He opened the gate and drew her through. She left her hand in
his, as they walked through the lane where lissome boughs of
young saplings flicked against their heads, and the air was
wildly sweet with the woodsy odors.
"It's a long while since I've seen you, Lige," Sara said at last.
Lige looked wistfully down at her through the gloom.
"Yes, it seems very long to me, Sara. But I didn't think you'd
care to see me, after what you said last spring. And you know
things have been going against me. People have said hard things.
I've been unfortunate, Sara, and may be too easy-going, but I've
been honest. Don't believe folks if they tell you I wasn't."
"Indeed, I never did--not for a minute!" fired Sara.
"I'm glad of that. I'm going away, later on. I felt bad enough
when you refused to marry me, Sara; but it's well that you
didn't. I'm man enough to be thankful my troubles don't fall on
you."
Sara stopped and turned to him. Beyond them the lane opened into
a field and a clear lake of crocus sky cast a dim light into the
shadow where they stood. Above it was a new moon, like a
gleaming silver scimitar. Sara saw it was over her left
shoulder, and she saw Lige's face above her, tender and troubled.
"Lige," she said softly, "do you love me still?"
"You know I do," said Lige sadly.
That was all Sara wanted. With a quick movement she nestled into
his arms, and laid her warm, tear-wet cheek against his cold one.
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