He could see the throb of her breast under its thin covering and smell the fragrance of the tossing hair.  He could see the narrow bed with its pieced calico cover, the whitewashed walls with gay lithographs, and every crevice stuck full of twigs with dangling cocoons.  There were pegs for the few clothes, the old chest, the little table, the two chairs, the uneven floor covered with rag rugs and braided corn husk.  But nothing was worth a glance except the perfect face and form within reach by one spring through the rotten mosquito bar.  He gripped the limb above that on which he stood, licked his lips, and breathed through his throat to be sure he was making no sound.  Elnora closed the book and laid it aside.  She picked up a towel, and turning the gathered ends of her hair rubbed them across it, and dropping the towel on her lap, tossed the hair again.  Then she sat in deep thought.  By and by words began to come softly.  Near as he was the man could not hear at first.  He bent closer and listened intently.

“—­ever could be so happy,” murmured the soft voice.  “The dress is so pretty, such shoes, the coat, and everything.  I won’t have to be ashamed again, not ever again, for the Limberlost is full of precious moths, and I always can collect them.  The Bird Woman will buy more to-morrow, and the next day, and the next.  When they are all gone, I can spend every minute gathering cocoons, and hunting other things I can sell.  Oh, thank God, for my precious, precious money.  Why, I didn’t pray in vain after all!  I thought when I asked the Lord to hide me, there in that big hall, that He wasn’t doing it, because I wasn’t covered from sight that instant.  But I’m hidden now, I feel that.”  Elnora lifted her eyes to the beams above her.  “I don’t know much about praying properly,” she muttered, “but I do thank you, Lord, for hiding me in your own time and way.”

Her face was so bright that it shone with a white radiance.  Two big tears welled from her eyes, and rolled down her smiling cheeks.  “Oh, I do feel that you have hidden me,” she breathed.  Then she blew out the lights, and the little wooden bed creaked under her weight.

Pete Corson dropped from the limb and found his way to the road.  He stood still a long time, then started back to the Limberlost.  A tiny point of light flashed in the region of the case.  He stopped with an oath.

“Another hound trying to steal from a girl,” he exclaimed.  “But it’s likely he thinks if he gets anything it will be from a woman who can afford it, as I did.”

He went on, but beside the fences, and very cautiously.

“Swamp seems to be alive to-night,” he muttered.  “That’s three of us out.”

He entered a deep place at the northwest corner, sat on the ground and taking a pencil from his pocket, he tore a leaf from a little notebook, and laboriously wrote a few lines by the light he carried.  Then he went back to the region of the case and waited.  Before his eyes swept the vision of the slender white creature with tossing hair.  He smiled, and worshipped it, until a distant rooster faintly announced dawn.