We're Reading The Girl From Montana!
And we should feel grateful, too.
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/15274/15274-h/15274-h.htm
TGFM had a snappier cover in the church library. He looks down and she looks licentiously dishevelled by GLH's standards. You do up that necktie, young lady! With that out of the way we can see that there are a lot of books written before this, including Spice Box. Spice Box was the title of a book, yes, but the reason the phrase is relevant is that it's a young lady's nickname. I told you there would be filthy anachronisms. I hope you were paying attention. God, it's a good thing GLH didn't make it to the internet, it would wreck a lot of her fun. Okay, okay, we're at the first chapter. SHUT UP YOU LOT IN THE BACK, QUIT RUSTLING. Let's go.
THE GIRL, AND A GREAT PERIL
This is gonna be awesome.
The late afternoon sun was streaming in across the cabin floor as the girl stole around the corner and looked cautiously in at the door.
There was a kind of tremulous courage in her face. She had a duty to perform, and she was resolved to do it without delay. She shaded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, set a firm foot upon the threshold, and, with one wild glance around to see whether all was as she had left it, entered her home and stood for a moment shuddering in the middle of the floor.
Yeah, you'd think this is about as interesting a thing as a romance heroine is ever gonna do: put great effort into sneaking around and standing in empty rooms. Inaction is a romance heroine's calling card, or would be if she would leave it. However, this one's got a bit of a reason for her inertia:
The girl closed her eyes, and pressed their hot, dry lids hard with her cold fingers; but the vision was clearer even than with her eyes open.
She could see the tiny baby sister lying there in the middle of the room, so little and white and pitiful; and her handsome, careless father sitting at the head of the rude home-made coffin, sober for the moment; and her tired, disheartened mother, faded before her time, dry-eyed and haggard, beside him. But that was long ago, almost at the beginning of things for the girl.
There had been other funerals, the little brother who had been drowned while playing in a forbidden stream, and the older brother who had gone off in search of gold or his own way, and had crawled back parched with fever to die in his mother's arms. But those, too, seemed long ago to the girl as she stood in the empty cabin and looked fearfully about her. They seemed almost blotted out by the last three that had crowded so close within the year. The father, who even at his worst had a kind word for her and her mother, had been brought home mortally hurt-an encounter with wild cattle, a fall from his horse in a treacherous place-and had never roused to consciousness again.
I told you they were all orphans. This is one of the more ruthless backstories I can remember, since GLH lists off these characters and instantly knocks them off in the same economical way. It's not clear why girlfriend is freaking out about an empty room, but let us continue. Oh wait:
At all these funerals there had been a solemn service, conducted by a travelling preacher when one happened to be within reach, and, when there was none, by the trembling, determined, untaught lips of the white-faced mother. The mother had always insisted upon it, especially upon a prayer. It had seemed like a charm to help the departed one into some kind of a pitiful heaven.
GLH is Christian. I mentioned she was a widow. That gives her an odd sincerity that crops up here and there: GLH knows what it's like to have faith and be disappointed, be crushed, to not know the payoff and not be quite willing to dream that things really are better for the lost loved one. Finley is too busy sneering at the pathetic sinner to consider even the thought of a heaven that is not enough, or blithely put to type the idea of a heaven that is somehow incomplete. GLH has more, well, grace. Anyway, we're caught up to the heroine losing her remaining brother, and the reactions of his fellows:
Only one, the hardest and boldest, the ringleader of the company, ventured back to ask whether there was anything he could do for her, anything she would like to have done; but she answered him coldly with a "No!" that cut him to the quick. It had been a good deal for him to do, this touch of gentleness he had forced himself into. He turned from her with a wicked gleam of intent in his eyes, but she did not see it.
Okay. These books are a lot better than I remembered. I smell an antagonist, and suspect his intentions of being amorous (GLH does not threaten her heroines with overt rape; she threatens them with the weight of relationships in which they will be, in the anachronistic context of a husband being thought to have a right to a wife's body, maritally raped. She does not come out and say it, but that is the expectation there. He will not want to waylay her on a trail, he will want to marry her.) But he is not evil because he caught sight of her fair virtuous form and pots of money. He feels slighted and wants revenge.
Then there had swept up into the girl's face one gleam of life that made her beautiful for the instant, and she had bowed to them with a slow, almost haughty, inclination of her head, and spread out her hands like one who would like to bless but dared not, and said clearly, "I thank you-all!" There had been just a slight hesitation before that last word "all," as if she were not quite sure, as her eyes rested upon the ringleader with doubt and dislike; then her lips had hardened as if justice must be done, and she had spoken it, "all!" and, turning, sped away to her cabin alone.
