The boy stood speechless. There were things he wanted to say, things he wanted to promise. This day, this spot, this one bright morning was important. This man had saved his life, and suddenly he knew that his life was important. He laid his hand on the black man’s arm. “I won’t be forgettin’,” he said. They walked together out into the morning and stood a moment on the knoll, looking down at the bay. Then Frederick turned his back and walked toward the trees. At the edge of the woods he stopped and waved his hand, then disappeared in the hidden lane. CHAPTER TWO _The road winds about Chesapeake Bay_ The roof of the colorless house needed mending. Its sagging made the attic ceiling slope at a crazy angle. Rainy weather--it always started in the middle of the night--it leaked, and Amelia had to pull her bed out onto the middle of the floor. The bed was a narrow iron affair, not too heavy to move. Amelia never complained. She was grateful for the roof her sister’s husband had put over her head. Edward Covey was considered a hard man. Amelia’s neighbors could barely hide their pity when she announced that she was going to live with her sister. “You mean the one who married Ed Covey?” Then they sort of coughed and wished they hadn’t asked the question. After all, where else could Tom Kemp’s poor widow go? Lem Drake chewed a long time without a word after his wife told him the news. Then he spat. “’Melia never did no harm to nobody,” he said. “Old devil!” Lem knew his wife was referring to Edward Covey. Otherwise he would have reproved her. Wasn’t fitting talk for a woman. So Amelia Kemp came down to the Bay to live in Edward Covey’s house. Amelia was still bewildered. At thirty, she felt her life was over. Seemed like she hadn’t ought to take Tom’s death so hard. She’d known her husband was going to die: everybody else did. But Tom had kept on pecking at his land up there on the side of the hill. His pa had died, his ma had died, his brother had died. Now he was dead--all of them--pecking at the land. Edward Covey was different. He was “getting ahead.” Her sister Lucy had stressed that difference from the moment of her arrival. Unnecessarily, Amelia was sure; because in spite of her heavy heart she had been properly impressed. What almost shook the widow out of her lethargy was her sister Lucy. She wouldn’t have known her at all. True, they had not seen each other for years, and they were both older. Amelia knew that hill women were apt to be pretty faded by the time they were thirty-four. But Lucy, living in the low country, looked like an old hag. Amelia was shocked at her own thoughts. “Mr. Covey’s a God-fearing man.”