"She isn't for me, either," said Donald. "And besides, I'm no more worthy of her than you, Judd. I should have told you long ago—I was a fool not to have done so—I'm going to marry another girl,—a girl at home whom I have known all my life."
"Do Rose know hit?" came the mountaineer's quick, suspicious query.
"Of course she does; she's known it for a year. Judd ..." he seated himself beside the younger man. "I want to tell you that I was altogether to blame for ... for what happened up there last summer. I should have told you then, and ... and I'm sorry."
"No, hit war I who war ter blame."
"Well, let's both try to forget it, now. You owe me nothing for to-night; but you owe Rose a debt of gratitude that you can never hope to pay in full, my boy."
"I knows hit. I kaint never pay even part uv hit."
"I think that you can."
"How kin I?"
"I don't pretend to be much of a preacher, but I can say this as a man, Judd. By trying to live the kind of a life she would have you live. She wants to be your friend."
"I haint fit ter be named friend uv her'n, after what I done," he replied, dully.