A CHILHOWEE LILY

By Charles Egbert Craddock

1911

Tall, delicate, and stately, with all the finished symmetry anddistinction that might appertain to a cultivated plant, yet sharingthat fragility of texture and peculiar suggestion of evanescencecharacteristic of the unheeded weed as it flowers, the Chilhowee lilycaught his eye. Albeit long familiar, the bloom was now invested with aspecial significance and the sight of it brought him to a sudden pause. 

The cluster grew in a niche on the rocky verge of a precipice beetlingover the windings of the rugged primitive road on the slope of theridge. The great pure white bloom, trumpet-shaped and crowned with itsflaring and many-cleft paracorolla, distinct against the densely bluesky, seemed the more ethereal because of the delicacy of its stalk, soerect, so inflexibly upright. About it the rocks were at intervals greenwith moss, and showed here and there heavy ocherous water stain. Theluxuriant ferns and pendant vines in the densely umbrageous tangle ofverdure served to heighten by contrast the keen whiteness of the flowerand the isolation of its situation. 

Ozias Crann sighed with perplexity as he looked, and then his eyewandered down the great hosky slope of the wooded mountain where inmarshy spots, here and there, a sudden white flare in the shadowsbetokened the Chilhowee lily, flowering in myraids, holding out luresbewildering in their multitude. 

"They air bloomin' bodaciously all over the mounting, " he remarkedrancorously, as he leaned heavily on a pickaxe; "but we uns hed bettertry it ter-night ennyhows. "

It was late in August; a moon of exceeding lustre was in the sky, whilestill the sun was going down. All the western clouds were aflare withgorgeous reflections; the long reaches of the Great Smoky range hadgrown densely purple; and those dim Cumberland heights that, viewed fromthis precipice of Chilhowee, were wont to show so softly blue in thedistance, had now a variant amethystine hue, hard and translucent ofeffect as the jewel itself. 

The face of one of his companions expressed an adverse doubt, as he, too, gazed at the illuminated wilderness, all solitary, silent, remote. 

"'Pears like ter me it mought be powerful public, " Pete Swolfordobjected. He had a tall, heavy, lumpish, frame, a lackluster eye, abroad, dimpled, babyish face incongruously decorated with a tuft ofdark beard at the chin. The suit of brown jeans which he wore bore tokenvariously of the storms it had weathered, and his coarse cowhide bootswere drawn over the trousers to the knee. His attention was now andagain diverted from the conversation by the necessity of aiding a youngbear, which he led by a chain, to repel the unwelcome demonstrations oftwo hounds belonging to one of his interlocutors. Snuffling and nosingabout in an affectation of curiosity the dogs could not forbear growlingoutright, as their muzzles approached their shrinking hereditary enemy, while the cub nestled close to his master and whimpered like a child. 

"Jes' so, jes' so, Honey. I'll make 'em cl'ar out!" Swofford replied tothe animal's appeal with ready sympathy. Then, "I wish ter Gawd, Eufe, ye'd call yer dogs off, " he added in a sort of aside to the youngestof the three mountaineers, who stood among the already reddening sumacfringing the road, beside his horse, athwart which lay a buck all grayand antlered, his recently cut throat still dripping blood. The partyhad been here long enough for it to collect in a tiny pool in a crevicein the rocky road, and the hounds constrained to cease their harassmentsof the bear now began to eagerly lap it up. The rifle with which EufeKinnicutt had killed the deer was still in his hands and he leaned uponit; he was a tall, finely formed, athletic young fellow with dark hair, keen, darkly greenish eyes, full of quickly glancing lights, and as he, too, scanned the sky, his attitude of mind also seemed dissuasive. 

"'Pears like thar won't be no night, ez ye mought call night, till thismoon goes down, " he suggested. "'Pears nigh ez bright ez day!"

Ozias Crann's lank, angular frame; his narrow, bony face; his nose, longyet not large, sharp, pinched; his light grey eyes, set very closelytogether; his straggling reddish beard, all were fitting concomitants toaccent the degree of caustic contempt he expressed. "Oh, to be sure!"he drawled. "It'll be powerful public up hyar in the mounting in themidnight, --that's a fac'!--an' moonlight is mighty inconvenient to themez wants ter git spied on through totin' a lantern in cur'ous places. "

This sarcasm left the two remonstrants out of countenance. Pete Swoffordfound a certain resource in the agitations of his bear, once moreshrinking and protesting because of the dogs. "Call off yer hound-dogs, Rufe, " he cried irritably, "or I'll gin 'em a bullet ter swallow. "

"Ye air a plumb fool about that thar bar, Pete, " Kinnicutt said sourly, calling off the hounds nevertheless. 

