was possible after all, as he had said he wanted her, and though her
home in the clearing was not one of luxury, it was one of ease and
indolence, and she had no desire for a new one--certainly not with this
man whose face did not attract her. Just why she ran, she did not know.
It was of no use to appeal to _ole missus_, who would not know whether
she belonged to her or some one else. Miss Dory was her only hope. With
promises of future good behavior and abstinence from pilfering and
lying, and badness generally, she might enlist her sympathy and
protection till Jake came home, when all would be right. So she sped on
like a deer, glancing back occasionally to see the stranger following
her with rapid strides which, however, did not avail to overtake her.
The afternoon was very warm--the road sandy and uneven--and he soon gave
up the chase, wondering why the girl ran so fast, as if afraid of him.
The last sight he had of her was of her woolly head, turning off from
the road to the right, where it disappeared behind some thick
undergrowth. Ted had said, "Turn at the grave," and he walked on till he
reached the spot, and stood by the low railing enclosing a sunken grave,
whether of man or woman he could not tell, the lettering on the
discolored stone was so obscure. Studying it very carefully, he thought
he made out "Mrs." before the moss-blurred name.

"A woman," he said, with a feeling how terrible it must be to be buried
and left alone in that dreary, sandy waste, with no human habitation
nearer than the Brock House, and no sound of life passing by, except
from the same place, unless--and he started, as he noticed for the first
time what Ted had said was the worst road in Florida, and what was
scarcely more than a footpath leading off to the right, and to the
clearing, of course--and he must follow it past tangled weeds and
shrubs, and briers, and dwarf palmettoes, stumps of which impeded his
progress.