"hit was a fa'r fight betwixt us, 'n' I whooped him. He
got his gun then, 'n' would 'a' killed me ag'in' his oath ef he hadn't
been shot fust. Hit's so, too, 'bout the crosses. I made 'em; they're
right thar on that gun; but whut could I do with mam a-standin' right
thar with the gun 'n' Uncle Rufe a-tellin' 'bout my own dad layin' in
his blood, 'n' Isom 'n' the boys lookin' on! But I went ag'in' my oath;
I gave him his life when I had the right to take it. I could 'a' killed
yer dad once, 'n' I had the right to kill him, too, fer killin' mine;
but I let him go, 'n' I reckon I done that fer ye, too. 'Pears like I
hain't done nothin' sence I seed ye over thar in the mill that day that
wasn't done fer ye. Somehow ye put me dead ag'in' my own kin, 'n' tuk
away all my hate ag'in' yourn. I couldn't fight fer thinkin' I was
fightin' you, 'n' when I seed ye comm' through the bushes jes now, so
white 'n' sickly-like, I couldn't hardly git breath, a-thinkin' I was
the cause of all yer misery. That's all!" He stretched out his arms.
"Shoot, gal, ef ye don't believe me. I'd jes as lieve die, ef ye thinks
I'm lyin' to ye, 'n' ef ye hates me fer whut I hain't done."

The gun had fallen to the earth. The girl, trembling at the knees, sank
to her seat on the porch, and, folding her arms against the pillar,
pressed her forehead against them, her face unseen. Rome stooped to pick
up the weapon.

"I'm goin' 'way now," he went on, slowly, after a little pause, "but I
couldn't leave hyeh without seem' you. I wanted ye to know the truth,
'n' I 'lowed y'u'd believe me ef I tol' ye myself. I've been a-waitin'
thar in the lorrel fer ye sence mornin'. Uncle Gabe tol' me ye come hyeh
ever' day. He says I've got to go. I've been hopin' I mought come out o'
the bushes some day. But Uncle Gabe says ever'body's ag'in' me more' n
ever, 'n' that the soldiers mean to ketch me. The gov'ner out thar in
the settlements says as how he'll give five hundred dollars fer me,
livin' or dead. He'll nuver git me livin'--I've swore that--'n' as I hev
done nothin' sech as folks on both sides hev done who air walkin'
roun' free, I hain't goin' to give up. Hit's purty hard to leave these
mount'ins. Reckon I'll nuver see 'em ag'in. Been livin' like a catamount
over thar on the knob. I could jes see you over hyeh, 'n' I reckon
I hain't done much 'cept lay over thar on a rock 'n' watch ye movin'
round. Hit's mighty good to feel that ye believe me, 'n' I want ye to
know