But the exquisitely moulded line of cheek and chin, the grace of
motion and the deep questing light in her eyes nothing could destroy. I
believe that, to Jim, she grew more lovely as she appeared to fade.
At last the day came when the water ran in yellowed torrents in the
creek or stood in stagnant pools under a new sun, when the blood
bounded, overwarm, in the tired body. That day Old Con caught sight of
them, walking arm in arm at the top of the hill, looking down as though
to find a footing, and talking earnestly. They had never before ventured
so near the mill. Catching sight of them from some distance, I foresaw
the meeting before I could reach them. When I came close enough to see,
Lisbeth was trembling visibly, as though from a chill, and Jim stood
glowering down at Old Con.
Suddenly Lisbeth edged herself sidewise between them, shouldering Jim
away.
"Don't touch him!" she cried. "It's what he's waiting for you to do!
Can't you see the look on his face--that wronged look of a man that's
done nothing but wrong all his life?"
She stopped, the words swelling within her, too big for utterance. Jim
put a quieting arm about her; and just then Old Con made an abrupt
motion towards her wrist.
"I guess," he said, "that a father--"
But she was before him.
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