A shiver passed through Betty. She was seeing it all again—Charley as he groped among the graves with the hand of death heavy upon him.
A moment later she was alone. The girl had disappeared. There was only the shifting shadows as the wind tossed the branches of the trees, and the bands of golden light that slanted along the empty path. The fear of the unknown leaped up afresh in Betty's soul, in an instant her flying feet had borne her to the boy's side.
“Come—come quick, Hannibal!” she gasped out, and seized his hand.
“What is it, Miss Betty? What's the matter?” asked Hannibal as they fled panting up the terraces.
“I don't know—only we must get away from here just as soon as we can!” Then, seeing the look of alarm on the child's face, she added more quietly, “Don't be frightened, dear, only we must go away from Belle Plain at once.” But where they were to go, she had not considered.
Reaching the house, they stole up to Betty's room. Her well-filled purse was the important thing; that, together with some necessary clothing, went into a small hand-bag.
“You must carry this, Hannibal; if any one sees us leave the house they'll think it something you are taking away,” she explained. Hannibal nodded understandingly.
“Don't you trust your niggers, Miss Betty?” he whispered as they went from the room.
“I only trust you, dear!”
“What makes you go? Was it something that woman told you? Are they coming after us, Miss Betty? Is it Captain Murrell?”