"That thar bar?" exclaimed Swofford. "Why, thar never war sech a bar!That thar bar goes ter mill, an' kin fetch home grist, --ef I starts himout in the woods whar he won't meet no dogs nor contrairy cattle o' menhe kin go ter mill all by his lone!--same ez folks an' the bes' kind o'folks, too!"

In fact the bear was even now begirt with a meal-bag, well filled, whichalthough adding to his uncouth appearance and perhaps unduly afflictingthe sensibilities of the horse, who snorted and reared at the sight ofhim, saved his master the labor of "packing" the heavy weight. 

Swofford had his genial instincts and in return was willing to put upwith the cubbishness of the transport, --would wait in the illimitablepatience of the utterly idle for the bear to climb a tree if he likedand pleasantly share with him the persimmons of his quest;--would neverinterfere when the bear flung himself down and wallowed with the bag onhis back, and would reply to the censorious at home, objecting to thedust and sand thus sifting in with the meal, with the time honoredreminder that we are all destined "to eat a peck of dirt" in this world. 

"Whenst ye fust spoke o' digging" said Kinnicutt, interrupting alengthening account of the bear's mental and moral graces, "I 'lowedez ye mought be sayin' ez they air layin' off ter work agin in theTanglefoot Mine. "

Ozias Crann lifted a scornful chin. "I reckon the last disasters tharhev interrupted the company so ez they hain't got much heart todesdiggin' fur silver agin over in Tanglefoot Cove. Fust, " he checked offthese misfortunes, by laying the fingers of one hand successively in thepalm of the other, "the timbers o' one o' the cross cuts fell an' theroof caved in an' them two men war kilt, an' thar famblies sued thecompany an' got mo' damages 'n the men war bodaciously wuth. Then thenex' thing the pay agent, ez war sent from Glaston, war held up inTanglefoot an' robbed--some say by the miners. He got hyar whenst theywar out on a strike, an' they robbed him 'cause they warn't paidcordin' ter thar lights, an' they _did_ shoot him up cornsider'ble. Thathappened jes' about a year ago. Then sence, thar hev been a awful cavin'in that deep shaft they hed sunk in the tunnel, an' the mine war floodedan' the machinery ruint--I reckon the company in Glaston ain 't a-layin'off ter fly in the face o' Providence and begin agin, arter all themleadin's ter quit. "

"Some believe he warh't robbed at all, " Kinnicutt said slowly. He hadturned listlessly away, evidently meditating departure, his hand on hishorse's mane, one foot in the stirrup. 

"Ye know that gal named Loralindy Byars?" Crann said craftily. 

Kinnicutt paused abruptly. Then as the schemer remained silent hedemanded, frowning darkly, "What's Loralindy Byars got ter do with it?"

"Mighty nigh all!" Crann exclaimed, triumphantly. 

It was a moment of tense suspense. But it was not Crann's policy totantalize him further, however much the process might address itselfto his peculiar interpretation of pleasure. "That thar pay agent o' themining company, " he explained, "he hed some sort'n comical name--oh, Iremember now, Renfrow--Paul Renfrow--waal--ye know he war shot in theknee when the miners way-laid him. "

"I disremember now ef it war in the knee or the thigh, " Swoffordinterposed, heavily pondering. 

Kinnicutt's brow contracted angrily, and Crann broke into open wrath:"an' I ain't carin', ye fool--what d' ye interrupt fur like that?"

"Wall, " protested Swofford, indignantly, "ye said 'ye know' an' I didn't_know_. "

"An' I ain't carin'--the main p'int war that he could neither ride norwalk. So the critter crawled! Nobody knows how he gin the strikers theslip, but he got through ter old man Byars's house. An' thar he staidtill Loralindy an' the old 'oman Byars nussed him up so ez he could bearthe pain o' bein' moved. An' he got old man Byars ter wagin him downter Colb'ry, a-layin' on two feather beds 'count o' the rocky roads, an'thar he got on the steam kyars an' he rid on them back ter whar he kemfrom. "

Kinnicutt seemed unable to longer restrain his impatience. He advanceda pace. "Ye appear ter 'low ez ye air tellin' news--I knowed all thatwhenst it happened a full year ago!"

