"
"I know your half-brother, Tom Ware--I know him very well."
There was another brief silence.
"So you know Tom?" she presently observed, and frowned slightly.
Tom was her guardian, and her memories of him were not
satisfactory. A burly, unshaven man with a queer streak of
meanness through his character. She had not seen him since she
had been sent north to Philadelphia, and their intercourse had
been limited to infrequent letters. His always smelled of
strong, stale tobacco, and the well-remembered whine in the man's
voice ran through his written sentences.
"You've spent much of your time up North?" suggested Murrell.
"Four years. I've been at school, you know. That's where I met
Judith."
"I hope you'll like West Tennessee. It's still a bit raw
compared with what you've been accustomed to in the North. You
haven't been back in all those four years?" Betty shook her head.
"Nor seen Tom--nor any one from out yonder?" For some reason a
little tinge of color had crept into Betty's cheeks. "Will you
let me renew our acquaintance at Belle Plain? I shall be in West
Tennessee before the summer is over; probably I shall leave here
within a week," he said, bending toward her. His glance dwelt on
her face and the pliant lines of her figure, and his sense swam.
Since their first meeting the girl's beauty had haunted and
allured him; with his passionate sense of life he was disposed to
these violent fancies, and he had a masterful way with women just
as he had a masterful way with men.
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