The Mountain Girl. Erskine Payne
"Now? Now, Frale, your hands are blood-guilty," she said, slowly and hopelessly.
He grew cold and still, waiting in the silence. His hands clutched her clothing, but he did not lift his head. He had shed blood and had lost her. They might take him and hang him. At last he told her so, brokenly, and she knew not what to do.
Gently she placed her hand on his head and drew the thick silken hair through her fingers, and the touch, to his stricken soul, was a benediction. The pity of her cooled the fever in his blood and swept over his spirit the breath of healing. For the first time, after the sin and the horror of it, after the passion and its anguish, came tears. He wept and wiped his tears with her dress.
Then she told him how her mother had been hurt. How Hoyle had driven the half-broken colt and the mule all the way to Carew's alone, to bring her home, and how he had come nigh being killed. How a gentleman had helped her when the colt tried to run and the mule was mean, and how she had brought him home with her.
Then he lifted his head and looked at her, his haggard face drawn with suffering, and the calmness of her eyes still further soothed and comforted him. They were filled with big tears, and he knew the tears were for him, for the change which had come upon him, lonely and wretched, doomed to hide out on the mountain, his clothes torn by the brambles and soiled by the red clay of the holes into which he had crawled to hide himself. He rose and sat at her side and held her head on his shoulder with gentle hand.
"Pore little sister—pore little Cass! I been awful mean an' bad," he murmured. "Hit's a badness I cyan't 'count fer no ways. When I seed that thar doctah man—I reckon hit war him I seed lyin' asleep up yander on Hangin' Rock—a big tall man, right thin an' white in the face—" he paused and swallowed as if loath to continue.
"Frale!" she cried, and would have drawn away but that he held her.
"I didn't hurt him, Cass. I mount hev. I lef' him lie thar an' never woke him nor teched him, but—I felt hit here—the badness." He struck his chest with his fist. "I lef' thar fast an' come here. Ever sence I killed Ferd, hit's be'n follerin' me that-a-way. I reckon I'm cursed to hell-fire fer hit now, ef they take me er ef they don't—hit's all one; hit's thar whar I'm goin' at the las'."
"Frale, there is a way—"
"Yes, they is one way—only one. Ef you'll give me your promise, Cass, I'll get away down these mountains, an' I'll work; I'll work hard an' get you a house like one I seed to the settlement, Cass, I will. Hit's you, Cass. Ever sence Ferd said that word, I be'n plumb out'n my hade. Las' night I slep' in Wild Cat Hole, an' I war that hungered an' lone, I tried to pray like your maw done teached me, an' I couldn' think of nothin' to say, on'y just, 'Oh, Lord, Cass!' That-a-way—on'y your name, Cass, Cass, all night long."
"I reckon Satan put my name in your heart, Frale; 'pears to me like it is sin."
"Naw! Satan nevah put your name thar. He don't meddle with sech as you. He war a-tryin' to get your name out'n my heart, that's what he war tryin', fer he knowed I'd go bad right quick ef he could. Hit war your name kep' my hands off'n that doctah man thar on the rock. Give me your promise now, Cass. Hit'll save me."
"Then why didn't it save you from killing Ferd?" she asked.
"O Gawd!" he moaned, and was silent.
"Listen, Frale," she said at last. "Can't you see it's sin for you and me to sit here like this—like we dared to be sweethearts, when you have shed blood for this? Take your hands off me, and let me go down to mothah."
Slowly his hold relaxed and his head drooped, but he did not move his arms. She pushed them gently from her and stood a moment looking down at him. His arms dropped upon the stone at his side, listless and empty, and again her pitying soul reached out to him and enveloped him.
"Frale, there is just one way that I can give you my promise," she said. He held out his arms to her. "No, I can't sit that way; you can see that. The good book says, 'Ye must repent and be born again.'" He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Then you would be a new man, without sin. I reckon you have suffered a heap, and repented a heap—since you did that, Frale?"
"I'm 'feared—I'm 'feared ef he war here an' riled me agin like he done that time—I'm 'feared I'd do hit agin—like he war talkin' 'bouts you, Cass." He rose and stood close to her.
The soft dusk was wrapping them about, and she began to fear lest she lose her control over him. She took up the bundle of food and placed it in his hand.
"Here, take this, and the coat, too, Frale. Come down and have suppah with mothah and me to-night, and sleep in your own bed. They won't search here for one while, I reckon, and you'll be safah than hiding in Wild Cat Hole. Hoyle heard them say they reckoned you'd lit off down the mountain, and were hiding in some near-by town. They'll hunt you there first; come."
She walked on, and he obediently followed. "When we get nigh the house, I'll go first and see if the way is clear. You wait back. If I want you to run, I'll call twice, quick and sharp, but if I want you to come right in, I'll call once, low and long."
After that no word was spoken. They clambered down the steep, winding path, and not far from the house she left him. She wondered Nig did not bound out to greet her, but supposed he must be curled up near the hearth in comfort. Frale also thought of the dog as he sat cowering under the laurel shrubs, and set his teeth in anguish and sorrow.
"Cass'll hate hit when she finds out," he muttered.
After a moment, waiting and listening, he heard her long, low call float out to him. Falling on his hurt spirit, it sounded heavenly sweet.
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