her Isaac; but we'll clap it to him on a _de
bonis non_. I'll never take my eye off him till I die."

"Brother Jacob, what an executive help you air!"

As Van Dorn drove the horses up the slight ascent in the rear of the
ferry, past an ancient double puncheon house there, with an arch in the
centre, young Hulda--who now wore shoes and stockings, and a presentable
dress of English goods, and looked quite the woman out of her sincere
and sometimes proud and eloquent eyes--said to him, as she pointed back:

"Captain, it was there my father killed the traveller, where we see the
road beyond the ferry enter the pines."

"Yes," said Van Dorn, giving her a cold look; "we might see the place
but for the woods. It is at a hill, a short mile from the Nanticoke."

"Tell Levin about it, captain."

"_Quedo, quedo!_ It would not be pleasant."

"Yes," said Hulda; "if it was true, I can hear it: I want Levin to hear
it, too, so that no deceit shall be between us."

Her smooth, moist hair, gray, humid eyes, complexion born between the
rose and dew, and straight, lithe figure, and air of dignity and truth,
impressed Van Dorn curiously:

"How bold you grow, wild-flower! Cannot you stoop to re-create me? I,
too, would live without deceit. But I will not tell you that story."

"You are afraid," spoke Hulda, feeling that nothing but this man and
three miles of level road separated her from the vengeance of Patty
Cannon, and that she must assert herself strongly over him.

"_Ya, ya!_ Are you not harsh? Remember, you may be whipped by your
grandma."

"No, you will whip me, or kill me, if it is to be done. You dare not
give me to her to punish."

"Dare not, again? Why?"

"Because you are my guardian. Between us is an instinct different from
love, but strong; I feel it. I lean towards you, but not on you. What is
it?"

"_O Dios!_" lisped Van Dorn, his blush suspended and his warm blue eyes
fascinated by her. "Is this a child or Echo?"

"Tell me of my father's crime. I want Levin to know the wretched thing
he has affection for."

"_Ayme! ah!_ Well, listen, young lovers; and see what grisly things walk
in these pines! There was a man named Brereton; they call him Bruington
here, where their noses are twisted and their chins weak. He came from
old Lewes, off to the east by Cape Henlopen, and of a stout family, in
which was a grain of evil ever smoking through the blood. Do you
sometimes feel it, Hulda?"

"No, not evil like th