"I reckon ye know, too, ez Loralindy hed no eyes nor ears fur ennybodyelse whilst he war hyar--but then _he war_ good-lookin' an' saaft-spokenfur true! An' now he hev writ a letter ter her!"

Crann grinned as Kinnicutt inadvertently gasped. "How do you uns knowthat!" the young man hoarsely demanded, with a challenging accent ofdoubt, yet prescient despair. 

"'Kase, bubby, that's the way the story 'bout the lily got out. I was atthe mill this actial day. The miller hed got the letter--hevin' beenter the post-office at the Crossroads--an' he read it ter her, bein' ezLoralindy can't read writin'. She warn't expectin' it. He writ of hisown accord. "

A sense of shadows impended vaguely over all the illuminated world, andnow and again a flicker of wings through the upper atmosphere betokenedthe flight of homing birds. Crann gazed about him absently while hepermitted the statement he had made to sink deep into the jealous, shrinking heart of the young mountaineer, and he repeated it as heresumed. 

"She warn't expectin' of the letter. She jes' stood thar by themill-door straight an' slim an' white an' still, like she alwaysbe--ter my mind like she war some sort'n sperit, stiddier a sure enoughgal--with her yaller hair slick an' plain, an' that old, faded, greencotton dress she mos' always wears, an' lookin' quiet out at the watero' the mill-dam ter one side, with the trees a-wavin' behind her at theopen door--jes' like she always be! An' arter awhile she speaks slowan' saaft an axes the miller ter read it aloud ter her. An' lo! old manBates war rej'iced an' glorified ter the bone ter be able ter git a peekinter that letter! He jes' shet down the gates and stopped the millfrom runnin' in a jiffy, an' tole all them loafers, ez hangs round tharmosly, ter quit thar noise. An' then he propped hisself up on a pile o'grist, an' thar he read all the sayin's ez war writ in that letter. An' a power o' time it tuk, an' a power o' spellin' an' bodaciouslywrastlin' with the alphabit. "

He laughed lazily, as he turned his quid of tobacco in his mouth, recollecting the turbulence of these linguistic turmoils. 

"This hyar feller--this Renfrow--he called her in the letter 'My dearfriend'--he did--an' lowed he hed a right ter the word, fur ef ever aman war befriended he hed been. He lowed ez he could never fur-get her. An' Lord! how it tickled old man Bates ter read them sentiments--thepride-ful old peacock! He would jes' stop an' push his spectacles backon his slick bald head an' say, 'Ye hear me, Loralindy! he 'lows he'llnever furget the keer ye tuk o' him whenst he war shot an' ailin' an'nigh ter death. An' no mo' he ought, nuther. But some do furget sech ezthat, Loralindy--some do!'"

An' them fellers at the mill, listenin' ter the letter, could sca'celygit thar consent ter wait fur old man Bates ter git through his talk terLoralindy, that he kin talk ter every day in the year! But arterawhile he settled his spectacles agin, an' tuk another tussle withthe spellin, ' an' then he rips out the main p'int o' the letter. "Thisstranger-man he 'lowed he war bold enough ter ax another favior. Thecuss tried ter be funny. 'One good turn desarves another, ' he said. 'An'ez ye hev done me one good turn, I want ye ter do me another. ' An' oldman Bates hed the insurance ter waste the time a-laffin' an' a-laffin'at sech a good joke. Them fellers at the mill could hev fund it in tharhearts ter grind him up in his own hopper, ef it wouldn't hev ground upwith him thar chance o' ever hearin' the end o' that thar interestin'letter. So thar comes the favior. Would she dig up that box he treasuredfrom whar he told her he hed buried it, arter he escaped from the attacko' the miners? An' would she take the box ter Colb'ry in her grandad'swagin, an' send it ter him by express. He hed tole her once whar hehed placed it--an' ter mark the spot mo' percisely he hed noticed oneChilhowee lily bulb right beside it. An' then says the letter, 'Goodbye, Chilhowee Lily!' An' all them fellers stood staring. "

A light wind was under way from the west Delicate flakes of red andglistening white were detached from the clouds. Sails--sails wereunfurling in the vast floods of the skies. With flaunting banners andswelling canvas a splendid fleet reached half way to the zenith. Buta more multitudinous shipping still swung at anchor low in the west, though the promise of a fair night as yet held fast. 

