The Harvester crushed the Girl in his arms and shuddering sobs shook his big frame, and choked his voice.
“Ruth, for God's sake, be quiet!” he cried. “Why I'd be glad to! I'll go anywhere you tell me, and bring her, and she shall rest where the lake murmurs, the trees shelter, the winds sing, and earth knows the sun only in long rays of gold light.”
She stared at him with strained face.
“You——you wouldn't!” she breathed.
“Ruth, child,” said the Harvester, “I tell you I'd be happy. Look at my side of this! I'm in search of bands to bind you to me and to this place. Could you tell me a stronger than to have the mother you idolized lie here for her long sleep? Why Girl, you can't know the deep and abiding joy it would give me to bring her. I'd feel I had you almost secure. Where is she Ruth?”
“In that old unkept cemetery south of Onabasha, where it costs no money to lay away your loved ones.”
“Close here! Why I'll go to-morrow! I supposed she was in the city.”
She straightened and drew away from him.
“How could I? I had nothing. I could not have paid even her fare and brought her here in the cheapest box the decency of man would allow him to make if her doctor had not given me the money I owe. Now do you understand why I must earn and pay it myself? Save for him, it was charity or her delicate body to horrors. Money never can repay him.”
“Ruth, the day you came to Onabasha was she with you?”