but
ceased when Lizzi went to Gill's rescue.

Peter McAnay rose and looked approvingly on his son wreaking vengeance
on the betrayer of his daughter, and frowned when she interfered to
prevent a murder.

Levi obeyed her with savage reluctance, and Gill stood free, gasping for
breath.

All the while Lizzi had held the baby to her heart, which she thought
would not thump so hard if the child were pressed against it.

Hunch blurted, as he gave up the knife:

"He drawed it on Levi, an' I wanted ter stick it inter him."

That informed Lizzi fully: Gill had been compelled to come back to her.
Looking around upon her brothers, she tried to smile gratefully, but it
was a dim light that flittered across her face to leave a deeper
shadow. They had meant well, but far better for her had they left Gill
where they found him; for then, had he not returned, she would not have
known that she had been his victim, and would have continued to mourn
for him as dead, believing herself his widow.

Holding the child before him, she said: "Take your last look at him,
John. See the fire-mark. I shivered when I first saw it, but didn't mind
it long, for it made me think I had saved you from death once. But I do
mind," and her voice rose and vibrated in scorn, "if he bears your name.
That would be an awful mark on his soul for God to look at; a horrid
ugly scar that would make him hideous to the angels that rung his
mother's weddin' bell."

Her voice faltered a little as that pine-grove memory came over her, but
it became strong again as she addressed Parson Lawrence.

"Will you baptize my boy?" she asked.

"Yes, yes," the saintly man replied, his voice ill controlled.

"His name will be Peter McAnay," she said simply. Then facing Gill, she
held the child to him.

"You may kiss him, John."

The boy cried when Gill pressed his lips to the purple mark.

At that moment a sharp crash of glass was heard. The elbow of a man
pushed by the crowd behind him on the porch had gone through a pane in
the sash.

"Let down the blind, Hunch," Lizzi commanded.

Hunch pulled the string, tied in a bow, and the green shade shut off the
crowd.

"Now, John, good-by."

She held out her hand to him, but withdrew it quickly. Her momentary
tenderness vanished when she saw the eagerness in his eyes. She dared
not shake hands, remembering how he had clung to her in Sugar-Camp
Hollow. Another opportunity she dared not give him now, for he must know