Hazel said, trying to persuade the boy to live with the Major—­not yet.  And the Major was more content when he came to know in what good hands the boy was, and, down in his heart, he loved the lad the more for his sturdy independence, and for the pride that made him shrink from facing the world with the shame of his birth; knowing that Chad thought of him perhaps more than of himself.  Such unwillingness to give others trouble seemed remarkable in so young a lad.  Not once did the Major mention the Deans to the boy, and about them Chad asked no questions—­not even when he saw their carriage passing the Major’s gate.  When they came to leave the Major said: 

“Well, Chad, when that filly of yours is a year old, I’ll buy ’em both from you, if you’ll sell ’em, and I reckon you can come up and go to school then.”

Chad shook his head.  Sell that colt?  He would as soon have thought of selling Jack.  But the temptation took root, just the same, then and there, and grew steadily until, after another year in the mountains, it grew too strong.  For, in that year, Chad grew to look the fact of his birth steadily in the face, and in his heart grew steadily a proud resolution to make his way in the world despite it.  It was curious how Melissa came to know the struggle that was going on within him and how Chad came to know that she knew—­ though no word passed between them:  more curious still, how it came with a shock to Chad one day to realize how little was the tragedy of his life in comparison with the tragedy in hers, and to learn that the little girl with swift vision had already reached that truth and with sweet unselfishness had reconciled herself.  He was a boy—­he could go out in the world and conquer it, while her life was as rigid and straight before her as though it ran between close walls of rock as steep and sheer as the cliff across the river.  One thing he never guessed—­what it cost the little girl to support him bravely in his purpose, and to stand with smiling face when the first breath of one sombre autumn stole through the hills, and Chad and the school-master left the Turner home for the Bluegrass, this time to stay.

She stood in the doorway after they had waved good-by from the head of the river—­the smile gone and her face in a sudden dark eclipse.  The wise old mother went in-doors.  Once the girl started through the yard as though she would rush after them and stopped at the gate, clinching it hard with both hands.  As suddenly she became quiet.

She went in-doors to her work and worked quietly and without a word.  Thus she did all day while her mind and her heart ached.  When she went after the cows before sunset she stopped at the barn where Beelzebub had been tied.  She lifted her eyes to the hay-loft where she and Chad had hunted for hens’ eggs and played hide-and-seek.  She passed through the orchard where they had worked and played so many happy hours, and on to the back pasture where the