THEBATTLE GROUND

By ELLEN GLASGOW

Author of "THE WHEEL OF LIFE, " "THEVOICE OF THE PEOPLE" "THEDELIVERANCE. "

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

ToThe Beloved Memory of My Mother

CONTENTS

BOOK FIRSTGOLDEN YEARS

 I. "De Hine Foot er a He Frawg" II. At the Full of the Moon III. The Coming of the Boy IV. A House with an Open Door V. The School for Gentlemen VI. College Days

BOOK SECONDYOUNG BLOOD

 I. The Major's Christmas II. Betty dreams by the Fire III. Dan and Betty IV. Love in a Maze V. The Major loses his Temper VI. The Meeting in the Turnpike VII. If this be Love VIII. Betty's Unbelief IX. The Montjoy Blood X. The Road at Midnight XI. At Merry Oaks Tavern XII. The Night of Fear XIII. Crabbed Age and Callow Youth XIV. The Hush before the Storm

BOOK THIRDTHE SCHOOL OF WAR

 I. How Merry Gentlemen went to War II. The Day's March III. The Reign of the Brute IV. After the Battle V. The Woman's Part VI. On the Road to Romney VII. "I wait my Time" VIII. The Altar of the War God IX. The Montjoy Blood again

BOOK FOURTHTHE RETURN OF THE VANQUISHED

 I. The Ragged Army II. A Straggler from the Ranks III. The Cabin in the Woods IV. In the Silence of the Guns V. "The Place Thereof" VI. The Peaceful Side of War VII. The Silent Battle VIII. The Last Stand IX. In the Hour of Defeat X. On the March again XI. The Return

BOOK FIRST

GOLDEN YEARS

I

"DE HINE FOOT ER A HE FRAWG"

Toward the close of an early summer afternoon, a little girl came runningalong the turnpike to where a boy stood wriggling his feet in the dust. 

"Old Aunt Ailsey's done come back, " she panted, "an' she's conjured thetails off Sambo's sheep. I saw 'em hanging on her door!"

The boy received the news with an indifference from which it blanklyrebounded. He buried one bare foot in the soft white sand and withdrew itwith a jerk that powdered the blackberry vines beside the way. 

"Where's Virginia?" he asked shortly. 

The little girl sat down in the tall grass by the roadside and shook herred curls from her eyes. She gave a breathless gasp and began fanningherself with the flap of her white sunbonnet. A fine moisture shone on herbare neck and arms above her frock of sprigged chintz calico. 

"She can't run a bit, " she declared warmly, peering into the distance ofthe long white turnpike. "I'm a long ways ahead of her, and I gave her thestart. Zeke's with her. "

With a grunt the boy promptly descended from his heavy dignity. 

"You can't run, " he retorted. "I'd like to see a girl run, anyway. " Hestraightened his legs and thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. "Youcan't run, " he repeated. 

The little girl flashed a clear defiance; from a pair of beaming hazel eyesshe threw him a scornful challenge. "I bet I can beat you, " she stoutlyrejoined. Then as the boy's glance fell upon her hair, her defiance waned. She put on her sunbonnet and drew it down over her brow. "I reckon I canrun some, " she finished uneasily. 

The boy followed her movements with a candid stare. "You can't hide it, " hetaunted; "it shines right through everything. O Lord, ain't I glad myhead's not red!"

At this pharisaical thanksgiving the little girl flushed to the ruffledbrim of her bonnet. Her sensitive lips twitched, and she sat meekly gazingpast the boy at the wall of rough gray stones which skirted a field ofripening wheat. Over the wheat a light wind blew, fanning the even heads ofthe bearded grain and dropping suddenly against the sunny mountains in thedistance. In the nearer pasture, where the long grass was strewn with wildflowers, red and white cattle were grazing beside a little stream, and thetinkle of the cow bells drifted faintly across the slanting sunrays. It wasopen country, with a peculiar quiet cleanliness about its long white roadsand the genial blues and greens of its meadows. 

