that she looked up at him with a quick and frightened start.
"Killing men, Mr. Hartwell, never will clear you of the charge that stands against you, nor wipe away the disgrace that has come to this house through you. For Heaven's sake, go—leave Cottonwood—without making any more trouble!"
Texas was hurt to the marrow by her unwillingness to believe him, by her harping on the one string of his taint, and the sorrow that had come from it to her door. He felt that there was no use in going into the matter of Henry Stott's connection with his unfortunate entanglement, no profit in remaining there another minute in fruitless attempt to place himself in a more favorable light. Perhaps if Sallie had been there it would have been different. But Sallie was tossing that moment on her bed, burning in the fever of the first shame that ever had come into her life.
"You are a man of violence, Mr. Hartwell, you came into my daughter's notice by a violent deed. What can an outcast man, such as your doings in this country have made you, hope to gain by further violence? Surely not vindication!"
"It's guilty folks that talk of vindication, mainly, ma'am. I want justice."
"And my poor daughter—who will give her justice?"
