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                           TOLD IN THE HILLS

                                A NOVEL

                          BY MARAH ELLIS RYAN

AUTHOR OF THAT GIRL MONTANA, THE BONDWOMAN, A FLOWER OF FRANCE, ETC.


    NEW YORK
    GROSSET & DUNLAP
    PUBLISHERS

    Copyright, 1891 By Rand McNally & Co. Chicago.
    Copyright, 1905 By Rand McNally & Co. Chicago.
    All Rights Reserved
    (Told in the Hills)


    IN ALL REVERENCE--IN ALL GRATITUDE
    TO THE FRIENDS GRANTED ME BY
    THE WEST

    FAYETTE SPRINGS, PENN.


    KOPA MESIKA--

    Nika sikhs klaksta kumtucks--
    Klaksta yakwa mamook elahan,
    Nika mahsie--mahsie kwanesum.

    M. E. R.


     Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox, or his sheep, go astray.

    ... Thou shalt bring it unto thine own house, and it shall be
     with thee until thy brother seek after it, and thou shalt
     restore it to him again....

    ... And with all lost things of thy brother's which he hath
     lost, and thou hast found, shalt thou do likewise....

     In any case thou shalt deliver him the pledge again when the
     sun goeth down.--Deuteronomy.




[Illustration: Mowitza forged ahead, her sturdy persistence suggesting
a realization of her own importance]




List of Illustrations


Mowitza forged ahead, her sturdy persistence suggesting a realization of
her own importance

At a sharp cut of the whip, Betty sprang forward

Cooling it to suit baby's lips, she knelt beside the squaw




TOLD IN THE HILLS




PART FIRST

THE PLEDGE


"The only one of the name who is not a gentleman"; those words were
repeated over and over by a young fellow who walked, one autumn morning,
under the shade of old trees and along a street of aristocratic houses
in old New Orleans.

He would have been handsome had it not been for the absolutely wicked
expression of his face as he muttered to himself while he walked. He
looked about twenty-five--dark and tall--so tall as to be a noticeable
man among many men, and so well proportioned, and so confidently
careless in movement as not to be ungainly--the confidence of strength.

Some <DW64>s whom he passed turned to look after him, even the whites he
met eyed him seriously. He looked like a man off a sleepless journey,
his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, and over all was a malignant
expression as of lurking devilishness.

He stopped at a house set back from the street, and half-smothered in
the shade of the trees and great creeping vines that flung out long arms
from the stone walls. There was a stately magnificence about its grand
entrance, and its massive proportions--it showed so plainly the
habitation of wealth. Evidently the ill-natured looking individual was
not a frequent visitor there, for he examined the house, and the numbers
about, with some indecision; then his eyes fell on the horse-block, in
the stone of which a name was carved. A muttered something, which was
not a blessing, issued from his lips as he read it, but with indecision
at an end he strode up the walk to the house. A question was answered by
the dubious-looking <DW54> at the door, and a message was sent somewhere
to the upper regions; then the <DW54>, looking no less puzzled, requested
the gentleman to follow him to the "Young Massa's" study. The gentleman
did so, noting with those wicked side glances of his the magnificence of
the surroundings, and stopping short before a picture of a brunette,
willowy girl that rested on an easel. The face was lovely enough to win
praise from any man, but an expression, strangely akin to that bestowed
on the carven name outside, escaped him. Through the lattice of the
window the laughter of woman came to him--as fresh and cheery as the
light of the young sun, and bits of broken sentences also--words of
banter and retort.

"Ah, but he is beautiful--your husband!" sighed a girlish voice with the
accent of France; "so impressibly charming! And so young. You two
children!"

Some gay remonstrance against childishness was returned, and then the
first voice went on:

"And the love all of one quick meeting, and one quick, grand passion
that only the priest could bring cure for? And how shy you were, and how
secret--was it not delightful? Another Juliet and her Romeo. Only it is
well your papa is not so ill-pleased."

"Why should he be? My family is no better than my husband's--only some
richer; but we never thought of that--we two. I thought of his beautiful
changeable eyes, and he thought of my black ones, and--well, I came home
to papa a wife, and my husband said only, 'I love her,' when we were
blamed for the haste and the secrecy, and papa was won--as I think every
one is, by his charming boyishness; but," with a little laugh, "he is
not a boy."

"Though he is younger than yourself?"

"Well, what then? I am twenty-three. You see we are quite an old couple,
for he is almost within a year of being as old. Come; my lord has not
yet come down. I have time to show you the roses. I am sure they are the
kind you want."

Their chatter and gaiety grew fainter as they walked away from the
window, and their playful chat added no light to the visitor's face. He
paced up and down the room with the eager restlessness of some caged
thing. A step sounded outside that brought him to a halt--a step and a
mellow voice with the sweetness of youth in it. Then the door opened and
a tall form entered swiftly, and quick words of welcome and of surprise
came from him as he held out his hand heartily.

But it was not taken. The visitor stuck his hands in the pockets of his
coat, and surveyed his host with a good deal of contempt.

Yet he was a fine, manly-looking fellow, almost as tall as his visitor,
and fairer in coloring. His hair was a warmer brown, while the other
man's was black. His eyes were frank and open, while the other's were
scowling and contracted. They looked like allegorical types of light and
darkness as they stood there, yet something in the breadth of forehead
and form of the nose gave a suggestion of likeness to their faces.

The younger one clouded indignantly as he drew back his offered hand.

"Why, look here, old fellow, what's up?" he asked hastily, and then the
indignation fled before some warmer feeling, and he went forward
impulsively, laying his hand on the other's arm.

"Just drop that," growled his visitor, "I didn't come here for that sort
of thing, but for business--yes--you can bet your money on that!"

His host laughed and dropped into a chair.

