used man. He was poor, it
seemed, so poor that he had abandoned the white farmhouse and had come
to live in a box-like, unpainted shack at the foot of the hill, the new
boarding of which stood out harshly against the unturfed soil. Built
just across the way from a disused mill, near the creek, it had become
known as the "mill house." In spite of this thriftiness, Con always had
money for a new horse, which he would soon trade off for a better;
although these transactions had, of late, become fewer, as Con was
feared as a "shrewd one." The fact seemed to call forth his neighbors'
admiration, just as the tale that he had been "deserted" called forth
their pity. Lisbeth, they averred, who had stuck to him, was "a hard
piece to get close to."

She was standing at the bottom of the hill where the creek ran between
the deserted mill and the new shack; and, as I came down the hill, I
felt a sharp twinge of pain at the contrast of the fragile line of her
profile against the coarse, dark sweater, at the slender grace of her
body against that dead, barn-sprinkled background. I could observe her
easily without her knowledge, for she was looking up, as we so often
used to at twilight, to the old plank high above the sagging mill, where
the turkeys fly to roost towards evening, so awkwardly and comically,
with a great breathless whirring of wings. I saw her lift her arms to
them with a swift, urging gesture, as though to steady their ungainly
flight, and I could not be certain that she was not talking to them.
Again a pang for the contracting loneliness of those bitter winters that
she had lived through and must still live through, stabbed me.

She turned with a low cry and a momentary flush of gladness. But I
noticed, as I questioned her as an old friend might, that the flush
melted into a level pallor, and her eyes, deeper and more unquiet than I
had remembered them, either wandered up the road or reverted to the last
of the turkeys soaring heavily to rest.

"I used to do all those things, Tom," she said in answer to my question.

"Used to?" I laughed. "Why, it's only five years ago I was hearing that
you were the best little lady on skis and skates at the West-Highlands."

Her eyelids quivered at the word.

"That year--yes," she said and averted her face.

"You mean--" I had to prod, there was no other way about it--"that you
only stayed--one year?"

She nodded.

"My Freshman year prep school."

"And then--?"

"I wa