Turning a corner of the road he came upon a clear space and on the borders of the clearing to the right some cottages. There were some half-naked pikaninnies playing in the grass before them; and a coloured woman, washing at a tub set on trestles, catching sight of him, stood, shading her eyes and looking in his direction. Silas paused for a moment as if undecided, then he came on. He asked the woman his whereabouts and then whether she could sell him some food. She had nothing but some corn bread and cold bacon to offer him and he bought it, paying her a dollar and not listening to her when she told him she could not make change. He was like a man doing things in his sleep; his mind seemed a thousand miles away. The woman packed the bread and bacon in a mat basket with a plate and knife and watched him turn back in his tracks and vanish round the bend of the road, glad to see the last of him. She reckoned him crazy. He was going back to Phyl. His resolution never to see her again had vanished. She was his and he was going to keep her, no matter what happened. He would never part with her alive, if she killed him, if he killed her, what matter. Nothing would stand in his path. He reached the turning and there in the sunlight lay the half ruined cabins and the well. Walking softly he came to the door of the cabin where he had left Phyl. She was there lying on the straw fast asleep. It was the sleep that comes after exhaustion or profound excitement; she scarcely seemed to breathe. Putting his bundle down by the door he came in softly and knelt down beside her. His face was so close to hers that he could feel her breath upon his mouth. It only wanted that to complete his madness. He was about to cast himself beside her when a pain, vicious and sharp as the stab of a red hot needle struck him just above his right instep. CHAPTER V When Richard Pinckney came down to breakfast that morning, he found Miss Pinckney seated at the table reading letters. "Phyl went out early and has not come back yet," said she putting the letters aside and pouring out the tea. "Gone out," said he. "Where can she have gone to?" Miss Pinckney did not seem to hear the question. She was not thinking of Phyl or her whereabouts. Richard's engagement to Frances Rhett was still dominating her mind, casting a shadow upon everything. It was like a death in the family. "I hope she's not bothered about what happened last night," went on Richard. "I didn't tell you at the time, but I had--some words with Silas Grangerson, and--Phyl was there. Silas is a fool, but it's just as well the thing happened for it has brought matters to a head. I want to tell you something--I'm not engaged to Frances Rhett." "Not engaged?" "I was, but it's broken off. I had a moment's talk with her before we left last night. I was in a temper about a lot of things, and the business with Silas put the cap on it. Anyhow, we had words, and the thing is broken off."