Slowly she came to see, too, that it was his
presence in the Court Room that made her tell the truth, reckless
of the consequences, and she came to realize that she was not
leaving the mountains because she would go to no place where she
could not know of any danger that, in the present crisis, might
threaten John Hale.
And Hale saw only that in the Court Room she had drawn her skirts
aside, that she had looked at him once and then had brushed past
his helping hand. It put him in torment to think of what her life
must be now, and of how she must be suffering. He knew that she
would not leave her father in the crisis that was at hand, and
after it was all over--what then? His hands would still be tied
and he would be even more helpless than he had ever dreamed
possible. To be sure, an old land deal had come to life, just
after the discovery of the worthlessness of the mine in Lonesome
Cove, and was holding out another hope. But if that, too, should
fail--or if it should succeed--what then? Old Judd had sent back,
with a curt refusal, the last "allowance" he forwarded to June and
he knew the old man was himself in straits.
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