ng misery, that the sufferers from her act
were now at liberty to inflict vengeance upon her, should suspicion be
born in them. For the first time in her life, Plutina experienced a
feminine cowardice, bewailing her helplessness. There was none to whom
she might turn for counsel; none, even, in whom she might confide. It
was no mere chimera of fear that beset her. She was far too sensible
and too strong for hysterical imaginings. But she knew that her peril
was real and grave. In the face of it, she felt suddenly a new longing
for the absent lover. Hitherto, her fondness had been tender and
passionate, touched with the maternal protectiveness that is
instinctive in every woman. Now, a new desire of him leaped in her.
She yearned for rest on his bosom, secure within the shelter of his
arms, there to pour forth all the story of her trouble, there to hear
his voice of consolation, there to be at peace. She touched the fairy
crystal that lay between her breasts, and she smiled, very sadly, and
very wistfully.

"Zeke will shorely come," she whispered, "if I need him--bad enough."

There was a tremor in her voice, but it was not of doubt.

CHAPTER XII

Early in the morning following his trip to North Wilkesboro' Uncle
Dick Siddon rode off to Pleasant Valley, there to prosecute his
sentimental labors for the pleasuring of the Widow Brown. Alvira fared
abroad on some errand to a neighboring cabin. Plutina, her usual
richness of coloring dimmed by a troubled night, was left alone. In
the mid-forenoon she was sitting on the porch, busy over a pan of
beans, which she was stringing for dinner. As she chanced to raise her
eyes, she saw Dan Hodges coming up the path. At sight of the evil
lowering face, repulsion flared hot in the girl. The instinct of
flight was strong, but her good sense forbade it. She felt a stirring
of unfamiliar terror in the presence of the man. She scorned herself
for the weakness, but it persisted. Her very fear dictated the
counsels of prudence. She believed that in dissimulation lay her only
possibility of safety. The thought of any intercourse with the
moonshiner was unspeakably repugnant, yet she dared not risk needless
offense. Nevertheless, the first effect of her resolve was a
self-contempt that moved her to wrath, and made her opening speech
more venomous even than it had been otherwise.

"Howdy, my little honey?" Hodges called out as he shambled to a halt
before her. His coarse features