I
hain't got no son nuther but I confidences my gal. Ther two of us hev
always 'lowed thet ef we could see them wedded afore we lays down an'
dies, we'd come mighty nigh seein' ther old breach healed--an' ther old
hates buried. Them two clans would git tergither then--an' thar'd jest
be one peaceful fam'ly 'stid of two crowds of hateful enemies."

Dorothy had hardly moved since she had spoken last. During her
grandfather's zealous pronouncement her slender uprightness had remained
statue-like and motionless, but in her deep eyes all the powerful life
forces that until lately had slept dormant now surged into their new
consciousness and invincible self-assertion.

Now the head crowned with its masses of dark hair was as high as that of
some barbaric princess who listens while her marriage value is appraised
by ambassadors, and the eyes were full of fire too steadily intense for
flickering. The arch of her bosom only revealed in movement the
palpitant emotion that swayed her, with its quick rise and fall, but her
voice held the bated quiet of a tempest at the point of breaking.

"I'd hate ter hev anybody think I wasn't full loyal ter my kith an' kin.
I'd hate ter fail my own people--but I hain't no man's woman ter be
bartered off ner give away." She paused, and in the long-escaping breath
from her lips came an unmistakable note of scorn.

"Ye talks of healin' a breach, Gran'pap, but ye kain't heal no breach by
tyin' a woman up ter a man she kain't never love. Thar'd be a breach
right hyar under this roof ter start with from ther commencement." That
much she had been able to say as a preface in acknowledgment of the old
man's sincerity of purpose, but now her voice rang with the thrill of
personal liberty and its deeper claim. Her beauty grew suddenly gorgeous
with the surge of colour to her cheeks and the flaming of her eyes. She
stood the woman spirit incarnate, which can at need be also the tigress
spirit, asserting her home-making privilege, and ready to do battle for
it.

"Fam'ly means a man an' a woman--an' children," she declared, "an' ther
man thet fathers my babies hes need ter be ther man I _loves_!"

Caleb inclined his head. He had spoken, and now as one closes a book he
dismissed the matter with a gesture.

"I've done give ye my reasons," he said, "but I hain't nuver sought ter
fo'ce no woman, an' hit's too late ter start. Ther two of ye sets thar
like a jury thet's done heered ther argyment. My plan wou