"I'll not stay."
"No?" he sneered in heavy, even irony. "Will ye cry on the neighbours to fetch ye away?"
She did not need to turn her head to see the wild loneliness of hill and lake. It was present to her mind as she leaned on the rough wooden lintel, looking into the shed.
"Or," continued he, "will ye go a-visiting. There's the Indians camping other side o' the mountain here "—he jerked his head backward to denote the direction—"and one that came down to the tree-cutting two weeks ago said there were a couple of wolves on the other hill. I dare say either Indians or wolves would be quite glad of the pleasure o' your company."
She raised herself up and seemed suddenly to fill the doorway, so that both men looked up because much of their light was withdrawn.
"You'd not have dared to speak to me like this while father was alive."
As a matter of fact the accusation was not true. The father's presence or absence would have made no difference to Bates had he been wrought up to the same pitch of anger; but neither he nor the girl was in a condition to know this. He only replied:
"That's the reason I waited till he was dead."
"If he hadn't been hurt so sudden he wouldn't have left me here."
"But he was hurt sudden, and he did leave ye here."