t know, an' you
can't know what it's bin t' me t' talk with you. Here I come out of a
place where there ain't no sound but the water and the pines. Years come
an' go. Still no sound. Only thinkin', thinkin', thinkin'! Missin' all
th' things men care fur! Dreamin' of a time when I sh'd strike th' pile.
Then I seed home, wife, a boy, flowers, everythin'. You're so beautiful,
an' you're so good. You've a way of pickin' a man's heart right out of
him. First time I set my eyes on you I thought you were th' nicest
thing I ever see! And how little you are! That hand of yours,--look at
it,--it's like a leaf! An' how easy you smile. Up th' gulch we didn't
smile; we laughed, but gen'ly because some one got in a fix. Then your
voice! Ah, I've thought fur years that some day I might hear a voice
like that! Don't you go! Sit still! I'm not blamin' you fur anythin';
but I may never, 's long's I live, find any one who will understand
things th' way you understand 'em. Here! I tell you about that gulch
an' you see that gulch. You know how th' rain sounded thar, an' how th'
shack looked, an' th' life I led, an' all th' thoughts I had, an' th'
long nights, an' th' times when--but never mind. I know you know it all.
I saw it in yer eyes. I tell you of mother, an' you see 'er. You know
'er old German face, an' 'er proud ways, an' her pride in me, an' how
she would think I wuz awfully rich. An' you see how she would give out
them linens, all marked fur my wife, an' how I would sit an' watch her
doin' it, an'--you see everything. I know you do. I could feel you doin'
it. Then I say to myself: 'Here is th' one woman in th' world made fur
me. Whatever I have, she shall have. I'll spend my life waitin' on her.
She'll tell me all th' things I ought t' know, an' hev missed knowin';
she'll read t' me; she'll be patient when she finds how dull I've grown.
And thar'll be th' boy--'"

He seized her hand and wrung it, and was gone. Kate saw him no more that
night.

The next morning the major returned. Kate threw her arms around his neck
and wept.

"I want the babies," she explained when the major showed his
consternation. "Don't mind my crying. You ought to be used to seeing me
cry by this time. I must get home, that's all. I must see Jack."

So that night they started.

At the door of the carriage stood Peter Roeder, waiting.

"I'm going t' ride down with you," he said. The major looked nonplussed.

Kate got in and the major followed.

"Com