Betty felt a pallor steal over her face.  She rested a hand that shook on the trunk of a tree to steady herself.  The girl laughed shortly.

“Don’t be so scared; I reckon Belle Plain’s as good as his if anything happened to you?”

By a great effort Betty gained a measure of control over herself.  She took a step nearer and looked the girl steadily in the face.

“Perhaps you will stop this sort of talk, and tell me what is going to happen to me—­if you know?” she said quietly.

“Why do you reckon Mr. Norton was shot?  I can tell you why—­it was all along of you—­that was why!” The girl’s furtive glance, which searched and watched the gathering shadows, came back as it always did to Betty’s pale face.  “You ain’t no safer than he was, I tell you!” and she sucked in her breath sharply between her full red lips.

“What do you mean?” faltered Betty.

“Do you reckon you’re safe here in the big house alone?  Why do you reckon Mr. Tom cleared out for Memphis?  It was because he couldn’t be around and have anything happen to you—­that was why!” and the girl sank her voice to a whisper.  “You quit Belle Plain now—­to-night—­just as soon as you can!”

“This is absurd—­you are trying to frighten me!”

“Did they stop with trying to frighten Charley Norton?” demanded Bess with harsh insistence.

Whatever the promptings that inspired this warning, they plainly had nothing to do with either liking or sympathy.  Her dominating emotion seemed to be a sullen sort of resentment which lit up her glance with a dull fire; yet her feelings were so clearly and so keenly personal that Betty understood the motive that had brought her there.  The explanation, she found, left her wondering just where and how her own fate was linked with that of this poor white.

“You have been waiting some time to see me?” she asked.

“Ever since along about noon.”

“You were afraid to come to the house?”

“I didn’t want to be seen there.”

“And yet you knew I was alone.”

“Alone—­but how do you know who’s watching the place?”

“Do you think there was reason to be afraid of that?” asked Betty.

Again the girl stamped her foot with angry impatience.

“You’re just wastin’ time—­just foolin’ it away—­and you ain’t got none to spare!”

“You must tell me what I have to fear—­I must know more or I shall stay just where I am!”

“Well, then, stay!” The girl turned away, and then as quickly turned back and faced Betty once more.  “I reckon he’d kill me if he knew—­I reckon I’ve earned that already—­”

“Of whom are you speaking?”

“He’ll have you away from here to-night!”

“He? . . . who? . . . and what if I refuse to go?”

“Did they ask Charley Norton whether he wanted to live or die?” came the sinister question.

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.