Westerfelt

s remains. He hardly had any definite idea of whither he was going. He had only a vague impression that the movement of a horse under him would to some degree assuage the awful pain at his

ident; Westerfelt knew that by their attitudes of awed attention and their occasional glances tow

Westerfelt; want

ed last night," he said. "Thar wasn't a thing in the box 'fore I went home, an' it was the only one thar when I unlocked this morn

nd. It was addressed in Sally Dawson's round, girlish handwriting, and he knew it conta

him, but he scarcely saw them. At the first path leading from the road into the wood he turned aside, and then opened his package. There were three or four letters and notes he had writt

hat they know the truth. I'd rather die a hundred deaths than see you an' her even once together. I couldn't live long anyway. I'm simply too weak and sick at heart. The hardest thing of all is to remember that you never did care for me all the time I was making such a little fool of myself. I know you never did. Folks said you was changeable, but I never once believed it till last night on the road. I have fixed it so everybody will think my death was accidental. I've bee

AL

ith the subtle fragrance of growing and blooming things. He was as near insanity as a man can well be who still retains his mental equipoise. In this s

o prepare any breakfast for him. He did not want to show himself on the veranda or in the front yard, thinking some neighbor might stop and want to talk over the tragedy. There were moments during this solitary morning that he wished others knew the secret of Sal

about the front yard, to the fence of which a goodly number of horses and mules were hitched. The little church, with its gray, weather-beaten spire

along the edge of the roof to the open cupola and grasp the clapper of the cast-iron bell. Then it began to to

nd it walked six men, swinging their hats in their hands. Next followed Slogan's rickety buggy with its threatening wheels, driven by Peter. The bent figure of the widow in black sat besid

ad-wagon, with its red wheels and high green bed, in which sat the five women of his family, pause at his gate. Go

'fore they all get thar an' settled. The preacher promised me this mornin' he'd wait

, seeing that Lithicum did not seem to be in

t have left a piece of a plug lyin' round. My old woman tried to git me to use her snuff as a make-shift, but lawsy me! the blamed powdery truck jest washes dow

t, "but I don't know where

he air with his whip. "Railly, thar is one thing more," he said, haltingly. "Lizzie 'lowed, as thar was a' e

g," said Westerfelt, sh

young man's manner, which he had not noticed till now. "Well, so long, Mr. Westerfelt, I reckon you know y

r me to go," answered Westerfelt, an

some inward fear seemed to check him, and the match burned down to his rigid fingers and went out. "No," he said, "that would be cowardly. I shall ke

rented down the road, and which he was getting ready for cotton-planting. Slogan was astride of his bony horse, w

I 'lowed hard work in the sun would do more to git the kinks o

awson?" ventur

d tell you a sight easier. She's turned into a regular hell-cat. I thought her an' my

ted Westerfelt. "

ht. It looks powerful like she's wrong in the upper-story. At fust she was all yells an' fury, but now she jest sulks an' hain't got one word to say to nobody. I went down thar last night an' tried to call 'er to the door, but she wouldn't stir a peg. As soon as she heerd me at the fence she blowed out 'er light an' wouldn't let on no m

t of Sally Dawson's death, but he was beginning to think that the mother of the gir