They were taken by surprise, those men who feared nothing in the wild and primitive West, and for a moment they watched her go in silence. Then the words that broke upon the air were not all pleasant to hear; and, if the girl could have known, she would have sped far faster, and her cheeks would have burned a brighter red than they did.
GLH's heroines are often a bit haughty, or class-conscious, even when it makes no sense. Anyway, she just alienated everyone who was sympathetic toward her brother. Ouch, girlfriend. Let's see where this ends up.
A shadow darkened the sunny doorway. Looking up, she saw the man she believed to be her brother's murderer.
Hibble huh wha? GLH got the bit between her teeth back there and is storming for the sunset. I am as confused as you are.
"I came back, Bess, to see if I could do anything for you."
The tone was kind; but the girl involuntarily put her hand to her throat, and caught her breath. She would like to speak out and tell him what she thought, but she dared not. She did not even dare let her thought appear in her eyes. The dull, statue-like look came over her face that she had worn at the grave. The man thought it was the stupefaction of grief.
"I told you I didn't want any help," she said, trying to speak in the same tone she had used when she thanked the men.
"Yes, but you're all alone," said the man insinuatingly; she felt a menace in the thought, "and I am sorry for you!"
He came nearer, but her face was cold. Instinctively she glanced to the cupboard door behind which lay her brother's belt with two pistols.
"You're very kind," she forced herself to say; "but I'd rather be alone now." It was hard to speak so when she would have liked to dash on him, and call down curses for the death of her brother; but she looked into his evil face, and a fear for herself worse than death stole into her heart.
Yeeek. This early in the book she is all intimidated by the approach of a man. Help! Alarum!
He took encouragement from her gentle dignity. Where did she get that manner so imperial, she, born in a mountain cabin and bred on the wilds?
This is where GLH sort of screws up. They all have this. They all are impoverished orphans with polite manners and high-class poise. It's like Dickens' orphans who speak inexplicably middle-class dialect. But enough of my derails, there is a man menacing a woman in a lonely cabin omg!
He wondered, with his wide knowledge of the world, over her wild, haughty beauty, and gloated over it. He liked to think just what worth was within his easy grasp. A prize for the taking, and here alone, unprotected.
Yoinks! Ok, I take it back, there is a less veiled threat of straight-up rape in these books. That's still as close as GLH will come to telling us what the threat is here, but it's pretty clear. I certainly don't remember this being the norm.
"But it ain't good for you to be alone, you know, and I've come to protect you. Besides, you need cheering up, little girl." He came closer. "I love you, Bess, you know, and I'm going to take care of you now. You're all alone. Poor little girl."
He was so near that she almost felt his breath against her cheek. She faced him desperately, growing white to the lips. Was there nothing on earth or in heaven to save her? Mother! Father! Brother! All gone! Ah! Could she but have known that the quarrel which ended her wild young brother's life had been about her, perhaps pride in him would have salved her grief, and choked her horror.
While she watched the green lights play in the evil eyes above her, she gathered all the strength of her young life into one effort, and schooled herself to be calm. She controlled her involuntary shrinking from the man, only drew herself back gently, as a woman with wider experience and gentler breeding might have done.
Green... lights? What are those, stray children's souls? Why are they green? What is going on? Also, I hope you get what I mean by this "gifted with better core qualities than anyone else because of innate somethingism" stuff. I'm gonna quit calling it soon if it's gonna keep piling up like this.
"Remember," she said, "that my brother just lay there dead!" and she pointed to the empty centre of the room. The dramatic attitude was almost a condemnation to the guilty man before her. He drew back as if the sheriff had entered the room, and looked instinctively to where the coffin had been but a short time before, then laughed nervously and drew himself together.
The girl caught her breath, and took courage. She had held him for a minute; could she not hold him longer?
"Think!" said she. "He is but just buried. It is not right to talk of such things as love in this room where he has just gone out. You must leave me alone for a little while. I cannot talk and think now. We must respect the dead, you know." She looked appealingly at him, acting her part desperately, but well. It was as if she were trying to charm a lion or an insane man.
Well, yeah, she kind of is.
He stood admiring her. She argued well. He was half minded to humor her, for somehow when she spoke of the dead he could see the gleam in her brother's eyes just before he shot him. Then there was promise in this wooing. She was no girl to be lightly won, after all. She could hold her own, and perhaps she would be the better for having her way for a little. At any rate, there was more excitement in such game.
