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A Mountain Woman by Elia W. (Elia Wilkinson) Peattie
page 31 of 228 (13%)
Brainard stood beside me. Brainard, I say,
and yet in no sense the man I had known,
-- not a hint in this pale creature, whose
breath struggled through chattering teeth,
and whose hands worked in uncontrollable
spasms, of the nonchalant elegant I had
known. Not a glimpse to be seen in those
angry and determined eyes of the gayly
selfish spirit of my holiday friend.

"She's gone!" he gasped. "Since yes-
terday. And I'm here to ask you what
you think now? And what you know."

A panorama of all shameful possibilities
for one black moment floated before me.
I remember this gave place to a wave, cold
as death, that swept from head to foot;
then Brainard's hands fell heavily on my
shoulders.

"Thank God at least for this much," he
said, hoarsely; "I didn't know at first but
I had lost both friend and wife. But I see
you know nothing. And indeed in my
heart I knew all the time that you did not.
Yet I had to come to you with my anger.
And I remembered how you defended her.
What explanation can you offer now?"

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