"Ain't I glad, O Lord!" chanted the boy again. 

The little girl stirred impatiently, her gaze fluttering from thelandscape. 

"Old Aunt Ailsey's conjured all the tails off Sambo's sheep, " she remarked, with feminine wile. "I saw 'em hanging on her door. "

"Oh, shucks! she can't conjure!" scoffed the boy. "She's nothing but a freenigger, anyway--and besides, she's plum crazy--"

"I saw 'em hanging on her door, " steadfastly repeated the little girl. "Thewind blew 'em right out, an' there they were. "

"Well, they wan't Sambo's sheep tails, " retorted the boy, conclusively, "'cause Sambo's sheep ain't got any tails. "

Brought to bay, the little girl looked doubtfully up and down the turnpike. "Maybe she conjured 'em _on_ first, " she suggested at last. 

"Oh, you're a regular baby, Betty, " exclaimed the boy, in disgust. "You'llbe saying next that she can make rattlesnake's teeth sprout out of theground. "

"She's got a mighty funny garden patch, " admitted Betty, still credulous. Then she jumped up and ran along the road. "Here's Virginia!" she calledsharply, "an' I beat her! I beat her fair!"

A second little girl came panting through the dust, followed by a smallnegro boy with a shining black face. "There's a wagon comin' roun' thecurve, " she cried excitedly, "an' it's filled with old Mr. Willis'sservants. He's dead, and they're sold--Dolly's sold, too. "

She was a fragile little creature, coloured like a flower, and her smoothbrown hair hung in silken braids to her sash. The strings of her whitepique bonnet lined with pink were daintily tied under her oval chin; therewas no dust on her bare legs or short white socks. 

As she spoke there came the sound of voices singing, and a moment later thewagon jogged heavily round a tuft of stunted cedars which jutted into thelong curve of the highway. The wheels crunched a loose stone in the road, and the driver drawled a patient "gee-up" to the horses, as he flicked ata horse-fly with the end of his long rawhide whip. There was about him analmost cosmic good nature; he regarded the landscape, the horses and therocks in the road with imperturbable ease. 

Behind him, in the body of the wagon, the negro women stood chanting theslave's farewell; and as they neared the children, he looked back and spokepersuasively. "I'd set down if I was you all, " he said. "You'd feel better. Thar, now, set down and jolt softly. "

But without turning the women kept up their tremulous chant, bending theirturbaned heads to the imaginary faces upon the roadside. They had lefttheir audience behind them on the great plantation, but they still sang tothe empty road and courtesied to the cedars upon the way. Excitementgripped them like a frenzy--and a childish joy in a coming change blendedwith a mother's yearning over broken ties. 

A bright mulatto led, standing at full height, and her rich notes rolledlike an organ beneath the shrill plaint of her companions. She was large, deep-bosomed, and comely after her kind, and in her careless gestures therewas something of the fine fervour of the artist. She sang boldly, her fullbody rocking from side to side, her bared arms outstretched, her longthroat swelling like a bird's above the gaudy handkerchief upon her breast. 

The others followed her, half artlessly, half in imitation, mingling withtheir words grunts of self-approval. A grin ran from face to face as ifthrown by the grotesque flash of a lantern. Only a little black womancrouching in one corner bowed herself and wept. 

The children had fallen back against the stone wall, where they hungstaring. 

"Good-by, Dolly!" they called cheerfully, and the woman answered with along-drawn, hopeless whine:--

 "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Meet agin. "

Zeke broke from the group and ran a few steps beside the wagon, shaking theoutstretched hands. 

