Shehadliftedhereyesnow，andhadfixedthemwithtenderthoughtfulnessonthemountains。Whatdidsheseeinthescenebeforeher，hewondered：thedeepvalley，brilliantwithearlysunshine；themagnificentsweepofwoodedslopes；PineMountainandthepeak—likeNarrows，wherethroughittheriverhadwornitspatientway；andtheCumberlandRange，lyinglikeacloudagainstthehorizon，andbluerandsofterthantheskyaboveit。Helongedtoknowwhatherthoughtswere；ifinthemtheremightbeahintofwhathehopedtofind。Probablyshecouldnottellthem，shouldheaskher，sounconsciouswassheofhermentallife，whateverthatmightbe。Indeed，sheseemedscarcelytoknowofherownexistence；therewasaboutherasimplicitytowhichhehadfelthimselfriseonlyinthepresenceofthespiritaboutsomelonelymountain—toporintheheartofdeepwoods。Hergazewasnotvacant，notlistless，butthepensivelookofasensitivechild，andClaytonlethimselffancythattherewasinitanunconsciousloveofthebeautybeforeher，andofitsspiritualsuggestivenessaslumberingsense，perhapseasilyawakened。Perhapshemightawakenit。
Thedrowsyhumofthespinning—wheelceasedsuddenly，andhisdreamwasshattered。Hewonderedhowlongtheyhadsattheresayingnothing，andhowlongthesilencemightcontinue。Easter，hebelieved，wouldneveraddresshim。Eventhetemporaryintimacythatthebarterofthegunhadbroughtaboutwasgone。
Thegirlseemedlostinunconsciousness。Themotherhadgonetoherloom，andwashummingsoftlytoherselfasshepassedtheshuttletoandfro。
Claytonturnedforaninstanttowatchher，andtherudebackground，whichhehadforgotten，thrusteveryunwelcomedetailuponhisattention：
theoldcabin，builtofhewnlogs，heldtogetherbywoodenpinandaugur—hole，andshingledwithroughboards；thedark，windowlessroom；