"He done a mighty wrong to—Miss Ann's little sister, her that was called Queenie and looked it! We-all knew, but we-all stood by Miss Ann, even such as me stood by her! it was the only thing we-all could do for her. He got away! Then that po' chile took to watching from the balcony for him who never come—and then she went away—and by and by—the baby come home!"
"The baby?"
Sandy trembled and grew faint. He had eaten little and the burden being laid upon him was more than his strength could bear.
"Cynthia—the lil' girl with the face of Queenie, her mother?"
"No! No!" What he feared and abhorred the boy could not tell, but every instinct in him rose to do battle for the child—friend of his starved and empty life.
"It's your part, son, to stand by and never let on! We-all have done it; we-all took what Miss Ann said for gospel truth—and so must you!"
Then it was that Sandy laughed! The sound startled and shocked Martin and he almost reeled from before it, but strangely enough it seemed to brighten the heavy darkness.
"I don't believe it!" said Sandy between his bursts of laughter. "It's a bad dream—we-all must wake up."
"We can't fight them, Sandy!"
The poor legacy of hatred, wrong, loyalty, and despair was all that Martin Morley had to offer his boy as a weapon in the coming fight. The uselessness and weakness of it struck Sandy even then as he stood on the threshold of the new life. What did it matter? But it was the small thing, the old past that made up the shabby present of The Hollow. He was going to leave everything—even the old grudge—already the wider thought called him and gave a touch of daring to his laugh.