very soul and making every nerve quiver to their
pulsating rhythm? He felt a certain fear of a new kind creep tinglingly
through him, holding him cold and still--for the moment breathless. Was
she there? Had she died, and was this her spirit trying to speak?

Very quietly he drew nearer to the great rock. Yes, she was there,
standing with her back to the silvery gray bole of the holly tree, her
face lifted toward the mountain top and her expression rapt and
listening--holy and pure--far removed from him as was the star above the
peak toward which her gaze was turned. He could not touch her, nor crush
her to him as a moment before he had felt he must, but he slowly
approached.

She heard his step and then saw him waiting there in the dim light of
the starry dusk. For an instant she regarded him in silence, then she
essayed to speak, but her lips only trembled over the words voicelessly.
He could not see her emotion, but he felt it, although her stillness
made her seem calm. Hungrily he stood and watched her. At last she
spoke:--

"Why, Frale, Frale!"

"Hit's me, Cass."

"Have--have you been down to the house, Frale?"

"Naw, I jes' come this-a-way from the station."

"Is it--is it safe for you to come here, Frale?"

She stood a short distance from him, speaking so softly, and yet he
could not touch her; his hands seemed numb, and his breath came
pantingly.

"I reckon hit's safe here as thar," he said huskily. "An' I'm come to
stay, too."

"Then let's go down to mother. Likely she's a-bed by now, but she'll be
right glad to see you. She can walk a little now." She hastened to fill
the moments with words, anything to divert that fixed gaze and take his
thoughts from her. Instinctively she groped thus for time, she who like
a deer would flee if flight were possible, even while her heart welled
with pity for him. "Come. You can talk with her whilst I get you some
supper." She felt his pent-up emotion and secretly feared it, but held
herself bravely. "Hoyle will nigh jump out of his skin, he'll be that
glad you come back."

He stood stubbornly where he was, and lifted his hand to grasp her arm,
but she glided on just beyond his reach, either not seeing it, or
avoiding it, he could not decide which, and still she said, "Come,
Frale." He followed stumblingly in her wake, as a man follows an ignis
fatuus, unconscious of the roughness of the way or of the steps he was
taking--and the flute notes followed them from