Tramp—tramp—tramp—tramp!
"Ain' yo' sorry for him, Miss Iris?" the negress said.
"Why, Ulame, I—I—" the girl seemed struggling to call up an emotion she did not feel. "I know I ought to feel sorry for him."
"An' the papers? Ain' yo' sorry, honey, dem papers is gone—buhned up; dem papers he thought so much of—all buhned by somebody?"
"The papers?—the papers, Ulame?" the girl exclaimed in bewilderment at herself. "Oh—oh, I know it must be terrible to him that they are gone; but I—I can't feel so sorry about them!"
"Yo' can't?" The negress stiffened with anger. "An' he tol' me, too, this mo'nin, now you won't marry him next Thursday lak' yo' promised—since—since yo' foun' dat little green stone! Why is dat—since yo' foun' dat little green stone?"
The sincere bewilderment deepened in the girl's face. "I don't know why, Ulame—I tell you truly," she cried, miserably, "I don't know any reason why that stone—that stone should change me so! Oh, I can't understand it myself; but I know it is so. Ever since I've seen that stone I've known it would be wrong to marry him. But I don't know why!"
"Den I do!" The old negress's eyes blazed wildly. "It's a'caze yo' is voodoo! Yo is voodoo! An' it's all my faul'. Oh yas—yas it is!" She rocked. "For yo'se had the ma'k ever since yo'se been a chile; the ma'k of the debbil's claw! But I nebber tole Marse Richard till too late. But hit's so! Hit's so! The debbil's ma'k is on yo' left shoulder, and the