"An' now, " said Ozias Crann in conclusion, "all them fellers isa-diggin'. "

"Whut's in the box!" demanded Swof-ford, his big baby-face all in apucker of doubt. 

"The gold an' silver he ought ter hev paid the miners, of course. Theyalways 'lowed they never tuk a dollar off him; they jes' got a longrange shot at him! How I wish, " Ozias Crann broke off fervently, "howI wish I could jes' git my hands on that money once!" He held out hishands, long and sinewy, and opened and shut them very fast. 

"Why, that would be stealin'!" exclaimed Kinnicutt with repulsion. 

"How so? 't ain't his'n now, sure--he war jes' the agent ter pay itout, " argued Crann, volubly. 

"It belongs ter the mine owners, then--the company. " There was asuggestion of inquiry in the younger man's tone. 

"'Pears not--they sent it hyar fur the percise purpose ter be paid out!"the specious Crann replied. 

"Then it belongs ter the miners. "

"They hedn't yearned it--an' ef some o' them hed they warn't thar terreceive it, bein' out on a strike. They hed burnt down the company'soffice over yander at the mine in Tanglefoot Cove, with all the booksan' accounts, an' now nobody knows what's owin' ter who. "

Kinnicutt's moral protests were silenced, not satisfied. He looked upmoodily at the moon now alone in the sky, for only a vanishing segmentof the great vermilion sphere of the sun was visible above the westernmountains, when suddenly he felt one of those long grasping claws on hisarm. "Now, Rufe, bubby, " a most insinuating tone, Crann had summoned, "all them fool fellers air diggin' up the face of the yearth, whareverthey kin find a Chilhowee lily--like sarchin' fur a needle in ahaystack. But we uns will do a better thing than that. I drawed the ideeez soon ez I seen you an' Pete hyar this evenin' so onexpected. 'Them'smy pardners, ' I sez ter myself. 'Pete ter holp dig an' tote ef the boxbe heavy. An' you ter find out edzac'ly whar it be hid. ' You unsan' Loralindy hev been keepin' company right smart, an' ye kin tollLoralindy along till she lets slip jes' whar that lily air growin'. I'llbe bound ez she likes ye a sight better 'n that Renfrow--leastwise ef 'twarn't fur his letter, honeyin' her up with complimints, an' she hevin'the chance o' tollin' him on through doin' him sech faviors, savin' hislife, an' now his money--shucks it's mo' _our_ money 'n his'n; 't ain't his 'n! Gol-darn the insurance o' this Renfrow! His idee is ter keepthe money his own self, an' make her sen' it ter him. Then 'Good-bye, Chilhowee Lily!'"

The night had come at last, albeit almost as bright as day, but withso ethereal, so chastened a splendor that naught of day seemed real. Aworld of dreams it was, of gracious illusions, of far vague distancesthat lured with fair promises that the eye might not seek to measure. The gorgeous tints were gone, and in their stead were soft grays andindefinite blurring browns, and every suggestion of silver that metalcan show flashed in variant glitter in the moon. The mountains weremajestically sombre, with a mysterious sense of awe in their greatheight There were few stars; only here and there the intense lustre of astill planet might withstand the annihilating magnificence of the moon. 

Its glamour did not disdain the embellishment of humbler objects. AsRufe Kinnicutt approached a little log cabin nestling in a shelteredcove he realized that a year had gone by since Renfrow had seen itfirst, and that thus it must have appeared when he beheld it. The dewwas bright on the slanting roof, and the shadow of oak trees waveredover it. The mountain loomed above. The zigzag lines of the railfence, the bee-gums all awry ranged against it, the rickety barn andfowl-house, the gourd vines draping the porch of the dwelling, all hada glimmer of dew and a picturesque symmetry, while the spinning wheel asLoralinda sat in the white effulgent glow seemed to revolve with flashesof light in lieu of spokes, and the thread she drew forth was as silver. Its murmuring rune was hardly distinguishable from the chant of thecicada or the long droning in strophe and antistrophe of the watersidefrogs far away, but such was the whir or her absorption that she did notperceive his approach till his shadow fell athwart the threshold, andshe looked up with a start. 

