Page:Randall Parrish--My Lady of the South.djvu/330



COULD scarcely realize the truth—that this grim mountaineer, savage in cruel instinct, utterly devoid of human tenderness, responsive only to the demands of the blood feud, was yet at heart a real man, his heart wrung by sorrow, and weak as a child in suffering. The strain upon him had been too great, and with the reaction, he had broken down, his gaunt form shaken by sobs, his face hidden between his hands. Even before I grasped the full meaning of this unexpected weakness, the girl understood, and the woman responded. All fear, dislike, hesitancy vanished, and she stepped past me to rest her hand on his shoulder.

"I am so glad I can assure you of this, Mr. Daniels," she said softly. "I—I never saw your wife except that once; but she was kind to me when I needed kindness, and I have never felt the same bitterness since. Surely between you and me there is no quarrel. I would rather help than injure you. Will you not take my hand?"

The man raised his head, staring at her in astonishment. He had expected bitterness, reviling, but not this, and for the moment the honesty of her purpose failed to impress him.

"Yer mean. Miss, we are ter be friends?" [ 312 ]