A red glow came into Adam’s face. 'I would go to-night.'
'And Sula?' said the squire.
'I would—' The boy was young, too young to have learned despair from only one bitter experience. Besides, he had not seen Caleb Stemmel’s eyes. 'I would send for her when I could.'
The squire made a rapid reckoning. He did not dare to send the boy away with less than a hundred dollars, and it would take a long while to replace it. He could not, could not send Sula, too, no matter how much he hated divorce, no matter how much he feared Caleb Stemmel’s influence over her, no matter how much he loved Millerstown and every man, woman, and child in it. If he sent Sula, it would mean that he might never start on his own journey. He looked down at her, as she sat drooping in her chair.
'What do you say, Sula?'
Sula looked up at him. It might have been the thought of parting which terrified her, or the recollection of Caleb Stemmel.
'Oh, I would try,' she said faintly; 'I would try to do what is right. But they are after me all the time—and—and—' Her voice failed, and she began to cry.
The squire swung open the door of the old safe.
'You have ten minutes to catch the train,' he said gruffly. 'You must hurry.'
Adam laid a shaking hand on the girl’s shoulder. It was the first time he had been near her for weeks.