Bless you, GLH. Oh, it's naif, but there's a charm to that. And it does back us off from the threat of rape.
He made a motion to take her in his arms and kiss her; but she drew back suddenly, and spread her hands before her, motioning him back.
"I tell you you must not now. Go! Go! or I will never speak to you again."
He looked into her eyes, and seemed to feel a power that he must obey. Half sullenly he drew back toward the door.
If the author weren't on her side this would end badly, but TAKE THAT, DUDE! Have a quick blast of power you must obey! Being god is fun.
"But, Bess, this ain't the way to treat a fellow," he whined. "I came way back here to take care of you. I tell you I love you, and I'm going to have you. There ain't any other fellow going to run off with you-"
"Stop!" she cried tragically. "Don't you see you're not doing right? My brother is just dead. I must have some time to mourn. It is only decent." She was standing now with her back to the little cupboard behind whose door lay the two pistols. Her hand was behind her on the wooden latch.
And boom, we are now safely back in the threat of not rape, but unwanted courtship. His uppermost thought is now if she's secretly dating.
"You don't respect my trouble!" she said, catching her breath, and putting her hand to her eyes. "I don't believe you care for me when you don't do what I say."
Also, marriage to her would be utter hell.
The man was held at bay. He was almost conquered by her sign of tears. It was a new phase of her to see her melt into weakness so. He was charmed.
I can actually see this sort of playing out, but I think both characters have to be tweaked for it to work. But it doesn't matter that my suspension of disbelief is on the floor between them eating cabin splinters. This is kind of brainlessly fun and I am now hooked. Nice one, GLH!
"How long must I stay away?" he faltered.
She could scarcely speak, so desperate she felt. O if she dared but say, "Forever," and shout it at him! She was desperate enough to try her chances at shooting him if she but had the pistols, and was sure they were loaded-a desperate chance indeed against the best shot on the Pacific coast, and a desperado at that.
This is the first of GLH's heroines to be ready to blast away a baddie in the first chapter, I think, but holy heck do I love her. And since i just reread Elsie Dinsmore recaps, I have a load of comparisons in my brain... and it is, frankly, fun to see OneShot GLH Heroine #99 show more gumption in five minutes than Elsie was able to muster in her entire career, and do it virtuously.
She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples, and tried to think. At last she faltered out,
"Three days!"
He swore beneath his breath, and his brows drew down in heavy frowns that were not good to see. She shuddered at what it would be to be in his power forever. How he would play with her and toss her aside! Or kill her, perhaps, when he was tired of her!
Because he would be married to her. Even if he were playing with her and tossing her aside, I'm pretty sure GLH would put marriage in there somewhere.
He came a step nearer, and she felt she was losing ground.
Straightening up, she said coolly:
"You must go away at once, and not think of coming back at least until to-morrow night. Go!" With wonderful control she smiled at him, one frantic, brilliant smile; and to her great wonder he drew back. At the door he paused, a softened look upon his face.
"Mayn't I kiss you before I go?"
I wonder if I actually overread the threat of rape back up there. It's like he suddenly turned five.
She shuddered involuntarily, but put out her hands in protest again. "Not to-night!" She shook her head, and tried to smile.
He thought he understood her, but turned away half satisfied. Then she heard his step coming back to the door again, and she went to meet him. He must not come in. She had gained in sending him out, if she could but close the door fast. It was in the doorway that she faced him as he stood with one foot ready to enter again. The crafty look was out upon his face plainly now, and in the sunlight she could see it.
"You will be all alone to-night."
"I am not afraid," calmly. "And no one will trouble me. Don't you know what they say about the spirit of a man-" she stopped; she had almost said "a man who has been murdered"-"coming back to his home the first night after he is buried?" It was her last frantic effort.
The man before her trembled, and looked around nervously.
"You better come away to-night with me," he said, edging away from the door.
"See, the sun is going down! You must go now," she said imperiously; and reluctantly the man mounted his restless horse, and rode away down the mountain.
She watched him silhouetted against the blood-red globe of the sun as it sank lower and lower. She could see every outline of his slouch-hat and muscular shoulders as he turned now and then and saw her standing still alone at her cabin door. Why he was going he could not tell; but he went, and he frowned as he rode away, with the wicked gleam still in his eye; for he meant to return.
At last he disappeared; and the girl, turning, looked up, and there rode the white ghost of the moon overhead. She was alone.
