usted to
resist. Following the old mother's directions, he found woollen blankets
and, wrapping her about, he took her up like a baby and laid her on her
bed. Then he brewed her a hot milk punch and made her take it.

"You need this more than I, Doctah. If you'll just take some yourself,
as soon as I can I'll make your bed in the loom shed again, and--"

"Drink it; drink it and go to sleep. Yes, yes. I'll have some, too."

"Cass, you lie still and do as doctah says. You nigh about dade, child.
If only I could get off'n this bed an' walk a leetle, I'd 'a' had your
place all ready fer ye, Doctah. The' is a featheh bade up garret, if ye
could tote hit down an' drap on the floor here fer--"

David laughed cheerily. "Why, this is nothing for me." He stood turning
himself about to dry his clothing on all sides before the blaze. "As
soon as Miss Cassandra closes her eyes and sleeps, I will look after
myself. It's a shame to bring all these wet things in here, I say!"

"You are a-steamin' like you are a steam engine," piped little Hoyle,
peering at him over his mother's shoulder from the far corner of her
bed.

"You lie down and go to sleep again, youngster," said David.

And gradually they all fell asleep, while Thryng sat long before the
fire and pondered until Cassandra slept. Once and again a deep quivering
sigh trembled through her parted lips, as he watched beside her. A warm
rose hue played over her still features, cast by the dancing red flames,
and her hair in a dishevelled mass swept across the pillow and down to
the floor. At last the rain ceased; warmed and dried, Thryng stole away
from the silent house and rode back to his own cabin.

CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH SPRING COMES TO THE MOUNTAINS, AND CASSANDRA TELLS DAVID OF HER
FATHER

Ere long such a spring as David had never dreamed of swept up the
mountain, with a charm so surpassing and transcending any imagined
beauty that he was filled with a sort of ecstasy. He was constantly out
upon the hills revelling in the lavish bounty of earth and sky, of
rushing waters, and all the subtile changes in growing things, as if at
last he had been clasped to the heart of nature. He visited the cabins
wherever he was called, and when there was need for Cassandra's
ministrations he often took her with him; thus they fell naturally into
good camaraderie. Thus, also, quite as naturally, Cassandra's speech
became more correct and fluent, even while it lost none of its