon I mount go in yandah whar he is at?"

  "Ye can look an' see is he awake. I'm gittin' his hot bread an' coffee.You bettah bide an' have a leetle," she said, with ever readyhospitality.

  He crossed the floor with careful steps and paused in the doorway of thecanvas room, big and smiling.

  "That you, Hoke? Come in," said David, cheerfully. He extended a handwhich Hoke took in his and held awkwardly, shocked at the white facebefore him.

  "Ye do look puny," he said at last. "But we-uns sure be glad yer livin'.Ye tol' me to come early, so I come."

  "It's awfully good of you. Bring a chair and sit near, so we can talk abit. Now, Hoke, laid up here as I am, I need your help. I want to sendyou to Farington or Lone Pine--somewhere--I don't know where such thingsare to be had--but, Hoke, you've been married and know all about what'sneeded here."

  "Ye want me to git ye a license, I reckon," said Hoke, grinning, "an' yemount send me a errant I'd like a heap worse--that's so; but what goodwill hit be to ye now? You can't stan' on your feet."

  "I can put it under my pillow and keep it to get well on. See here,Hoke. I don't even know if she'll marry me; she has not said so, butI'll be ready. You'll keep this quiet for me, Hoke? Because it wouldtrouble her if the whole mountain side should know what I have donebefore she does. Yet a girl like Cassandra is worth winning if you haveto go to the edge of the grave to do it, so whenever she will have me, Iwant to be ready."

  They talked in low tones, Hoke leaning forward close to David, hiselbows on his knees. "I reckon you are a-thinkin' to bide on here 'longo' we-uns an' not carry her off nowhar else?" he asked gravely.

  David's paleness left him for a moment, as the warm tide swept upwardfrom his heart. "My home is not in this country, and wherever a mangoes, he expects to take his wife with him. Don't you people here in themountains do the same?"

  "I reckon so, but hit would nigh about kill Azalie if she war to loseCass. They have been frien's evah sence they war littlin's."

  "Hoke, if you were to find it necessary to go away anywhere, would youleave your wife behind to please Cassandra Merlin?" The man was silent,and David continued. "Before you were married if you had known there wasanother man, and a criminal at that, hanging around determined to gether, wouldn't you have married her out of hand as soon as you could gether consent? It's my opinion, knowing the sort of man you are, that youwould."

  "I sure would."

  "Then you can understand why I wish to have a marriage license under mypillow."

  "I reckon so--but--you--you-all hain't quite our kind--not bein' kin tonone of us-- You understand me, suh. We-uns are a proud people here, an'we think a heap o' our women. Hit would be right hard should you gitsorter tired o' Cassandry when you come to git her amongst yourpeople--bein' she hain't like none o' your folks, understand; an'Cassandry, she's sorter hard hit jest now, she don't rightly knowwhat-all she do think. Me an' Azalie, we been speakin' right smarttogether--an'--well, we do sure think a heap o' you, Doc--an' hit ain'tno disrespect to you-uns, neither. Have you said anything to her maw?"

  "Not a word. When I learned another man was before me, I stood one sideas an honorable man should and gave him his chance. But when it comes tobeing attacked by the other man and shot in the back-- by heaven! nopower on earth will hold me from trying to win her. As for the othermatter, never you fear. Be my friend, Hoke."

  "Waal, I reckon you'll have yer own way, an' I mount as well git hit ferye, but I did promise Azalie 'at I'd speak that word to ye," said theyoung man, rising with an air of relief.

  "Tell your wife that you are both of you quite right, and that I amright also. Just hunt up my trousers, will you? I want my pocket-book.If I have to sign anything before anybody--bring him here. I don't carewhat you do, so you get it. There, on that card you have it all--my fullname and all that, you know."

  David tried to eat what Sally prepared for him, using his unbound hand;but his egg was hard, his coffee thick and boiled. He could not drink itvery well for his head was too low, and he could not raise himself, sohe lay silent and uncomfortable, watching her move about his rooms,wearing her great black sunbonnet. She appeared kindly and pleasant whenhe could see her face, which was thin and very much lined, but motherlyand good. He fell in the way of calling her "Aunt Sally" as others did,and this seemed to please her. She treated him as if he were a big boywho did not know what was good for himself. She called all the greenblossoming things with which Cassandra had adorned the cabin, "trash,"and asked who had "toted hit thar."

  Waiting and listening, sure Cassandra would not leave him all daywithout coming to him, even though Aunt Sally had taken him in charge,David's mind was full of her. If he closed his eyes, he saw her. If heopened them and watched Sally's meagre form and black sunbonnet movingabout, he thought what it might be to see Cassandra there.

  He could not and would not look at the future. The picture Hoke Belewhad summoned up when he had suggested the taking of Cassandra away amongpeople alien to her, he put from him. He would not see it nor think ofit. The present was his, and it was all he had, perhaps all he everwould have; and now he would not allow one little joy of it to escapehim. He would be greedy of it and have all the gladness of the momentsas they came.

