t know, an' he never will. John
Miller, I married as honest an' as good a man as ever you see. Folks has
come to me in sickness an' trouble, an' gone behin' my back to talk. Some
said I done right to take him--'twas Christian in me. Some said I must ha'
been a fool. Some said we wa'n't married a-tall. Wasn't I a Peables?
Didn't I know 'twould be flung up to my face? Wasn't I prouder'n any on
'em?"

A moment's confusion and doubting of senses: then, as the suppressed voice
went on, the colonel remembered. A dozen years ago; before he had meddled
with railroads; back in the old town; soon after taking his father's shop;
he was plaintiff; Ruggles worked in the first room; Porter's testimony;
Becky Peables the sweetheart of both; burglary; loss trifling; George
Ruggles, for one year; came back and married when released; went West. The
old case had scarce crossed his mind for years.

"Yes, you sent him, an' I waited fer him. The day he come out I married
him. We had to dig hard. I'd do it ag'in. Now his boy's saved yer girl's
life to pay ye fer puttin' his father'n State's pris'n. Two year ago
didn't Bill Porter--sick an' a-dyin'--hunt till he foun' me here? Didn't
he go an' swear? Done fer spite. Didn't he sen' me the affydavy?--an' I've
got it safe. Got it swore to by him, with the justice o' the peace's name
signed, an' two witnissis, an' the judge's red seal on top o' that. Could
I go back an' show that paper'n tell how 'twas? Too late! George was dead.
I couldn't go. My folks a'most disowned me when I took him. I said then I
never'd step my foot into their doors. Them that gives me the col'
shoulder once don't do it no more. Come to me?--well an' good. Go to
them?--never."

The bewildered colonel, promising every possible reparation, would have
thrown himself at her feet, could he have done so, for the part he had
taken in the prosecution. But she permitted no interruption, and
continued: "He lay by the winder where yer girl lies. The moon come in on
his bed as it does on her'n. In the night, when I see the light o' the sky
shine there where he died, I feel his sperit in the room. I moved the bed
to this corner, where it's darker. I wa'n't good enough to lie there. But
'twas on his mind. He said, 'Becky, if I could prove it to you afore I
died!' An' I say, George's sperit sent Bill Porter here, an' sent you
here, an' sent me into this room to-night. Now, fer the sake o'him an'
Markis-dee, go back an' tell the truth!"