to be themselves. He took them like he took
me from you. D' you remember, Deems, how he came and in no time I was
his? He owned me completely."

Deems was silent. There was no arguing. Even now there was vividly alive
in his mind, and, he knew, in the minds of the other villagers, the
recollection of that sense of possession which went with Jim Sloan. He
recalled that William Carrol had hanged himself when he could not pay
Jim Sloan the debt he owed him. It was true that Jim Sloan had owned his
children as if they were pieces of property. The whole village had
learned to know this fact soon after these children had grown up. Deems,
recalling his feelings for Martha Sloan, remembered now the amazement,
the astonishment, with which he had viewed the change that came over
Martha immediately after her marriage to Jim Sloan.

She had been light-hearted and joyful as if overflowing with the
vitality natural to the country about the village. There had been
gladness in her laugh. Immediately after her marriage all this had
changed.

Martha had been wont to run lightly about her father's house. Her
movements had become suddenly freighted with a seriousness that was not
natural to her. Her laughter quieted to a restrained smile which in turn
gave way to a uniform seriousness. The whole village noted and remarked
the change. "He is older than she," they said, "and is making her see
things as he does."

When they reached the house, Martha, without a word, left Deems and
hurried in. Deems turned away, looking back and shaking his head, the
while he mumbled to himself, "There's no good in this. There's no good
for Martha."

He was struck motionless when suddenly he beheld Martha by the window.
He had thought her slightly composed when she had left him, for her
manner was more quiet than it had been. Now he was startled. Out of the
window she leaned, her eyes fastened on the distant gravestone--white,
large, and dominating--a shaft that rose upright like a gigantic spear
on the crest of the hill. He watched her face and head and saw that her
movements were frightened. As she moved her head--it seemed she was
following something with her eyes which, look as closely as he could, he
failed to make out--there was a jerkiness of movement that showed her
alert and startled.

From the musty, dark parlor Martha looked out on the cemetery. There,
clear in the evening light, stood the large white stone--a terrible
symbol that held her.