The Red Debt

plot was covered with countless quaint flowers and its rock-hemmed path to the horse-block in fron

time, her beloved flowers had come back to earth each year with reassuring, tender messages for Belle-A

than at any other season-the kindly, smiling face of old M

day. It was Belle-Ann whom the men found after the battle, crouching in despair over the dear, st

er in Maw Lutts. So it was Belle-Ann who fed the martins, and enco

the first days of the Rebellion, and who subsequently had found sanctuary at the Lutts abode. He had been permitted to remain becaus

nd home to the child. Belle-Ann was now some months past sixteen and her unusual physical beauty was noted throughout

briskly over the carpet of shadows, stepped out under the radiant moon and stood gazing in

e topmost step of the block she seated herself. Her brow puckered slightly and she w

nging about her head and mantling her shoulders, a mass of natural curls clus

hin nose was straight and short and small; and her red mouth told of unfathomable d

her knees. Her graceful legs were bare, but her little feet were incased in nea

ntle blue-grass woman, of noted beauty and lineage, and who had in a fit of pique, married the pict

ient struggle to make his wife happy; but the most beautiful woman the m

y. It was only now that he had saved sufficient money to send Belle-Ann

ard the news onl

ather had sent word that he would come for her the following week and take her to the school at Proctor. A

little heart was prey to many emotions

y since early morning, and for the old man to come down from his lofty statio

ab!" she

an old treble voice f

osture that indicated pointedly that he expected something of her; and she slipped f

d uncertainly, laid his old muzzle in the girl's lap and r

instrument-a cross between guitar and banjo, self-made of gut and a gourd. Just a

re than on the horse-block the banjo fell bewit

song he had rendered for years-a sad and stirring melody, telling t

t makes this

ke others,

e tears roll

morn till c

arkies, you

emory fresh

you then to

of my sweet

ad died away Bel

don't cum short now, I'l

it's got t' blow; but doan you blow it, honey. Yo' jist let pap be-he'l

ace to the second verse of "Kitty Wells," hi

onsolate girl, sitting on the vine-bench in the m

blow th' horn I

between his long, thin legs and

ption fit, yo' ought, 'stead of actin' up. Why, honey, jist give praise to de good Lord dat yo' at

ts purttier dan yo' is now-why, honey, yo'll shore cum back er angel! Now, doan

e poised his banjo again and as his lips

-right heah?" she queried, pr

uise his own impatience. "Now, tell me why yo' ax dat-jis

e returned unsteadily, her black-fringed lids blinking bravely to

peechless, and heav

head from her lap, stepped nearer to the old negro, a

' promise ag'inst the witch. Will yo' promise Belle-Ann somethin', Sla

opposed to dragging in the witch, because he feared to make his sacred witch a party to any c

thes, Slab?" the g

ey?" he probed, loose-lipped a

yo'

it, me promises," h

on th' witch-bloc

led and bony hand, and the girl's ey

promise to pick the flowers every Sabbath, jest like I alers do-yo' knows the ones well's I do-pertic'lar th' for-get-me-nots over y

d Slab's tenseness as

eave it t' Slab, honey! He

aniums outer th' boxes inside an' put 'em on Maw's grave-an' when hit gits powerful cold an' snows hard an

ogether in her aching throat, and

her black head in her arm. The heavy curls clustered around her fa

ng her free hand, and caught the tears from her young heart warm

mbled at random

alm of rock; as silent and motionless as the inanimate pillar of granite under him.

heah cum