Again the girl could not trust herself to speak, but tears came into her eyes as she gave him her hand. He pressed it so hard as to leave a delicious ache, and hastened away.
"Good Lor! who was that awful-looking man?" Mrs. Bodine asked Ella.
"George Houghton. He carried you from home here."
"Lor! Lor! Saved my life as well as yours and Cousin Hugh's?"
"Yes, and now he's going to help papa and Mara."
"Well, well, we'll have to forgive him for being born North. Is that old—"
Ella stopped her mouth with a kiss, and whispered: "That is his father. Don't let us look at him. In fact, I'm afraid to—at least while he is so ill."
"Well," ejaculated Mrs. Bodine, "if this earthquake does not cure him of his cussedness, I hope the Lord will take him to heaven."
"He did not prevent George from coming to me, nor his going to papa's aid. He was kind, too, to that poor woman yonder. Oh, I'm sorry for her, and I wish I could do something."
"Perhaps you can. Go and see."