"I guess
you better go along now," she said. The young man understood and got to
his feet. "Thank you," he said, holding out his hand. She seemed not to
notice the gesture, and turned away as they opened the door.
The rain was still coming down, but they hardly noticed it: the pure air
was like balm in their faces. The clouds were rising and breaking, and
between their edges the light streamed down from remote blue hollows.
Harney untied the horse, and they drove off through the diminishing
rain, which was already beaded with sunlight.
For a while Charity was silent, and her companion did not speak. She
looked timidly at his profile: it was graver than usual, as though he
too were oppressed by what they had seen. Then she broke out abruptly:
"Those people back there are the kind of folks I come from. They may be
my relations, for all I know." She did not want him to think that she
regretted having told him her story.
"Poor creatures," he rejoined. "I wonder why they came down to that
fever-hole.
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