“They are coming through the woods,” she said quickly. “Run, or you'll be taken. Why do you linger?”
“You know why,” he said gloomily.
“Yes, but you have done yo' duty. You have done his work. The task is finished now, and yo' free.”
He did not reply, but remained gazing at the woods.
“Joseph,” she said more gently, laying her trembling hand on his arm, “Joseph, fly—and—take me with you. For I was wrong, and I want you to forgive me. I knew your heart was not in this, and I ought not to have asked you. Joseph—listen! I never wanted to avenge myself nor HIM when I spat on your face. I wanted to avenge myself on HER. I hated her, because I thought she wanted to work upon you and use you for herself.”
“Your mother,” he said, looking at her.
“No,” she said, with widely opened eyes, “you know who I mean—Miss Sally.”
He looked at her wonderingly for a moment, but quickly bent his head again in the direction of the road. “They are coming,” he said, starting. “YOU must go. This is no place for you. Stop! it's too late; you cannot go now until they have passed. Come here—crouch down here—over this grave—so.”
He almost forced her—kneeling down—upon the mound below the level of the shrubs, and then ran quickly himself a few paces lower down the hill to a more exposed position. She understood it. He wished to attract attention to himself. He was successful—a few hurried shots followed from the road, but struck above him.
He clambered back quickly to where she was still crouching.