u broke yours. You didn't repent, and
you went on drinking, and--then you tried to kill an innocent man when
he was alone and unarmed; like a coward you shot him. I called back my
words from God; I gave them to the man I loved--promise for promise,
Frale."

"Yas, and curse for curse. You cursed me, Cass." He made one more step
forward, but she stood her ground and lifted one hand above her head,
the gesture he so well remembered.

"Keep back, Frale. I did not curse you. I let you go free, and no one
followed you. Go back--farther--farther--or I will do it now-- Oh,
God--" He cowered, his arm before his eyes, and moved backward.

"Don't, Cass," he cried. For a moment she stood regally before him, her
babe resting easily in the hollow of her arm. Then she slowly lowered
her hand and spoke again, in quiet, distinct tones.

"Now, for that lie they have told you, I am going to my husband. I start
to-morrow. He has sent me money to come to him. You tell that word all
up and down the mountain side, wherever there bides one to hear."

She lifted her baby, pressing his little face to her cheek, and turning,
walked slowly toward her cabin door.

"Cass," he called.

She paused. "Well, Frale?"

"Cass, you hev cursed me."

"No, Frale, it is the curse of Cain that rests on your soul. You
brought it on you by your own hand. If you will live right and repent,
Christ will take it off."

"Will you ask him for me, Cass? I sure hev lost you now--forever, Cass!"

"Yes, Frale. I'll ask him to cover up all this year out of your life. It
has been full of mad badness. Be like you used to be, Frale, and leave
off thinking on me this way. It is sin. Go marry somebody who can love
you and care for you like you need, and come back here and do for mother
like you used to. Giles Teasley can't pester you. He's half dead with
his badness--drinking his own liquor."

She came to him, and, taking his hand, led him toward the laurel path.
"Go down to mother now, Frale, and have supper and sleep in your own
bed, like no evil had ever come into your neart," she pleaded. "The good
is in you, Frale. God sees it, and I see it. Heed to me, Frale.
Good-night."

Slowly, with bent head, he walked away.

Trembling, Cassandra laid her baby in the cradle Hoke Belew had made
her, and, kneeling beside the rude little bed, she bowed her head over
it and wept scalding, bitter tears. She felt herself shamed before the
whole mountain side. Oh, why--why nee