“I guess it was,” she said, after a long time.
“I knowed it,” he cried. “I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer don't
belong with us no more.”
“Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, too!”
“Here, too?” He looked at her in astonishment. “Yer wasn't in HIS way,
was yer, Poll?”
“Yes, Jim.” She saw his look of unbelief and continued hurriedly. “Oh,
I tried not to be. I tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of a
Bible about my way being his way and my people his people, but it isn't
so, Jim. Your way is the way you are born, and your people are the
people you are born with, and you can't change it, Jim, no matter how
hard you try.”
“YOU was changin' it,” he answered, savagely. “You was gettin' jes'
like them people. It was me what took yer away and spoiled it all. You
oughtn't to a come. What made yer, after yer said yer wouldn't?”
She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind of the
slow-witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult question.
“Will yer answer me somethin' straight?” he asked.
“Why, of course,” she said as she met his gaze.
“Do you love the parson, Poll?”
She started.
“Is that it?”
Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her lips
apart, then looked far into the distance.
“Yes, Jim, I'm afraid--that's it.” The little figure drooped, and
she stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked at her
helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head.
“Ain't that hell?”
It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a cooing
babe, at her dead mother's side. He watched the tender, averted face.
Things had turned out so differently from what he had planned.
“And he didn't care about you--like that?” he asked, after a pause.
“No, not in that way.” She was anxious to defend the pastor from even
the thought of such a thing. “He was good and kind always, but he didn't
care THAT WAY. He's not like that.”
“I guess I'll have a talk with him,” said Jim, and he turned to go.
“Talk!” she cried.
He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. It was the first time
that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was
stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing.
“If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me again.”
Jim was perplexed.
“I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. If you
ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run away--really and
truly away--and you'll never, never get me back.”
He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for
the little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, toying
nervously with the tiny fingers.
“I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was just a
tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how.”
She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on his
great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her
heart.
Chapter XIV
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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