He could not mistake the light that flickered between her fluttering lids. There was an answer hovering about the red, bowed lips. Her enhanced loveliness in the new sailor dress ravished his senses. Such a girl! She had always been his, he told himself. He knew she would come back to him. Then a sober fear assailed him again, that contradicted his faith. "Belle-Ann," he queried, "when yo'-all git yore deah little haid stuffed with th' larnin', an' th' high-tucked ways at th' school--an' know all 'bout books an' sich, mebby yo'-all won't never 'low t' cum back heah agin? Mebby I won't never see yo'-all agin, deah little gal, eh?" She stopped and stood rigid. "I kin promise thet, Lem. Heah, watch me, I cross my heart thesaway, Lem--see? Now kiss my han'. I'll sho' cum back some day, Lem--I promise." Eagerly, ravenously, he grasped her small hand, brown, but fine-textured. A dozen times he kissed it hotly, fervently, wrung with sorrow. So much might happen before he saw her again! At this juncture, a cow-horn sounded, and they knew that Belle-Ann's father was waiting. The time of parting was at hand. That vibrant horn-call sank deep into Lem's smarting soul. "Kiss me heah, Lem," the girl said, showing the top of her head. He well knew what she meant. He placed his hands on her soft curls and pressed his lips to the little white scar that crossed the part in her hair. He had kissed it before. Many times now, did he press it. His throat pained terribly as he poured his fervent kisses of adoration upon this tiny scar that he had accidentally inflicted years ago, in the excitement of a sham battle. She suddenly tore away from him and ran ahead. She dared not trust herself to linger longer. He followed, a tribute of grief in his resigned, dull eyes, like a man with flowers to put on a mound. When Lem left the spot, Orlick ducked sneakingly out of a dense clump of laurel where he had watched the love scene with burning eyes--eyes glittering with hate and jealousy. Unheard and unobserved, he slunk away through the pawpaw thicket into the impenetrable rhododendrons. For hours he had followed Lem that morning. But he had been too far away to overhear anything that passed between him and the girl. Now that old Cap Lutts was gone, Orlick had hidden here with the intention of killing Lem. He had worked his way up on his stomach and was just inching his rifle into position, when the girl appeared, and he desisted for some remote reason of his own. However, he slunk away, his foul heart beating high with hate. If he could not have Belle-Ann, he would make sure that Lem would not. As she neared the horse-block, Belle-Ann turned and waited for Lem. "Will yo' sho' kill th' ghost-man, Lem?" she reminded him in parting. He nodded apathetically. He was beyond the heat of any enthusiasm in this tense minute. He only knew that she was going away from him.