You didn't think that would be in this book when I said "Christian romance novel," did you?
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/15274/15274-h/15274-h.htm
TGFM had a snappier cover in the church library. He looks down and she looks licentiously dishevelled by GLH's standards. You do up that necktie, young lady! With that out of the way we can see that there are a lot of books written before this, including Spice Box. Spice Box was the title of a book, yes, but the reason the phrase is relevant is that it's a young lady's nickname. I told you there would be filthy anachronisms. I hope you were paying attention. God, it's a good thing GLH didn't make it to the internet, it would wreck a lot of her fun. Okay, okay, we're at the first chapter. SHUT UP YOU LOT IN THE BACK, QUIT RUSTLING. Let's go.
THE GIRL, AND A GREAT PERIL
This is gonna be awesome.
The late afternoon sun was streaming in across the cabin floor as the girl stole around the corner and looked cautiously in at the door.
There was a kind of tremulous courage in her face. She had a duty to perform, and she was resolved to do it without delay. She shaded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, set a firm foot upon the threshold, and, with one wild glance around to see whether all was as she had left it, entered her home and stood for a moment shuddering in the middle of the floor.
Yeah, you'd think this is about as interesting a thing as a romance heroine is ever gonna do: put great effort into sneaking around and standing in empty rooms. Inaction is a romance heroine's calling card, or would be if she would leave it. However, this one's got a bit of a reason for her inertia:
The girl closed her eyes, and pressed their hot, dry lids hard with her cold fingers; but the vision was clearer even than with her eyes open.
She could see the tiny baby sister lying there in the middle of the room, so little and white and pitiful; and her handsome, careless father sitting at the head of the rude home-made coffin, sober for the moment; and her tired, disheartened mother, faded before her time, dry-eyed and haggard, beside him. But that was long ago, almost at the beginning of things for the girl.
There had been other funerals, the little brother who had been drowned while playing in a forbidden stream, and the older brother who had gone off in search of gold or his own way, and had crawled back parched with fever to die in his mother's arms. But those, too, seemed long ago to the girl as she stood in the empty cabin and looked fearfully about her. They seemed almost blotted out by the last three that had crowded so close within the year. The father, who even at his worst had a kind word for her and her mother, had been brought home mortally hurt-an encounter with wild cattle, a fall from his horse in a treacherous place-and had never roused to consciousness again.
I told you they were all orphans. This is one of the more ruthless backstories I can remember, since GLH lists off these characters and instantly knocks them off in the same economical way. It's not clear why girlfriend is freaking out about an empty room, but let us continue. Oh wait:
At all these funerals there had been a solemn service, conducted by a travelling preacher when one happened to be within reach, and, when there was none, by the trembling, determined, untaught lips of the white-faced mother. The mother had always insisted upon it, especially upon a prayer. It had seemed like a charm to help the departed one into some kind of a pitiful heaven.
GLH is Christian. I mentioned she was a widow. That gives her an odd sincerity that crops up here and there: GLH knows what it's like to have faith and be disappointed, be crushed, to not know the payoff and not be quite willing to dream that things really are better for the lost loved one. Finley is too busy sneering at the pathetic sinner to consider even the thought of a heaven that is not enough, or blithely put to type the idea of a heaven that is somehow incomplete. GLH has more, well, grace. Anyway, we're caught up to the heroine losing her remaining brother, and the reactions of his fellows:
Only one, the hardest and boldest, the ringleader of the company, ventured back to ask whether there was anything he could do for her, anything she would like to have done; but she answered him coldly with a "No!" that cut him to the quick. It had been a good deal for him to do, this touch of gentleness he had forced himself into. He turned from her with a wicked gleam of intent in his eyes, but she did not see it.
Okay. These books are a lot better than I remembered. I smell an antagonist, and suspect his intentions of being amorous (GLH does not threaten her heroines with overt rape; she threatens them with the weight of relationships in which they will be, in the anachronistic context of a husband being thought to have a right to a wife's body, maritally raped. She does not come out and say it, but that is the expectation there. He will not want to waylay her on a trail, he will want to marry her.) But he is not evil because he caught sight of her fair virtuous form and pots of money. He feels slighted and wants revenge.
Then there had swept up into the girl's face one gleam of life that made her beautiful for the instant, and she had bowed to them with a slow, almost haughty, inclination of her head, and spread out her hands like one who would like to bless but dared not, and said clearly, "I thank you-all!" There had been just a slight hesitation before that last word "all," as if she were not quite sure, as her eyes rested upon the ringleader with doubt and dislike; then her lips had hardened as if justice must be done, and she had spoken it, "all!" and, turning, sped away to her cabin alone.
