Transcriber's note

Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Printererrors have been changed and are listed at the end. All otherinconsistencies are as in the original. 

THE LOVE STORY OF ABNER STONE

 THE LOVE STORY

 OF

 ABNER STONE

 _By_ EDWIN CARLILE LITSEY

 NEW YORK A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY MCMII

 _Copyright, 1902_ BY A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY _Published June, 1902_

 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 REPRINTED JULY, 1902

 UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 

TO HER

Preface

It seems a little strange that I, Abner Stone, now verging upon myseventieth year, should bring pen, ink, and paper before me, with theavowed purpose of setting down the love story of my life, which I hadthought locked fast in my heart forever. A thing very sacred to me; ofthe world, it is true, yet still apart from it, the blessed memory of itall has abode in my breast with the unfading distinctness of an oldpicture done in oils, and has brightened the years I have thus far livedon the shadowed slope of life. And now has come the firm belief that theworld may be made better by the telling of this story--as my life hasbeen made better by having lived it--and so I shall essay the brief andsimple task before my fingers have grown too stiff to hold the pen, trusting that some printer of books will be good enough to put my storyinto a little volume for all who would care to read. And I, as I pursuethe work which I have appointed unto myself, shall again stroll throughthe meadows and forests of dear Kentucky, shall tread her dusty highwaysunder the spell of a bygone June, and shall sit within the portals of anold home whose floors are now pressed by an alien foot. Now, ere I havescarce begun, the recollections come upon me like a flood, and this pagebecomes blurred to my failing sight. O Memory! Memory! and the visionsof thine!

THE LOVE STORY _of_ ABNER STONE

I

It is a long path which stretches from forty-five to seventy. A patheasy enough to make, for each day's journey through life is a part ofit, but very difficult to retrace. When we turn at that advancedmile-stone and look back, things seem misty. For there is many a twistand angle in the highway of a life, and often the things which we wouldforget stand out the clearest. But I would not drive from my brain thisquiet afternoon the visions which enfold it, --the blessed recollectionsof over a score of years ago. For the sweet voice which speaks in myear as I write I have never ceased to hear; the face which the mirror ofmy mind ever reflects before my eyes I have looked upon withnever-tiring eagerness, and the tender hand which I can imagine betimescreeping into my own, is the chiefest blessing of a life nearly spent. 

There is no haunting memory of past misdeeds to shadow the quiet rest ofmy last days. As I bid my mind go back over the path which my feet havetrod, no ghost uprises to confront it; no voice cries out forretribution or justice; not even does a dumb animal whine at a blowinflicted, nor a worm which my foot has wantonly pressed, appear. Iwould show forth no self-praise in this, but rather a devoutthankfulness unto the Creator who made me as I am, with a heart of mercyfor all living things, and a reverent love for all His wonderful works. The beauty of tree, and flowering plant, and lowly creeper abides withme as an everlasting joy, and the song of the humblest singer the forestshelters finds a response in my heart. Without my window now, as I sitdown to make a history of part of my life, a brown-coated Englishsparrow is chattering in a strange jargon to his mate on the limb of anEarly Harvest apple tree, and I pause a moment to listen to his shrilllittle voice, and to watch the black patch under his throat puff up anddown. 

It is the fall of the year, and the afternoon is gray. At times an arrowof sunlight breaks through the shields of clouds, and kisses the brownearth with a quivering spot of light. Across the sloping, unkept lawn, about midway between the house and the whitewashed gate leading from theyard, a rabbit hops, aimlessly, his back humped up, and his white tailshowing plainly amid his sombre surroundings. I can see the musclesabout his nostrils twitching, as he stops now and again to nibble at awithered tuft of grass. A lonely jay flits from one tree to another; acardinal speeds by my window, a line of color across a dark background;and one by one the dry leaves drop noiselessly down, making thicker thesoft covering which Nature is spreading over the breast of Mother Earth. 

It may be that I shall not see the resurrection of another spring. Eachwinter that has passed for the last few years has grown a little harderfor me, and my breathing becomes difficult in the damp, cold weather. Perhaps my eyes shall not again behold the glorious flood of light andcolor which follows the footsteps of spring; perhaps when the earth iswrapped once more in its mantle of leaves they shall lie over my breastas well. For man's years upon this earth are measured in Holy Writ asthreescore and ten, and come December fourth next, I shall have lived myallotted time. My ways have not all been ways of pleasantness, nor allmy paths peace. But I am glad to have lived; to have known the hopes ofyouth and the trials of manhood. To have felt within my soul thatemotion which rules the earth and the universes, and which is Heaven'sundefiled gift to Man. From books I have gained knowledge; from thelessons of life I have learned wisdom; from love I have found the waywhich leads to life eternal. 

Old age is treacherous, and it comes to me now that maybe I have delayedmy work too long. For the mind of age does not move with the nimblenessof a young colt, but rather with the labored efforts of a beast ofburden whose limbs are stiff from a life of toil. But this I know, thatthere is a period in my existence which the years cannot dim. I havelived it over again and again, winter and summer, summer and winter, here in my quiet country home among the hills. There has been nothing tomy life but that; first, the living of it, and then the memory of it. 

It is my love story. 

II

In the spring of 1860, I was a lodger in a respectable boarding-house onChestnut Street, in Louisville. My father--God rest his soul--had passedaway ten years before, and I was able to live comfortably upon theincome of my modest inheritance, as I was his sole child, and my dearmother was to me but an elusive memory of childhood. Sometimes, in stillevenings just before I lit my student's lamp, and I sat alone musing, Iwould catch vague glimpses of a sweet, pure face with calm, grayeyes--but that was all. No figure, no voice, not even her hair, butsometimes my mind would picture an aureole around her head. I haveoften wondered why she was taken from me before I could have known her, but I have also striven not to be rebellious. But she must have been anunusual woman, for my father never recovered from her loss, and to theday of his death he wore a tress of her hair in a locket over his heart. I have it now, and I wear it always. 

I was of a timid disposition, and retiring nature, and so myacquaintances were few, and of close friends I had not one. My morningsand evenings were spent with my books, and in the afternoons I tooksolitary walks, often wandering out into the country, if the weather wasfine, for the blue sky had a charm for me, and I loved to look at thedistant hills, --the hazy and purple undulations which marked thehorizon. And Nature was never the same to me. Always changing, alwayssome beauty before undiscovered bursting on my sight, and her limitlesshalls were full of paintings and of songs of which I would never tire. Then, as evening closed in, and I would reluctantly turn back to mycrowded quarters, the sordid streets and the cramped appearance ofeverything would fret me, and almost make me envious of the sparrowperched on the telegraph wire over my head. For he, at least, was liftedabove this thoughtless, hurrying throng among which I was compelled topass, and the piteous, supplicating voice of the blind beggar at thecorner did not remind him that even thus he might some day become. Andthus, when my feet brought me to the line of traffic, as I returnedhome, I would unconsciously hasten my steps, for the moil and toil of acity's strife I could not bear. 

In the spring of 1860, these long walks to the country became morefrequent. I had been cooped up for four rigorous months, apredisposition to taking cold always before me as a warning that I mustbe careful in bad weather. And the confines of a fourteen by eighteenroom naturally become irksome after weeks and weeks of intimateacquaintance. It is true there were two windows to my apartment. Aglance from one only showed me the side of a house adjoining the one inwhich I stayed, but the other gave me a view of a thoroughfare, and bythis window I sat through many a bleak winter day, watching thepassers-by. One night there was a sleet, and when I looked out the nextmorning, everything was covered in a gray coat of ice. A young maplegrew directly under my window, and its poor head was bent over as thoughin sorrow at the treatment it had to endure, and its branches hunglistlessly in their icy case, with a frozen raindrop at the end of eachtwig. The sidewalks were treacherous, and I found some amusement inwatching the pedestrians as they warily proceeded along the slipperypavement, most of them treading as though walking on egg-shells. Therewent an old gentleman who must have had business down town, for I hadseen him pass every day. This morning he carried a stick in his hand, and I discovered that it was pointed with some sharp substance thatwould assist him, for every time he lifted it up, it left a little whitespot in the coating of ice. There went a schoolboy, helter-skelter, swinging his books by a strap, running and sliding along the pavement inprofound contempt for its dangers. A jaunty little Miss with fur wrapsand veiled face, but through the thin obstruction I could plainly seetwo rosy cheeks, and a pair of dancing eyes. Her tiny feet, likewise, passed on without fear, and she disappeared. Heaven grant they may restas firm on every path through life!

Next came an aged woman, who moved with faltering feet, and always keptone hand upon the iron fence enclosing the small yard, as a support. Each step was taken slowly, and with trepidation, and I wished for themoment that I was beside her, to lend her my arm. Some errand of mercyor dire necessity called her forth on such a perilous venture, and Ifelt that, whatever the motive be, it would shield her from mishap. Andso they passed, youth and age, as the day wore on. In the afternoon theold gentleman re-passed, and I saw that his back was a little morestooped, and he leaned heavier on his stick. For each day adds weight tothe shoulders of age. 

And now a miserable cur came sniffing along the gutter on the oppositeside of the street. His ribs showed plainly through his dirty yellowcoat, the scrubby hair along his back stood on end, and his tail washeld closely between his legs. And so he tipped along, half-starved, vainly seeking some morsel of food. He stopped and looked up, shiveringvisibly as the cold wind pierced him through and through, then trottedto the middle of the street, and began nosing something lying there. Ahandsome coupé darted around the corner, taking the centre of the road. The starving cur never moved, so intent was he on obtaining food, andthus it happened that a pitiful yelp of pain reached my ears, muffled bythe closed window. The coupé whirled on its journey, and below, in thechill, desolate grayness of a winter afternoon, an ugly pup sat howlingat the leaden skies, his right foreleg upheld, part of it dangling in avery unnatural manner. A pang of compassion for the dumb unfortunatestirred in my breast, but I sat still and watched. He tried to walk, butthe effort was a failure, and again he sat down and howled, this timewith his meagre face upturned to my window. The street was empty, as faras I could see, for twilight was almost come, and cheery firesides weremore tempting than slippery pavements and stinging winds. The muffledtones of distress became weaker and more despairing, and I could endurethem no longer. I quickly arose and cast off my dressing-gown andslippers. In less than a minute I had on shoes, coat, and great-coat, and was quietly stealing down the stairs. Tenderly I took the shivering, whining form up in my arms, casting my eyes around and breathing a sighof relief that no one had seen, and thanking my stars, as I entered myroom, that I had not encountered my landlady, who had a great aversionto cats and dogs. 

It was little enough of surgery I knew, veterinary or otherwise, but asimpleton could have seen that a broken leg was at least one of theinjuries my charge had suffered. I laid the dirty yellow object down onthe heavy rug before the fire, and he stopped the whining, and histrembling, too, as soon as the soothing heat began to permeate hishalf-frozen body. I knew there was a pine board in my closet, and fromthis I made some splints and bound up the broken limb as gently as Icould, but my fingers were not very deft nor my skill more thanordinary, and as a consequence a few fresh howls were the result. But atlast it was done, and then I made an examination of the other limbs, finding them as nature intended they should be, with the exception of afew scars and their unnatural boniness. So I got one of my old coats andmade a bed on the corner of the hearth, to which I proceeded totransfer my rescued cur. He was grateful, as dogs ever are for akindness, and licked my hands as I put him down. And he found strengthsomehow to wag his tail in token of thankfulness, so I felt repaid formy act of mercy, and very well satisfied. A surreptitious visit to thedining-room resulted in a purloined chunk of cold roast beef, and two orthree dry, hard biscuits, which I found in the corner of a cupboard. Thusladen with my plunder, I started back, and in the hall came face to facewith my boarding-house mistress. 

"Why, Mr. Stone, what in the world!" she began, before I could open mymouth or put my hands behind my back. 

"I--that is--Mrs. Moss, I have a friend with me to-night who is veryeccentric. He has been out in the cold quite a while, and he dislikesmeeting strangers, so that I thought I would let him thaw out in myroom while I came down and got us a little bite. You needn't expect usat supper, for I have enough here for both. "

"If it pleases you, Mr. Stone, I have no objections. But I should beglad to send your meals to your room as long as your friend remains. "

I had reached the foot of the stair, and was now going up it. 

"He leaves to-morrow, Mrs. Moss, --I think. Thank you for your kindness, "and I dodged into my room and shut the door. 

My charge was waiting where I had left him, with bright eyes ofanticipation. I took a newspaper and spread it on the floor close up tohim, and depositing the result of my foraging expedition on this, Istood up and watched him attack the beef with a vigor I did not supposehe possessed. 

"Enjoy it, you little wretch!" I muttered, as he bolted one mouthfulafter another. "I came nearer telling a lie for you, than I ever did inmy life before. "

Then I made myself comfortable again, drew up my easy-chair, and lit mylamp, and with pipe and book beguiled the hours till bed-time. 

III

I named him Fido, after much deliberation and great hesitancy. Myprincipal objection to this name was that nearly every diminutive dogbore it, but then it was old fashioned, and I had a weakness forold-fashioned things, if this taste could be spoken of in such a manner. I had really intended setting him adrift after his leg was strong, butduring the days of his convalescence I became so strongly attached tohim that I completely forgot my former idea. He was great company forme, and after I had given him several baths, and all he could eat everyday, he wasn't such a bad-looking dog, after all. The hair on his backlay down now, and his pinched body rounded out till I began to fearobesity, while his tail took on a handsome curl. Altogether, I wasrather proud of him. But the result of my crude attempt at surgerybecame manifest when I finally removed the splints. The limb had growntogether, it is true, but it was dreadfully crooked, and a large knotappeared where the fracture had been. When he tried to walk, Idiscovered that this leg was a trifle shorter than its mate, and poorFido limped a little, but I believe this only added to my affection. 

