“You must have a good, strong string—­one that can’t slip,” said Ruth, in her thoughtful, housewifely way.  “Let me think—­what kind would be best?”

“Here!” the judge drew out his wallet, and took off the string that bound it.  “You may use this, David, but take care not to lose it.  This is the strongest, finest strip of doeskin—­”

Ruth’s sweet laughter chimed in, “It looks like minkskin—­it’s so black!” touching it gingerly with the tips of her fingers.

The judge laughed, too.  Everything that she said and did pleased him.  But he cautioned the boy again not to lose the string, and to be careful to bring it back.  William Pressley looked on in grave, indifferent silence.  A slight frown gathered on his brow when he saw Ruth trying the knot, to make sure of its firmness, after the bag was tied.  His gaze darkened somewhat and followed her when she went to the door to see the boy set out; and he watched her stand looking after him, with her hands raised to shield her eyes from the rays of the setting sun.  It displeased William to see her show such regard for any one of so little importance—­the personality of the boy did not enter into the matter.  While gazing at her in this cold disapproval, he noted with increased annoyance that she then turned and looked long and wistfully toward the forest path.  It did not occur to him that she might be expecting or wishing to see some one riding along the path.  He was merely irritated at what seemed to him an indication of unseemly restlessness and empty-mindedness.  To his mind the unusual and the unseemly were always one and the same.  And it was eminently unseemly in his eyes that the woman who was to be his wife should wish to look away from the spot in which he was sitting.  And then, his displeasure turned to anger when Ruth, after standing still and gazing up the forest path, till he felt that he must go out to her and utter the reproof that was on his lips, did not come back to her seat by his side, but began instead to play with the swan.

He sat motionless and silent, calmly biding his time to express the disapproval which such childish behavior made incumbent upon him.  Cold, hard anger like his can always wait; and waiting only makes it colder and harder; there is never heat enough in it to melt its merciless ice.

A sudden darkening of the sky sent her into the house at last, and even then she did not return to her proper place by his side.  She did not even look at him, but spoke to the judge who was just leaving the great room to go to the cabin which he used as his bedroom and office.  Ruth begged him not to start out, saying that the storm seemed so near that it might break before he could reach the cabin.  But he went on with a smiling shake of his head, after a glance at the dark clouds which were gathering blackly on the other side of the river behind the spectral cottonwoods, now bare of leaves and ghostly white.