  He could see her down below making ready for their visitors, and heknew she would not come until the last task was done, but meantime hispatience was wearing away. Aunt Sally finished her work, and David couldsee her from where he lay, seated in the doorway with her pipe, lookingout on the gently falling rain.

  Without, all was very peaceful; only within himself was turmoil andimpatience. But he knew that to remain calm and unmoved was to keep backhis fever and hasten recuperation, so he closed his eyes and tried tolive for the moment in the remembrance of that awakening when he hadfound her kneeling at his side. Thus he dropped to sleep, and again,when he awoke, he found Cassandra there as if in answer to his silentcall.

  She was seated quietly sewing, as if it were no unusual thing for her tovisit him thus, and when his earnest gaze caused her to look up, sheonly smiled without perturbation and came to him.

  "I sent Aunt Sally down to see mother while I could stay by you and dofor you a little," she said.

  Calm and restful she seemed, yet when he extended his free hand and tookhers, he felt a tremor in her touch that delighted his heart. He broughtit to his lips.

  "I've been needing you all the morning. Aunt Sally has doneeverything--all she could. If I should let you have this hand again,would you go so far away from me that I could not reach you?"

  "Not if you want me near."

  "Then put away your sewing and bring your chair close to me, and let ustalk together while we may."

  She obeyed and sat looking away from him out through the open door. Wereher eyes searching for the mountain top?

  "You have thoughts--sweet, big thoughts, dear girl; put them in wordsfor me now, while we are so blessedly alone."

  "I can't say rightly what I think. Seems like if I had some otherway--something besides words to tell my thoughts with, I could do itbetter; but words are all we have--and seems like when I want them mostthey won't come."

  "That's the way with all of us. Don't you see you are still beyond myreach? Come. If you can't tell your thoughts in words, give them by thetouch of your hands as you did a moment ago."

  She did as he bade her and, leaning forward, took his hand in both herown.

  "That's right. I'll teach you how to tell your thoughts without words.Now, how came you to find us the other day?"

  "I don't know myself. It was a strange way. First I rod
e down toTeasley's Mill to--to try to persuade them--Giles Teasley--to allow himto go free." She paused and put her hand to her throat, as her way was."I think, Doctor Thryng, I'd better build up the fire and get you somehot milk. Doctor Bartlett said you must have it often--and--to keep youvery quiet."

  "Not until you tell me now--this moment--what I ask you. You went to themill to try to help Frale out of his trouble. Cassandra, have you lovedthat boy?"

  Her face assumed its old look of masklike impassivity. "I reckoned hemight hold himself steady and do right--would they only leave himbe--and give him the chance--"

  "Cassandra, answer me. Was it for love of him that you gave him yourpromise?"

  Her face grew white, and for a moment she bowed her head on his hand.

  "Please, Doctor Thryng, let me tell you the strange part first, then youcan answer that question in your own way." She lifted her head andlooked steadily in his eyes. "You remember that day we went to CateIrwin's? When we came to the place where we can see far--far over themountains--I laughed--with something glad in my heart. It was the samethis time when I got to that far open place. All at once it seemed likeI was so free--free from the heavy burden--and all in a kind of lightthat was only the same gladness in my heart.

  "I stopped there and waited and thought how you said that time, 'It'sgood just to be alive,' and I thought if you were there with me andshould put your hand on my bridle as you did that night in the rain, andif you should lead me away off--even into the 'Valley of the shadow ofdeath' into those deep shadows below us I would go and never say a word.All at once it seemed as if you were doing that, and I forgot Frale andkept on and on; and wherever it seemed like you were leading me, I went.

  "It seemed like I was dreaming, or feeling like a hand was on myheart--a hand I could not see, pulling me and making me feel, 'This way,this way, I must go this way.' I never had been where my horse took mebefore. I didn't think how I ever could get back again. I didn't seem tosee anything around me--only to go on--on--on, and at last it seemed Icouldn't go fast enough, until all at once I came to your horse tiedthere, and I heard strange trampling sounds a little farther on where myhorse could not go--and I got off and ran.

  "I fell down and got up and ran again; and it seemed as if my feetwouldn't leave the ground, but only held me back. It seemed like theyhadn't any more power to run--and--then I came there and I saw." Shepaused, covering her face with her hand as if to shut out the sight, andslipped to her knees beside him. "Oh, I saw your faces--all terrible--"He put his arm about her and drew her close. "I saw you fall, and yourface when it seemed like you were dying as you fought. I saw--" Her sobsshook her, and she could not go on.

  "My beautiful priestess of good and holy things!" he said.

  She leaned to him then and, placing her arms about him, ever mindful ofhis hurt, she lifted his head to her shoulder. The flood-gates of herreserve once lifted, the full tide of her intense nature swept over himand enveloped him. It was as light to his soul and healing to his body.How often it had seemed as if he saw her with that halo of light abouther, and now it was as if he had been drawn within its charmed radius,as surely he had.