Winter held on till March, and then reluctantly gave way before theapproach of spring. The wind blew; the sun shone at intervals; the icebegan to melt, and muddy rivulets formed in the streets. When the grounddried up a little, I began my afternoon walks, Fido limping cheerfullyalong beside me. One day my commiseration for his affliction almostvanished. We had strolled away out past the streets, and had beenwalking along a pike, when the refreshing green of a clover meadow on myleft caused me to climb the fence and seek a closer acquaintance. Fidowriggled through a crack at the bottom, and as I sat on the top rail fora moment, the little rascal suddenly gave tongue and shot out across themeadow after a young rabbit, which was making good time through the lowclover. That lame leg didn't impede my yellow pup's running qualities, and I had to call him severely by name before he gave up the chase. Hecame panting back to me with his dripping tongue hanging out, and withas innocent a look on his face as one could imagine. I felt that heneeded a gentle chastising, but there was nothing lying around wherewithto administer it, and I did not search for the necessary switch. But Iwasted no more sympathy on that crooked right leg. 

I became interested in the view before me, and forgot that time waspassing. The clover meadow stretched away to a low bluff, at the base ofwhich I could see the shining surface of a small stream. Far to my righta field was being broken up for corn. The fresh scent of the newlyturned earth came to my nostrils like perfume. On the farther side ofthe field a patient mule was plodding along, dragging his burden, aplough, behind him, and I heard the guiding cries of the driver as hespoke in no gentle voice to the animal which was wearing its life awayfor its master's gain. A meadow lark arose a little to one side. Inoticed his yellow vest, sprinkled with dark spots, as he flew withdrooping tail for a few rods, then sank down again in the clover. Fromsomewhere in the distance a Bob White's clear notes welled up throughthe silence. A flutter of wings near by, and I turned my head to see abluebird flit gently to the top of a stake in the fence-corner not faraway. They were abroad, these harbingers of spring, and I knew thatbalmy breezes and bursting buds came quickly in their wake. How sweet itwas to know that earth's winding-sheet had been rent from her breastonce more; that the shackles had been torn from her streams and thefetters loosed from her trees; to feel that where there had been barrendesolation and lifeless refuse of last year's math would soon appeargreen shoots of grass, and growing flowers; that the tender leaves ofthe trees would whisper each to each in a language which we cannotunderstand, but which we love to hear. Especially at eventide, when theheat of the day is softened by twilight shadows, and a gentle breezecomes wandering along, touching with fairy fingers the careworn face andtired hands. 

The sun had sunk below the horizon. As I now directed my gaze to thewestern sky, one of those rarely beautiful phenomena which sometimesaccompany sunset in early spring, was spread before me. Spanning theclear sky, stretching from western horizon to zenith, and from zenith toeastern horizon, was a narrow, filmy band of cloud. And by some subtlereflection of which we do not know, the whole had caught the goldensheen of the hidden sun, and glowed, pale gold and pink and saffron. Thesky was clear but for this encircling cloud-band, and my fancy saw it asa ring girding the earth with celestial glory, --a fitting path forspirit feet when they tread the upward heights. I watched it pale, withupturned face, its changing tints in themselves a miracle, and thoughtof the wonders which lay beyond it, which we are taught to seek. Thoughtof what was on the other side of that steadily purpling curtainstretched above me which no human eye might pierce. Groves of peace andendless song and light which never paled; my mother's face--

A star blossomed out in the tranquil depths above me, white and pure asa thought of God; some dun-colored boats were drifting in an azure seaout in the west, and a whippoorwill's plaintive wail sounded through thedusk from adown the fence-row. Up from the still earth there floated tomy nostrils the incense of a dew-drenched landscape, --fresh, odorous, wonderfully sweet, --and a fire-fly's zigzag lantern came travellingtowards me across the darkening meadow. Everything had become verystill. It was that magic hour when the voices of the things of the dayare hushed, and the things of the night have not yet awakened. Only atintervals the whippoorwill's call arose, like a pulse of pain. The voiceof the ploughman in the adjoining field came no more to my ears; arespite from labor had come to both man and beast. The birds were still. There was no flutter of wings, no piping cry. The earth rested for aspell, and a solemn quietude stole over the scented fields. 

I knew that I ought to be going--that I ought to have gone long ago, butstill I sat on the topmost rail of the fence, which stretched away likea many-horned worm on either side of me. Supper was already cold, but Ihad been a little late on several occasions before, and Mrs. Moss hadvery kindly laid something aside for me. I was one whom she called "aqueer man who saw nothing outside of his books, " and while this was notaltogether true, inasmuch as I was even now missing both supper andbooks for another delight in which my soul revelled, still she bore withmy eccentricities, and I was thankful to her. "You should fall in love, Mr. Stone, " she said to me one day, half jestingly, "and that would getyou out of some of your staid ways. " I replied with a smile that, as shedid not take young ladies to board, there was small chance of that, andhad thought of her remark no more. But now, in the tender gloaming of anApril day, I felt that I did love, and with as ardent a passion as anyman ever owned. I loved the rich sunlight, which I had watched fadeaway, but which still lingered in my breast. I loved the greening ofNature, and the yellowing of her harvest. I loved the soul-expandinginfluence of sky and air, and the far-reaching, billowy fields. Allthings that grew, and all things that moved in this, God's kingdom, Iloved. What else was there to love? A woman? Yes; but they lived for meonly in the pages of history and romance, and it was not likely that I, a bookworm bachelor of forty-five, would ever meet the one to stir myheart. And I feared them, a little. Out here, under the sky, with no oneto hear but Fido and the dumb silence, I can make this confession. Iknew she lived, somewhere, the one to whom my heart would cry, becausethis is the plan of the Creator, but I was glad that our lines of lifehad not crossed. 

So please Him, thus would I live content. 

IV

The last bright streamer had disappeared, but still there remained afaint, chaste glow above the dark line of hills. An unseen Hand had sownthe sky thickly with stars, and more fell to their appointed places asthe moments passed. A bull-frog boomed out his guttural note, and Fidobegan to whine and gnaw at the rail just below my feet. He was gettinghungry, and I acquiesced to his wordless plea to go home. Night had nowcome, and the air was chilly, so I buttoned my coat close up to my chin, and moved briskly. We were some distance from home, but the lights ofthe city were reflected in the sky, and besides, it was not dark, because of the stars, and the road over which we went had but one end. 

I ate in quiet satisfaction the lunch which Mrs. Moss had saved for me, but when I tried to interest myself in Emerson, a few minutes later, Ifound that one of my favorites bored me. This sudden lack ofappreciation of the great essayist annoyed me, and I forced my eyes totraverse line after line, hoping that the pleasing charm which they hadalways held for me would return. But this policy proved futile, so atlength I quietly closed the book and put it down on the table, disgustedwith myself. Perhaps my mind required something in lighter vein, andthere was my bookcase, with its glass doors open, as they usually were. But the delightful metre of the "Lady of the Lake" seemed halting andtame to me that night, and this volume I did not close as gently as Ihad the former one, but flung it carelessly on the table and walkednervously to the window and raised the sash. For a moment--only amoment--I stood there, trying to find a few stars through the curtain offactory smoke which hung overhead, and letting the cool air blow aboutme. Then I put the window down, and came back to my easy-chair, satisfied, for I had solved the riddle of my unrest. 

That afternoon's walk had showed me of what I was depriving myself. Itdawned upon me in that moment that the pastoral joys which I had knownthat day were dearer to my soul than printed pages and themind-narrowing captivity of four walls. Out there were unboundedpossibilities for the mind and soul, lessons to be learned, pages to beread, secrets to discover, --a message in each soft gurgle of the brook;a whisper from each stirring leaf; a hidden story in the dreamy face ofeach flower. All of these became voices in my ears; I could listen totheir singing and sighing for hours. What an awakening it was! I hadbeen dreaming for over half my life, and with a sigh I looked at thewell-worn tomes in my bookcase, which must now take second place in myheart. They had served me well. True and tried friends, into whose facesI had looked in both joy and sorrow, and never failed of consolation ordelight. I would never desert them--God forbid! They were grappled to mysoul with hooks which would neither bend nor break, and which could notfall away. Still would I come to them and caress them with lovingfingers as I held them in my lap; still would I ask their advice andstore my mind of their knowledge, for they had lightened too many hoursof my life to be forsaken now, --it would be like giving up a friend oftwoscore years for one newly found. And I loved them none the less, --inthe full flush of the secret which I had discovered I knew this, and Iwalked over to where the long rows stood like phalanxes, and ran myhands lovingly over the sheepskin and vellum backs. And, 'pon my soul, they seemed to respond to my fingers, as though I had touched hands witha friend! They may have been dumb, but they were not lifeless; for thespirits of their creators still lingered between the leaves, and madethem live--for me. Good friends, rest easy on your shelves; one by oneeach of you shall come down, as you have always done, and commune withme. When Nature sleeps, then we shall revel. 

I sat down again, and stretched my feet out towards the low fire. Withpipe newly filled, I caressed it between my joined hands, and thought. After a half hour of smoking and ruminating, I came to a conclusion. Iwould move to the country for the summer! What a dolt I had been allthese years! The matter of board need not be considered, for that wascheaper in the country than in town. When winter came again, I couldreturn to my present quarters, if I chose. What I wanted was a quiet oldfarmhouse with as few people in it as possible, and located in theblue-grass region of the State. Then life would be one endlessdelight, --days afield, and peaceful, noiseless nights. To be awakened inthe morning by the matin song of the thrush; to breathe the intoxicatingodor of honeysuckle and jessamine; to step out into the dew-washedgrass, instead of upon the hard pavement, and to receive the countlessbenedictions of the outstretched arms of the trees as I walked beneaththem. Where had my mind been a-wandering all of these years that I hadnot thought of this before? But I was too sensible to mar my present joywith useless regrets. The future was bright with anticipation and richwith promise, and my heart grew light. 

And Fido--poor Fido--would be glad of the change, too, for I am sure itmust have taxed his love for me to stay in the goods-box which I hadconverted into a kennel and placed in the small backyard. Mrs. Moss, --honest soul, --when giving her reluctant consent to this, consoledherself by thinking that she was only yielding to another of myvagaries. 

There was no one else to consider, and so I put the thing down in mymind as settled. I would leave this soul-dwarfing, cramped, smoke-hungatmosphere, and take up my abode where the air was pure, and where thesun could shine. Mrs. Moss would lose a good, quiet boarder, it istrue; but my consideration for Mrs. Moss's feelings would not cause meto sacrifice myself. Some one else would come and take the room whichhad been mine for ten years, and I would soon be forgotten. 

The revelation which I had experienced put me in such high spirits atthe glorious prospects before me that I could not think of going to bedwhen eleven o'clock sounded from the mantel-tree. Instead, I believe Iactually chuckled, as I slipped my hand into the pocket of mydressing-gown for my tobacco-pouch, and proceeded to fill my pipe again. Method had always been the rule of my life, but that night I put it byfor a space. The question paramount was--where should I go? Certainlymost any farm housewife would give me a room upstairs for a small moneyconsideration a month, but I was a little particular, and wanted tolive and move among _folks_, for which I was fitted by birth andeducation. I knew that blood as blue and as genteel flowed throughcountry veins as through city arteries; but how was I to find thesepeople out? I didn't know a dozen persons in Louisville outside of myboarding-house. The hands of the clock were getting dangerously neartogether at the top of the dial before a solution came. 

Suddenly I bethought me of Reuben Walker, that staid, long-headed fellowwho had graduated with me back in forty. The nearest approach I ever hadto a friend. He had gone to practise law in Springfield, down there inWashington County, and had made something of a name for himself, too. Ihadn't seen him since forty-five, hadn't written to him since fifty, buthe was the only man living I knew who could help me. So I forthwithindited a note to Reuben Walker, Esq. , Attorney-at-Law, reminding him ofour former intimacy, regretting that we had allowed ourselves to driftapart, and asking if he knew of a quiet country home where I might spendthe summer. I reasoned that it was a country lawyer's business to knoweverybody in his county, and I hoped that Reuben remembered me wellenough to refer me only to the kind with whom I would care to affiliate. I did not write letters often, my correspondence averaging perhaps ahalf dozen epistles a year, and so I signed my name to this one beforereading it over. Then I recollected one of the earliest injunctions ofmy father: "Be very careful what you sign your name to, " so Ideliberately reread the missive before me. It was all right; I had saidall that was necessary, but just as I was bending the sheet to fold itI stopped, spread it out again, and, taking up my quill, wrote as apostscript:

"I much prefer a home where there are _no_ young ladies. "

V

In due time an answer came. It was with considerable anxiety that Ibroke the seal, but there was a smile upon my face when I finishedreading the short, friendly letter which he had sent me. He knew a placethat would suit me exactly. Mr. And Mrs. Grundy were an elderly couplewho lived about eight miles north of Springfield. They belonged to thearistocracy of the county, and lived in a two-story brick house on amagnificent farm. They were warm friends of Reuben's, and he felt nohesitancy in declaring that they would board me throughout the summerand fall. So positive was he of this fact that he wrote me to comewhenever I pleased, and he would have everything arranged by the time Igot there. He added a postscript, in answer to mine, stating that hisfriends were childless, and he did not think I would be bothered by anyyoung ladies. 

My elation at the success of my plans thus far was so apparent that itwas openly remarked upon at the tea-table that evening. And so I toldthem all then and there of the change I was about to make. Of coursethere was a chorus of regrets that I was to leave, which I could notbelieve genuine, since I was so unsociable. But meeting Mrs. Moss in thehall as I started to my room, I explained to her that my health demandedan immediate change of air, and that for no other reason would I havegone. This the good lady accepted smilingly, and wished me muchhappiness in my new home. 

There were not many preparations for me to make. My books and mywardrobe packed, my landlady paid, a modest demand on my bankers, and Iwas ready. It was in the latter part of April, in the midst of a steadydownpour of rain, that I took my seat in the four-horse coach, with Fidobetween my feet. I remember the feeling which came to me when the hugevehicle started. I felt that I was almost leaving the earth, despite therumbling and the jolting, when I thought of my destination. The heavyclouds and the swishing rain held no gloom for me. For above the cloudswas the broad, blue sky, with the sun somewhere in it, and somewherebeyond the curtain of the rain was light and warmth and blooming fields. My heart was beating riotously, for this trip was really an adventure tome, who had not been anywhere for nearly twenty years. The coach wasempty but for us, Fido and me, and it will seem queer to some when Isay that I was very thankful for this. But I did not care to talk topeople who were nothing to me, and who I might never see again. I muchpreferred to be in solitude, and muse upon all that my new life wouldhold for me. The rain stopped all at once, so suddenly that I would havebeen surprised had it not been April, and through the soiled glass ofthe coach door, now thickly streaked where the raindrops had run downit, came a blunted arrow of sunshine. 

