Westerfelt

e his room in the hotel. Inflammation of his wound had set in,

me in his buggy to driv

'a' made you stay with us you'd not 'a' been apt to 'a' met Wambush that day, an' 'a' b

. "I don't need any finer treatment than I've had, Luke. Miss Harriet's been better than a sister to me. She saved my life the other night,

window. She took the

and held one of th

y," she said. "You'd b

Brad

standing where he had left him. Westerfelt dragged himself from his chair and stood in front

o something to pay you back." She said nothing. She bent over and felt the bl

ll take good care of you. Besides, she has a better claim

. In the dead hours of the night I suffer agonies-you see, I am not a good sleeper. I have been as near insanity as any man that ever lived out of an asylum. But I have been mighty nearly free from all that since you began to nurse me. I wis

bles, Mr. Westerfelt

nk I cannot bear

s eyes were upon her al

ll him frankly of h

m her heart and already loved him; she had learned to love him since he had been there. He could see it, feel it in her every tender word and act, and he-God knew he loved her-loved her with his whole wearied soul. Then the thought of her appeal to old John Wambush and the lies she had told that night t

ellow firelight, and then, as if puzzled

that room over the stable

o-morro

mfortable; it is awfully

slept out in the open air on a frosty nig

room whenever it suited

yesterday that sh

ged to his bruised heart. He felt an almost uncontrollable desire to raise her in his arms, to unbosom his anguish to her, and propose that they both

e," he said, fiercely. "I will not s

lanket and stood up. "I do not understand you

iet, little, suffering, wronged woman, I know something about y

an awful look cr

Westerfel

again to speak of it. I don't want to talk about it

r lips began to twitch and q

nd I don't blame you. I told mother yest

ther kno

," raising her

r felt such utter despair. It was like being slowly tortured to death to hear her spea

ter go back to the stable, d

unable to formulate what lay in her confused mind. Besides, Luke

dy," he called out. "That blamed nag

road, she came back to the fire and sat down in the chair Westerfelt had used during h

ye," she said, with a knowing little laugh; "but I'll be bound he w

t are you ta

"I know Mr. Westerfelt is dead in love with you, and goodness knows y

o mention him to me again," and she put her

r mother in the face. "He knows all about it, mother-he knows I am not your child, that nobody knows where I came from.

me mistake," she said; "no one here knows

latives in Tennessee. Oh, mother, more people know it than you think. I have alw

"I ought never to have told you," she said; "but the lawyers knew it, and when your papa's estate was wound up it had to be told

le I ever had. I never see poor, worthless people without thinking that I may be closely related to them, and since Mr. Westerfelt has been here and told

I thought when we moved down here among strangers you'd quit troubling about that. You know you are as good as anybody else, so what is the good of worrying? Y

show it; but, mother, I am dying to know something about my own flesh and blood. I'd rather know that my blood was good

d on rather cheap clothing, but you know that was just af

ey could not have been very honorable. I

ll never see a man like him turning against a girl for something she can't help. You ought not to say your parents we

y for several minute

t there. Mother, the legitimate daughter of an overseer would stand higher in any Southern community than-" At this point a sob broke in her voice, and the girl could go no further. Mrs. Floyd rose and kissed her on the cheek. "I see," she said, "that as long

"I don't think he lo-cares tha