"This yer war in his hand——"
With a wild cry the woman threw herself forward, and wound her arms about her husband's knees.
"I didn't go for to do it!" she gasped; "'fore God I didn't!"
Sandy tore himself away from her clinging arms, and she fell prostrate. He looked at her fiercely and coldly.
"Take your hands off me!" he cried. "Don't tech me! Thar's thet ez mus' be made cl'ar between you an' me, woman,—cl'ar ez daylight. Ye've deceived me an' lied to me all along, but ye won't lie to me now. 'Tain't the dead man ez troubles me," he went on grimly, setting his teeth, "'tain't him ez troubles me. I'd 'a' hed to kill him myself afore I'd done with him mos' likely—ef you hadn't. 'Tain't that ez troubles me—it's what went afore! D'ye hear? Thet's what I want ter know an' all I want ter know."
He lifted her up and seated himself before her, a look of savage determination on his face.
"Will ye tell me?"
The woman buried her face upon her arms and rocked backward and forward.
"How can I tell ye,—O Sandy, how can I?" she moaned.
"Ye kin tell me in one word," said her husband. "When ye come back from Richmon' thar wuz them ez tole tales on ye. I hearn 'em, but I didn't believe 'em—I wouldn't believe 'em! Now ye've only ter answer me one question—wur what they said true?"