  "And then, dear heart, what did you do?"

  "I thought you were killed, and almost--almost I cursed him. I hope nowI wasn't so wicked. But I--I--called back from God the promise I hadgiven him."

  "And then--tell me all the blessed truth--and then--"

  "You were bleeding--bleeding--and I took off your clothes--and I sawwhere you were bleeding your life away, and I tied my dress around you.I tore it in pieces and wound it all around you as well as I could, andthen I put your coat back on you, and still you didn't waken. It seemedas if you had stopped breathing. And then I saw the bruise on your head,and I thought maybe you were only stunned. I brought water from thebranch and put your head on the wet cloth and bound it all around, butstill you looked like he had killed you, and then--" he stirred in herarms to feel their clasp.

  "And then--then--"

  "I went for help," she said, in so low a tone it seemed hardly spoken.

  "First you did something you have not told me."

  She waited in a sweet shame he recognized and gloried in, but he wantedthe confession from her lips.

  "And then?"

  "You said you would teach me to say things without words," she saidtremulously.

  "Not now. Later. Put everything you did in words. And then--"

  "I thought you were dying." She drew in a long, sighing breath.

  "And you kissed me. I have a right to know, for I missed them all--"

  "I did, I did," she cried vehemently. "A hundred times I kissed you. Ihad called my promise back from God--and I dared it. I wasn't ashamed. Iwould have done it if all the mountain side had been there to see--butafterwards--when that strange doctor from Farington came, and I knew hemust uncover you and find my torn dress around you--somehow, then I feltI didn't want for him to look at me, and I was glad to go away."

  "Do you want to know what he said when he saw it? 'Whoever did this keptyou alive, young man.' So you see how you are my beautiful bringer ofgood. You are--Oh, I have only one arm now. I am at a disadvantage. WhenI can stand on my feet, I will pay them all back--those kisses you threwaway on me then. We shan't need words then, dearest. I'll teach you thesweet lesson. Your arms tremble; they are tired, dear. Could you letyour head rest here and sleep as you did the other day? To think how Iwoke and found you beside me sleeping--"

  "Let me go now. I have things I ought to do for you."

  "Not yet. I have things I must say to you."

  "Please, Doctor Thryng."

  "My name is David. You must call me by it."

  "Please, Doctor David, let me go."

  "Why?"

  "To warm some milk. I brought it up for you."

  "Pity we must eat to live. Then if I let you take your arms away, willyou come back to me?"

  "Yes. I'll bring the milk."

  "There, go. I'm giving you your own way because I know I will recoverthe sooner the strength I have lost. A man flat on his back, with butone arm free, is no good."

  "But you don't let me go."

  "Listen, Cassandra. You brought me back to life. Do you know what for?What did your father tell you? That one should be sent for you? It is I,dearest. From away over on the other side of the earth, I have come foryou. We fought like beasts--Frale and I. I had given youup--you--Cassandra; had said in my heart, 'I will go away and leave herto the one she has chosen, if that be right,' and even at that moment,Frale shot me and sprang upon me, and I fought. I was glad the chancewas given me there in the wilderness in that old and primitive way, tosettle it and win you.

  "I put all the force and strength of my body into it, and more; all thestrength of my love for you. It was with that in my heart, we clinched.I said I will fight to the death for her. She shall be mine whether Ilive or die. Stop crying, sweet; be glad as I am. Give thanks that itwas to the life and not to the death. Listen, once more, while I canfeel and know; give way to your great heart of love and treat me as youdid after you had bound up my wounds. Learn the sweet lesson I said Iwould teach you."

  Late that evening, Hoke Belew rode up to the door of David's cabin andcalled Aunt Sally out to speak with him.

  "How's doc?"

  "He's doin' right well. He's asleep now. Won't ye 'light an' come in?"

  "I reckon not. Azalie, she's been alone all day, an' I guess she'll besome 'feared. Will you put that thar under doc's pillow whar he kin findhit in the mawnin'? Hit's a papah he sont me fer. Tell 'im I reckonhit's all straight. He kin see. Them people Cassandry was expectin' fromFarington, did they come to-day?"

  "Yas, they come. They're down to Miz Farwell's."

  "Well, you tell doc 'at Azalie an' me, we'll be here 'long 'leven in themawnin'." Hoke rode off under the winking stars, for the clouds afterthe long day of rain had lifted, and in the still night were rollingaway over the mountain tops.

  Aunt Sally slipped quietly back into the
cabin and softly closed thedoor of the canvas room, lest the rustling of paper should waken hercharge, for she meant to examine that paper, quite innocently, since shecould neither read nor write, but out of sheer childish curiosity.

  She need not have feared waking David, however, for, all his physicaldiscomfort forgotten, dominated by the supreme happiness that possessedhim, yet weak in body to the point of exhaustion, he slept profoundlyand calmly on, even when she came stealthily and slipped the paperbeneath his pillow, as Hoke had requested.