"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

listener. Although he laughed at Colonel Zane's stories, and never tired of
hearing of Isaac's experiences among the Indians, it is probable he would not
have partaken of the Colonel's hospitality nearly so often had it not been
that he usually saw Betty, and if he got only a glimpse of her he went away
satisfied. On Sundays he attended the services at the little church and
listened to Betty's sweet voice as she led the singing.

There were a number of girls at the fort near Betty's age. With all of these
Alfred was popular. He appeared so entirely different from the usual young man
on the frontier that he was more than welcome everywhere. Girls in the
backwoods are much the same as girls in thickly populated and civilized
districts. They liked his manly ways; his frank and pleasant manners; and when
to these virtues he added a certain deferential regard, a courtliness to which
they were unaccustomed, they were all the better pleased. He paid the young
women little attentions, such as calling on them, taking them to parties and
out driving, but there was not one of them who could think that she, in
particular, interested him.

The girls noticed, however, that he never approached Betty after service, or
on any occasion, and while it caused some wonder and gossip among them, for
Betty enjoyed the distinction of being the belle of the border, they were
secretly pleased. Little hints and knowing smiles, with which girls are so
skillful, made known to Betty all of this, and, although she was apparently
indifferent, it hurt her sensitive feelings. It had the effect of making her
believe she hated the cause of it more than ever.

What would have happened had things gone on in this way, I am not prepared to
say; probably had not a meddling Fate decided to take a hand in the game,
Betty would have continued to think she hated Alfred, and I would never have
had occasion to write his story; but Fate did interfere, and, one day in the
early fall, brought about an incident which changed the whole world for the
two young people.

It was the afternoon of an Indian summer day--in that most beautiful time of
all the year--and Betty, accompanied by her dog, had wandered up the hillside
into the woods. From the hilltop the broad river could be seen winding away n
the distance, and a soft, bluish, smoky haze hung over the water. The forest
seemed to be on fire. The yellow leaves of the poplars, the brown of the white
and black oaks, the red and purple of the maples, and the green of the pines
and hemlocks flamed in a glorious blaze of color. A stillness, which was only
broken now and then by the twittering of birds uttering the plaintive notes
peculiar to them in the autumn as they band together before their pilgrimage
to the far south, pervaded the forest.

Betty loved the woods, and she knew all the trees. She could tell their names
by the bark or the shape of the leaves. The giant black oak, with its smooth
shiny bark and sturdy limbs, the chestnut with its rugged, seamed sides and
bristling burrs, the hickory with its lofty height and curled shelling bark,
were all well known and well loved by Betty. Many times had she wondered at
the trembling, quivering leaves of the aspen, and the foliage of the