trouble's a-comm'." He dropped all pretence now. "I've been
a-watchin' fer ye over thar on t' other shore a good deal lately. I
didn't know ye at fust, Marthy "-he spoke her name for the first
time-' 'n' Gabe says y'u didn't know me. I remembered ye, though,
'n' I want to tell ye now what I tol' ye then: I've got nothin' ag'in
you. I was hopin' ye mought come over ag'in-hit was sorter cur'us
that y'u was the same gal-the same gal-"

His self-control left him; he was halting in speech, and blundering
he did not know where. Fumbling an empty bag at the hopper, he
had not dared to look at the girl till he heard her move. She had
risen, and was picking up her bag. The hard antagonism of her
face calmed him instantly.

Hain't ye goin' to have yer grist ground?

Not hyeh," she answered, quickly.

"Why, gal " He got no further. Martha was gone, and he followed
her to the bank, bewildered.

The girl's suspicion, lulled by his plausible explanation, had grown
sharp again. The mountaineer knew that she had been coming
there. He was at the mill for another reason than to take the boy's
place; and with swift in-tuition she saw the truth.

He got angry as she rode away-angry with himself that he had let
her go; and the same half-tender, half-brutal impulse seized him as
when he saw her first. This time he yielded. His horse was at
hand, and the river not far below was narrow. The bridle-path that