The driver nodded peaceably to him, and cut with a single stroke of hiswhip an intricate figure in the sand of the road. "Git up an' come alongwith us, sonny, " he said cordially; but Zeke only grinned in reply, and thechildren laughed and waved their handkerchiefs from the wall. "Good-by, Dolly, and Mirandy, and Sukey Sue!" they shouted, while the women, bowingover the rolling wheels, tossed back a fragment of the song:--

 "We hope ter meet you in heaven, whar we'll Part no mo', Whar we'll part no mo'; Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Me--et a--gin. "

"Twel we meet agin, " chirped the little girls, tripping into the chorus. 

Then, with a last rumble, the wagon went by, and Zeke came trotting backand straddled the stone wall, where he sat looking down upon the loosepoppies that fringed the yellowed edge of the wheat. 

"Dey's gwine way-way f'om hyer, Marse Champe, " he said dreamily. "Dey'sgwine right spang over dar whar de sun done come f'om. "

"Colonel Minor bought 'em, " Champe explained, sliding from the wall, "andhe bought Dolly dirt cheap--I heard Uncle say so--" With a grin he lookedup at the small black figure perched upon the crumbling stones. "You'dbetter look out how you steal any more of my fishing lines, or I'll sellyou, " he threatened. 

"Gawd er live! I ain' stole one on 'em sence las' mont', " protested Zeke, as he turned a somersault into the road, "en dat warn' stealin' 'case hitwarn' wu'th it, " he added, rising to his feet and staring wistfully afterthe wagon as it vanished in a sunny cloud of dust. 

Over the broad meadows, filled with scattered wild flowers, the sound ofthe chant still floated, with a shrill and troubled sweetness, upon thewind. As he listened the little negro broke into a jubilant refrain, beating his naked feet in the dust:--

 "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Me--et a--gin. "

Then he looked slyly up at his young master. 

"I 'low dar's one thing you cyarn do, Marse Champe. "

"I bet there isn't, " retorted Champe. 

"You kin sell me ter Marse Minor--but Lawd, Lawd, you cyarn mek mammy leaveoff whuppin' me. You cyarn do dat widout you 'uz a real ole marsterhese'f. "

"I reckon I can, " said Champe, indignantly. "I'd just like to see her layhands on you again. I can make mammy leave off whipping him, can't I, Betty?"

But Betty, with a toss of her head, took her revenge. 

"'Tain't so long since yo' mammy whipped you, " she rejoined. "An' I reckon'tain't so long since you needed it. "

As she stood there, a spirited little figure, in a patch of faint sunshine, her hair threw a halo of red gold about her head. When she smiled--and shesmiled now, saucily enough--her eyes had a trick of narrowing until theybecame mere beams of light between her lashes. Her eyes would smile, thoughher lips were as prim as a preacher's. 

Virginia gave a timid pull at Betty's frock. "Champe's goin' home with us, "she said, "his uncle told him to-- You're goin' home with us, ain't you, Champe?"

"I ain't goin' home, " responded Betty, jerking from Virginia's grasp. Shestood warm yet resolute in the middle of the road, her bonnet swinging inher hands. "I ain't goin' home, " she repeated. 

Turning his back squarely upon her, Champe broke into a whistle ofunconcern. "You'd just better come along, " he called over his shoulder ashe started off. "You'd just better come along, or you'll catch it. "

"I ain't comin', " answered Betty, defiantly, and as they passed awaykicking the dust before them, she swung her bonnet hard, and spoke aloud toherself. "I ain't comin', " she said stubbornly. 

The distance lengthened; the three small figures passed the wheat field, stopped for an instant to gather green apples that had fallen from a strayapple tree, and at last slowly dwindled into the white streak of the road. She was alone on the deserted turnpike. 

For a moment she hesitated, caught her breath, and even took three steps onthe homeward way; then turning suddenly she ran rapidly in the oppositedirection. Over the deepening shadows she sped as lightly as a hare. 

At the end of a half mile, when her breath came in little pants, shestopped with a nervous start and looked about her. The loneliness seemeddrawing closer like a mist, and the cry of a whip-poor-will from the littlestream in the meadow sent frightened thrills, like needles, through herlimbs. 

