suspected it when I spoke."
"And you wish to spare me the avowal?" he said bitterly.
"To me, perhaps, yes, by anticipating it. I could not tell what ideas
you might have gathered from some indiscreet frankness of Jessie--or my
father," she added, with almost equal bitterness.
"I have never spoken to either," he replied quickly. He stopped, and
added, after a moment's mortifying reflection, "I've been brought up in
the woods, Miss Carr, and I suppose I have followed my feelings, instead
of the etiquette of society."
Christie was too relieved at the rehabilitation of Jessie's truthfulness
to notice the full significance of his speech.
"Good-by," he said again, holding out his hand.
"Good-by!"
She extended her own, ungloved, with a frank smile. He held it for a
moment, with his eyes fixed upon hers. Then suddenly, as if obeying
an uncontrollable impulse, he crushed it like a flower again and again
against his burning lips, and darted away.
Christie sank back in her saddle with a little cry, half of pain and
half of frightened surprise. Had the poor boy suddenly gone mad, or was
this vicarious farewell a part of the courtship of Devil's Ford? She
looked at her little hand, which had reddened under the pressure, and
suddenly felt the flush extending to her cheeks and the roots of her
hair. This was intolerable.
"Christie!"
It was her sister emerging from the wood to seek her. In another moment
she was at her side.
"We thought you were following," said Jessie. "Good heavens! how you
look! What has happened?"
"Nothing. I met Mr. Kearney a moment ago on the trail. He is going away,
and--and--" She stopped, furious and flushing.
"And," said Jessie, with a burst of merriment, "he told you at last he
loved you. Oh, Christie!"
CHAPTER VI
The abrupt departure of George Kearney from Devil's Ford excited
but little interest in the community, and was soon forgotten. It was
generally attributed to differences between himself and his partners
on the question of further outlay of their earnings on mining
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