My trip would have been a tiresome one under ordinary circumstances, butI did not feel the least fatigue during all the long journey. I shallnever forget the morning we rolled into Springfield, and drew up beforea small frame building opposite the court square. A plain boardsuspended above the doorway of this building bore the simpleinscription, "Reuben Walker, Attorney-at-Law. " Here was the place wheremy friend gave legal counsel in exchange for legal money. I caught sightof his broad, humorous face ere the coach had given its final jolt as itcame to a standstill. Directly in front of the office before which westopped were two large locust-trees, and under these trees that brightspring morning quite a little company had gathered. There was a suddenexplosion of laughter as the stage-driver descended from his perch andopened the door for me to alight, and a quick glance showed me that somejoker had reached the climax of his narrative just at that moment. Before I could rise from my seat, the coach door was darkened by afigure, a strong hand was thrust into mine, and I was fairly draggedinto the arms of Reuben Walker, who gave me hearty greeting. To this Iresponded quite as heartily. Fido had whisked out of his narrowquarters, and had begun to stretch himself in many wild contortions. Iproceeded to reckon with my stage-driver, then Reuben took me by thehand, and leading me up to the men whom he had just left, he made meacquainted with each and every one. Most of them I have forgotten, forthey went out of my life as speedily as they entered it; but one Iremember yet, for he was afterwards governor of our belovedcommonwealth. This was Proctor Knott, and he it was who had exploded thejoke just as I arrived. I quietly joined the company, and listened tosome more of this gifted young lawyer's yarns. The ringing of thecourt-house bell soon after caused a dispersion of the crowd. Some ofthem went with the lawyers to the court-room, others strolled down town, and Reuben and I were left alone. 

"Come in, come in, Abner, " he said, bluffly, and he led the way into hisoffice. 

A square table covered with green baize stood in the centre of the room. A box filled with sawdust sat upon the floor to serve as a cuspidor;three or four splint-bottomed chairs completed the office furniture. Oneof these I occupied, placing my hat upon the table, and Reuben tookanother, stretching out his short, fat legs, and crossing his hands overhis bulging front. 

"I'm glad to see you, Abner, 'pon my honor, " he began, smiling so thathis rubicund visage glowed with good feeling. "How did you take a notionto come to the woods?"

"I was cramped, " I answered truthfully. "The city's smoke was stiflingme, and I wanted a breath of fresh air. "

"You'll get enough of that down at Henry Grundy's. That's the only coolplace in the county in midsummer. And if you'll take my advice andstraddle one of his thoroughbreds once a day, you'll get some color inyour face. I've fixed everything for you. You're to have a front room onthe ground floor, and pay twelve dollars a month. That's cheaper thanstealing it. But you don't want to make a hermit of yourself when youget down there. Come up and spend a week or two with me. Miss 'Pheme[his wife] will be mighty glad to see you. She makes me walk chalk, butshe'll be easy on you. You're going to be with mighty fine folks, --thecream of the county. They were very particular at first, but I vouchedfor you, and that settled it. Henry said he'd be in this morning afteryou. He's a Presbyterian and a Democrat, and talks to you as though youwere deaf, but he's harmless. Why don't you tell me 'bout yourself?"

I saw at once that my good friend still insisted on doing all thetalking, --one of the traits of his young manhood, --and when I told himthat he hadn't drawn breath for five minutes, he seemed surprised. 

"There's not much to tell about myself, Reuben, " I replied. "I've beenliving alone, --reading, smoking, and thinking a little. Then I fanciedthat I'd like the country, and here I am. "

"Where'd you get that?" He jerked one squat thumb toward my crippledretainer. 

"Picked him up out of the street several months ago, after he'd been runover by a carriage. "

"Same soft heart as ever, Abner. Remember when one of the boys at schoolpoked that nest of damned little English sparrows out of the gutter?There was about sixteen of 'em, and you gathered the ugly little devilsup into your new hat and tried to raise 'em. Don't--you--re-member, Abner?"

His fat sides shook, as he ejaculated the last sentence with difficulty. 

"Yes, " I answered, smiling. "My efforts were useless, for the littlefellows all died. I felt sorry for them. "

"I wish they were all in--hello! yonder's Henry, by jolly!"

I looked out of the window, and saw an old-fashioned rockaway draw upbeside the curbing. The horse which drew it was a high-headed bay; theharness and the vehicle were spotless. A negro lad of near twenty, blackas the night before creation, sat on the front seat, and on the rearseat was a man worth looking at twice. As the negro hastily scrambleddown and opened the door, this gentleman alighted. He was a trifle oversix feet tall; his face was wrinkled and kindly; his brows were gray andshaggy, and his eyes were gray. A patriarchal white beard flowed downover his breast, and his suit was of black broadcloth. Such an evidentair of gentility sat upon him, that I mentally congratulated myself thatI was to be associated with him. An instant later I heard his stentorianvoice in the hall. 

"Walker! Walker! Is that fellow Stone here yet? I can't wait all morningfor him, for there's plenty of ploughin', and plenty of lazy niggersback at the farm! Hello! Why, is this Stone?"

And the hand that closed over mine was strong with the strength of thesoil. 

VI

"I must get some things for the boss, then we'll start home, " announcedMr. Grundy, after we were seated side by side in the rockaway. I noticedwith gratification that his voice had sunk a few notes. He had lookedaskance at my yellow pup when I lifted him to a place at our feet, buthad only queried, "Is that part of your baggage?" and had not demurred. His next speech was rather mystifying, for I had understood from Reubenthat this man was certainly lord of his manor, and presided in a lordlyway. 

"The boss?" I asked, with a puzzled look, whereat he burst into a laughthat hurt my ears. 

"Bless me! I forgot that you were a bachelor, " he replied, when hisrisibles had subsided sufficiently for him to talk. "If you ever marry, you'll find out who's boss. The niggers call me boss and Marse, but_Sallie's_ boss of our plantation!"

We drove about town for perhaps half an hour, purchasing a supply ofgroceries, then our horse's head was turned towards the open country. 

"Antony'll take us home in less than an hour, " said Mr. Grundy, eyeingwith pride the easy, far-reaching strides of the big bay. "That's thebest horse in my stables, Stone; there can't anything in the countycatch him. I've taken premiums with him at every fair in the circuitever since he was a yearling. It's a day's work for a nigger to drivehim to town and back, for he pulls on the lines every inch of the way, and it takes good muscles to hold him in. "

My companion did most of the talking on the road home. I addressed a fewpolite questions, then fell to viewing the country through which we werebeing whirled. The world was waking after its annual nap. The odor andcharm of spring pervaded the air. Tree-buds were bursting, and tenderleaves were spreading their tiny hands to the gentle sky. Immenseexpanses of green wheat waved by the roadside, and each small bladebowed its head to me in welcome. A pair of bluebirds flitted from staketo stake of a rail fence at our right. Yonder two gentle undulationsprepared for corn swelled and fell away. Wherever I looked was freshnessand verdure, and the starting into life of green things beneath themagic wand of spring. She holds the key to earth's resurrection, and shealone can unlock the myriad gateways of the sod. And what a host comesforth when her luring breath falls upon the barren ground!--cereals, flowers, mosses, vines, and the thousand little things which have noname. Forth they come exulting, --the nightshade and the lily, thethistle and the rose. And on the broad bosom of their mother there isroom for each, and from her breast each draws its life. 

A gray turret surrounded by evergreens drew my eyes to the left. Ipointed to it with the question, "Can you tell me what that is?"

"St. Rose, --a convent founded by the Dominicans in the early part of thecentury. We'll drive over some day and take a look at it. That's thechurch you see, --a fine piece of masonry. "

Then I grew silent again, becoming absorbed in the changing landscape. The road now led along the margin of a creek, bounded on the fartherside by densely wooded hills. We had been gradually descending forseveral miles, and had now reached a great basin, wherein lay thefertile lands of my host. A sudden turn to the right, and a beautifulvalley stretched before us. Part of it had yielded to the plough, andthe brown, friable soil bespoke richness and boundless possibilities forcorn. Farther on were meadows, reaching like green carpets close up tothe whitewashed fences. And in the distance--behold my future home! Itsat upon the crest of a gentle eminence back of those verdant lowlands, and was almost hidden by elms and oaks. These trees filled the big yard, too, and some were burdened with tangled grape-vines. Leaving thehighway, a curving road led us up to the yard gate. As we drove slowlyup the avenue to the large two-story brick house, a sense of unexpectedhappiness and quiet stole over me. Here was the Mecca of my vaguedesires. Here, in the midst of pastoral beauty, a kind Providence hadsent me, and here, with the blue-grass all around, and peace in myheart, I would be happy. 

"Mother!"

The powerful voice at my elbow made me jump. By the time we reached theground, the double front doors were open, and standing there was one ofthe sweetest-looking old women I had ever seen. She was clad indignified black, with a white kerchief at her throat, and her gray hairdrawn smoothly back from a kind, broad brow. Hat in hand, I mounted thehuge stone steps which led to the porch, while that big voice came frombelow. 

"This is Stone, mother! Show him his room and make him comfortable! I'moff to see 'bout the young lambs that came last night!"

It was a hospitable, friendly greeting which I received from themistress of the house. Her voice was low and pleasant to the ear, andthere was culture in every tone. The room into which she ushered me wasdelightfully cool and shadowy. The ceiling was high, the windows broadand deep, with green slat-curtains. The rocking-chair and the sofa nearone of the windows were covered with haircloth. The centre-table was abeautiful piece of mahogany; sitting in the middle of it was a vase ofjonquils. In one corner was a bookcase, empty--ready for my treasures. Everything was as it should be. I at once expressed my thanks and mysatisfaction, and the good lady retired, saying that I was doubtlessweary, and needed to rest a little. 

Left alone, I stood still a moment, and looked about me. The paper uponthe walls represented red-top clover in bloom, and I was glad of this. Hanging about the room were some old-time portraits in gilt frames, andsome pictures representing historical events. Some dried-up cat-tailslifted their brown heads from another vase on one end of the tallmantel. A screen covered with wall-paper stood before the fireplace. Hastily I lifted it aside, and there--yes, there was the blackenedchimney, the andirons, and the stone-laid hearth. If I have a weakpoint, it is an old-fashioned fireplace. 

Dinner came just as I finished my toilet, and I followed Mrs. Grundy outinto the broad hall, onto a latticed porch, and into the dining-room. The good things that were piled upon that table would have fed aregiment, but all who sat down were my host and hostess, and myself. Mr. Grundy asked a blessing, and his voice was just as loud as though hewere hallooing to one of his negroes across a field. Surely the Lordheard that petition. In two minutes my plate was heaped high, and I hadto put back other dishes till a later moment. When he had fairly settledhimself to the business of eating, my host began to talk. 

"Walker tells me that you're not used to mixing with people much, Stone, but I'm afraid it'll be lonely for you 'way out here. We don't have muchcompany, and of course the niggers don't count. You can ride about thefarm with me if you want to, and mother can hold her own at talking. When S'lome gets back, things'll be different. She's a whole housefulherself. "

I almost dropped the piece of ham I was conveying to my mouth. HadReuben betrayed me! What did this talk of "mother" and "Salome" mean?When he first spoke the word "mother, " I had paid no particularattention to it; but when coupled with that other name, it took a deepermeaning. 

"I--I--I understood you had no children, " I said, trying to conceal mydismay by bending over my plate. 

"Quite true, quite true, Stone. We've never had a child born to us. Igot in the habit of calling the boss mother, from S'lome. "

"Who is Salome?" I asked, but my voice was so weak that it scarcelyconveyed the question. 

"Bless me! didn't Walker tell you? I'll wring the rascal's neck forforgettin' S'lome. Why, man, she's the pride of this farm, and the queenof every heart on it! S'lome? Who's S'lome? Ask any nigger or dog in thecounty, and they'll tell you. She's our 'dopted daughter, man, off toBellwood for her second year, and'll be home the fifth of June, Godbless her!"

VII

Like most country folks, my new friends went to bed shortly aftersundown. About nine o'clock, I took my pipe and my tobacco-pouch, andcrept noiselessly out to the front porch. I had noticed a quaint setteethere upon my arrival that morning, and I had no trouble in finding itnow, for a ghostly moonlight had settled over everything. My mind wasconfronted by a question of decidedly more moment than any under whichit had at any time before labored, and I had to think it out before Icould sleep. If my cherished and faithful pipe, together with solitudeand the wondrous silence of a night in spring, could not bring asolution to me, then the question was certainly beyond me. 

"--And'll be home the fifth of June, God bless her!"

I think they were the last distinct words I heard at that meal. Iremember mumbling something about the pleasure in store for me, andwhile my tongue pronounced this statement, my conscience denounced me asa liar. It would be no pleasure. An upstart of a boarding-school girl, with her airy ways, her college slang and her ear-piercing laughter, tearing around the house like a young cyclone, having girl friends andboy friends hanging around continually, --the thought was notencouraging, and I groaned in spirit, and puffed away, setting mistyshallops afloat upon the sea of moonlight. And these little shallopsmust have borne away as cargo my fretting and my fears, for presently Ifell into a philosophic mood, and the future looked brighter. One thingwas sure--I could not run away. That would be cowardice, as well as anaffront to hospitality. And did the worthy man snoring in a near-by roomonce know that I thought of leaving because his idol was coming, hewould doubtless hasten my departure by turning loose upon me the pack offox-hounds I had heard clamoring for their supper a few hours before. 

And, too, there were five weeks yet before this wonderful being wouldarrive. During this time I would walk, and accustom myself to riding, and when this paragon did come, I would leave her in full and freepossession of the house throughout the day. It was not near so bad as ithad looked at first. By eleven o'clock I felt able to sleep, if notentirely reconciled to the new order of things. "Sufficient unto theday--" I thought, with a sigh, and knocking the ashes from my cold pipeinto the palm of my hand, I threw them over the railing of the porch, and went to bed. 

