"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothin', Becky, nothin'."

Becky laughed harshly. "You can tell the truth--can't ye--to a dyin'
woman?"

"Fergive me, Becky!"

A scowling face, tortured with pain, was thrust into the window.

"Sh-h!" whispered the girl, imperiously, and the man lifted his heavy
eyes, dropped one elbow on the window-sill and waited.

"You tuk Jim from me!"

The widow covered her face with her hands, and the Marcum at the
window--brother to Jim, who was dead--lowered at her, listening keenly.

"An' you got him by lyin' 'bout me. You tuk him by lyin' 'bout
me--didn't ye? Didn't ye?" she repeated, fiercely, and her voice would
have wrung the truth from a stone.

"Yes--Becky--yes!"

"You hear?" cried Becky, turning her eyes to the girl.

"You made him believe an' made ever'body, you could, believe that I
was--was _bad_" Her breath got short, but the terrible arraignment went