“He’s an ole man, an’ his hair’s nearly white, but I see it were Marse Tad, all right.
“‘I hearn you-all was dead,’ I says ter him, but Marse Tad, he say no, people all thought he’s dead an’ he let ’em think so, ’case he cain’t never meet up wif his ole frien’s no more. You see, Mis’ ’Lizbeth,” he threw in an explanation, “Marsh Tad he gave some sick folks poison instead of medicine, an’ dey die, an’ he go ’way, outen de country, an’ bimeby de papers say he’s dead an’ his wife’s dead. But dey ain’t; it’s a mistake, but he don’ tell nobody, an’ bimeby he come back, him an’ his wife. Dey take another name, an’ dey goes to a town whar nobody knows ’em. Bimeby a baby girl gits born an’ his wife she dies.
“Marse Tad he ain’t never bin himself since he gave dem folks dat poison; he cain’t fergit it a-tall. It pester him so he cain’t work, an’ he cain’t sleep, an’ he cain’t never laugh no more. He give up bein’ a doctor ’case he say he cain’t trust himself no more. He get so low in his mind when his wife die dat he think he’ll die too, an’ he sends de baby away to some folks dat wants one.
“But he don’t die; he jest worry along, but he’s powerful low in his mind all de time. He think all de time ’bout dem people he poisoned. Fin’lly he say he’ll go ’way agin; he’ll go back ter South America. But before he goes, he gits ter thinkin’ he’d like ter see his chile once. He fin’s out dat de people he sent her to ain’t never got her; dat she’s with somebody else, in a place called Millvale, in dis very state. He go to Millvale, an’ he look in th’u de winder, an’ he see her. She’s the livin’ image of his dead wife, light hair an’ dark eyes an’ all.
“He never let her know he’s her father, ’case he feel so terrible ’bout dem folks he poisoned dat he thinks he ain’t no good, a-tall, an’ mustn’t speak to her. But he’s so wild to see her dat he hang aroun’ in dat town, workin’ odd jobs, an’ at night lookin’ in de window where she sits.
“Den suddenly de folks she’s wif up an’ move away, an’ he cain’t see her no more. He jest cain’t stand it. He finds out dat dey come here to Oakwood, an’ he comes too. But he don’t know which house she live in and he cain’t find her. He gets to wanderin’ around, and one night he comes to de ole big house he uster live in, way up on Main Street Hill. It’s all dark and tumble down, and he thinks he’ll just go in once and look around. He goes in, and inside he hears a voice singin’. It sounds jest like his wife’s voice. She were a beautiful singer, Mis’ ’Lizbeth—de Virginia nightingale, folks uster call her. He stands dere in dat dark, empty house, lissenin’ ter dat voice and he thinks it’s his wife’s sperrit singin’ ter him. She’s singin’ a song she uster sing when she were young, somethin’ about larks.”
Katherine made a convulsive movement, and her heart began to pound strangely.
“Den he say a lady come in de front door and he gits scairt and runs out.”
Katherine’s head began to whirl, and she kept silence with an effort.
“He stand around outside for a while and bimeby an autermobile comes along and de folks carries a girl out of de house and takes her away. He sees de girl when dey’s bringin’ her out, and he knows she’s his. He watches where dat autermobile goes and it comes here.”