, an' that's a fact.
Wal, one day las' fall after the leaves was off an' they could see a
corner o' my house through the bushes, Tom was walkin' the ol' man
'round the room. All to once he stopped an' p'inted at my house through
the winder an' kep' p'intin'. Tom come over an' said he ca'llated the
squire wanted to see me. So I went there. Kate met me at the door. Gosh!
How old an' kind o' broke down she looked! But I knew her the minute I
set my eyes on her--uh huh--an' she knew me--yis, sir--she smiled an'
tears come to her eyes an' she patted my hand like she wanted to tell me
that she hadn't forgot, but she never said a word--not a word. The ol'
squire had the palsy, so 't he couldn't use his hands an' his throat was
paralyzed--couldn't speak ner nothin'. Where do ye suppose he was when I
found him?"

"In bed?" I asked.

"No, sir--no, siree! He was in hell--that's where he was--reg'lar ol'
fashioned, down-east hell, burnin' with fire an' brimstun, that he'd had
the agency for an' had recommended to every sinner in the neighborhood.
He was settin' in his room. God o' Isr'el! You orto 'a' seen the motions
he made with his hands an' the way he tried to speak when I went in
there, but all I could hear was jest a long yell an' a kind of a rattle
in his throat. Heavens an' airth! how desperit he tried to spit out the
thing that was gnawin' his vitals. Ag'in an' ag'in he'd try to tell me.
Lord God! how he did work!

"All to once it come acrost me what he wanted--quick as ye could say
scat. He wanted to have Kate's headstun took down an' put away--that's
what he wanted. That stun was kind o' layin' on his stummick an' painin'
of him day an' night. He couldn't stan' it. He knew that he was goin' to
die purty soon an' that Kate would come here an' see it an' that
everybody would see her standin' here by her own grave, an' it worried
him. It was kind o' like a fire in his belly.

"I guess, too, he couldn't bear the idee o' layin' down fer his las'
sleep beside that hell hole he'd dug fer Kate--no, sir!

"Wal, ye know, mister, I jes' shook my head an' never let on that I knew
what he meant an' let him wiggle an' twist like a worm on a hot griddle,
an' beller like a cut bull 'til he fell back in a swoon.

"Damn him! it don't give him no rest. He tries to tell everybody he
sees--that's what they say. He bellers day an' night an' if you go down
there he'll beller to you an' you'll know what it's about, but the
others don't.