The girl’s eyes were dilating with a mute horror, for by some swift intuitive process of the mind, which asked nothing of the logic of events, but dealt only with conclusions, Murrell stood revealed as Norton’s murderer.  Perhaps he read her thoughts, but he had lived in his degenerate ambitions until the common judgments or the understanding of them no longer existed for him.  That Betty had loved Norton seemed inconsequential even; it was a memory to be swept away by the force of his greater passion.  So he watched her smilingly, but back of the smile was the menace of unleashed impulse.

“Can’t you find some word of welcome for me, Betty?” he asked at length, still softly, still with something of entreaty in his tone.

“Then it was you—­not Tom—­who had me brought here!” She could have thanked God had it been Tom, whose hate was not to be feared as she feared this man’s love.

“Tom—­no!” and Murrell laughed.  “You didn’t think I’d give you up?  I am standing with a halter, about my neck, and all for your sake—­who’d risk as much for love of you?” he seemed to expand with savage pride that this was so, and took a step toward her.

“Don’t come near me!” cried Betty.  Her eyes blazed, and she looked at him with’ loathing.

“You’ll learn to be kinder,” he exulted.  “You wouldn’t see me at Belle Plain; what was left for me but to have you brought here?” While Murrell was speaking, the signal that had told of his own presence on the opposite shore of the bayou was heard again.  This served to arrest his attention.  A look of uncertainty passed over his face, then he made an impatient gesture as if he dismissed some thought that had forced itself upon him, and turned to Betty.

“You don’t ask what my purpose is where you are concerned; have you no curiosity on that score?” She endeavored to meet his glance with a glance as resolute, then her eyes sought the boy’s upturned face.  “I am going to send you down river, Betty.  Later I shall join you in New Orleans, and when I leave the country you shall go with me—­”

“Never!” gasped Betty.

“As my wife, or however you choose to call it.  I’ll teach you what a man’s love is like,” he boasted, and extended his hand.  Betty shrank from him, and his hand fell at his side.  He looked at her steadily out of his deep-sunk eyes in which blazed the fires of his passion, and as he looked, her face paled and flushed by turns.  “You may learn to be kind to me, Betty,” he said.  “You may find it will be worth your while.”  Betty made no answer, she only gathered Hanniba closer to her side.  “Why not accept what I have to offer, Betty?” again he went nearer her, and again she shrank from him, but the madness of his mood was in the ascendant.  He seized her and drew her to him.  She struggled to free herself, but his fingers tightened about hers.

“Let me go!” she panted.  He laughed his cool laugh of triumph.