Falchion. He inquired for her,
creating some astonishment by his uncouth appearance and unsteady manner.
He learned from Justine that Mrs. Falchion had gone to see Roscoe, and
that he would probably meet her if he went that way. This he did. He was
just about to issue into a partly open space by a ravine near the house,
when he heard voices, and his own name mentioned. He stilled and
listened.
"Yes, Galt Roscoe," said a voice, "Sam Kilby is the man that loved
Alo--loved her not as you did. He would have given her a home, have made
her happy, perhaps. You, when Kilby was away, married her--in native
fashion--which is no marriage--and KILLED her."
"No, no, I did not kill her--that is not so. As God is my Judge, that is
not so."
"You did not kill her with the knife? . . . Well, I will be honest now,
and say that I believe that, whatever I may have hinted or said before.
But you killed her just the same when you left her."
"Mercy Falchion," he said desperately, "I will not try to palliate my
sin. But still I must set myself right with you in so far as I can. The
very night Alo killed herself I had made up my mind to leave the navy.
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