in a strained tone. "Yes, dear, I've got
some money with me, and a little more in the bank at Hepzibah. I can get
hold of that any time I want to. I don't know just what I'll do," he
looked around him bewildered. This had not been his plan, and the long
ride down the mountain, and above all the happiness of being with Judith,
of her avowals had made him forgetful of its exigencies. "I reckon I'll
make out. You needn't worry about me any more, Judith. I'm safe down
here."

These words sounded dreadfully like a dismissal to the girl. She locked
her hands hard together in her lap and fought for composure. An older or
a more worldly woman would have said to him promptly that she could not
leave him in this case, and that if they were ever to be married it must
be now. But all the traditions of the mountain girl's life and upbringing
were against such a course. She gazed at him helplessly.

"I ain't got but one friend on this earth, looks like," began Creed
wearily, as he got to his feet, "and now I'm obliged to send her away
from me."

It was more than Judith could bear. She lifted her swimming eyes to him
in the dusk; he was recovering self command and strength, but he was
still white, shaken, the bandaged head and shoulder showing how close he
had been to death. Her love overbore virgin timidity and tradition.

"Don't send me away then," she said in the deepest tones of that rich,
passionate voice of hers. "Ef hit's me you're namin' when you speak of
having but one friend--don't send me away, Creed."

He came close and caught her hand, looking into her face with wondering
half comprehension of her words. That face was dyed with sudden, burning
red. She hoped and expected that he would make the proffer which must
come from him. When he did not, she burst out in a vehement, tense
whisper,

"If--if you love me like you said you did----"

Creed hesitated, bewildered. He was too ill to judge matters aright, but
he knew one thing.

"I do love you," he said with mounting firmness. "I may be a mighty poor
sort of a fellow--I've begun to think so of late--but I love you."

Judith put out both hands blindly toward him whispering,

"And I love you. I don't want nothin' but to be with you an' help you,
an' take keer of you. I'll never leave you."

For a moment the young fellow felt only the dizzy rapture of her frank
confession. In that instant he saw himself accepting her sacrifice,
taking her in his arms; in anticipati