Uncle Abner
dered enough for any prophecy. And now, Abner, will you stay and be a witness?"
"I will be one witness," replied my uncle slowly, "if you will send for my brother Rufus to be another."
The woman looked at her guest in wonder.
"That would be twenty miles through the Hills," she said. "We could not get Rufus by the morn's morn."
"No," said Abner, "it would be three miles to Maxwell's Tavern. Rufus is there to-night."
The big-nosed, red-haired woman drummed on the cloth with the tips of her fingers, and one knew what she was thinking. Her relentless will was the common talk. What she wished she forced with no concern.
But the girl was afraid of Campbell. The man seemed evil to her. It was not evidenced in any act. It was instinct in the girl. She felt the nature of the man like some venomous thing pretending to be gentle until its hour. And this fear, dominant and compelling, gave her courage to resist the woman's will.
The long suit of Campbell for the girl was known to everybody, and the woman's favor of it and the girl's resistance. The woman foresaw what folk in the Hills would say, and she wished to forestall that gossip by the presence in her house of men whose word could not be gainsaid. If Abner and
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