The days passed for me now like a procession of pleasant dreams. Themore I became acquainted with my host and hostess, the more I identifiedmyself with their way of living, and the more I realized that I hadfallen among people of exceedingly gentle blood. They were aristocratic, and perhaps a little too high headed for their near neighbors, and hadbut few callers, and no visitors. The practically limitless farm wasunder the direct general supervision of old Henry Grundy, and he wasconsequently a very busy man, and seldom at home except at meal-times. Isoon learned that the slaves all loved him, for he was slow to anger, and always just. Out of the thirty negroes on the place, I was given ayouth of perhaps eighteen to be my body-servant. He was to black myboots, keep my clothes dusted, hold my stirrup, take care of my horse, and do anything else I wanted him to do. This negro I dubbed Inky, indeference to his pronounced color. 

I was allowed to sleep late in the morning, --a privilege for which I wasgrateful. Often I would accompany the master on his tours of inspection, riding a dapple-gray gelding which was placed at my disposal, and whichwas exceedingly well behaved, as became an animal of his good breeding. Then solitary walks became part of my daily routine. Accompanied only byFido, and carrying a walking-stick of stout hickory, I explored thehills and valleys which stretched for miles in every direction. Oftentimes I was gone all day, and the good people whom I had begunalmost to love were very indulgent to me, never complaining when I waslate to a meal, or when my roving spirit kept me out till afternightfall. I had a key to the front door, and was careful to enternoiselessly on these occasions. I had never been back to Springfield, and so had had no opportunity to upbraid Reuben for his treachery. But, indeed, upon rereading his letter, I saw that he had told me the truth, and at the same time had made me the victim of a joke. These people hadno children, and my friend had simply forbore mentioning the adopteddaughter. 

Salome, --a beautiful name and an unusual one. I found myself thinkingupon it one afternoon, as I lay stretched upon a bed of moss in one ofthe deepest recesses of the hills. I had never heard it before out ofthe Scriptures. She who wore it ought to be a beautiful girl. "Salome, Salome, " I caught myself murmuring, gazing dreamily up through thelace-like young foliage above me to where two fluffy clouds werewandering arm in arm along the pathways of the air. What would she looklike, this Salome? Would she be fair or dark, and would her ways begentle or tomboyish? A sudden realization of the trend of my thoughtsmade my cheeks tingle ever so slightly, and I brought my eyes to bearupon Fido. This ever-restless canine had chased a timid littleground-squirrel into a hole when we first arrived at this spot, and hadsubsequently torn up enough leaves and dirt to fill a moderate-sizegrave in his efforts to dislodge his quarry. He did not know that I waswatching him, and his antics were therefore perfectly natural. He haddug a slanting ditch perhaps a foot deep in the soft loam, and when myeyes fell upon him had stopped for a moment to get his wind. He stoodplanted firmly on his four short legs, his tail vibrating incessantly, like the pendulum of a clock. His muzzle was grimy with soil; his headcocked on one side, and his ears pricked, while his beady little eyesnarrowly watched the hole before him. His lolling tongue was dripping, and he was panting like a lizard. And I thought to myself, if men wouldattack an obstacle like that dumb brute, there would be fewer failuresin life. All at once, and without warning, the pup leaped to the attackonce more, and the way he worked would have done credit to a galleyslave. His shoulders undulated with the ferocity of his movements, anddirt flew in a shower from between his hind legs. Now and again he wouldpause, and thrust his nose as far up in the hole as he could get it. Amoment thus, while the wagging tail still moved, then he would drawback, snort the dirt from his nostrils, and with an eager whine renewhis efforts. 

With the deepening shadows came the thought that I was several milesfrom home, so I arose reluctantly, picked up my stick, and, with Fidolimping at my heels, walked slowly back through the enchanted aisles ofNature. 

The Saturday night following, a week before her arrival, I heard thestory of Salome. 

I was on the old settee after supper, as usual. Here I always came tosmoke my pipe after the evening meal. Somewhat to my surprise, Mr. Grundy came out and sat down beside me. Frequently he and his wife cameout for a short time in the early evening, but this night it was nearlynine o'clock when I heard the old gentleman's heavy step in the hall. Imade room for him when I saw that it was his intention to sit down, andoffered him my tobacco, for I saw that he held a cob pipe in hishands, --another unusual thing. He took my tobacco in silence, and insilence filled his pipe and lit it. I felt that he had something to sayto me, so I waited patiently, and we both puffed away. 

"S'lome's comin' a week from to-night, " he said, at last. His voice wassofter than I had ever heard it, and a caressing note lurked in it. "Seems a long time to us since she went away last September. S'lome'scomin' home, " he repeated, as though the very sentence brought joy. 

"It's right for me to tell you 'bout her, Stone, since you're to be oneof us for quite a spell. It's a sort o' sad story, but me an' mother'vetried to make her forget the beginning of her life. It may be that youdon't like young girls much, seein' that you've never married, butthere'll be a kind spot in your heart for S'lome when you hear 'bouther. You see, it began away back yonder when I was a young fellow atschool. Bob Summerton was a classmate of mine, and my best friend. Hisone prevailin' weakness was a woman's pretty face. He was a poor fellow, and had no business marryin' when he did. His wife, highly connected, but without any near relations, was killed in a railway accident. Theirlittle girl, who had been born six months before, escaped unhurt. Bobwas a Kentuckian, from the soles of his feet up, and one day, whenS'lome was only three years old, he was shot by a coward for defending awoman's good name. He telegraphed me to come, and I reached him in timefor him to consign to my keepin' the child soon to be orphaned again. Itnearly broke my heart, Stone, "--the strong man choked back something inhis throat, --"but even at that tender age the young thing's grief waspitiful. I brought her here, and me and mother--well, we've done what wecould to make her happy--God bless her!"

The last words were in a husky whisper, and I knew that tears which hadstarted from the heart were glistening in the eyes of that grand oldgentleman. 

"She's not so big, and she's not so little, " he went on, presently, forI knew of nothing to say at this juncture. "Just kind o' medium size, and as sweet as the Lord's blessed sunshine. She ain't ashamed to keepthe house clean, and help mother, either. It's always May-time 'bout theold place when she's here, Stone. She's tender-hearted as a lamb, and'llnuss a chicken with the gapes for half a day. But the horse don't runon this farm that she's afraid to ride. And when me or mother areailin', she'll sit by us night and day--says she's 'fraid to trust anigger with medicine. And she's got our hearts so 't they'd almost stopbeatin' if she told 'em to. She's ridden on a load o' hay many a time, and has gone to the wheat-field to help us with the thrashin'. And she'scomin' home next Saturday, Stone. "

He stopped again, and I knew that he was thinking. Presently he arose, and stretched his arms with a yawn. 

"You'll like her, Stone, if you're a human. Good-night. "

"Good-night, " I answered, and his heavy boots thumped across the porchto the hall door. 

That night, for the first time in my life, a girl's face crept into mydreams. 

VIII

The next week passed more swiftly than any of its predecessors had donesince I came to this idyllic spot. House-cleaning began on Monday, andunder Mrs. Grundy's experienced eye the half-dozen negresses employed inthe work moved with alacrity and precision. But what with beatingcarpets, scrubbing floors, and turning things topsy-turvy in general, the task was not accomplished with any considerable despatch. A man is acumbrous article at house-cleaning time, as any housewife will aver, andMr. Grundy, recognizing this fact, betook himself to the neighboringLittle Beach River to fish, and let "the boss" tear up things to herheart's content. His request that I should accompany him was almost awarning, so I assented, for my room was not to be spared in the generaloverhauling. Inky and Jim--Mr. Grundy's factotum--went along to pitchour tent and attend to the cooking. 

I was not a disciple of Walton, and as a consequence my success wasanything but extraordinary; still I derived a hearty enjoyment from theouting. 

Did you ever lazy along a river-bank in May, and just live, and fish, and smoke, and do nothing else? If you have not, you have missed a verygreat pleasure. If you fail to catch many fish, it doesn't matter much. There is a certain spell in the air which defies _ennui_, and a kind oftonic steals into your blood which makes it tingle through your veins, much as the rising sap in the young trees, I imagine. You rise in themorning and bathe your eyes open in a near-by spring, whose crystal coolwater is like the touch of a healing hand. Then comes breakfast ofbacon, coffee, and good, light bread. Then your pipe comes as naturallyas a deep breath of the forest-scented air, and you take your rod andminnows and wander up the bank through the weeds and the dewy grass. Under the shadow of that old, half-sunken log is where the bass stay. The water is deep and clear, and your hook sinks with a low gurgle, likean infant's laughter. What matters it whether a bite comes at once, ornot? You sit in a hollow formed by a curving tree-root, rest your backagainst the tree-trunk, and are very contented. The other side of thestream is lined with endless stretches of trees, --sycamore, elm, dogwoodwith their starry eyes peering in innate vanity over the bank into themirror beneath them, and underbrush of all descriptions. Where the tidehas once been, and receded, is a stretch of yellow clay, now glisteningfrom the dews of night. After a while the sun strikes this, and the wetsurface glows like gold. Then your wandering eye--for you have forgottenyour cork--observes a bubble as it rises and bursts midway across thestream, and you idly watch the widening circle which radiates from it. Then in the centre of the circle the tiniest dark spot appears, whichgradually assumes the shape of a black, shining head. It remainsstationary for a while, then slowly moves to the opposite bank. Adisc-like shell is lifted, two broad feet dig their claws into the mud, and Mr. Turtle drags himself up high and dry for a sunning. 

The delightful silence is suddenly broken by the harshest ofchattering, and a crested kingfisher descends like a shot from somedead limb high up in the very tree under which you are sitting, and, skimming low over the surface of the water, finally disappears withouthis prey. Then the pole is almost jerked from your careless hands, and, if you have luck, a fine bass is floundering at your feet in a fewmoments. Then another spell of sitting and dreaming, while you lay yourpipe aside for a while, and look up to where a squadron of fleecyargosies are drifting calmly along to some unknown bourn, bearing, mayhap, behind their filmy bulwarks the simple prayers of trustingchildren. 

Dinner-time comes too quickly, but it is over soon, and you seek a newhaunt, and stretch your legs out, and thank the Lord that you are alive. Above you and around you is the fragrant new life of blooming things, and the odor of the woods is as rare and sweet as some strange perfume. As the sun goes down slowly, the shadows lengthen across the river. Thelittle wood violets nod on their slender stems by your side, and duskcreeps upon you like a caress. The bird notes grow still, and a gentlerustling comes from the leaves, and falls upon you like a benedictionfrom Nature. After supper you lie upon your bunk in the tent, anddrowsily watch the stars wink at you through the open door. Then thebull-frogs' lullaby begins, and you drift into dreamland listening tothat deep chorus from the river banks. 

I passed four days like this, --elysian days to me. Friday we went backhome, and the next day she came. 

The household was astir very early that morning, as was natural andproper that it should be, considering the event which was to happen. Contrary to my custom, I was up before the sun, and I smiled, in anamused way, at the extra touches which I almost unconsciously put to mydress. I actually halted over my necktie, but decided at last upon ablack string, as most becoming to my age and quiet habits. The graystreaks about my temples seemed to show more plainly than usual, as Icarefully brushed my hair. I put on some clean cuffs, too, though theones I had been wearing were not soiled. 

At breakfast everybody was happy. Mrs. Grundy beamed from behind thetea-urn, and put three spoonfuls of sugar into my tea instead of two. Mr. Grundy succeeded in upsetting his cup of black coffee, and laughedat it as though it were a joke, and even the mulatto maid who moveddeftly about the table wore a broad grin. One thing was on the mind ofeach: Salome was coming home. 

The carriage was waiting at the front door when breakfast was over. Twodarkies had been rubbing on it for an hour, and not a speck could beseen anywhere. There were two horses hitched to it this time, as fittedthe occasion. A span of high-strung blacks, with white feet, and theygave the negro at their heads all he could do to keep them from going. They chafed their bits, and stamped, and fretted at the delay, theirtiny feet eager to be speeding away. The master was going alone to meethis darling. Springfield had no railway, and Salome was to arrive atLebanon, eighteen miles distant, by noon. Mr. Grundy came out arrayed inhis best, as though he was going to meet the Queen of England. Hisstrong old face was alight with a great happiness, as he bent and kissedhis wife, then leaped down the steps like a school-boy. He shouted backhis adieus to each of us; the negro on the front seat gathered up hislines, and braced his feet; the negro standing at the head of the teamloosened his hold, and stepped swiftly to one side. There was a prancingof slender limbs, a tossing of two black heads, and they were gone. There were tears of joy in the eyes of the good woman at my side when Ilooked at her. 

"She's coming, Mr. Stone, and we're all so happy!"

That was all she could say. Her voice broke, and with a smile on hersweet old face she turned away into the house to hide her emotion. 

The day was a restless one for me. I took a book, and went down to arustic seat under an elm tree. But the book lay open on my crossed kneeswithout my eyes ever seeking its pages. I was thinking of Salome--of thewonderful charm which made every one love her. Elderly women, marriedwomen, I had known and liked, but school-girls were my especialabomination. Truth to tell, I had never known any, and I did not want toknow any. Even this paragon I would have gladly escaped had there been away. But flight was impossible, and since I must meet her, it was quitenatural to wonder what she was like, and to brood upon the mystery ofher ensnaring all about her. I was ashamed of my restlessness. Therustic chair grew uncomfortable, and I paced up and down. The damp grassdeadened the shine of my boots, and I walked back to the house andsummoned Inky to put them in shape again. Even this African's face wasbeaming like a freshly polished stove, and I became almost irritated. 

"What are you grinning about?" I demanded, as he bent to his work withblacking and brush. 

"Miss S'lome's comin' home, Marse, " he panted, rolling his white eyes atme in ecstasy. 

"Are you very glad?" I continued. 

"Yas, 'r, I is. Miss Salome's jes' so sweet that honey can't tech 'er. She picked a br'ar out 'n my foot once, Marse; out 'n my ugly, blackfoot. An' she hel' it in her lap, too, an' it nuvver hurt a speck. "

I did not say anything more. I knew now why the birds were singing sosweetly that morning, and why the squirrels in the yard were frisking sogayly. Everything was glad because she was coming home. 

