observed that he was cutting it. After a minute he uttered his
conclusion.

"Ye'll stay wi' me."

"_Stay_ with you," she cried, her breath catching at her words--"for how
long?"

"I don't know." Complete indifference was in his tone. "Till ye're old,
I suppose; for I'm not likely to find a better place for ye."

All the force of her nature was in the words she cast at him.

"_I'll not stay_."

"No?" he sneered in heavy, even irony. "Will ye cry on the neighbours to
fetch ye away?"

She did not need to turn her head to see the wild loneliness of hill and
lake. It was present to her mind as she leaned on the rough wooden
lintel, looking into the shed.

"Or," continued he, "will ye go a-visiting. There's the Indians camping
other side o' the mountain here "--he jerked his head backward to denote
the direction--"and one that came down to the tree-cutting two weeks ago
said there were a couple of wolves on the other hill. I dare say either
Indians or wolves would be quite glad of the _pleasure_ o' your
company."

She raised herself up and seemed suddenly to fill the doorway, so that