Straight ahead the sun was setting in a pale red west, against which themountains stood out as if sculptured in stone. On one side swept thepasture where a few sheep browsed; on the other, at the place where tworoads met, there was a blasted tree that threw its naked shadow across theturnpike. Beyond the tree and its shadow a well-worn foot-path led to asmall log cabin from which a streak of smoke was rising. Through the opendoor the single room within showed ruddy with the blaze of resinous pine. 

The little girl daintily picked her way along the foot-path and through ashort garden patch planted in onions and black-eyed peas. Beside a bed ofsweet sage she faltered an instant and hung back. "Aunt Ailsey, " she calledtremulously, "I want to speak to you, Aunt Ailsey. " She stepped upon thesmooth round stone which served for a doorstep and looked into the room. "It's me, Aunt Ailsey! It's Betty Ambler, " she said. 

A slow shuffling began inside the cabin, and an old negro woman hobbledpresently to the daylight and stood peering from under her hollowed palm. She was palsied with age and blear-eyed with trouble, and time had ironedall the kink out of the thin gray locks that straggled across her brow. Shepeered dimly at the child as one who looks from a great distance. 

"I lay dat's one er dese yer ole hoot owls, " she muttered querulously, "enef'n 'tis, he des es well be a-hootin' along home, caze I ain' gwine bepestered wid his pranks. Dar ain' but one kind er somebody es will sass youat yo' ve'y do, ' en dat's a hoot owl es is done loss count er de time erday--"

"I ain't an owl, Aunt Ailsey, " meekly broke in Betty, "an' I ain't hootin'at you--"

Aunt Ailsey reached out and touched her hair. "You ain' none er MarsePeyton's chile, " she said. "I'se done knowed de Amblers sence de fu'st oneer dem wuz riz, en dar ain' never been a'er Ambler wid a carrot haid--"

The red ran from Betty's curls into her face, but she smiled politely asshe followed Aunt Ailsey into the cabin and sat down in a split-bottomedchair upon the hearth. The walls were formed of rough, unpolished logs, andupon them, as against an unfinished background, the firelight threw reddishshadows of the old woman and the child. Overhead, from the uncoveredrafters, hung several tattered sheepskins, and around the great fireplacethere was a fringe of dead snakes and lizards, long since as dry as dust. Under the blazing logs, which filled the hut with an almost unbearableheat, an ashcake was buried beneath a little gravelike mound of ashes. 

Aunt Ailsey took up a corncob pipe from the stones and fell to smoking. Shesank at once into a senile reverie, muttering beneath her breath withshort, meaningless grunts. Warm as the summer evening was, she shiveredbefore the glowing logs. 

For a time the child sat patiently watching the embers; then she leanedforward and touched the old woman's knee. "Aunt Ailsey, O Aunt Ailsey!"

Aunt Ailsey stirred wearily and crossed her swollen feet upon the hearth. 

"Dar ain' nuttin' but a hoot owl dat'll sass you ter yo' face, " shemuttered, and, as she drew her pipe from her mouth, the gray smoke circledabout her head. 

The child edged nearer. "I want to speak to you, Aunt Ailsey, " she said. She seized the withered hand and held it close in her own rosy ones. "Iwant you--O Aunt Ailsey, listen! I want you to conjure my hair coal black. "

She finished with a gasp, and with parted lips sat waiting. "Coal black, Aunt Ailsey!" she cried again. 

A sudden excitement awoke in the old woman's face; her hands shook and sheleaned nearer. "Hi! who dat done tole you I could conjure, honey?" shedemanded. 

"Oh, you can, I know you can. You conjured back Sukey's lover from ElizaLou, and you conjured all the pains out of Uncle Shadrach's leg. " She fellon her knees and laid her head in the old woman's lap. "Conjure quick and Iwon't holler, " she said. 

