by an open
veranda, in which there was a shelf for water-pails, tin wash-basins,
and a towel on a clumsy roller. A slender woman, with harsh, sharp
features, older-looking than her thirty years would have justified, and
a stiff figure disguised by few attempts at adornment, was sweeping the
veranda floor, and in chairs propped back against the weather-boarding
sat an old man and an old woman in the plainest of mountain attire.

For a moment Henley's eyes rested on the group, and he sighed deeply.
"Yes, she's my wife," he said. "I owe her every duty, and, before God,
I'll stick to my vows and do what's right by her, come what may! She was
the only woman I thought I wanted, or ever could want. They say every
cloud has a silvery lining, but my cloud was made out of lead--and not
rubbed bright at that. I reckon, if the truth must be told, that the
whole mistake was of my own making. Whatever the Creator does for good
or ill, He don't seem to bother about hitching folks together; He leaves
that job to the fools that are roped in. Well, I'm going to stick to the
helm and guide my boat the best I can. I made my bed, and I'm as good a
sleeper as the average."

Here the attention of the man, who was tall, strong, good-looking, and
about thirty-five years of age, was attracted by the dull blows of an
axe falling on wood, and, looking over the rail-fence into the yard of
an adjoining farm-house, a diminutive affair of only four rooms and a
box-like porch, he saw an attractive figure. It was that of a graceful
young woman about twenty-two years of age. Her hair, which was a rich
golden brown, and had a tendency to curl, was unbound, and as she raised
and lowered her bare arms it swung to and fro on her shapely shoulders.

"Poor thing!" the observer exclaimed. "Here I am complaining, and just
look at her! A stout, able-bodied man that will grumble over a mistake
or two with a sight like that before his eyes ain't worth the powder and
lead that it would take to kill him. Look what she's took on her young
shoulders, and goes about with a constant smile and song on her red
lips. Yes, Dixie Hart shall be the medicine I'll take for my disease.
Whenever I feel like kicking over the traces I'll look in her direction.
I'd jump this fence and chop that wood for her now if I could do it
without old Wrinkle making comment."

Her work finished, the girl turned and saw him. She flushed a shade
deeper than was due to her exercise, and with th