hold his own in
the courtroom.

He could not have desired or chosen a better wife than Ann promised to
be; but something riotous in his blood made him dissatisfied with
affairs as they stood now. Manlike, he reflected that, if he had been
allowed to caress Fledra as he had desired, he would have been content
to have gone on his way. He wondered many times why his heart had turned
from Ann to another. Something in every thought of Fledra Cronk sent his
blood tingling and set his heart to leaping. His dreams melted into
pleasurable anticipations, and he tried to imagine the windings of his
future path. Chance had always been kind, and he wondered whether an
opportunity to win the affections of the small, defiant girl in the
Shellington home would be given him. A strain in his blood called for
her absolute subjection--and, subdue her he would; for he felt that an
invincible passion slept in her tempestuous spirit.

Suddenly, from the direction of the cemetery, an owl sent out a mournful
cry, and a furious baying from the dog behind the house sounded. He
rose, walked to the window, and surveyed the bleak view through the
curtains. He again noted the tall trees threshing in the wind, and the
looming monuments. Still under the spell of pleasant day-dreams, Everett
silently contemplated the gloomy aspect. He had forgotten the owl and
its harsh cry.

So deeply was he engrossed in his meditations that he did not hear the
stealthy turning of the door-handle, and it was not until a distinct
hiss reached his ears that he turned. A woman, dripping with water, her
gray hair hanging in wet strings about a withered face, stole toward
him. Everett was so taken aback by the sight of her and the hissing,
cross-eyed cat perched on her shoulder that he could not speak. A newly
born superstition rose in his heart that the woman was a wraith. Yet an
indistinct memory made her black eyes familiar. He did not move from the
window, and Screech Owl sank to the floor.

"Little 'un," she whispered, "I've comed for ye, little 'un!"

The sound of her hoarse voice stirred Everett's senses. He gave one step
forward, and the woman spoke again:

"I telled yer pappy that I'd bring ye!"

Brimbecomb shook his shoulders, his dread deepening. What was the
witch-like woman saying to him, and why was she calling him by the name
he now remembered she had used before? She crept nearer on her knees,
her thin hands held up as if in prayer, and, with each s