"Gawd in heaven!" exclaimed Aunt Ailsey. Her dim old eyes brightened as shegently stroked the child's brow with her palsied fingers. "Dis yer ain' noway ter conjure, honey, " she whispered. "You des wait twel de full er demoon, w'en de devil walks de big road. " She was wandering again after thefancies of dotage, but Betty threw herself upon her. "Oh, change it! changeit!" cried the child. "Beg the devil to come and change it quick. "

Brought back to herself, Aunt Ailsey grunted and knocked the ashes from herpipe. "I ain' gwine ter ax no favors er de devil, " she replied sternly. "You des let de devil alont en he'll let you alont. I'se done been young, en I'se now ole, en I ain' never seed de devil stick his mouf in anybody'sbizness 'fo' he's axed. "

She bent over and raked the ashes from her cake with a lightwood splinter. "Dis yer's gwine tase moughty flat-footed, " she grumbled as she did so. 

"O Aunt Ailsey, " wailed Betty in despair. The tears shone in her eyes androlled slowly down her cheeks. 

"Dar now, " said Aunt Ailsey, soothingly, "you des set right still en waittwel ter-night at de full er de moon. " She got up and took down one of thecrumbling skins from the chimney-piece. "Ef'n de hine foot er a he frawgcyarn tu'n yo' hyar decent, " she said, "dar ain' nuttin' de Lawd's donemade es'll do hit. You des wrop er hank er yo' hyar roun' de hine foot, honey, en' w'en de night time done come, you teck'n hide it unner a rock inde big road. W'en de devil goes a-cotin' at de full er de moon--en he beencotin' right stiddy roun' dese yer parts--he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot amile off. "

"A mile off?" repeated the child, stretching out her hands. 

"Yes, Lawd, he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a mile off, en w'en he tasehit, he gwine begin ter sniff en ter snuff. He gwine sniff en he gwinesnuff, en he gwine sniff en he gwine snuff twel he run right spang agin derock in de middle er de road. Den he gwine paw en paw twel he root de rockclean up. "

The little girl looked up eagerly. 

"An' my hair, Aunt Ailsey?"

"De devil he gwine teck cyar er yo' hyar, honey. W'en he come a-sniffin' ena-snuffin' roun' de rock in de big road, he gwine spit out flame en smokeen yo' hyar hit's gwine ter ketch en hit's gwine ter bu'n right black. Fo'de sun up yo' haid's gwine ter be es black es a crow's foot. "

The child dried her tears and sprang up. She tied the frog's skin tightlyin her handkerchief and started toward the door; then she hesitated andlooked back. "Were you alive at the flood, Aunt Ailsey?" she politelyinquired. 

"Des es live es I is now, honey. "

"Then you must have seen Noah and the ark and all the animals?"

"Des es plain es I see you. Marse Noah? Why, I'se done wash en i'on MarseNoah's shuts twel I 'uz right stiff in de j'ints. He ain' never let nobodyflute his frills fur 'im 'cep'n' me. Lawd, Lawd, Marse Peyton's shuts warn'nuttin ter Marse Noah's!"

Betty's eyes grew big. "I reckon you're mighty old, Aunt Ailsey--'most asold as God, ain't you?"

Aunt Ailsey pondered the question. "I ain' sayin' dat, honey, " she modestlyreplied. 

"Then you're certainly as old as the devil--you must be, " hopefullysuggested the little girl. 

The old woman wavered. "Well, de devil, he ain' never let on his age, " shesaid at last; "but w'en I fust lay eyes on 'im, he warn' no mo'n a brat. "

Standing upon the threshold for an instant, the child reverently regardedher. Then, turning her back upon the fireplace and the bent old figure, sheran out into the twilight. 

I

AT THE FULL OF THE MOON

By the light of the big moon hanging like a lantern in the topmost pineupon a distant mountain, the child sped swiftly along the turnpike. 