The big bell on the tall pole behind the house rang at eleven that dayinstead of half past. And away out in the fields hearts were quickenedin black bosoms. The slaves left the plough in the furrow, and the cornundropped, and hurried home. The summons at this unusual hour meantthat something out of the ordinary had happened. It was the master'sorder, and as they all came trooping in with inquiring faces, and stoodgrouped near the back porch, Mrs. Grundy appeared, and told them brieflythat their young mistress was coming that afternoon, and that therewould be no more work that day. They cheered the news with many a lustyshout, and the pickaninnies rolled over each other, and the youthsturned handsprings, while upon each face was a look of high good humor. 

About four o'clock Mrs. Grundy and I repaired to the settee to watch theroad, which could be seen for perhaps a mile, winding through thevalley. Then around the corner of the house began to appear the vassalsof this Kentucky lord. The stain of the soil had been washed from theirhands and faces, and their cotton shirts were clean, though patched andworn. The negresses, also, appeared, with their kinky hair done upin multitudes of "horns, " and tied with bits of the mostextravagant-colored ribbon that their wearers possessed. Every one wasattired in his best, as though on a holiday occasion, which, in truth, this was. 

"Dar dey come!"

A six-year-old piece of midnight suddenly made this announcement in ashrill treble key, and all eyes were turned at once towards the highway. A carriage and a span of blacks were sweeping up the road. Mrs. Grundygave some orders in a low, yet positive tone, and in a trice two rows ofslaves were standing along each side of the avenue. They were going togive her a royal welcome. Mrs. Grundy stood upon the lowest step, and Imodestly remained upon the porch, leaning against one of the massivepillars. I can scarcely describe my feelings at that time now, but Ithink my nerves were in a condition similar to that of the small boywhen he makes his first speech at school. They had reached the meadow, and were coming up the slow incline. I could see nothing as yet but astraw hat, a white blur beneath it, and a brown travelling suit. Throughthe wide-open yard gate they rolled. Then those who had been calledtogether to welcome her gave cheer after cheer, and waved their handsand hats above their heads. 

"Hi, Miss S'lome!" from a sturdy field hand. 

"Hi, baby!" from an old mammy. 

"Howdy, Missus!" from a housemaid. 

"Hi, Mi' 'Ome!" from a pickaninny in arms. 

And so the welcome greetings fell upon her. And from out thepandemonium a high, sweet voice thrilled into my ears. 

"Hello, Sambo! Here's Aunt Cynthy! Look how 'Lindy has grown!"

It was almost like the confused panorama of a dream. The horses stopped;a lithe figure leaped, unaided, to the ground; I heard that dear word"mother, "--and Salome was home. 

IX

I descended the steps, and stood at a respectful distance. I saw a grayhead and a brown one side by side, and caught faintly the whispered loveof youth and age. Arms were at length unclasped, and Mrs. Grundypresented me. A sudden up-flashing of dark eyes was the first impressionI received from the face turned towards me. She made me a low courtesy, and held out her hand, and I took it and bowed over it with the bestgrace of which I was master. 

"I am glad to see you, Miss Salome, " I said, truthfully, for my feelingshad undergone a wonderful revulsion, despite my indifference of thatmorning. Sometimes a moment is long enough to change one's whole being. 

"I am so pleased to find you here. " Her voice was low, well bred, andmodulated. "Mother and father are very lonely after I go away. They loveme far more than I deserve, " and she smiled back at them as they stoodhand in hand watching us. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will shakehands with all of these good friends. "

She nodded pleasantly in response to my bow, and moved away with acertain gliding step. Straight to an old black mammy she went, and threwherself into the good creature's arms. Then right and left she turned, while they crowded around her, shaking hands with all. Some horny handsshe took could have crushed hers like a flower; but everywhere wereexpressions of love and respect. And she was the gladdest thing there. The genuine affection she felt for all the negroes was shown in hercordial greetings. 

The carriage was driven away, the blacks dispersed, and the rest of usretired to "mother's room, " which was situated back of mine. The two oldpeople hovered about their returned darling like parent birds over astrayed fledgeling which had come back to the nest. I took a seat apart, and, joining in the conversation but rarely, studied the girl who sat ina large rocking chair, and who talked as volubly and as entertaininglyas any one could have wished. She was, as Mr. Grundy had said, of mediumbuild. Her form was youthful, but possessed of that subtle roundnesswhich betokens the approach of womanhood. Two dainty feet darted in andout beneath her skirt as she rocked to and fro. Her face was notbeautiful, but the features were delicate and fine. Her lips were as redas rich blood could make them, the upper one pouting ever so slightly, and the soft brown hair was parted in the middle and drawn back from anexquisite forehead. The dark brown eyes were the girl's chief charm. They danced and sparkled in impish mischief, and had a way of shootingsudden glances which made themselves felt as keenly as arrows. Andcrowning it all was a sweet grace and womanliness which was good to see. From that hour my opinion of a school-girl changed. 

After supper all of us gathered on the front porch. Mr. And Mrs. Grundyoccupied the settee; Salome and I sat upon the porch at the top of thesteps, she leaning against one pillar, and I against the other, acrossfrom her. Of course she did the talking, and while most of it was aboutthe things which had happened at school, I found myself listening withincreasing interest. I soon discovered that it was the music of hervoice which held me, --soft, rich, speaking in perfect accents. Hernarrative was frequently interrupted by bursts of bubbling laughter, assome amusing incident was remembered and related. Very suddenly shestopped. 

"Listen!" she said, and turned her head sideways, holding up one finger. 

Through the silence which followed came the twanging notes of a banjo. 

"It's Uncle Zeb!" she announced, in a loud whisper. Then to me, impulsively, "Don't _you_ like music, Mr. Stone?"

She leaned towards me, as though it was a vital question which she hadpropounded. 

"Very dearly, " I answered promptly. "This is the first that I have heardsince coming here. "

"It's a jig, and he's playing it for me--the old darling! I must go tohim, or he would be hurt. "

She arose swiftly, and gathered up her skirts. 

"Will you come, Mr. Stone, since you love music? We won't stay long. "

I mumbled something, and got up, a trifle confused. Such perfect candorand lack of artificiality was a revelation to me. She placed herdisengaged hand upon my arm at the bottom of the steps. 

"Uncle Zeb almost raised me, " she explained, as we took our way aroundthe house towards the darkey cabins. "He's taken me to the fields withhim many a time, and I was brought up on that tune you hear him playing. He always plays it when I come home--look at them now!"

The cabins were all built in a locust grove to the rear of the house. To-night the negroes had lighted a bonfire, and were making merry in theold-time, ante-bellum way. Seated upon broken-down chairs, or strewnupon the grass in various attitudes, these dusky children of misfortunewatched the performance of an exceedingly black old uncle, who, sittingupon a bench before his cabin, was picking the strings of a banjo almostas old as himself. His bald head, surrounded by a fringe of gray wool, shone brightly in the firelight, he was rocking his body rhythmicallybackwards and forwards, and keeping time with one foot upon the hardearth. As we came into the circle of firelight we were discovered, andthere was a quick movement, and a deferential giving way. My companiontook her hand from my arm, and the action seemed to draw me much nearerthe earth than I had been for the past two or three minutes. Themusician stopped playing when he became aware of our presence. 

"Bress de Lawd, honey chile! Am dat you? 'Pears to me a' angel mus' 'a'drapped down frum de sky!"

"This is your little child, Uncle Zeb, " she answered with feeling, "andI have come out here to listen to you play. "

"De ol' man can't play 'less de feet's a-goin', " he replied, shaking hishead solemnly. "You know you's al'ays danced fur ol' Zeb. "

A darker color came to her cheeks, and she turned smilingly to me. 

"Uncle Zeb taught me a jig when I was a wee thing in pinafores. He willnever play for me unless I dance for him. You know he thinks I am stilla child of eight or ten. If you think it's not--real nice, I won't askyou to stay. "

The roguish upcasting of starry eyes, and the deprecating little manner, tied my tongue for the instant. 

"I shall be glad to stay, if you will permit me. "

This much I managed to utter, and as she bowed assent, I went and leanedagainst the cabin wall, by the side of Uncle Zeb. This was done partlyto give her all the room she needed, and partly to secure a support formyself, for a strange weakness had begun to assail my limbs. 

There was an eager, anticipative move on the part of the negroes. Theynudged each other, and whispered, grinned broadly, and shifted theirpositions to where they could obtain an unobstructed view. Salome stoodbareheaded, with arms akimbo, waiting for the music. The travelling suithad been discarded, and she was dressed in a simple blue dimity frockwhich showed the perfect curves of her figure to charming advantage. Uncle Zeb, with characteristic leisure, was in no hurry to begin. Hetwisted the screws and thrummed the strings in a very wise manner. Atlength the instrument was tuned to his satisfaction, and then hisclaw-like fingers began to move with astonishing rapidity. I looked atSalome. She was standing perfectly still. Then, as the music quickened, I saw her supple body begin to sway, like a lily's stem when a zephyrbreathes upon it. Her hands dropped to her sides, and daintily liftingher gown above her feet, she began to dance. Gently at first, and withsuch ease that she barely moved. Then the step receded, advanced, andgrew faster. Her tiny feet twinkled, and tapped the earth in perfecttime and rhythm. Such living grace I had never looked upon! The bendingform, the flushed face, and the dancing feet, the grouped negroes andthe old musician, --the picture was burned into my memory like paintingis burned upon china in a kiln. My breath came quicker, and my face grewhot. I scarcely knew when she stopped, but for the wild cheers of thespectators. Then, flushed and laughing, she came and cast herself uponthe bench by Uncle Zeb. 

"Yo' do it better eb'ry time, chile!" declared the old fellow, highlydelighted that she had danced to his playing. 

"And you gave it better than ever before! Did I shock you, Mr. Stone?"She turned to me with a look of deep contrition. 

I sat down beside her, and spoke my mind. 

"I never saw anything like it. But don't fear that you shocked me. Iwish that I could see the same thing every evening. "

"You're good not to mind it. Mother and father think it sweet, and Idance for them sometimes. Now, if you don't mind, we will go back. I'm alittle tired to-night from my journey. Good-night, Uncle Zeb, " shepatted the old man's hand. "Good-night, Lindy, Jane, Dinah, Sambo, Tom--all of you!" She waved her hand, and, to a chorus of answeringgood-nights, we moved away. 

X

The grandfather's clock which stood in the hall struck twelve. My eyesseemed loath to close in sleep. It is true I had not gone to bed tillhalf-past eleven, but usually Sleep sat upon my pillow, and proceeded toblindfold me a few minutes after my going to bed. To-night, uponreaching my room, I had read and smoked, and smoked and read, until mynerves had been brought back to their normal state. It fretted me not atrifle to know that a girl from boarding-school had upset me. But theingenuous frankness of this young being, the unaffectedness which waitedupon her every movement, had wrought such demolition to my theoriesthat I was slow in recovering my equipoise of thought. At length Istrolled through a mazy vista to oblivion, surrounded by a dancingthrong of seraphs. 

My rest was untroubled, and when I threw open my window-shutter the nextmorning, and gazed out with sleep-blurred eyes, my first impression wasthat things had become topsy-turvy, and that a soft sky studded withstars lay before me. But as reason swiftly dominated my brain, I sawthat instead of the phenomenon which had at first seemed apparent, therewas only the bluegrass lawn thickly sown with dandelions, as though someprodigal Croesus had strown his wealth of gold broadcast. Perhaps thelowly, modest yellow flowers were but imitating the glittering orbswhich had looked down upon them throughout the night--who knows? For isnot reasoning man oftentimes just as vain, when he seeks to clothehimself with a majesty which is not for mortals?

For several days I adhered to the plans which I had laid out before thecoming of Salome. I rode with the master about the farm, took mysolitary walks with Fido, as usual, and spent most of each evening in myroom, alone. If left to the dictates of my own will, there is no tellinghow long this would have continued. But one morning, at breakfast, myhost surprised me with the words:

"Stone, you remember the old St. Rose church you spoke of? It's worthlooking at, but the Lord knows when I'll have a chance to go with you. S'lome's a great favorite with the sisters over at St. Catherine's, which is about a half mile from St. Rose, and I heard her tell motheryesterday that she was going to ride over to pay her respects thismorning. Me and my folks are Presbyterians, but nearly all of ourneighbors are Catholics, and good people, and we like them. Now if you'dlike to go 'long, I don't s'pect S'lome'd mind showin' you 'bout theplace. "

He looked at the daintily clad figure at my side with an interrogativesmile. 

"It would be a great favor to me, " I put in hastily. "I had beenthinking of late I would have to go alone, but if Miss Salome would notobject, I should be pleased to go with her. "

"Of course you may, " she answered readily. "I love both places verymuch, and the sisters are so sweet. Sister Hyacintha is my favorite, --adear old nun with the face of a saint. Do you like old-timey, quietplaces, Mr. Stone? St. Rose church is perhaps the oldest building in thecounty. St. Catherine's is not half a mile from it, and the sistersconduct a boarding-school there. Had I been a Catholic, I doubtlesswould have received my education at that place. "

I quickly assured her that I looked forward with much pleasure to ourlittle trip, and asked her if we were to go horseback, or in thecarriage. 

"Oh, horseback!" she exclaimed, with the delight of a child. "I believeyou are a good horseman, " she added archly. 

"Only fair, " I responded, smiling. "Still I would much prefer to go thatway. I enjoy the exercise so much. "

And so it was arranged. I had no dress for this sort of thing, and Ifelt a trifle out of place when she joined me on the porch arrayed in acomplete riding habit of black. From her gauntlets to her silver-handledwhip, her attire was complete. I flushed. 

"You know I am not accustomed to riding--will you pardon myappearance?"