"Ye 'pear powerful busy a-workin' hyar so late in the night, " heexclaimed with a jocose intonation. 

She smiled, a trifle abashed; then evidently conscious of the bizarresuggestions of so much ill-timed industry, she explained, softlydrawling: "Waal, ye know, Granny, she be so harried with her rheumaticsez she gits along powerful poor with her wheel, an' by night she beplumb out'n heart an' mad fur true. So arter she goes ter bed I jes'spins a passel fur her, an' nex' mornin' she 'lows she done a toler'blestint o' work an' air consider'ble s'prised ez she war so easy put out. "

She laughed a little, but he did not respond. With his sensibilities alljarred by the perfidious insinuation of Ozias Crann, and his jealousyall on the alert, he noted and resented the fact that at first herattention had come back reluctantly to him, and that he, standing beforeher, had been for a moment a less definitely realized presence than thethought in her mind--this thought had naught to do with him, and of thathe was sure. 

"Loralindy, " he said with a turbulent impulse of rage and grief; "whenstye promised to marry me ye an' me war agreed that we would never hev onethought hid from one another--ain't that a true word!"

The wheel had stopped suddenly--the silver thread was broken; shewas looking up at him, the moonlight full on the straight delicatelineaments of her pale face, and the smooth glister of her golden hair. "Not o' my own, " she stipulated. And he remembered, and wondered that itshould come to him so late, that she had stood upon this reservationand that he--poor fool--had conceded it, thinking it concerned thedistilling of whisky in defiance of the revenue law, in which some ofher relatives were suspected to be engaged, and of which he wished toknow as little as possible. 

The discovery of his fatuity was not of soothing effect. "'T war thatman Renfrew's secret--I hearn about his letter what war read down terthe mill. "

She nodded acquiescently, her expression once more abstracted, herthoughts far afield. 

He had one moment of triumph as he brought himself tensely erect, shouldering his gun--his shadow behind him in the moonlight duplicatedthe gesture with a sharp promptness as at a word of command. 

"All the mounting's a-diggin' by this time!" He laughed with readyscorn, then experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling. Her face hadchanged. Her expression was unfamiliar. She had caught together the twoends of the broken thread, and was knotting them with a steady hand, anda look of composed security on her face, that was itself a flout tothe inopportune search of the mountaineers and boded ill to his hopeto discover from her the secret of the _cache_. He recovered himselfsuddenly. 

"Ye 'lowed ter me ez ye never keered nuthin' fur that man, Renfrow, " hesaid with a plaintive appeal, far more powerful with her than scorn. 

She looked up at him with candid reassuring eyes. "I never keered nonefur him, " she protested. "He kem hyar all shot up, with the miners an'mounting boys hot foot arter him--an' we done what we could fur him. Gran'daddy 'lowed ez _he_ warn't 'spon-sible fur whut the owners done, or hedn't done at the mine, an' he seen no sense in shootin' one man tergit even with another. "

"But ye kep' his secret!" Kinnicutt persisted. 

"What fur should I tell it--'t ain't mine?"

"That thar money in that box he buried ain't _his'n_, nuther!" heargued. 

There was an inscrutable look in her clear eyes. She had risen, and wasstanding in the moonlight opposite him. The shadows of the vines fallingover her straight skirt left her face and hair the fairer in the silverglister. 

"'Pears like ter me, " he broke the silence with his plaintive cadence, "ez ye ought ter hev tole me. I ain't keerin' ter know 'ceptin' ye hevshet me out. It hev hurt my feelin's powerful ter be treated that-a-way. Tell me now--or lemme go forever!"

She was suddenly trembling from head to foot. Pale she was always. Nowshe was ghastly. "Rufe Kinnicutt, " she said with the solemnity ofan adjuration, "ye don't keer fur sech ez this, fur _nuthin_'. An' Ipromised!"

He noted her agitation. He felt the clue in his grasp. He sought towield his power, "Choose a-twixt us! Choose a-twixt the promise ye madeter that man--or the word ye deny ter me! An' when I'm gone--I'm gone!"

