He held her, with his arm about her waist, half carrying her with him, instead of allowing her to move her own free gait, and she tried vainly with her fingers to pull his hands away; but his muscles were like iron under her touch. He felt her helplessness and liked it. Her voice shook as she pleaded with him.
"Oh, Frale! Hear to me!" she wailed.
"I'll hear to you, ef you'll hear to me. Seems like I've lost my fear now. I hain't carin' no more. Ef I should see the sheriff this minute, an' he war a-puttin' his rope round my neck right now, I wouldn't care 'thout one thing—jes' one thing. I'd walk straight down to hell fer hit,—I reckon I hev done that,—but I'd walk till I drapped, an' work till I died for hit." He stood still a moment, and again she essayed to move his hands, but he only held her closer.
"Oh, hurry, Frale! I'm afraid. Oh, Frale, don't!"
"Be ye 'feared fer me, Cass?"
"You know that, Frale. Leave go, and hear to me."
"Be ye 'feared 'nough to give me your promise, Cass?"
"Take your hand off me, Frale."
"We'll go back. I 'low they mount es well take me first as last. I hain't no heart lef' in me. I don't care fer that thar doctah man he'pin' me, nohow," he choked.