"It makes no difference whatever!" She laughed merrily. "The feathersdon't make the bird, and I am perfectly satisfied. "

My mount was the same animal I had been used to, and the horse which hadbeen led out for her was a wiry, dapple-gray mare of impatient blood. Iknew the correct thing to do, and while I feared that I could notperform the service successfully, I determined to try. So as she walkedtowards the fretful mare which a negro was with difficulty restraining, I stepped forward, doffed my hat, and with "Permit me, Miss Salome, " Ibent, and hollowed my hand for the reception of her foot. With thenaturalness and grace of a queen she placed the sole upon my palm, and Ilifted her to the spring as though she had been a feather, and she sankinto the saddle and grasped the reins, which she proceeded to draw tautwith no uncertain hold. With my cheeks burning slightly--I was not usedto waiting upon women--I sought my saddle, and we cantered away. 

How well the poet knew when he sang--

 "What is so rare as a day in June?"

The bright morning sun blessed us with a benison of light; the sweet, cool, scented air laid its thousand tiny hands lightly upon our faces, and the green stretches of country all around us spoke of an earthlyparadise. For a while we said nothing, for that sorceress, June, hadthrown her web about us, and we were moving as through the vistas of adream. Once I glanced at my companion, and I saw such a peaceful, happy, yet thoroughly unconscious look upon her face that I stayed the casualremark upon my tongue which I felt that courtesy required. Then itdawned upon me with the suddenness of a revelation that her nature wasattuned to mine, and all at once I knew that the sylvan sounds andscenes which were the delight of my soul were as manna to hers as well. And I had shunned her!

"I fear you will think me a poor escort, " she said at length, smiling atme with a trace of sadness. "But I have been away so long, and all thesemeadows, and trees, and brooks are friends--you don't know how I lovethem. I have lived with them and in them since I could walk, and it islike seeing dear ones in the flesh to come back and be with them, andhold silent communion with them. Does this sound strange to you?"

"No. " And yet I looked at her half perplexedly. My idols were beingshattered one by one. "No, it is not strange to me that such feelingsexist, for they are my own. That was why I sought this old-fashionedKentucky home. I lived in Louisville until I came here, and my soul wasbeing crushed out of me between four brick walls. I have been happyhere; I did not know what happiness was until I came here--except thatderived from books. But that sort of happiness you feel; this sort youlive, and your being is broadened by it. But you--I confess it soundsstrange to me to hear you say such things. "

"Why should I not know them as well as you? My opportunities have beengreater. "

"I don't know; I have no reason to give. In my ignorance and selfishnessI had thought that I was alone in this; that no one could listen toNature's secrets but myself. I have been wrong, and I am glad that Ihave been undeceived. "

The congeniality which became quickly established between us made ourseven-mile ride very short. Our horses were in good mettle, and the roadwas fine. Before I knew where we were, we turned into a by-road borderedby locust trees, and cantered down to St. Catherine's Academy. The lawnbefore the three-story brick building was beautifully kept. I hitchedour horses, and as we strolled up the pavement towards the entrance, Isaw two or three figures moving about the premises, clad in the becomingblack-and-white garb of the order. Presently one sister espied us, andimmediately started our way. She was very old, and moved with slow, short steps. Salome ran to her with a little cry of joy, bent down andkissed the wrinkled face, and, as I came up, introduced me to SisterHyacintha. I shall never forget the patient, joyful, almost heavenlylook on the face of this good woman. She led us to the porch, and gaveus chairs, and she and Salome talked, while I listened. As it wasnearing the noon hour, we were prevailed upon to stay and take lunch. Inthe afternoon we were shown through the building, and took a walk overthe grounds. Time slipped by stealthily, and the sun was hovering abovethe western horizon when Salome remembered that St. Rose was yet to beseen. 

A short ride over a narrow dirt road winding through masses of verdurebrought us to the confines of the old church, which, perched upon ahill, reared its turret aloft in the purple air. I fastened our horsesto some of the numerous hitching-posts placed along the roadside for theuse of worshippers, and we turned to the iron gate leading into thepremises. As this clanged behind us we both felt keenly the jar itcreated, for everything was so still and peaceful that the slightestnoise was irrelevant, and we felt bound to talk in whispers. We foundourselves upon a gravel walk bordered by cedars; to our left was theroad, to our right the white stones of a vast burying ground rose uplike spectral sentinels of the tomb. 

Salome put her hand upon my arm. The path was steep, and I should haveoffered her assistance, but I had not thought of it. Not a word wasspoken until we had reached the end of the path. Here the brow of thehill curved around in the form of a semicircle, and was studded withcedars, like emeralds in a crown. Before us, not a dozen steps away, rose the ancient edifice we had come to view. It was made of solidmasonry, and seemed good for hundreds of years to come. 

"Here we are. "

Salome was panting a little as she said this, in a barely audible voice. I looked at the gray pile in silent contemplation. Its style suggestedmassiveness, although the building was not of any great size. The partcomprising the vestibule and bell-tower was octagon in shape, and theturret was at least a hundred feet in air. Behind this were theivy-covered walls of the body of the church. It was at that time whenthe earth grows still before drawing her night robes about her. In thewestern sky the sun's last streamers flared out like a gorgeous fan, andon their tips some shy diamonds glittered evasively. From the fieldsaround us came the sweet breath of the spring, smelling of the richerfragrance of early summer. The birds were still; the stamping of ourhorses in the road below was the only sound. 

"Shall we go in?"

I started, although the tones were low and like the music of ripplingwater. When I turned my head, the brown eyes looking into mine had amournful expression. The impressiveness of it all was upon her, too. There must have been a certain look of inquiry upon my face, for shewent on, in the same wonderful voice:

"It's never locked, you know. I like that custom about a Catholicchurch. So often the soul would enter into a holy place and be alone inprayer. Shall we enter? I think there is enough light for us to see. "

In reply, I drew closer to her, and held out my arm. She took itlightly, and in the deepening twilight we walked to the broad, woodendoor. It yielded reluctantly to the pressure of my hand, on account ofits size and weight, and together we entered the shadows of the sacredplace. 

XI

The door settled heavily into place behind us, and we were in almostcomplete darkness. Somewhere in front of us was a glimmer of light. Ifelt the slight figure at my side drawing me forward, and I put myselfunder her guidance. Crossing the vestibule, we passed into the roombeyond. Although we trod lightly, the bare floor sent up sounds whichechoed loudly, it seemed to us. A ghostly light filled the chamber intowhich we had come, and made it look much larger than it really was. Theroof was lost above us, but there, before us, were the plain, brown, wooden benches forming the pews, and the nave leading down to the altarrailing. Along this a worn strip of carpet was placed. Slowly we wentforward, awed by the silent majesty of a place of worship. All at oncethere came to me a realization of the peculiar position in which I wasplaced--walking down a church aisle with a beautiful girl upon myarm--and my face grew red. I could tell it by the hot tingling at myneck and temples, but the gloom was deep enough to hide it from her. Thesudden force of what such a proceeding as this might mean made myheart--my staid, old, methodical heart--throb unwontedly. I hoped thatthe gloved hand resting so near to it did not feel its throbbings, although they sounded in my ears like a hammer on an anvil. 

We had reached the railing. Before us rose the altar, with its imagesand its unlit tapers, its cloth of gold, and its silver appurtenances. Astretch of carpeted floor lay between it and us. Directly this side therailing was a narrow ledge. Salome suddenly bent her knees and restedthem upon this, placed her elbows upon the railing and bent her head inher hands. For a moment I gazed at the black bowed figure, then foundmyself imitating her attitude. In the stillness of the old church weknelt alone. Around us was utter silence, and the paling light of a deadday. Perhaps in the dark corners the ghosts of confessed sins werelurking; above the spot where we knelt many a "_Benedicite_" had fallenupon humble hearts waiting to receive it. She was praying. Perhapsconfessing to the Great Absolver the sinless sins which bore no crimsonstain, and praying His favor for the ones she loved. As well might aflower of the fields bow down and breathe out tales of grave misdeeds, for her heart was like a flower--yea, like the closed cup of a lily atnight, garbed in purity as white as holiness. 

I watched her through the fingers I had placed over my face. This surelywas no sin, for my own heart was not still enough for prayer. She wasvery still, and only her small ear and a portion of her cheek werevisible. What did this half-stifling feeling mean which rose up in mythroat? I had never seen a woman in prayer, alone. Away back through thedimly lit aisles which led to a distant boyhood my mind had sometimesstrayed, and viewed a small white figure kneeling at its mother's sideat bedtime. That was myself, and her petitions were doubtless sent up bythe little cot where I lay asleep. A young girl praying! It is as sacredas the miracle of birth. And by this simple act, this girl had placed inme a greater trust than words could speak. She deemed me good enough tobe by her side when she approached her Creator--and was I worthy? Iknew I was not. And though my life had been free from those pollutingsins which glow like rubies in the souls of some men, I felt that here Ihad no fitting place, that her prayers would be clogged by theunholiness of my presence. She knelt, immovable as the statued Christwhich hung almost over our heads. The glow in the stained-glass windowsto our left had turned to a gray blur; the outlines of her figure weregrowing indistinct. As suddenly and as quickly as she had knelt, shearose, and with the freedom of a child took my arm as we retraced oursteps. 

A young moon was tilted over in the sky near the horizon as we gainedthe open. The limitless depths above us were aglow with millions ofsparkling stars. We stood for a moment before going down to our horses. 

"We'll be a little late getting back. "

Again it was my companion who broke the silence. 

"I'm sorry, for it will be because of me. "

She laughed, --the bubbling notes so like the falling of a forest rivuletover a low rock ledge. 

"It will not matter, unless we count the loss of sleep. Mother andfather know how I love the night, and when they know where I am, andwhom I am with, they are not concerned. "

"I would gladly lose a night's rest for an experience like this. Youhave made me very much your debtor. How solemn and beautiful it all is!"My eyes took in all visible things in a comprehensive glance. "Do youcome here often?"

"No; I only care to come at the close of day, and my parents are gettingtoo old to be dragged around to humor my whims. It is too far to comealone, and so I miss it. "

"Then did I really perform some sort of service for you in accompanyingyou here? I had imagined the favor all on your side. "

"Let's call it square, " she smiled. "I showed you the place, and youacted as my protector and escort. A very even bargain, I think. We hadbetter go now. We will have a fine ride home. "

It was very dark on the cedar-bordered walk down which we went, andwhile I longed to offer assistance, I refrained. When we came to theroad, however, we found that there was enough light. The horses wererestless at their posts, and we mounted with considerable difficultyafter I had unhitched them. But Salome, peerless horsewoman that shewas, quickly had hers in hand, and mine soon became tractable of itsown accord. We proceeded at a smart canter until we reached theturnpike. There Salome suggested a gallop, and I could do nothing butassent, although fast riding was something to which I was notaccustomed. But I gradually accommodated myself to the long, undulatingleaps of my mount, and then began to enjoy it. It was highlyexhilarating as well as novel. Salome sat as though part of the animalshe managed so well, and as we swept along I kept my eyes upon her in akind of wonder. It was so new to me, and the skill with which her smallhand managed her mettled horse was nothing short of a marvel. 

We did not talk much during this part of our ride. Occasionally shewould fling a remark across at me above the thud of the hammering feet, but I think the beauty of the night and the wonderful silence sat uponour minds, and made our tongues unwilling for speech. Sometimes theroad was open and clear, and then I could see her eyes, like veiledstars. And around and about us were fields of growing corn and ripeningwheat, and infolding us close, as in a filmy garment, was thatindescribable odor of green things and of dew-wet turf. Then the pikewould sweep around a curve, like the stretch of a winding river, andbordering each side of the highway were clumps and rows of giganticforest-trees. Oftentimes their boughs would intertwine above, and whatseemed to be the black mouth of a tunnel would confront us. Into thisapparent pit of darkness we would dash, but the horses never shied. Theyknew well the ground their fleet hoofs were spurning, and they knew thatfarther on was home, --a good stall, and a rack full of musky clover hay. Under the trees I could not see Salome. Now and again some sparks offire would shoot out when a hoof struck a stone. Then out into the openagain. The pace our steeds had assumed of their own free will was nomean one, and when scarcely an hour had gone we were riding slowlythrough the meadow to the big whitewashed gate giving entrance to theyard. The young moon had grown weary, and tumbled out of the sky; butthe stars seemed brighter--they looked as though the dew which sparkledon the grass below us had washed their tiny faces on its way to earth. The Milky Way appeared as a phantom lace curtain stretched across thesky. 

I opened the gate from my horse, and held it back for Salome to passthrough. When she had done this, I followed, and the gate clanged back. The noise of its shutting notified Inky and Jim of our arrival, for theywere waiting sleepily as we came up to the fine stone steps of the oldhome, and at once took charge of the horses. I helped Salome up thesteps by placing my hand beneath her elbow. We stood for a moment on theedge of the porch. 

"We must move around gently, " I suggested. "The old folks have doubtlessbeen asleep an hour. "

"Bless their dear hearts!" she answered with earnest fervor. "Mothersays you move like a mouse, " she resumed, and I could see the faintglint of her teeth as she smiled. "My room is upstairs, and I am not solikely to disturb them. Have you enjoyed your day?"

"It has been _very_ pleasant, " I answered warmly. "I feel more gratefulto you than I can say for being so nice to a stranger who happens to bea guest in your home. But I love the woods, and the fields, and thepure, fresh air which blows straight down from heaven. This much we havein common. Will you let me go with you again--sometimes? I would notbore you, nor presume too much. "

In my great earnestness I had come closer to her. 

"I am out of doors a great deal, and you may go with me often, if youwish. I enjoyed having you to-day. "

This was said just as seriously as my question had been put. Then, inone of those rare changes of which her nature was capable, she added:

"You know I need a protector in my various rambles, and you shall be myesquire when I go forth in state to see my flower subjects scattered allover the farm. My knight-errant, too, to espouse my cause should snake, or dog, or an enraged animal of the pastures seek to do me harm. "

"Gladly, your majesty, " I answered gallantly, falling into the spiritwhich her words betokened, and bowing low. "Behold your vassal; commandme when you will. "

A whispered "good-night, " a faint echo of that enchanting laugh, and shehad slipped through the door and was gone. 