She stood seemingly irresolute. 

"It's nuthin' ter me, " he protested once more. "I kin keep it an' gyardit ez well ez you uns. But I won't be shet out, an' doubted, an' denied, like ez ef _I_ wan't fitten ter be trested with nuthin'!"

He stood a moment longer, watching her trembling agitation, and feelingthat tingling exasperation that might have preceded a blow. 

"I'm goin', " he threatened. 

As she still stood motionless he turned away as if to make good histhreat. He heard a vague stir among the leaves, and turning back he sawthat the porch was vacant. 

He had overshot the mark. In swift repentance he retraced his steps. Hecalled her name. No response save the echoes. The house dogs, roused toa fresh excitement, were gathering about the door, barking in affectedalarm, save one, to whom Kinnicutt was a stranger, that came, silentand ominous, dragging a block and chain from under the house. Kinnicuttheard the sudden drowsy plaints of the old rheumatic grandmother, as shewas rudely awakened by the clamors, and presently a heavy footfall smoteupon the puncheons that floored the porch. Old Byars himself, with hiscracked voice and long gray hair, had left his pipe on the mantel-pieceto investigate the disorder without. 

"Hy're Rufe!" he swung uneasily posed on his crutch stick in thedoorway, and mechanically shaded his eyes with one hand, as from thesun, as he gazed dubiously at the young man, "hain't ye in an' aboutfinished yer visit t--or yer visitation, ez the pa'son calls it He, he, he! Wall, Loralindy hev gone up steers ter the roof-room, an' it's abouttime ter bar up the doors. Waal, joy go with ye, he, he, he! Come off, Tige, _ye_ Bose, hyar! Cur'ous I can't 'larn them dogs no manners. "

A dreary morrow ensued on the splendid night. The world was ful ofmists; the clouds were resolved into drizzling rain; every perspectiveof expectation was restricted by the limited purlieus of the present. The treasure-seekers digging here and there throughout the forest inevery nook in low ground, wherever a drift of the snowy blossoms mightglimmer, began to lose hope and faith. Now and again some iconoclasticsoul sought to stigmatize the whole rumor as a fable. More than onevisited the Byars cabin in the desperate hope that some chance wordmight fall from the girl, giving a clue to the mystery. 

By daylight the dreary little hut had no longer poetic or picturesquesuggestion. Bereft of the sheen and shimmer of the moonlight its aspecthad collapsed like a dream into the dullest realities. The door-yard wasmuddy and littered; here the razor-back hogs rooted unrebuked; therail fence had fallen on one side, and it would seem that only theirattachment to home prevented them from wandering forth to be lost in thewilderness; the clap-boards of the shiny roof were oozing and steamingwith dampness, and showed all awry and uneven; the clay and stickchimney, hopelessly ont of plumb, leaned far from the wall. 

Within it was not more cheerful; the fire smoked gustily into thedim little room, illumined only by the flicker of the blaze and thediscouraged daylight from the open door, for the batten shutters of theunglazed window were closed. The puncheon floor was grimy--the feetthat curiosity had led hither brought much red clay mire upon them. Thepoultry, all wet and dispirited, ventured within and stood about thedoor, now scuttling in sudden panic and with peevish squawks upon theunexpected approach of a heavy foot. Loralinda, sitting at her spinningwheel, was paler than ever, all her dearest illusions dashed intohopeless fragments, and a promise which she did not value to one whomshe did not love quite perfect and intact. 

The venerable grandmother sat propped with pillows in her arm-chair, and now and again adjured the girl to "show some manners an' tellthe neighbors what they so honed to know. " With the vehemence of herinsistence her small wizened face would suddenly contract; the torturesof the rheumatism, particularly rife in such weather, would seize uponher, and she would cry aloud with anguish, and clutch her stick andsmite her granddaughter to expedite the search for the primitiveremedies of dried "yarbs" on which her comfort depended. 

"Oh, Lord!" she would wail as she fell back among the pillows. "I'ma-losin' all my religion amongst these hyar rheumatics. I wish I war aman jes' ter say 'damn 'em' once! An' come good weather I'll sca'cely beable ter look Loralindy in the face, considering how I hector her whilstI be in the grip o' this misery. "

"Jes' pound away, Granny, ef it makes ye feel ennywise better, " criedLoralinda, furtively rubbing the weales on her arm. "It don't hurt mewuth talkin' 'bout. Ye jes' pound away, an' welcome!"

