“But—­how do you know that your daughter kept her word?  This Lawson may have been obliged to make away with himself—­alone.”  Truedale grew more daring.  He saw that Greyson, absorbed by his trouble, was less on guard.  But Greyson was keenly observant.

“He’s heard the gossip,” thought the old man, “it’s ringing through the hills.  Well, a dog as can fetch a bone can carry one!” With that conclusion reached, Peter made his master stroke.

“I’ve heard from her,” he half whispered.

“Heard from her?” gasped Truedale, and even then Greyson seemed unaware of the attitude of the stranger.  “How—­did you hear from her?”

“She wrote and sent the letter long of—­of Bill Trim, a half-wit—­but trusty.  Nella-Rose went with Lawson—­she ’lowed she had to.  He came on her in the woods and held her to her word.  She said as how she wanted to—­to come home, but Lawson set forth as how an hour might mean his life—­and put it up to lil’ Nella-Rose!  He—­he swore as how he’d shoot himself if she didn’t go with him—­and it was like Burke to do it.  He was always crazy mad for Nella-Rose, and there ain’t anything he wouldn’t do when he got balked.  She—­she had ter go—­or see Lawson kill himself; so she went—­but asked my pardon fo’ causing the deep trouble.  Lawson married her at the first stopping place over the ridge.  He ain’t worthy o’ my lil’ Nella-Rose—­but us-all has got to make the best o’ it.  Come spring—­she’ll be back, and then—­I’ll forgive her—­my lil’ Nella-Rose!”

From the intensity of his emotions Greyson trembled and the weak tears ran down his lined face.  Taking advantage of the tense moment Truedale asked desperately: 

“Will you show me that letter, Mr. Greyson?”

So direct was the request, so apparently natural to the old man’s unguarded suffering, that it drove superficialities before it and merely confirmed Greyson in his determination to save Nella-Rose’s reputation at any cost.  Ignoring the unwarrantable curiosity, alert to the necessity of quick defense, he said: 

“I can’t.  I wish to Gawd I could and then I could stop any tongue what dares to tech my lil’ gal’s name.”

“Why can you not show me the letter?” Truedale was towering above the old man.  By some unknown power he had got control of the situation.  “I have a reason for—­asking this, Mr. Greyson.”

“Marg burned it!  It was allus Marg or lil’ Nella-Rose for Lawson, and Nella-Rose got him!  When Marg knew this fur certain, there was no length to which she—­didn’t go!  This is my home, sir; I’m old—­Marg is a good girl and the trouble is past now; her and Jed is making me comfortable, but we-all don’t mention Nella-Rose.  It eases me, though, to tell the truth for lil’ Nella-Rose.  I know how the tongues are wagging and I have to sit still fo’—­since Marg and Jed took up with each other—­my future lies ‘long o’ them.  I’m an old man and mighty dependent; time was when—­” Greyson rose unsteadily and swayed toward the fireplace.