I did not tarry long, for the beauty of the night had suddenly paled. Everything had grown darker, and, by habit, I thought of my easy-chairand pipe, and went in also. Salome was standing at the farther end ofthe long, broad hall, with a lighted candle in her hand. Her hat hadbeen removed, and her tangled hair was half down. The riding habit hadalso disappeared, and she was robed in some sort of a loose house gownwhich fell away into a train. Her back was towards me, and she had onefoot on the first step of the curved stairway which went up from thatpoint. She heard me turn the key in the lock, and looked back. I wenttowards her; why, I do not know. She waited until I had come quiteclose. 

"I haven't anything very particular to say, " I began, I fear veryconfusedly. But my foolish feet had led me to her, obedient to thedictates of a foolish mind, and I had to speak first. 

"I have been in mother's room, " she answered, opening her eyes verywide, as a child does when it hears a sound in the dark. "I went forthis wrapper, and would you believe it, I did not waken either of them!Mother sleeps very lightly, too!"

"You have performed quite a feat, " I assured her, at once put at ease byher genuineness. "Have you planned anything for to-morrow?"

"Father has some sheep on the lower farm that are sick, and I am goingto take them some salt, because that is good for their blood. "

"May I help you salt the sheep? I'll carry the salt, if you will let mego. "

She turned her head sideways, with a slight uplifting of the brows, asthough hesitating. 

"Ye-e-e-s, I guess so, " she replied at last, doubtfully. "Do you knowanything about sheep?"

"Nothing more than I have read. They are very docile, I believe, and agreat many of our clothes come from their backs. "

"But that isn't all. " There was the wisdom of Solomon on the fresh youngface, shadowed by disarranged tresses. "Some of them have horns, like acow, only they grow back instead of out. And they'll run you sometimes, when they take a notion. Can you run, Mr. Stone?"

The picture which came to my mind of the staid and dignified Abner Stoneflying across a meadow with coat-tails streaming, and an irate ram athis heels, brought a broad smile to my face. 

"Yes; I _can_ run. But I promise not to desert you if danger comes. "

"Then be ready in the morning. I will say good-night again, for I knowyou must tell this day's doings to your pipe before you retire. "

Our entire conversation at the foot of the stair had been in lowwhispers, and I whispered back her good-night, and turned to go. Then, like Lot's wife, I looked behind me. She had reached the first landing, where the stairway curved. She saw me, and peered forward, holding thecandle above her head. The loose sleeve of her dress fell back with themotion, and the bare symmetry of her rounded forearm gleamed upon theblackness like ivory upon ebony. I waved my hand; she waved hers, thenwas gone. 

I sank into a chair and bowed my head in my hands, my soul torn by thepangs of a new birth. 

XII

Only a few old negroes were astir when I stepped from the house the nextmorning. Even the master had not arisen. The stars and the sun'sforerunners were having a battle on the broad field overhead; one by onethe stars were vanquished and their lamps extinguished. I stood upon thelowest step of the flight in front of the house, and watched the misty, uncertain shapes of trees and bushes gradually evolve themselves intodistinguishable outlines. The process was slow, because a kind of vaporlay upon everything, and it resisted strenuously the onslaught of thesun. But it gave way, as darkness ever must before light, and, as if bymagic, the curtain which night had placed was rolled away, and little bylittle the landscape was revealed. Along the creek, which ran justbeyond the pike, and parallel with it, hung a dense wall of fog, againstwhich it seemed the arrows of day fell, blunted. The air was cool andfresh, and I drew it deep down into my lungs, feeling the sluggish bloodstart afresh with each draught. 

With the dawning of that day came the dawning of a new life for me. Irealized that I had been living in a darkened room, and that a windowhad suddenly been thrown open, letting in upon me a shower of goldenlight, with the songs of birds and the incense of flowers. My old lifehad been a contented one, had known the pleasures to be derived fromassociation with books and God's great out-door miracles. The new life, whose silver dawn was beginning to tip my soul with a strange radiance, held untold joys which belong rightly to heaven, and which numbed mymind as I strove blindly after comprehension. I was as a little childleft all at once alone upon the world. I stood, helpless, trying tocentralize my disordered thoughts, with a strange oppressed feeling inmy breast which deep respirations could not drive away. I was deeply, deeply troubled, and my mind was in a maze. But one idea possessed me, and that doggedly asserted itself, overriding the tumult in my brain. Iwas longing, madly longing, to see again her whom I _loved_. The word inmy mind was like the touch of a white-hot iron, and I started as ifstung, and fell to pacing nervously up and down. It could not be; itcould not be! That child of nineteen, --I a man of forty-five! The ideawas monstrous! What an old fool I had been! I did not know my own mind, that was all. I would be all right in a day or two. But still thatsinking feeling weighed above my heart, and my usually calm pulse wasrioting with something other than exercise. 

"Let it be love!" I cried at last, in my troubled soul. "The painfulbliss of this half hour's experience is worth the cost of denial, forshe shall never know!"

Thus did I, poor worm, commune in my fool's heaven, recking not, norknowing, that I was setting at naught the plans of my Creator. 

At breakfast I was myself, although my hand trembled when I conveyedfood to my mouth, and I felt my cheeks coloring when she came in alittle late, arrayed in a pink-flowered, flowing gown, and looking asfresh as though she had just risen, bathed in dew, from theblue-and-crimson cup of a morning-glory. 

"How did you rest after your night ride?" she smiled, sitting by me andresting her elbows on the edge of the table, then pillowing her roundchin in her pink palms. 

"I slept better for my outing, " I answered promptly, lying with the easeof a schoolboy. The truth was, my sleep had been broken and poor. 

"It's a good thing for Stone that you're back, " thundered Mr. Grundy. "You're so everlastingly fond of running over all creation, and he hasthe rovingest disposition I ever saw. Goin' down to salt those sheepthis mornin', S'lome?"

"Yes, sir. I made a compact with Mr. Stone last night to act as myesquire on all my expeditions. You've often said I should have some oneto go along with me. "

"Don't let her impose on you, Stone, " responded the old gentleman, throwing a quick wink in my direction. "She's young, you know, anddon't know as much as mother. She'll have you climbing an oak tree toget a young hawk out of its nest likely as not. "

Salome laughed, while I boldly assured them that I would make the effortshould she desire such a thing. Mrs. Grundy was quiet, as usual. Shecontented herself listening to the conversation of the others, andseldom took her eyes off the girl it was plain to see she worshipped. 

"Get ready for a walk this morning, Mr. Stone!" called Salome, a shorttime after breakfast, peeping over the balustrades at the top of thestair. "The lower farm is about two miles, and the walk will be good forus. "

"I'll get my hat and stick; are you coming now?"

"As soon as I can get in another dress. I'll meet you in the locustgrove. Tell Tom to get you the salt, and I'll be there before you havemissed me. "

She was gone with a pattering of little feet. 

I went into my room for my stick and hat with a grim smile upon my face. The steady ground which I had thought beneath me was becoming shiftingsand. I went slowly around the house to the negro quarters with bowedhead, briefly gave Tom his mistress' orders, and stood apatheticallywhile the darky hastened away to obey. 

A quick scurrying in the grass, and the pressure of two small paws uponmy trousers' leg brought me to myself, and I bent down to pat the yellowhead of Fido, who had espied me, and instantly besought recognition. 

"You poor, dumb, faithful thing, " I apostrophized, looking at the brighteyes which shone love into mine. "You are spared this agony of soul, and the futile efforts to solve problems which cannot be known. You loveme, and I love you; why could we both not be content?"

"Is Fido going, too?"

I composed my face with an effort, and straightened up as the cheeryvoice hailed me. She was coming towards me like a woodland sprite, floating, it seemed to me, for her gliding step was so free from anypronounced undulation. Her dress of blue checked gingham just escapedthe ground, and she wore a gingham sunbonnet with two long strings, which she held in either hand. The sunbonnet was tilted back, and herlaughing face, with its rich, delicate under-color of old wine, was fitfor a god to kiss. 

"Yes, we will take him along if you do not object. He was the companionof my rambles before you came. We will make a congenial three. "

Tom approached with a bucket of salt, which, after an exaggerated scrapeof the foot and a pull at his forelock, he handed to me, and we set out. 

Our way led through the orchard at the back of the house, where grew, Ithink, all sorts of apples known to man. Each bough was freighted withits burden of round, green fruit, and here and there an Early Harvesttree was spattered with golden patches, where the ripened apples hung intheir green bower. Beyond the orchard lay a woods pasture, formed of asuccession of gentle swells, the heavy bluegrass turf soft as anOriental carpet to the feet, while scattered about were hundreds ofmagnificent trees, mostly oak and poplar. Dotting the sward werenumerous little white balls on long stems, --dandelions gone to seed. These Salome plucked constantly, and, filling her cheeks with wind, would blow like Boreas, until her face was purple. When I inquired thepurpose of this queer performance, I was shyly informed that it was totell if her sweetheart loved her. If she blew every one of the pappusoff at one breath, he loved her; if she didn't, he didn't love her. Shewas certainly very much concerned about the matter, for every ball shecame to she plucked and blew. Sometimes all the pappus disappeared, andsometimes they didn't, and so she never reached a decided conclusion. 

The pasture crossed, a rail fence rose up before us. I at once steppedforward to let down a gap, but Salome halted me. 

"The idea!" she declared. "I don't mind that at all. You stand justwhere you are, and turn your back; I'll call you when I'm over. "

I blushed, and obeyed. 

A wheat-field of billowy gold stretched before us when I joined her. Anarrow path ran through it, curving sinuously, as a path made by chancewill. This we followed, Salome going in front. The wheat was ready forthe reaper, and the full heads were swelled to bursting. Salome gatheredsome, threshed them between her hands, blew out the chaff, and offeredme part of the grain, eating the other herself. It was pasty, but notunpleasant, and I ate it because it was her gift. We were walkingpeacefully along, through the waist-high grain, when Salome gave alittle scream and jumped back, plump into my arms. Even in my excitementI saw the tail of a black snake vanishing across the path. I releasedher quickly, of course, but the touch of her figure was like wine in myveins. 

"I beg your pardon!" she said humbly; "but the ugly thing frightenedme. It darted out so quickly, and I almost stepped upon it. You couldn'tget one of the negroes to follow this path any farther. They are verysuperstitious, you know, and are firm believers in signs. "

"I'm sorry you were startled so; perhaps I had better go in front, " Iventured. 

"No; you sha'n't. I'm not really afraid of snakes, except when I runupon one unexpectedly. I kill them when I get a chance. "

And so she started out again in advance of me, and began telling thevarious beliefs of the negroes. I learned from her that their lives werealmost governed by "signs, " and that some very trivial thing would deterthem from a certain course of action. There were ways to escape thespell of witches, to avoid snakes, and to keep from being led into amorass by jack-o'-lanterns. This folk-lore of the darkies wasexceedingly interesting to me, told in the charming manner whichcharacterized the speech of my companion. 

The wheat-field ended at the pike, and here another fence was passed inthe same manner as the first one. Then we swung down the dusty roadtogether, side by side. To the right and left of us dog-fennel wasblooming, and the "Jimpson" weed flared its white trumpets in a braveshow. Occasionally a daisy lifted its yellow, modest head, and Salometook great delight in getting me to tell her which was daisy and whichwas fennel. My ignorance caused many a blunder, to her high amusement;but at last I discovered that the daisy's head was larger than that ofits humble brother. A half-mile's walk along the pike brought us to anold sagging gate, which I pushed open, and we went through. A grassyhill was before us, sloping down to a cool hollow where a springbubbled out from beneath a moss-grown old rock. 

There were trees and bushes, and a soft green bank, and we joined handsand ran like two school-children till we reached the spring. Of courseshe must have a drink, so down she knelt, and plunged her pouting lipsinto the cool water. Her hair, tangled and loosened by our run, fell inwavy strands about her face. When she had drunk her fill, it was myturn, and so I stretched out full length, and carefully put my lips justwhere hers had been. Never had water tasted so sweet! I was taking itin, in long, cool swallows, when a sudden pressure on the back of myhead bobbed my face deep into the spring. I turned my head with a smile, to find her standing back and laughing like a child at the trick she hadplayed. 

"You rascal!" I fumed good-naturedly, "I'll pay you back!"

Another peal of laughter was her only answer, caused, no doubt, by mywet face and the water dripping from my chin. 

"Yonder come the sheep, " she said. "Get up, and let's salt them. "

I arose and picked up the bucket. Coming slowly up the hollow were fiveor six shabby-looking sheep. Their wool stood on them in patches, andthey seemed scarcely able to walk. 

"What's the matter with them?" I queried. 

"See how rusty the poor things look!" Her voice told of deep concern. "Father says they have the scab, and it must be a dreadful disease, likeleprosy. Let's go meet them, and save them the trouble of walking sofar. "

I could not help smiling at the tender heart this speech betrayed, butI went with her. As we neared the sorry-looking group, Salome took ahandful of salt and placed it upon a large flat stone. They rushed at iteagerly, despite their weakened state, and lapped it with their tongues. We put out more salt, at a dozen different places, so that all mighthave enough, then went back to the bank by the spring, and while she satdown in the shade and held her bonnet in her lap, I reclined by herside, and looked up at her, content. 

XIII

"Do you love the country as much as you seem to?" she asked, gazingblissfully up at the dense foliage of the elm tree under which we wereresting. 

"I could not love it more; it is a wonder which never ends, and anenduring delight. If I could think that Paradise was like this day, andthis place, I would not care when death came. "

"I'm so glad, " she answered, with the simplicity and directness of achild. "I have been in cities, and I don't see how a soul can livethere. It seems to me that mine would cramp and dwindle until it died ifI had to live in a big town. Even the large and beautiful places ofworship speak more of the human than of the divine. It seems that mengo because they must, and that women go to show their clothes. This ismy religion and my temple. " She smiled in real joy as she waved her handabout her in a gesture comprehending everything bounded by the horizon. "Look at the roof of my temple. Was there ever one so high built bymortals, and was there ever a pigment mixed that could give it the tintwhich mine holds? And it is not always the same. To-day it is a paleblue, marked with delicate lines of cloud. At twilight it will darken toazure; to-night it will be studded with a million gems. And no prayerfalls back from that roof upon the head of the sender, for the stars arethe portholes through which they go to heaven. Do you never think thatway?"

