"But I always felt friendly towards you, Ruth, even though you seemed to dislike me."
"And I shall always be more friendly to you in the future. I want you to forgive me, Roger. Will you?"
She looked at me, and her great grey eyes were full of kindness, and her voice was so gentle that I felt quite uncomfortable.
"Don't talk about forgiving," I said, rather roughly, I expect, "let us be good friends."
She looked very pale as I said this, and then I saw that she was more shaken and hurt than I had at first thought. She would have fallen, I believe, had I not upheld her. I led her to a rock, where she sat down for a rest, and when I had found some fresh water for her, she was quite refreshed. She took hold of my arm as we walked home, however, and I felt a strange pleasure in helping her. She had grown just like one of my sisters to me, and she seemed to regard me as a brother.
We talked quite pleasantly on our way, until we forgot the great danger in which we had both been a little while before. I forget just now what we were talking about; but I know that while we were laughing heartily at something she had been saying we were startled by a voice telling us to stop.
We looked up, and Deborah Teague stood before us. She eyed us keenly, and when she saw how friendly we were, she said, "Maaster Roger, mind what ould Debrah said."
"I always do mind what you say, Deborah," I replied; "you have always been a friend to me."
"Maaster Roger," she continued, "ould Debrah hev vollied the fortins of yer family for years, and she ought to knaw."
"Well, what's wrong now?"