the elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off with
a father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was a
jest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of the
other Clantons till she could keep still no longer.

"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyes
flashing with contempt and anger.

Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity.
"Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?"

"Damfino," replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he was
gloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick.
Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know."

The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at
the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her
eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She
had come to the edge of an awful discovery.

"You're no preacher. Who are you?"

"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm
Hugh Roush--Dave's brother."

"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?"

"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is,
but he ain't come that low yet."