They were taken by surprise, those men who feared nothing in the wild and primitive West, and for a moment they watched her go in silence. Then the words that broke upon the air were not all pleasant to hear; and, if the girl could have known, she would have sped far faster, and her cheeks would have burned a brighter red than they did.
GLH's heroines are often a bit haughty, or class-conscious, even when it makes no sense. Anyway, she just alienated everyone who was sympathetic toward her brother. Ouch, girlfriend. Let's see where this ends up.
A shadow darkened the sunny doorway. Looking up, she saw the man she believed to be her brother's murderer.
Hibble huh wha? GLH got the bit between her teeth back there and is storming for the sunset. I am as confused as you are.
"I came back, Bess, to see if I could do anything for you."
The tone was kind; but the girl involuntarily put her hand to her throat, and caught her breath. She would like to speak out and tell him what she thought, but she dared not. She did not even dare let her thought appear in her eyes. The dull, statue-like look came over her face that she had worn at the grave. The man thought it was the stupefaction of grief.
"I told you I didn't want any help," she said, trying to speak in the same tone she had used when she thanked the men.
"Yes, but you're all alone," said the man insinuatingly; she felt a menace in the thought, "and I am sorry for you!"
He came nearer, but her face was cold. Instinctively she glanced to the cupboard door behind which lay her brother's belt with two pistols.
"You're very kind," she forced herself to say; "but I'd rather be alone now." It was hard to speak so when she would have liked to dash on him, and call down curses for the death of her brother; but she looked into his evil face, and a fear for herself worse than death stole into her heart.
Yeeek. This early in the book she is all intimidated by the approach of a man. Help! Alarum!
He took encouragement from her gentle dignity. Where did she get that manner so imperial, she, born in a mountain cabin and bred on the wilds?
This is where GLH sort of screws up. They all have this. They all are impoverished orphans with polite manners and high-class poise. It's like Dickens' orphans who speak inexplicably middle-class dialect. But enough of my derails, there is a man menacing a woman in a lonely cabin omg!
He wondered, with his wide knowledge of the world, over her wild, haughty beauty, and gloated over it. He liked to think just what worth was within his easy grasp. A prize for the taking, and here alone, unprotected.
Yoinks! Ok, I take it back, there is a less veiled threat of straight-up rape in these books. That's still as close as GLH will come to telling us what the threat is here, but it's pretty clear. I certainly don't remember this being the norm.
"But it ain't good for you to be alone, you know, and I've come to protect you. Besides, you need cheering up, little girl." He came closer. "I love you, Bess, you know, and I'm going to take care of you now. You're all alone. Poor little girl."
He was so near that she almost felt his breath against her cheek. She faced him desperately, growing white to the lips. Was there nothing on earth or in heaven to save her? Mother! Father! Brother! All gone! Ah! Could she but have known that the quarrel which ended her wild young brother's life had been about her, perhaps pride in him would have salved her grief, and choked her horror.
While she watched the green lights play in the evil eyes above her, she gathered all the strength of her young life into one effort, and schooled herself to be calm. She controlled her involuntary shrinking from the man, only drew herself back gently, as a woman with wider experience and gentler breeding might have done.
Green... lights? What are those, stray children's souls? Why are they green? What is going on? Also, I hope you get what I mean by this "gifted with better core qualities than anyone else because of innate somethingism" stuff. I'm gonna quit calling it soon if it's gonna keep piling up like this.
"Remember," she said, "that my brother just lay there dead!" and she pointed to the empty centre of the room. The dramatic attitude was almost a condemnation to the guilty man before her. He drew back as if the sheriff had entered the room, and looked instinctively to where the coffin had been but a short time before, then laughed nervously and drew himself together.
The girl caught her breath, and took courage. She had held him for a minute; could she not hold him longer?
"Think!" said she. "He is but just buried. It is not right to talk of such things as love in this room where he has just gone out. You must leave me alone for a little while. I cannot talk and think now. We must respect the dead, you know." She looked appealingly at him, acting her part desperately, but well. It was as if she were trying to charm a lion or an insane man.
Well, yeah, she kind of is.
He stood admiring her. She argued well. He was half minded to humor her, for somehow when she spoke of the dead he could see the gleam in her brother's eyes just before he shot him. Then there was promise in this wooing. She was no girl to be lightly won, after all. She could hold her own, and perhaps she would be the better for having her way for a little. At any rate, there was more excitement in such game.
