For some time Clayton's mother and sister had been urging him to
make a visit home. He had asked leave of absence, but it was a
busy time, and he had delayed indefinitely. In a fort-night,
however, the stress of work would be over, and then he meant to
leave. During that fortnight he was strangely troubled. He did not
leave the camp, but his mind was busied with thoughts of
Easter-nothing but Easter. Time and again he had reviewed their
acquaintance minutely from the beginning, but he could find no
cause for the change in her. When his work was done, he found
himself climbing the mountain once more. He meant to solve the
mystery if possible. He would tell Easter that he was going home.
Surely she would betray some feeling then.

At the old fence which he had climbed so often he stopped, as was
his custom, to rest a moment, with his eyes on the wild beauty
before him-the great valley, with mists floating from its gloomy
depths into the tremulous moonlight; far through the radiant space
the still, dark masses of the Cumberland lifted in majesty against
the east; and in the shadow of the great cliff the vague outlines of
the old cabin, as still as the awful silence around it. A light was
visible, but he could hear no voices. Still, he knew he would find
the occupants seated in the porch, held by that strange quiet which
nature imposes on those who dwell much alone with her. He had
not been to the cabin for several weeks, and when he spoke Easter
did not return his greeting; Raines nodded almost surlily, but from
the mother came, as always, a cordial welcome.

"I'm mighty glad to see ye," she said; "you haven't been up fer a
long time."