Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. " "God forbid!" exclaimed Wood, fervently; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "But I must be going: I've stayed here too long already. ‘Never mind where. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror.
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