He passed his hands over his eyes. "Bet, I done somethin' for you that for yer sake I'm now a-goin' ter undo. Next Sunday is meetin' day at Cool Spring, an' I'm a-goin' ter make public acknowledgments o' my temptations, an' the doin's o' Satan in my heart. I've keered for you mighty nigh to the ruination o' my hopes fer a better world. But if God A'mighty kin fergive me, then you kin tu, Bet. Good-evenin'."
He turned to go. She sprang up, scattering her quilt pieces right and left.
"Bill!" she gasped, but he strode hastily out of the room, mounted his horse, and rode away.
The last song had been sung and the congregation at Cool Spring church were about to rise to receive the benediction when Bill Sanders stood up, and clearing his throat, looked around on the people. As he met the curious expectant eyes fixed upon him, he seemed to waver—to flinch from his purpose.
"Now speak out, Brother Sanders," said the pastor encouragingly, and the kindly voice of the old man gave him fresh strength.
"Broth'r'n an' sist'r'n, it becomes my duty ter tell you o' the temptations I've be'n a-fallin' under this year, an' ter ax yer forgiveness an' yer prayers. I've be'n a-wanderin' fur from the right way. I done er turrible thing ter brother Tom Fannin—took away his good name, an' made him a byword an' en example o' evil among you. Fer the sake o' one who it ain't becomin' in me ter name here, an' who ain't ter blame any more'n a innocent child, I 'lowed myself ter hate him—ter wanter cast disfavor 'pon him."
He paused, and a pinfall might have been heard in that church, so intensely quiet, so breathless were the excited people. He looked at Tom Fannin leaning forward eagerly on his seat, then his eyes rested for a moment on Bet Crow's drooping face, and he could almost feel the quick flutter of the pulse in her round soft throat. His eyes sank to the floor; he drew a long breath.
"Broth'r'n, this is er public acknowledgment, an' the solemn, bindin' truth—I put that money in Tom Fannin's pocket with my own hands."
He said no more, but sat down and hid his face in his hands, and a stir and murmur seemed to sweep over the church like a wave. The agitation, excitement, seemed about to break dignified Christian bounds, when Mr. Jesse Crow rose and solemnly said:
"Broth'r'n, we have all heard the public acknowledgments o' Brother Sanders's wrong-doin'. He has tole it 'thout bein' axed, an' o' his own free will an' inclernation. In dealin' with this errin' brother we mus' bear in min' thar air allus extinguishin' sarcumstances surroundin' ever' deed done by weak mortal creeturs, an' a confession o' guilt is er long way to'ards complete repentance."