I shook my head slowly. 

"It is very beautiful, " I said, "and equally true, no doubt, but I hadnever thought of it in just that way. I love this life because I can'thelp but love it. The forests, the meadows, the fields, and the brooksare what my soul craves; yet if you ask me why, I cannot tell you. Ihave been happier the few short weeks I have spent in your home than Iwas all the rest of my life. Since you have come, my happiness hasdeepened. "

I dared not look up, but kept my eyes on the four-leaf clover I wasplucking to pieces. 

"I'm glad I've helped make your visit pleasant. "

Her voice was in the same low sweet tones which she had before employed, and I knew by this she attached no particular significance to my lastsentence. 

"When mother wrote me that you had come to board with us, I was a littledispleased, for I was jealous of the sweet accord in which we all dwelt, and did not want it marred. But when she told me all about you, andyour habits, my feelings changed. I do not wish to draw any unjustcomparisons, but there are very few people with tastes and inclinationslike yours and mine, --don't you think so?"

This naïve frankness almost amused me. 

"I think you are right. I never knew any one who would care for just thethings we do, and they are certainly the most innocent pleasures whichthe world affords. "

A sudden darkening of the landscape and a breath of cool air accentuatedthe silence which fell at this point. We both looked up, and saw theedge of a blue-black cloud peeping over the shoulder of a northwesternhill. 

"I'm afraid we'll get wet, " said Salome, rising hastily, and surveyingher airy garments dubiously. "There isn't even a cabin between here andhome. I wouldn't care a fig, but mother always hates for me to be out ina storm. We can only do our best, and walk rapidly. "

With the salt bucket in my left hand, and her hand in my right, I helpedher up the hill the best I could. Fido limped behind. He had been lostnearly all the time since we started, --chasing rabbits, doubtless, --andhad only made his appearance a few moments before the cloud startled us. We gained the pike directly, and as we hurried towards the wheat-fieldthe cloud grew with alarming rapidity, and a scroll-work of flame beganto show about its outer edges. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" whispered Salome. "But we're going to catch it. "

And we did. Half-way across the wheat-field the first big dropssplashed against our faces, blown by strong gusts of wind. I gazedaround helplessly for shelter. A few yards to our right rose thecumbersome shape of a last year's straw-rick; it was better thannothing. 

"Come!" I said, taking her arm firmly. "I'll find you shelter. "

She consented silently, and I crushed a path for her through the ripegrain until we reached the rick. The rain was beginning to pelt ussharply. Furiously I went to work, tearing out straw by the handfuls, armfuls, and in a few seconds I had excavated a hole large enough forSalome to enter in a crouching posture. 

"Get in!" I commanded. I think she little liked the tone of authority Ihad assumed, for if there ever was a petted being, it was she, yet sheobeyed, and cuddled up in her refuge out of reach of the driving rain. 

I sat down by the side of her covert, and rested my back against therick. I also turned up my coat-collar, and pulled my hat well down uponmy head; but I soon saw that a good soaking was in store for me. 

"Why don't you come in, too?" she asked in guileless innocence. "I canmake room for you, and you will surely get wet out there. Aren't youafraid of rheumatism? Father has it if he gets his toe damp. "

"I'll get along all right, " I replied. "There doesn't much rain strikeme, and I never had the rheumatism in my life. "

I didn't tell her of the trouble with my breathing, and the attack thatwould be almost sure to follow this exposure. 

We both grew quiet after this, and listened to the swish of the rain andthe mighty howling of the wind. It had grown very dark, and the air waschilly. The lightning was incessant, and traced zigzag pathways of fireacross the sombre heavens. The thunder was terrific, and often shook thesolid earth. I asked Salome if she was not afraid, but she laughed fromher snug retreat, and said she loved it all. What manner of girl wasthis, who feared nothing, and who loved Nature even when she was at warwith herself?

The strife of the elements ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Thethunder rumbled away in the east; the rain stopped falling, and a riftof blue showed through the dun masses overhead. This was followed by abroad shaft of sunlight, which struck on the golden sea around us with ashimmering radiance. I jokingly called Salome a "hayseed" when sheemerged from her shelter, for her brown hair was sprinkled with wisps ofstraw. She ignored the epithet in her solicitation for my welfare, andproceeded straightway to place her hand upon my shoulders and back tosee if I was wet. 

"You're soaking!" she declared in genuine alarm. "You must have a hotwhiskey toddy and six grains of quinine the minute you get home!"

I made a wry face; but she only shook her head in a determined way, andannounced that she would see to it in person. As for herself, she was asdry as a butterfly which had just emerged from a chrysalis, and Icongratulated myself upon the care I had taken of her. But before wereached home she was in a plight almost equal to my own, for the windhad blown the wheat across the path, and it was impossible for me toremove it entirely. 

As a consequence, her ladyship was at once hustled off to bed by goodMrs. Grundy, and treated to the same remedy she had prescribed for me. Itook a rather stiff toddy, and changed my clothes, and felt no illeffects from my experience. 

After the first wild flush which had attended the discovery of theawakening of my affection for this girl had subsided, I became, in adegree, calmer. But it was there, deep in my soul, and I could feel itgrowing, growing, as steadily as my heart was beating. And I was oldenough to know that in time it would conquer me, and drag me to her feetlike a fettered slave before his master. My will seemed, in a measure, paralyzed, and I made no effort to escape. Something warned me that itwould be useless. And so I drifted, living in a careless sort of lotosdream, which I could have wished would last forever. Now there werescented, joyful days, when we strolled through dales and wooded hollows, listening to Nature's great orchestra as it played its never-endingsymphony. Perfect nights, when the heavy air would be redolent of thehoneysuckles' wafted souls and the breath of sleepy roses. From thecabins in the locust grove would float the tinkling of the banjo, theuntrained guffaw of the negro men, and the wild, half-barbaric notes ofan old-time melody. And the stars would shine in glory above us, and wewould sit on the steps and talk of the things we both loved. The oldfolks on the settee would get sleepy and go in, and we would sit thereby the hour, and still my secret was my own. I think she guessed it, butthis blissful existence was too sweet to be ended by some foolish wordswhich had better remain forever in my heart, even though they ate itout. 

XIV

August came. It was half gone ere I realized that she would go back toBellwood early in September. How and where the days had gone I could nottell. Week after week had slipped by, and, forgetting that time waspassing, I lived in my fool's paradise, and gave no thought to the daysthat were speeding away on silken wings. Harvest had come and gone; thefierce heat of a Kentucky summer made the days sultry, but the nightswere good to live. I had lived through it all as in a kind of wakingdream. But in the worship-chamber of my heart I had built an altar, andon it was placed the first and only love of my life. The fire whichglowed there was as pure as Easter dawn, yet it was as intense as thestill white heat you may see in a furnace. And the time was coming whenshe would go away. 

One night I wandered, restless, down into the tree-grown yard. We hadsat together that night, as usual, but my lips had been mute. The timehad come when there was but one thing to say, and I had resolved not tosay it. And so she had left me early, saying, in her impetuous way, thatI was unsociable. Back and forth the long avenue I paced, thinking ofthe day she came home, of the many, many times we had been together;thinking of the pure, unselfish, Christian womanhood which crowned herwith its consecrating light. Back and forth, back and forth, and hersweet young face burned itself into my mind with every step I took. Downthe avenue, then up, and I leaned against the corrugated trunk of anoak, and fastened my eyes upon the windows of her room. The blinds weredrawn, but she was up, for a light showed through them. Salome!Salome!--that was the one thought of my mind, the one bitter cry from myaching heart. There was a shadow on the curtain; a bare, uplifted armwas silhouetted against it. God bless you, Salome! My Salome!Good-night!

The next day I kept to my room, sending word that my head was troublingme. In the afternoon I went out and sat upon the porch, turning mytroubled face towards the peaceful west. The sun was sinking, swathed inpurple robes. Far stretching on either side were azure seas, withdun-colored islands dotting their broad expanses. Below me wound thedusty pike, like a yellow ribbon, flanked on one side by the half-drycreek, and on the other by a field of tasselled corn. A crow sat uponthe dead limb of a sycamore, and cawed, and cawed, in noisy unrest. Theweight which had been placed upon my breast two months before seemedlike a millstone now. The consciousness of hopelessness made it heavierthan before. 

"Has your headache gone, Mr. Stone?"

She had come to the doorway without my knowledge, and now advancedtowards me with a tender, questioning look upon her face. 

"Yes, " I answered in quiet desperation, turning my face from her. "Thepain has gone to my heart. "

She stood beside me, silently, and I felt the muscles hardening in mycheeks, as I shut my jaws tight to keep back the flood of words whichrushed to my lips, and clamored for utterance. Presently I felt that Icould speak rationally. 

"How long before you return to school?"

"Three weeks; I wish I did not have to go. "

"Let's walk down to the grape-vine swing, " I proposed abruptly, turningto her with set face. 

She held her sunbonnet in her hand, --the same bonnet she always wore outof doors about the farm, --and she settled it on her brown, fluffy hairas I arose. The swing was in one corner of the yard, quite away from thehouse, and it had come to be one of our favorite resorts at twilight. This afternoon she occupied it, as was her custom, and I sat at the baseof a walnut tree close by her. Something had fallen upon her usually gayspirits, and checked the outpourings of her mind. She sat silent, holding to the arms of her swing, and looking with earnest eyes out overthe varied landscape. I watched her, while the fierce pulsings of mytemples blurred my eyes, and made her seem as in a sea of mist. Thenoises of the day had lulled to echoes. The peace of a summer twilightwas stealing stealthily over all the land. From a far-off pasture camethe silvery tinkle of a sheep-bell; the unutterably mournful cooing of adove was borne from the forest. The whispering leaves above us rustledgently before the approach of the Angel of the Dusk. The sylvan solitudebecame as an enchanted spot where none were living but she and I. Why--oh, why could it not last forever, just as it was that moment! ButTime does not halt for love or hate, and she was going away, --out of mylife, to leave it as a barren rock in a burning desert. The intenselonging of my gaze caused her to turn towards me. She dropped her eyes, while her cheeks grew rosy as the sunset. 

"Salome!"

The sweet name fell in trembling accents from my lips. She caught herbreath quickly, but did not look up. I arose and stood before her, withmy hands clasped in front of me. 

"I love you, Salome!" I said in husky tones, for my voice would barelycome. "You have called into life that love which God has given everyman. It possesses me as utterly as the winds of heaven possess theearth. It has made me as weak as a child, and, like a child, I have toldyou. I was not strong enough to keep it from you. Should you detest mefor giving way as I have, I would not blame you. I am a middle-aged man;you are a little girl, and I have no right to ask anything from you. Your life is before you; mine is over half spent. But I love you, and Iwould die for you, Salome--Salome, my precious one!"

I turned from her, and set my teeth upon my lip, for my confession hadshaken my soul to its uttermost depths. Not for the earth, nor forheaven would I have touched her white hand. Through the swirling bloodwhich benumbed my consciousness I felt a presence near me, --herpresence. I turned with a low cry. She was standing there, close to me. Her bonnet had fallen off, and in the deep twilight her brown hairglowed like an aureole about a saint. One swift, hurt, appealing glancefrom her uplifted eyes, and she sank, quivering, upon my breast, sobbing, "Abner! Abner!"

God of mercy, I thank thee! I thank thee!

 * * * * *

Once more we sat on the steps. The bewitching beauty of the August nightlay around us. The yellow harvest moon sailed on as calmly as though itwere used to beholding lovers. I held her hand in a kind of stupefiedsatisfaction, feeling as though under the spell of some powerful opiate. She was so close to me!--the skirt of her gingham gown had fallen overone of my feet. I touched her hair, so tenderly, and smoothed it backfrom her pure forehead. How could it be? This young creature, so full oflife and health, encompassed with all that wealth and love couldgive--to love me!--me, a simple bookworm and lover of Nature, who hadcome into her life by chance. The golden hours of that enchanted nightstill glow like letters of fire upon the web of memory. It was the oneperfect period in my quiet and uneventful existence, --the one brief timewhen life was full, and I held to my lips the cup of all earthlyhappiness. And the changing years cannot rob me of the recollection. 

XV

The next day Salome was seized with a severe headache. She did not leavethe house, and of course I did not see her, as she stayed in her roomupstairs. We felt no especial concern, although she was not accustomedto such attacks, and with the coming of night her head grew easier. Iwent out after supper to pace up and down the avenue, to smoke my pipe, and to watch the windows of her room. I remained in the yard till nearlyeleven, and the light was still burning when I went in. The next morningMrs. Grundy told me that Salome had some fever, and that a doctor hadbeen sent for. I heard the news in silent fear, and my heart sank. Ilonged to tell this good old woman what her daughter was to me; butSalome had said nothing about it, and I could not speak without herconsent. 

The doctor came, an important-looking young fellow whom I felt inclinedto kick off the porch the moment he set foot on it. When he descendedfrom the sick room he pompously announced that it was only an ordinarycold, which would quickly disappear before the remedies which he hadleft. But the days went by, and she grew no better, and I never saw her. How my heart hungered for a glance of her sweet face; how my eyes longedto look into the clear, brown depths of hers. One morning I was toldthat a leading physician from Louisville had been summoned. Dr. Yandelcame--and stayed. Typhoid fever is a grim foe which requires vigilanceas well as medical skill. 

I went about like one distraught with a cold hand gripping my heart. Itwas then she asked to see me. I went to her room for a few moments, andcame out with my face gray, and a pitiful, broken prayer to God. Twoweeks--and one night they came for me. Like a broken, shattered lily shelay, but her lips smiled with their last breath, and whispered--"Abner. "

Blinded and weak, I groped my way out into the night, and sat down. Myyellow dog found me, and crept, whining, between my knees. When I liftedmy stricken face to the sky, I thought I saw a misty shallop touch thestrand of heaven, and a slender white figure with brown hair step ontothe plains of Paradise. 

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Transcriber's note

The following changes have been made to the text:

Page 16: "hard biscuit" changed to "hard biscuits". 

Page 86: "give her royal welcome" changed to "give her a royal welcome".