"Belle-Ann!" His voice was husky and quavering. Her hands were closed within his mighty pressure.
They were looking into each other's face. The boy with incredulous, wondering eyes, reflecting a heart full to the brim with adoration; she, palpitating, her dimples aflush, her bosom lifting, her delicious red mouth ajar. And in the exquisite domains of those azure-tinted orbs lay the lucid litany of a wondrous, beautiful parable. Those two violet-stained eyes were misty with the text of a miracle that nestled in her heart, the tendrils of which she meant to train with care around the boy's mountain soul. In wordless, panting silence they studied each other's happy face for a long minute.
"I knew that was you-all up thah on Eagle Crown. Were you-all looking for me, Lem?" she questioned in a half-whisper, predicating an affection that had its inception back in the child days of yore.
"I was up thah a lookin' fo' yo', Belle-Ann—th' same's I bin a lookin' every hour since yo'-all went away," he assured her, dropping her hands and with a movement to take her into his arms and kiss her bowed, smiling mouth.
Belle-Ann quickly threw back, with a tolerant ripple of mirth, thwarting his intent with the guise of a half-coquettish, half-mischievous challenge. But her purpose in this denial was tenfold deeper than girlish byplay. Her motive was infinitely more profound than to tantalize. She meant to withhold that priceless first kiss as a leverage to undo that which she had done. She meant to hold that first embrace as a reward for the reversal of the godless compact, the tenure of which she had long since penitently recanted.
Nevertheless, Lem was quick to divine the import of her act. He fell back a pace, abashed and crestfallen.
"Thet's so," he said sorrowfully, "I hain't kilt th' revenuer yet, Belle-Ann—but I 'low I tried hard enough, Belle-Ann,—Johnse Hatfield shot em through th' haid three weeks back—but all we ever found o' him wus a hat, an' a rifle, an' a barrel o' blood—he must hev jest flopped his arms an' flew up in th' sky—daid er alive—he hain't on Hellsfork—he——"
Here Buddy rushed up, perspiring and breathing hard. He seized the girl's hand and hung on with a tenacity that bade fair to incumber her forevermore. The boy was too full to speak. His lips only trembled as he gazed up at her. When with endearing terms she pressed his thin little form to her and kissed him, the tears welled up and obscured his hard little eyes. Although these were tributes of joy from his stormy, suspicious heart, it was the first signs of tears any one had seen him manifest since old Cap Lutts had lain white and still, amid the flowers on God's acre. Then while Buddy fondled and admired the salient, superb horse with his fire-rimmed eyes and slender legs, the other two sat down on a rectangular stone, all coated in liverwort, upon which they had lolled many times in days agone. And here they communed with happy, hurried words.
"But Lem," Belle-Ann was saying, "you are all dressed up—but for your beautiful locks, you look really citified—perhaps you-all was on your way to visit some young lady—am I right?—come now,"—she laughed coyly.
"Belle-Ann, ef yo' had come 'bout half hour later—yo' wouldn't a found me—I wus jest a startin' out on my way below t' look fo' yo', Belle-Ann.—I wus 'lowin' t' scour th' whole earth fo' yo'—I told Buddy an' Slab thet I'd never come back till I seed yore face jest onct, anyways—I wus goin' t' spend th' balance of my life lookin' fo' yo', Belle-Ann."