settin' up on dis witch-block right whar I put de Obeah-stone,--dah set our li'lle Belle-Ann lookin' at Slab--I seed her just ez plain, Lemmie--jest ez plain ez I see you des minit--all dressed up white ez snow--an' all dem curls er hangin' down roun' her shoulders, an' her li'lle mouf wus er smilin' at me--an' her beau'ful eyes wus er lookin' right at me--an' I drap down on ma knees--right heah--right heah, whar I stan' now--an' I hollers out: 'Hallelujah!--I allers tol' dem dat yo'd cum back, li'lle gal'--an' she stretch her hands out ter me--an' I bust out er cryin'--I couldn't he'p hit--I bust out er cryin'--an' I heer her voice just ez plain ez I heer ma own now,--I heer her voice like er nightengale's voice,--she say, 'Whar's Lem--whar's Lem--whar's Lem?--yo' Slab--whar's Lem?--blow de horn fo' Lem,--yo' Slab--blow de horn fo' Lem'--an' I git up off ma knees an' go t' tech her han' an' she warn't dah--she goed away jist ez quick ez lighten'--an' I look an' de li'lle Obeah-stone I lay on dat witch-block wus goed away, too--Lemmie--dat means dat we's gwine t' see li'lle Belle-Ann 'fore a great spell--yore due t' find li'lle Belle-Ann, Lemmie,--yo'll sho' see her--Buddy'll see her--Slab's ole eyes'll see her--yo' know, Lemmie,--de good Lord hev His pertic'ler ways t' tell good folks 'bout all des things--He kindy tells dem 'forehand--so's dey hearts won't break--so's dey'll hev c'urage, an' trus' in Him--Slab knows He do--Slab knows." CHAPTER XXXII THE NEAR ASSASSIN The following day Lem Lutts arrayed himself in his newly purchased store clothes and prepared to face a strange, unfriendly world of which he knew little. Not a week, not a day, scarcely an hour had elapsed since Belle-Ann had gone to Proctor that thoughts of her were not uppermost in his mind. Indeed, it was the sustaining hope of seeing her that had held his unhappy being together. It was seemingly a wretched measure of years since that unforgettable day when he had kissed the little scar that crossed the part in her curls, when she had stood before him and crossed her heart, and pledged him that she would surely come back to him. But the day of her return, as he had marked it in his mind, a scintillating goal, promising an epoch of luxuriant life, had come, and long since passed. He had, while in prison, written half a dozen crude letters addressed to Belle-Ann at Beattyville. His credulous mind had always supposed that these missives had reached their destination. As he had never received any reply to his letters, he had deducted that either the subtle influence of education and society had taken hold of her, weaning her heart away from all thoughts of the mountains, or that some unforeseen circumstance beyond her will had kept her silent. If it developed that he could not find her at the school, he had determined, next, to go down into the Big Sandy camps and hunt up her father.