Then Sandy turned and set his face toward The Appointed Way. It had been hard to see Cynthia flee from him, leaving him lonely and forsaken; but it was harder now to leave the sad, broken father in the desolate blackness of night—and enter the new, hard life alone! But with never a backward look Sandford Morley went to meet his fate.
Martin stood and listened until the last sound dropped into silence. Then he went back. It was pitchy dark when he reached the cabin. There were mutterings of thunder in the distance again, and the odour of scorched meal in the air. Mary, with Molly hanging to her, stood by the rough table in the middle of the room.
"Did you find him?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And you——"
Martin turned and the look on his face silenced the woman.
"That boy," he said slowly, "belongs to me, do you understand? Keep your tongue off him—your hands will never touch him again. He's mine and God Almighty's from now on. You've starve him and beat him for the last time and now—never speak his name again. He's mine and God's—and his mother's!"
Martin was spent. He dropped into a chair and, folding his arms upon the back, bent his head upon them.
Then Mary's wrath broke.
"He's yours, is he?" she sneered, shaking her child off and striding toward the bowed figure—"he's yours and God's and his mother's! He belongs to a fine lot, doesn't he, the ungrateful little beast? And I'm to keep my tongue off him, eh? Ain't I good enough for him and you and the high company you belong to?"