The next day Mrs.
Swiggart drove up to the barn, tied her horse to the hitching-post,
and walked with impressive dignity up the garden path. We had time to
note that something was amiss. Her dark eyes, beneath darker brows,
intensified a curious pallor--that sickly hue which is seen upon the
faces of those who have suffered grievously in mind or body. Ajax
opened the door, and offered her a chair, but not his hand. She did
not seem to notice the discourtesy. We asked if her mother had
suffered from the effects of her wetting.
"Mother has been very sick," she replied, in a lifeless voice. "She's
been at death's door. For five days I've prayed to Almighty God, and I
swore that if He'd see fit to spare mother, I'd come down here, and on
my bended knees"--she sank on the floor--"ask for your forgiveness as
well as His. Don't come near me," she entreated; "let me say what must
be said in my own way. When I married Laban Swiggart I was an honest
woman, though full o' pride and conceit. And he was an honest man. To-
day we're thieves and liars."
"Mrs. Swiggart," said Ajax, springing forward and raising her to her
feet.
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