sees that they find out what they need to know out of men’s lying, without needing to ask. And that they don’t find out what they don’t need to know, without even knowing they have not found it out. And so I don’t know for sure what she knows and what she don’t know. Except that I have kept it from her that it was the man she is hunting for that told on the murderer and that he is in jail now except when he is out running with dogs the man that took him up and befriended him. I have kept that from her.”
“And what are you going to do now? Where does she want to move?”
“She wants to go out there and wait for him. I told her that he is away on business for the sheriff. So I didn’t lie altogether. She had already asked me where he lived and I had already told her. And she said that was the place where she belonged until he came back, because that is his house. She said that’s what he would want her to do. And I couldn’t tell her different, that that cabin is the last place in the world he would want her to ever see. She wanted to go out there, as soon as I got home from the mill this evening. She had her bundle all tied up and her bonnet on, waiting for me to get home. ‘I started once to go on by myself,’ she said. ‘But I wasn’t sho I knowed the way.’ And I said ‘Yes; only it was too late today and we would go out there tomorrow,’ and she said, ‘It’s a hour till dark yet. It ain’t but two miles, is it?’ and I said to let’s wait because I would have to ask first, and she said, ‘Ask who? Ain’t it Lucas’s house?’ and I could feel her watching me and she said, ‘I thought you said that that was where Lucas lived,’ and she was watching me and she said, ‘Who is this preacher you keep on going to talk to about me?’ ”
“And you are going to let her go out there to live?”
“It might be best. She would be private out there, and she would be away from all the talking until this business is over.”
“You mean, she has got her mind set on it, and you won’t stop her. You don’t want to stop her.,”
Byron does not look up. “In a way, it is his house. The nighest thing to a home of his own he will ever own, I reckon. And he is her …”
“Out there alone, with a child coming. The nearest house a few negro cabins a half mile away.” He watches Byron’s face.
“I have thought of that. There are ways, things that can be done …”
“What things? What can you do to protect her out there?”
Byron does not answer at once; he does not look up. When he speaks his voice is dogged. “There are secret things a man can do without being evil, Reverend. No matter how they might look to folks.”
“I don’t think that you could do anything that would be very evil, Byron, no matter how it looked to folks. But are you going to undertake to say just how far evil extends into the appearance of evil? just where between doing and appearing evil stops?”
“No,” Byron says. Then he moves slightly; he speaks as if he too were waking: “I hope not. I reckon I am trying to do the right thing by my lights.”—‘And that,’ Hightower thinks, ‘is the firt lie he ever told me. Ever told anyone, man or woman, perhaps including himself.’ He looks across the desk at the stubborn, dogged, sober face that has not yet looked at him. ‘Or maybe it is not lie yet because he does not know himself that it is so.’ He says:
“Well.” He speaks now with a kind of spurious brusqueness which, flabbyjowled and darkcaverneyed, his face belies. “That is settled, then. You’ll take her out there, to his house, and you’ll see that she is comfortable and you’ll see that she is not disturbed until this is over. And then you’ll tell that man—Bunch, Brown—that she is here.”
“And he’ll run,” Byron says. He does not look up, yet through him there seems to go a wave of exultation, of triumph, before he can curb and hide it, when it is too late to try. For the moment he does not attempt to curb it; backthrust too in his hard chair, looking for the first time at the minister, with a face confident and bold and suffused. The other meets his gaze steadily.
“Is that what you want him to do?” Hightower says. They sit so in the lamplight. Through the open window comes the hot, myriad silence of the breathless night. “Think what you are doing. You are attempting to come between man and wife.”
Byron has caught himself. His face is no longer triumphant. But he looks steadily at the older man. Perhaps he tried to catch his voice too. But he cannot yet. “They aint man and wife yet,” he says.
“Does she think that? Do you believe that she will say that?” They look at one another. “Ah, Byron, Byron. What are a few mumbled words before God, before the steadfastness of a woman’s nature? Before that child?”
“Well, he may not run. If he gets that reward, that money. Like enough he will be drunk enough on a thousand dollars to do anything, even marry.”
“Ah, Byron, Byron.”
“Then what do you think we—I ought to do? What do you advise?”
“Go away. Leave Jefferson.” They look at one another. “No,” Hightower says. “You don’t need my help. You are already being helped by someone stronger than I am.”
For a moment Byron does not speak. They look at one another, steadily. “Helped by who?”
“By the devil,” Hightower says.
‘And the devil is looking after
“Well, they found that nigger’s trail at last,” the proprietor said.
“Negro?” Hightower said. He became utterly still, in the act of putting into his pocket the change from his purchases.
“That bah—fellow; the murderer. I said all the time that he wasn’t right. Wasn’t a white man. That there was
