"Trim," she whispered when he was about to start, "here is a letter--Miss Lois Ann wants you to mail."

The bright eyes looked yearningly into the dull, hopeless face.

"I--hate the ole 'un!" confided Bill.

"But yo' don't hate me, Bill?"

"No."

"Well, then, do it for me, but don't tell a living soul that you saw me.

See, Bill, I have a whole dollar--I earned it by berry-picking. Pay for the letter and then keep the rest. And if you ever see Marg, and she asks about me--and whether you've seen me--tell her" (and here Nella-Rose's white teeth gleamed in the mischievous smile), "tell her you saw me walking in the Hollow with Burke Lawson!"

The dull fellow shook with foolish laughter. "I sho' will!" he said, and then tucked the letter and dollar bill in the breast of his shirt. "And now, lil' doney-gal, let me touch yo' hand," he pleaded, "this--er--way." And like a poor frayed, battered knight he pressed his lips to the small, brown hand of the one person who had always been kind to him.

At sunset Bill halted to eat his supper and warm his stiffened body. He tried to build a fire but the wood was wet and in desperation he took, at last, the papers from inside his thin coat, they had helped to shield him from the cold, and utilized them to start the pine cones. He rested and feasted and later went his way. At the post office he searched among his rags for the letter and the money. Then his face went white as ashes:

"Gawd a'mighty!" he whimpered.

"What's wrong?" Merrivale came from behind the counter.

"I done burn my chest protector. I'll freeze without the papers." Then Bill explained the fire building but, recalling Lois Ann, withheld any further information.

"Here, you fool," Merrivale said not unkindly, "take all the papers you want. And take this old coat, too. And look, lad, in yo' wandering have yo' seen Greyson's lil' gal?"

Bill looked cunning and drawing close whispered:

"Her--and him, I seed 'im, back in the sticks! Her--and him!" Then he laughed his foolish laugh.

"I thought as much!" Merrivale nodded, with the trouble a good man knows at times in his eyes; but his faith in Burke coming to his aid. "You mean--Lawson?" he asked.

Bill nodded foolishly.

"Then keep yo' mouth shut!" warned Merrivale. "If I hear yo'

gabbing--I'll flax the hide o' yo', sure as I keep store."

CHAPTER XIII

A month, then two, pa.s.sed in the desolate cabin in the Hollow. Winter clutched and held Pine Cone Settlement in a deadly grip. Old people died and little children were born. Lois Ann, when it was physically possible, got to the homes of suffering and eased the women, while she berated the men for bringing poor souls to such dread pa.s.ses. But always Nella-Rose hid and shrank from sight. No need, now, to warn her. A new and terrible look had come into her eyes, and when Lois Ann saw that creeping terror she knew that her hour had come. To save Nella-Rose, she believed, she must lay low every illusion and, with keen and deliberate force, she pressed the apple of the knowledge of life between the girlish lips. The bitter truth at last ate its way into the girl's soul and gradually hate, such as she had never conceived, grew and consumed her.

"She will not die," thought the old woman watching her day by day.

And Nella-Rose did not die, at least not outwardly, but in her, as in Truedale, the fine, first glow of pure faith and pa.s.sion, untouched by the world's interpretation, faded and shrivelled forever.

The long winter hid the secret in the dreary cabin. The roads and trails were closed; none drew near for shelter or succour.

By springtime Nella-Rose was afraid of every living creature except the faithful soul who stood guard over her. She ran and trembled at the least sound; she was white and hollow-eyed, but her hate was stronger and fiercer than ever.

Early summer came--the gladdest time of the year. The heat was broken by soft showers; the flowers bloomed riotously, and in July the world-old miracle occurred in Lois Ann's cabin--Nella-Rose's child was born! With its coming the past seemed blotted out; hate gave place to reverent awe and tenderness. In the young mother the woman rose supreme and she would not permit her mind to hold a harmful thought.

Through the hours of her travail, when Lois Ann, desperate and frightened, had implored, threatened, and commanded that she should tell the name of the father of her child, she only moaned and closed her lips the firmer. But when she looked upon her baby she smiled radiantly and whispered to the patient old creature beside her:

"Miss Lois Ann, this lil' child has no father. It is my baby and G.o.d sent it. I shall call her Ann--cuz you've been right good to me--you sholy have."

So it was "lil' Ann" and, since the strange reticence and misunderstood joyousness remained, Lois Ann, at her wit's end, believing that death or insanity threatened, went secretly to the Greyson house to confess and get a.s.sistance.

Peter was away with Jed. The two hung together now like burrs. Whatever of relaxation Martin could hope for lay in Greyson; whatever of material comfort Peter could command, must come through Jed, and so they laboured, in slow, primitive fashion, and edged in a little pleasure together. Marg, having achieved her ambition, was content and, for the first time in her life, easy to get along with. And into this comparative Eden Lois Ann came with words that shattered the peace and calm.

In Marg's private thought she had never doubted that her sister had often been with Burke Lawson in the Hollow. When he disappeared, she believed Nella-Rose was with him, but she had supported and embellished her father's story concerning them because it secured her own self-respect and covered the tracks of the degenerate pair with a shield that they in no wise deserved, but which put their defenders in a truly Christian att.i.tude.

Marg was alone in the cabin when Lois Ann entered. She looked up flushed and eager.

"How-de," she said genially. "Set and have a bite."

"I ain't got no time," the old woman returned pantingly. "Nella-Rose is down to my place."

The warm, sunny room grew stifling to Marg.

"What a-doing?" she said, half under her breath.

"She's got a--lil' baby."

The colour faded from Marg's face, leaving it pasty and heavy.

"Burke--thar?"

"He ain't been thar all winter. I hid Nella-Rose and her shame but I dare not any longer. I reckon she's going off."

"Dying?"

"May be; or--" and here Lois Ann tapped her head.

"And he--he went and left her?" groaned Marg--"the devil!"

Lois Ann watched the terrible anger rising in the younger woman and of a sudden she realized how useless it would be to voice the wild tale Nella-Rose held to. So she only nodded.

"I'll come with you," Marg decided at once, "and don't you let on to father or Jed--they'd do some killing this time, sure!"

Together the two made their way to the Hollow and found Nella-Rose in the quiet room with her baby nestling against her tender breast. The look on her face might well stay the reproaches on Marg's lips--she almost reeled back as the deep, true eyes met hers. All the smothered sisterliness came to the surface for an instant as she trembled and drew near to the two in the old chintz-covered rocker.

"See! my baby, Marg. She is lil' Ann."

"Ann--what?" whispered Marg.

"Just lil' Ann for--Miss Lois Ann."