Not a man, however,
dreamed that, flat on her face in the bushes, lay a girl peering down at them
with her breath held, but with a heart which beat so loud to her own ears
that she felt they must hear it. Least of all did Darby Stanley,
marching erect and tall in front, for all the sore heart in his bosom,
know that her eyes were on him as long as she could see him.
When Vashti brought up the cow that night it was later than usual.
It perhaps was fortunate for her that the change made by the absence
of the boys prevented any questioning. After all the excitement
her mother was in a fit of despondency. Her father sat in the door
looking straight before him, as silent as the pine on which
his vacant gaze was fixed. Even when the little cooking they had
was through with and his supper was offered him, he never spoke.
He ate in silence and then took his seat again. Even Mrs. Mills's
complaining about the cow straying so far brought no word from him
any more than from Vashti. He sat silent as before, his long legs
stretched out toward the fire. The glow of the embers fell on the rough,
thin face and lit it up, bringing out the features and making them
suddenly clear-cut and strong. It might have been only the fire,
but there seemed the glow of something more, and the eyes burnt
back under the shaggy brows.
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