y!"

"Does he?" she blushed. It pleased her to have this old man tease. It
was her only outlet; he was the only one who shared the secrets of their
trysts.

"He suttenly do! I don' reckon she's been outen his mind but onct dis
spring!"

"When could that have been?" she bantered.

The old fellow's face disappeared into a network of wrinkles. "Dat wuz
when he picked his gloves offen de po'ch an' got one on befoh knowin' a
hornet had done crawled in it. He come purty nigh fergittin' his
salvation, den! All de same," he added, still chuckling, "he say he's
comin' over dis 'way dis evenin', less'n de lightnin' strike 'im. Dar
ain' no cloud in de sky now," he looked up musingly.

He felt about for the stirrups with his boots and then took up the old
reins, still grinning and bowing his adieux with a gallantry that would
have done credit to the Colonel. And, as he rode away, she drew a deep,
trembling breath of happy anticipation.

CHAPTER X

THE SPIRIT OF SUNLIGHT PATCH

The old darky, after another half hour of plodding, sighed as he turned
into the welcome shade of Flat Rock. The pike had been shimmering white
and his eyes ached. Yet, as he followed the woodland road, he thought of
a garnet shadow on a young throat, and again he sighed. In a vague way
it meant a sign to him, and troubled his old heart.

A glimpse of Bob's house and its carefully kept grounds came into view,
each detail opening as he approached, until he saw Jane and the
mountaineer seated on the lawn. Passing by a side way to the rear, had
his eyes been good he might have seen her face flushed with interest in
the man whom she was drawing out and graciously dissecting.

For this was one of her own people--one of that very shut-in, restless,
hungry type, whom she had hoped by the perfecting of herself to help.
Other scholars at the school were not like him. They were, with a single
exception, of the valley and foothills, but this one came from primeval
grandeur. He alone possessed the absorbing craze to learn which had
dominated her own life, and so she felt peculiarly drawn to him.

"I must ask you," she was saying, "where you get your way of talking.
We of the mountains,"--and she noted his look of thanks for this
acknowledgment of mutual origin--"come out with our dialect pure; but I
find you mixing it up with bits of really correct speech!"

"I can't talk yet like I want to," he answered, carefully choosing his
words, "but what I'v