"It is an awful story," Levin said, "but Hulda never saw it."
"I can remember my father," said Hulda; "a large, strong man, with a slow, heavy face, but he never smiled on me."
"Well, here is the cross-roads," said Van Dorn. "What shall I do with this letter, bad wild-flower?"
"Read it, if you will, or take this English shilling and post it."
Van Dorn shrank back, rejecting the money.
"Will you not buy it back, Hulda," he whispered, "with love?"
"Never."
"You may pay for this letter this night with your life or modesty!"
"You dare not kill me," Hulda said.
"You will see," said Van Dorn.