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He was
soothed and cheered; his head lifted itself in the presentiment of
a future less lonely than the past, and the everlasting trouble
vanished from his eyes.
Suddenly, at a turn of the path, two mowers from the meadow, with
their scythes upon their shoulders, came upon him. He had not
heard their feet on the deep turf. His chest relaxed, and his head
began to sink; then, with the most desperate effort in his life, he
lifted it again, and, darting a rapid side glance at the men,
hastened by. They could not understand the mixed defiance and
supplication of his face; to them he only looked "queer."
"Been committin' a murder, have you?" asked one of them, grinning.
"Startin' off on his journey, I guess," said the other.

The next instant they were gone, and Jacob, with set teeth and
clinched hands, smothered something that would have been a howl if
he had given it voice. Sharp lines of pain were marked on his
face, and, for the first time, the idea of resistance took fierce
and bitter possession of his heart.


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