s old Deborah Teague who spoke. The years had not
softened her harsh features, nor did she seem older than when I had
left Trewinion, save that she stooped more. My blood curdled when I
knew it was she. When I stood on this place last she had come to me
and had repeated some lines of the Trewinion's curse; she had told me
of the darkness that was approaching, and now on the night that I had
come back, the night on which I had been engaged in a deed of darkest
dark on this same dread spot, she had come to me again.

Yet did I not reply.

"Who be you?" she continued.

I remained silent, looking again towards the "Devil's Tooth," where
angry flames leaped up.

The old dame laughed when she saw my evident fear, and continued in her
hoarse, croaking voice:

"That's ou'll Betsey cookin' her broth, that es; and it was made where
you do'ant want to go. I shudn't stay there much longer or ou'll
Betsey 'll bring'ee some, and nobody ever refuses her."

With that she hobbled away, leaving me again alone. But I did not stay
long. A maddening desire came into my heart to get away, and with
eager feet I rushed landward.

Where should I go? Somewhere, anywhere away from Trewinion, away from
this dark deed of my life. For a mile I rushed blindly on. Then I
stopped. I must make up my mind what was to be my destination.

Morton Hall! I had not been thinking of it, but that was the place
that impressed itself on my thought and memory. I would go there. For
what purpose I did not know, but in my misery that one place seemed to
invite me. I could do no good, for Ruth was dead, and laid in the cold
tomb. Dead, dead, and she had died loving me! The thought softened my
hell, and yet it made it harder to bear, for while it put tenderness
into my heart, it made me feel more than ever unworthy even to mention
her name.

I stopped in my journey again, for I had started in the direction of
Ruth's home, and, looking upward, I saw a star that was nearer to me
than any other, and it seemed to look lovingly upon me; then my heart
was subdued, and I sobbed like a child.

Again a mad frenzy possessed me, and I rushed away in the direction of
Ruth's home as though the powers of darkness pursued me.

CHAPTER XIX

TOWARDS RUTH'S GRAVE

But if you look into it, the balance is perfectly adjusted, even here.
God has made His world much better than you and I could make it.
Everything reaps its own harvest; every act has its