said, taking one of her hands and wondering to find it so cold.

"Yes, oh, yes," she replied, every word a gasp. "I thought--I hoped--you
had done come to take,--or to stay--not here, but somewhar--but I see
you can't. You know best. I ain't fittin' to go yet, but I'll try, and I
promise all you ask; but don't let it be long. The days are so lonesome
since I come home, and things seem different since I knew you; but I
promise, and will remember and do my best."

Half his burden rolled away. He could be very kind now, for he knew he
could trust her to the death, and putting his arm around her, he drew
her close to him and said, "You are a good girl, Eudora. I shall not
forget it; but why do you tremble so? Are you cold?"

"Yes--no," she answered, nestling so close to him that the rose in her
dress was loosened and fell to the ground.

He picked it up, but did not put it in his pocket as a keepsake. He gave
it back to her, and she fastened it again to her dress, saying, "I do'
know why I shake, only it seems's if somethin' had died that I hoped
for. But it is all right, becase you care for me. You love me."

She lifted up her face on which the moonlight fell, making a picture the
man never forgot to the last day of his life. He did not tell her he
loved her, he could not; but for answer he stooped and kissed her, and
she--poor, simple girl--was satisfied.

"If I could tell Jake, it would be some comfort," she said at last,
timidly, and her companion answered quickly. "Tell Jake! Never! You must
not be too familiar with your servants."