Girl in a Buckskin

until you knew of him.”
    She looked at him in surprise.
    “Come, lass,” he said, “did you not find the present I left for you? Indeed, if your heart did not take you back to the island then I fear my return has been in vain.”
    “Your—present?”
    “My Bible,” he said simply. “The most precious thing I own. Handed down for many generations—but rotting now in the mud of the island. I fear.”
    “No,” she said slowly, “t’is not rotting in the mud. You will find it hidden behind the stone in the chimney safe and sound.”
    “Ah,” he said softly, watching her, “then ye did go back to the camp.”
    She lifted her chin defiantly. “Aye, I went back. I went to gather firewood.”
    “There’s better firewood not two paces from the cabin.”
    “There is a bark there that makes a quicker fire,” she said desperately. “I went to find it and stumbled on your book.”
    “Then do I mean nothing to you?” He reached out his hand and gently forced her head back so that he could see into her face. “I’m asking ye to marry me, lass. Did ye think I came back for anything else?”
    She stared at him in amazement. “I? Marry you?” She moved quickly away from him. “You must be mad, Mr. O’Hara—or overly grateful, I’m sure. Believe me, I would have saved the life of any man who came to the valley. Indeed you must not feel obliged—”
    “Obliged!” roared O’Hara. “Obliged! Now indeed you’ve touched my Irish temper. Obliged! When I cannot get your sweet face out of my thoughts, or the brave, stubborn way you have of raising your chin? Or the color of your hair in the sun or the look of you when you smile? I’ve kept my mouth shut all these months, seeing you distraught with fear for your brother—aye, and myself worrying almost to death at leaving you here so long. Obliged, you say!”
    Becky had turned pale at his words. “You must know I can never marry you,” she said. “You, a fine gentleman—” O’Hara stared at her and then began to laugh. “I, a fine gentleman? Oh, come now, lass, a New Hampshire farmer is always a gentleman—but not so fine! One cow I own, two hogs, a head of oxen, three horses—”
    She shook her head. “I read the words on the page of your book, so I know who you truly are for all that you say.”
    “You do, eh? Then just who am I, lass?”
    “The Earl of Shane,” she said simply.
    He shook his head at her. “Oh, shame, lass—that if it were true you’d let it come between us! There are no earls in Ireland any more, indeed they were all booted out of the country a hundred years ago. It’s true that once, long ago, there was a title—aye, and money, too—but we’ve lived by our wits for nearly a century and t’was only by stealth I and my family returned to Ireland twenty years ago. Flanagan is the name my father goes by now or his head would be on the block. I came to the colonies with naught but a purse of five guineas and the clothes on my back. I’m a New Hampshire man now and proud of it, and it’s a New Hampshire man who’s asking ye to be his wife.”
    ”But you—you—” Becky stared at him. “You must be truly out of your mind to ask me—a woodsy, a fugitive—to be your wife.”
    “Aye, lass, I’m asking,” he said, looking down at her from his great height. “Is it so terrible for you to think upon?”
    “Terrible! Oh, no!” She covered her face with her hands lest he see the tears in her eyes. “Indeed it’s too much, Mr. O’Hara. You would do better to look elsewhere!”
    “Why?”
    She rubbed her eyes and turned to the fire. “You are still a fine gentleman in spite of your homespun. You know nothing of me but that I’m a fugitive and my brother—my brother a renegade.”
    O’Hara’s eyes were twinkling. “Is that all?”
    “Is that all!” She wheeled upon him in surprise. “Is that all! Indeed, Mr. O’Hara, is that not enough?”
    “Well,” he said, filling a cup with tea, “I know you can outwit an Indian in trailing and pursuit, shoot a deer at fifteen paces with a single arrow, quarter a deer, make rawhide and buckskin and save a man’s life not once but twice. I warrant I never expected to marry a lass with such talents—but they will serve nicely, I’m sure.”
    “Are you serious about nothing?” she demanded hotly. “But I am,” he assured her gravely. “The woods are full of raiding parties these days. Do you think a man like myself, with no love for untilled land, would