Bless you, GLH. Oh, it's naif, but there's a charm to that. And it does back us off from the threat of rape.
He made a motion to take her in his arms and kiss her; but she drew back suddenly, and spread her hands before her, motioning him back.
"I tell you you must not now. Go! Go! or I will never speak to you again."
He looked into her eyes, and seemed to feel a power that he must obey. Half sullenly he drew back toward the door.
If the author weren't on her side this would end badly, but TAKE THAT, DUDE! Have a quick blast of power you must obey! Being god is fun.
"But, Bess, this ain't the way to treat a fellow," he whined. "I came way back here to take care of you. I tell you I love you, and I'm going to have you. There ain't any other fellow going to run off with you-"
"Stop!" she cried tragically. "Don't you see you're not doing right? My brother is just dead. I must have some time to mourn. It is only decent." She was standing now with her back to the little cupboard behind whose door lay the two pistols. Her hand was behind her on the wooden latch.
And boom, we are now safely back in the threat of not rape, but unwanted courtship. His uppermost thought is now if she's secretly dating.
"You don't respect my trouble!" she said, catching her breath, and putting her hand to her eyes. "I don't believe you care for me when you don't do what I say."
Also, marriage to her would be utter hell.
The man was held at bay. He was almost conquered by her sign of tears. It was a new phase of her to see her melt into weakness so. He was charmed.
I can actually see this sort of playing out, but I think both characters have to be tweaked for it to work. But it doesn't matter that my suspension of disbelief is on the floor between them eating cabin splinters. This is kind of brainlessly fun and I am now hooked. Nice one, GLH!
"How long must I stay away?" he faltered.
She could scarcely speak, so desperate she felt. O if she dared but say, "Forever," and shout it at him! She was desperate enough to try her chances at shooting him if she but had the pistols, and was sure they were loaded-a desperate chance indeed against the best shot on the Pacific coast, and a desperado at that.
This is the first of GLH's heroines to be ready to blast away a baddie in the first chapter, I think, but holy heck do I love her. And since i just reread Elsie Dinsmore recaps, I have a load of comparisons in my brain... and it is, frankly, fun to see OneShot GLH Heroine #99 show more gumption in five minutes than Elsie was able to muster in her entire career, and do it virtuously.
She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples, and tried to think. At last she faltered out,
"Three days!"
He swore beneath his breath, and his brows drew down in heavy frowns that were not good to see. She shuddered at what it would be to be in his power forever. How he would play with her and toss her aside! Or kill her, perhaps, when he was tired of her!
Because he would be married to her. Even if he were playing with her and tossing her aside, I'm pretty sure GLH would put marriage in there somewhere.
He came a step nearer, and she felt she was losing ground.
Straightening up, she said coolly:
"You must go away at once, and not think of coming back at least until to-morrow night. Go!" With wonderful control she smiled at him, one frantic, brilliant smile; and to her great wonder he drew back. At the door he paused, a softened look upon his face.
"Mayn't I kiss you before I go?"
I wonder if I actually overread the threat of rape back up there. It's like he suddenly turned five.
She shuddered involuntarily, but put out her hands in protest again. "Not to-night!" She shook her head, and tried to smile.
He thought he understood her, but turned away half satisfied. Then she heard his step coming back to the door again, and she went to meet him. He must not come in. She had gained in sending him out, if she could but close the door fast. It was in the doorway that she faced him as he stood with one foot ready to enter again. The crafty look was out upon his face plainly now, and in the sunlight she could see it.
"You will be all alone to-night."
"I am not afraid," calmly. "And no one will trouble me. Don't you know what they say about the spirit of a man-" she stopped; she had almost said "a man who has been murdered"-"coming back to his home the first night after he is buried?" It was her last frantic effort.
The man before her trembled, and looked around nervously.
"You better come away to-night with me," he said, edging away from the door.
"See, the sun is going down! You must go now," she said imperiously; and reluctantly the man mounted his restless horse, and rode away down the mountain.
She watched him silhouetted against the blood-red globe of the sun as it sank lower and lower. She could see every outline of his slouch-hat and muscular shoulders as he turned now and then and saw her standing still alone at her cabin door. Why he was going he could not tell; but he went, and he frowned as he rode away, with the wicked gleam still in his eye; for he meant to return.
At last he disappeared; and the girl, turning, looked up, and there rode the white ghost of the moon overhead. She was alone.
You didn't think that would be in this book when I said "Christian romance novel," did you?