Told in the Hills. Marah Ellis Ryan
curved red lips and her soft dark eyes to give attractiveness to her tanned face.
"Yes, I have heard of her," she said in a slow, half-shy way; "she can't be very—very—nice; but one of the stockmen said she was good-hearted if anyone was sick or needed help, so she can't be quite bad."
"You dear little soul," said her sister-in-law fondly; "you would have a good word to say for anyone; but you must allow it will be awfully dismal out here without any lady friends."
"You are here, and Rache."
"Yes, but when Rache and I have gone back to civilization?"
The dark eyes glanced at the speaker and then at the tall young ranchman. "Hen will be here always."
"Oh, you insinuating little Quaker!" laughed the older woman; "one would think you were married yesterday and the honeymoon only begun, would you not, Alec? I wonder if these Chinook winds have a tendency to softening of the brain—have they, Hen? If so, you and Tillie are in a dangerous country. What was it you shot this time, Alec—a pole-cat or a flying-squirrel? Yes, I'll go and see for myself."
And she followed her husband across the open space of the plateau to where Ivans was cutting slices of venison from the latest addition to their larder; while Hardy stood smiling down, half amusedly, at the flushed face of the little wife.
"Are you afraid of softening of the brain?" he asked in a tone of concern. She shook her head, but did not look up. She was easily teased, as much so about her husband as if he was still a wooer. And to have shown her fondness in his sister's eyes! What sister could ever yet see the reason for a sister-in-law's blind adoration?
"Are you going to look on yourself as a martyr after the rest have left you here in solitary confinement with me as a jailer?"
Another shake of the head, and the drooped eyes were raised for one swift glance.
"Because I was thinking," continued her tormentor—"I was thinking that if the exile, as Clara calls it, would be too severe on you, I might, if it was for your own good—I might send you back with the rest to Kentucky."
Then there was a raising of the head quick enough and a tempestuous flight across the space that separated them, and a flood of remonstrances that ended in happy laughter, a close clasp of arms, and—yes, in spite of the girl who was standing not very far away—a kiss; and Hardy circled his wife's shoulders with his long arms, and, with a glance of laughing defiance at his cousin, drew her closer and followed in the wake of the Houghtons.
The girl had deliberately stood watching that little scene with a curious smile in her eyes, a semi-cynical gaze at the lingering fondness of voice and touch. There was no envy in her face, only a sort of good-natured disbelief. Her cousin Clara always averred that Rachel was too masculine in spirit to ever understand the little tendernesses that burnish other women's lives.
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