"You deserve more than that—gratitude."
"Then let frankness be an expression of gratitude. Are you in love with that man?"
"Madam, a long time ago I used to slip to the door of the dining-room of the little hotel in the West and peep in at him. They said he was bad, that he would kill; but he came like a cavalier, with his spurs jingling, and fascinated me. I felt that my own spirit if turned loose would be as wild as his, for had not my forefathers fought on the sea till the waves were bloody about them, and had they not dashed madly into wild lands? I peeped in at him; I did not speak to him; but I watched for his coming. And late at night I have lain awake to hear his wild song in the bar-room, just below me. One day I met him in the passage-way, and looked into his eyes, with my heart in my own, I feared; and I did not see him again till I came out here. I did not know his name. They called him Hell-in-the-Mud."
Mrs. Goodwin did not remain quiet to hear the story. With many exclamations, she walked up and down, sometimes with her back toward the girl sitting on the log, her hands in her lap, lying dreamily; sometimes she wheeled about and stood wide of eye and with mouth open.
"Well, who ever heard of the like? But are you sure he is the same man?"
"Yes. I did not remind him that I had seen him there. He said that he had seen me—he said—"
"But what did he say? You must keep nothing back now. It would spoil everything. What did he say?"
"He said that he got on his horse and galloped away—from me. He said that he did not want to be—be tangled up."
"Well, well, who ever heard of such a thing? And you have met out here. Has he asked you to marry him?"
"No, and I do not think he will. I must not marry him."