THE possibility of lifting the girl above her own people, and of
creating a spirit of discontent that might embitter her whole life,
had occurred to Clayton; but at such moments the figure of Raines
came into the philanthropic picture forming slowly in his mind,
and his conscience was quieted. He could see them together; the
gradual change that Easter would bring about in him, the influence
of the two on their fellows. The mining-camp grew into a town
with a modest church on the outskirts, and a cottage where Raines
and Easter were installed. They stood between the old civilization
and the new, understanding both, and protecting the native strength
of the one from the vices of the other, and training it after more
breadth and refinement. But Raines and Easter did not lend
themselves to the picture so readily, and gradually it grew vague
and shadowy, and the figure of the mountaineer was blurred.
Clayton did not bring harmony to the two. At first he saw nothing
of the mountaineer, and when they met at the cabin Raines
remained only a short time. If Easter cared for him at all, she did
not show it. How he was regarded by the mother, Clayton had
learned long ago, when, in answer to one of his questions, she had
said, with a look at Easter, that " Raines was the likeliest young
feller in them mountains "; that "he knew morn'n anybody round
thar"; that " he had spent a year in the settlemints, was mighty
religious, and would one day be a circuit-rider. Anyhow," she
concluded, " he was a mighty good friend o' theirn."
But as for Easter, she treated him with unvarying indifference,
though Clayton noticed she was more quiet and reserved in the
mountaineer's presence; and, what was unintelligible to him, she
refused to speak of her studies when Raines was at the cabin, and
warned her mother with an angry frown when the latter began
telling the mountaineer of "whut a change had come over Easter,
and how she reckoned the gal was a-gittin' eddicated enough fer to
teach anybody in the mountains, she was a-larnin' so much."
After that little incident, he met Raines at the cabin oftener. The
mountaineer was always taciturn, though he listened closely when
anything was said, and even when addressed by Easter's mother his
attention, Clayton noticed, was fixed on Easter and himself. He
felt that he was being watched, and it irritated him. He had tried to
be friendly with the mountaineer, but his advances were received
with a reserve that was almost suspicion. As time went on, the
mountaineer's visits increased in frequency and in length, and at
last one night he stayed so long that, for the first time, Clayton left
him there.
Neither spoke after the young engineer was gone. The
mountaineer sat looking closely at Easter, who was listlessly
watching the moon as it rose above the Cumberland Range and
brought into view the wavering outline of Pine Mountain and the
shadowed valley below. It was evident from his face and his eyes,
which glowed with the suppressed fire of some powerful emotion
within, that he had remained for a purpose; and when he rose and
said, "I reckon I better be a-goin', Easter," his voice was so
unnatural that the girl looked up quickly.
Hit air late," she said, after a slight pause.
His face flushed, but he set his lips and caught the back of his
chair, as though to steady himself.
"I reckon," he said, with slow bitterness, "that hit would 'a' been
early long as the furriner was hyeh."
The girl was roused instantly, but she said nothing, and he
continued, in a determined tone:
"Easter, thar's a good deal I've wanted to say to ye fer a long time,
but I hev kept a-puttin' hit off until I'm afeard maybe hit air too
late. But I'm a-goin' to say hit now, and I want ye to listen." He
cleared his throat huskily. " Do ye know, Easter, what folks in the
mountains is a-sayin'?
The girl's quick insight told her what was coming, and her face
hardened.
"Have ye ever knowed me, Sherd Raines, to keer what folks in the
mountains say? I reckon ye mean as how they air a-talkin' about
me