Perhaps it was her slender, elastic strength and erect grace, with hershining hair and ethereal calm pallor in the midst of the storm thatevoked the comparison, for Ozias Crann was suddenly reminded of thehappy similitude suggested by the letter that he had heard read and hadrepeated yesterday to his cronies as he stood in the road. The place wasbefore him for one illumined moment--the niche in the cliff, with itsferns and vines, the delicate stately dignity of the lilies outlinedagainst the intense blue of the sky. 

The reminiscence struck him like a discovery. Where else could theflower have been so naturally noticed by this man, a stranger, andremembered as a mark in the expectation of finding it once more when thebulb should flower again--as beside the county road? He would have beenhopelessly lost a furlong from the path. 

Crann stood for a moment irresolute, then silently grasped his pickaxeand slunk out among the mists on the porch. 

He berated his slow mind as he hurried invisible through the vast cloudsin which the world seemed lost. Why should the laggard inspiration comeso late if it had come at all? Why should he, with the clue lying halfdeveloped in his own mental impressions, have lost all the vacant hoursof the long, bright night, have given the rumor time to pervade themountains, and set all the idlers astir before he should strike thedecisive blow!

There, at last, was the cliff, beetling far over the mist-filled valleybelow. A slant of sunshine fell on the surging vapor, and it gleamedopalescent. There was the niche, with the lilies all a-bloom. He camepanting up the slope under the dripping trees, with a dash of wind inhis face and the odor of damp leafage and mold on the freshening air. 

He struck the decisive blow with a will. The lilies shivered andfell apart The echoes multiplied the stroke with a ringing metalliciteration. 

The loiterers were indeed abroad. The sound lured them from their owndevious points of search, and a half dozen of the treasure-seekers burstfrom the invisibilities of the mists as Ozias Crann's pickaxe cleavingthe mold struck upon the edge of a small japanned box hidden securelybetween the rocks, a scant foot below the surface. A dangerous spotfor a struggle, the verge of a precipice, but the greed for gain is apassion that blunts the sense of peril. The wrestling figures, heedlessof the abyss, swayed hither and thither, the precious box among them;now it was captured by a stronger grasp, now secured anew by sheersleight-of-hand. More than once it dropped to the ground, and at lastin falling the lock gave way, and scattered to the wind were numberlessorderly vouchers for money already paid, inventories of fixtures, bills for repairs, reports of departments--various details of value insettling the accounts of the mine, and therefore to be transmitted tothe main office of the mining company at Glaston. "Ef I hed tole ye ezthe money warn't thar, ye wouldn't hev believed me, " Lora-lindaByars said drearily, when certain disappointed wights, who had soughtelsewhere and far a-field, repaired to the cabin laughing at their ownplight and upbraiding her with the paucity of the _cache_. "I knowed allthe time what war in that box. The man lef' it thar in the niche arterhe war shot, it bem' heavy ter tote an' not wuth much. But he brung themoney with him, an' tuk it off, bein', he said, without orders from theowners, the miners hevin' burnt down the offices, an' bruk open the safean' destroyed all the papers, ceptin' that leetle box. I sewed up theman's money myself in them feather beds what he lay on whenst he warwagined down 'ter Colb'ry ter take the kyars. He 'lowed the compn'ymought want them papers whenst they went into liquidation, ez he calledit, an' tole me how he hed hid 'em. "

Rufe Kinnicutt wondered that she should have been so unyielding. She didnot speculate on the significance of her promise. She did not appraiseits relative value with other interests, and seek to qualify it. Oncegiven she simply kept it. She held herself no free agent. It was nothers. 

The discovery that the lure was gold revealed the incentive of herlover's jealous demand to share the custody of the secret. His intentionwas substituted for the deed in her rigid interpretation of integrity. It cost her many tears. But she seemed thereafter to him still moreunyielding, as erect, fragile, ethereally pure and pale she noted hispassing no more than the lily might. He often thought of the cheap lureof the sophisms that had so deluded him, the simple obvious significanceof the letter, and the phrase, "Goodbye, Chilhowee Lily, " had also anecho of finality for him.