"I hear," he resumed; "that Dave Rollin has been down this way ag'in. They say it was lucky for him I wasn't to home that day; maybe so. Ef he'd a turned up suddenly in my path—I can't say—I might 'a' trod on him. I never done anythin' like that for the fun on't. I'd rather go round one any time than step on't, but if I'd a come on him so, onexpected, I can't say for what might 'a' been the consequences. Wall, he comes down here, and he goes to her with money! Her, that ain't used to all the devilish ways o' the world, nor as fine clo's as some, but that's got a lady's heart in her, for all that; and she told him—I know just how she said it, in that quiet way she's had along lately—that it was the last thing he could do to hurt her—but he'd made a mistake if he thought she could take that.
"So, then, as I've heered, he went to her father, a tryin' to make it appear, as nigh as I can make out, that he'd got suthin' in the shape of a conscience that he wanted to whiten over a little more to his own satisfaction afore he went away.
"Wall, Bede and his daughter used to be called about one piece for temper, though I don't reckon that temper's lackin' allays 'cause it don't show. There's them as jest keeps the steam down a workin' the whole machinery patient and stiddy; but Bede, he's allays a histin' the cover, and lettin' on't out in one general bust, and I reckon that was what he did when he was a talkin' with the fisherman; he histed up the cover and let off a good deal of onnecessary steam, but he come to the right point in the end; that the fisherman had made a mistake thar', too, and—as near as I can make out—this Dave Rollin was kind o' took back and disappointed. He hadn't calkilated that the folks down here had any sech feelin's as his sort o' folks.
"Thar' ain't any use in talkin' about him. I feel hard thar', I confess, but that can't help her none, now. What I want is to help her. I tell ye, teacher,"—the strong voice trembled slightly—"there's been times when I've felt as though I've been a sinkin', as ye might say, and a wantin' to call out for help! help! like any weak, drowning fool, instead o' swimmin' above it strong, and helpin' them as was weaker than me.
"No shame for me to say, teacher, I've allays had it in my mind that Becky'd marry me. It grew up with me. I never thought o' no other girl but her. Ye see she'd always knowed me, and it was more like a brother, she said. She hadn't thought o' that. So, I says, I'll bide my time patient, but I believed she'd turn to me.
"When Dave Rollin began to hang around there, I didn't feel exactly kindly towards him, I don't pretend. The folks, they tried to set me on. It 'ud a been mighty easy to 'a' gone on! I guess there ain't nobody as knows us two 'ud deny I could handle four o' such as him, but a man has got to say, fa'r play! fa'r play! and not put himself in other folks' light. Thinks I, if his intentions are all squar' and honorable—and I hadn't no reason, then, to say they wa'n't—and them, two take a fancy to each other, why, it ain't no more than nateral!
"She was handsome enough, for a queen, and he had different manners from us fellows down here, and purtier ways o' talkin' and lookin' at a girl, as though if she didn't have him, it was goin' to knock 'im straight, and she'd lived with such different folks, it made it vary interestin'; that was nateral. Thinks I, a man in my place had ought to have sense enough to back out quiet.
"You know what he done, teacher. He took the best, and when he got tired on't, he threw it away,"—the brawny hand at George Olver's side was clinched so as to appear almost colorless, yet there was little discomposure in his voice—"but cursin' him ain't a goin' to help us now. When a thing that's allays been precious to us has once fell, we can't never make it quite like it was afore, but we can keep care on't patient, a waitin' God Almighty's time to make it whole. I know what folks say. I know, but I don't keer. She ain't no less precious to me, now, than she was afore, only it's more for her, now, maybe, and less for myself. And she sees, now. She does keer for me, now. Ay, I know what they'll say, but they don't know that girl as well as I do, teacher. They ain't nothin' would 'a' wrung them words from her ef they hadn't 'a' be'n true; no, not ef it had been savin' her life to say 'em. She does keer, now, but she won't never take me now, she says, because it 'ud be wrongin' me; and I might 'a' knowed what she'd 'a' said, what it was nateral and noble for her to say.
"But," continued George Olver, with a flash of magnificent fire in his eyes, and thrusting his arm out straight; "what's right atween me and my God needn't be afeard o' no man's face! I want to take that girl and keer for her, and keep her from meddlin' tongues. Let 'em say what they choose to me; they must be keerful what they say afore her, that's all.
"I've waited a good while. I could bide my time, but not now, when she's heart broke and sufferin', and nobody ter put out a hand to help her. There's be'n a look on her face, lately, that I don't like to see. It's afore my eyes all the time, and it werries me night and day—as though she didn't hold herself o' no account, and might make away wi' herself.