Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to furious
anger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand. For
though she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined, every
fiber of her was clean and pure. There were hours when she hated him,
glimpsed in him points of view that filled her with vague distrust. But
always he attracted her tremendously.

"You're goin' with me, gal," he urged.

Close to her hand was a little clump of forget-me-nots which had pushed
through the moss. 'Lindy feigned to be busy picking the blossoms.

"No," she answered sulkily.

"Yes. To-night--at eleven o'clock, 'Lindy,--under the big laurel."

While she resented his assurance, it none the less coerced her. She did
not want a lover who groveled in the dust before her. She wanted one to
sweep her from her feet, a young Lochinvar to compel her by the force of
his personality.

"I'll not be there," she told him.

"We'll git right across the river an' be married inside of an hour."

"I tell you I'm not goin' with you. Quit pesterin' me."

His devil-may-care laugh trod on the heels of her refusal. He guessed
shrewdly that circumstances were driving her to him. The girl was full of