I was more younger then. But now my son he'll live on
St. Genevieve, French place there, perhaps thirtee mile. Cap'
Girardeau, seventy-five mile. You'll want for go there?" he added
cunningly.
"Sometime," she remarked calmly. Eleazar was shrewd in his own
way. He strolled off to find his spade.
Before she could resume the conversation Josephine heard behind her
in the hall a step, which already she recognized. Dunwody greeted
her at the door, frowning as he saw her sudden shrinking back at
sight of him.
"Good morning," he said. "You have, I hope, slept well. Have you
and Eleazar here planned any way to escape as yet?" He smiled at
her grimly. Eleazar had shuffled away.
"Not yet."
"You had not come along so far as details then;" smilingly.
"You intruded too soon."
"At least you are frank, then! You will never get away from here
excepting on one condition."
She made no answer, but looked about her slowly. Her eyes rested
upon a little inclosed place where some gray stones stood upright
in the grass; the family burial place, not unusual in such
proximity to the abode of the living, in that part of the country
at the time.
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