It was a still, clear evening, and on the summits of the eastern hills afringe of ragged firs stood out illuminated against the sky. In the warmJune weather the whole land was fragrant from the flower of the wild grape. 

When she had gone but a little way, the noise of wheels reached hersuddenly, and she shrank into the shadow beside the wall. A cloud of dustchased toward her as the wheels came steadily on. They were evidentlyancient, for they turned with a protesting creak which was heard longbefore the high, old-fashioned coach they carried swung into view--longindeed before the driver's whip cracked in the air. 

As the coach neared the child, she stepped boldly out into the road--it wasonly Major Lightfoot, the owner of the next plantation, returning, belated, from the town. 

"W'at you doin' dar, chile?" demanded a stern voice from the box, and, atthe words, the Major's head was thrust through the open window, and hislong white hair waved in the breeze. 

"Is that you, Betty?" he asked, in surprise. "Why, I thought it was theduty of that nephew of mine to see you home. "

"I wouldn't let him, " replied the child. "I don't like boys, sir. "

"You don't, eh?" chuckled the Major. "Well, there's time enough for that, Isuppose. You can make up to them ten years hence, --and you'll be gladenough to do it then, I warrant you, --but are you all alone, young lady?"As Betty nodded, he opened the door and stepped gingerly down. "I can'tturn the horses' heads, poor things, " he explained; "but if you will allowme, I shall have the pleasure of escorting you on foot. "

With his hat in his hand, he smiled down upon the little girl, his faceshining warm and red above his pointed collar and broad black stock. He wasvery tall and spare, and his eyebrows, which hung thick and dark above hisRoman nose, gave him an odd resemblance to a bird of prey. The smileflashed like an artificial light across his austere features. 

"Since my arm is too high for you, " he said, "will you have my hand?--Yes, you may drive on, Big Abel, " to the driver, "and remember to take out thosebulbs of Spanish lilies for your mistress. You will find them under theseat. "

The whip cracked again above the fat old roans, and with a great creak thecoach rolled on its way. 

"I--I--if you please, I'd rather you wouldn't, " stammered the child. 

The Major chuckled again, still holding out his hand. Had she been eightyinstead of eight, the gesture could not have expressed more deference. "Soyou don't like old men any better than boys!" he exclaimed. 

"Oh, yes, sir, I do--heaps, " said Betty. She transferred the frog's foot toher left hand, and gave him her right one. "When I marry, I'm going tomarry a very old gentleman--as old as you, " she added flatteringly. 

"You honour me, " returned the Major, with a bow; "but there's nothing likeyouth, my dear, nothing like youth. " He ended sadly, for he had been a gayyoung blood in his time, and the enchantment of his wild oats had increasedas he passed further from the sowing of them. He had lived to regret boththe loss of his gayety and the languor of his blood, and, as he driftedfurther from the middle years, he had at last yielded to tranquillity witha sigh. In his day he had matched any man in Virginia at cards or wine orwomen--to say nothing of horseflesh; now his white hairs had brought himbut a fond, pale memory of his misdeeds and the boast that he knew hisworld--that he knew all his world, indeed, except his wife. 

"Ah, there's nothing like youth!" he sighed over to himself, and the childlooked up and laughed. 

"Why do you say that?" she asked. 

"You will know some day, " replied the Major. He drew himself erect in histight black broadcloth, and thrust out his chin between the high points ofhis collar. His long white hair, falling beneath his hat, framed his ruddyface in silver. "There are the lights of Uplands, " he said suddenly, with awave of his hand. 

Betty quickened her pace to his, and they went on in silence. Through thethick grove that ended at the roadside she saw the windows of her homeflaming amid the darkness. Farther away there were the small lights of thenegro cabins in the "quarters, " and a great one from the barn door wherethe field hands were strumming upon their banjos. 

"I reckon supper's ready, " she remarked, walking faster. "Yonder comesPeter, from the kitchen with the waffles. "

They entered an iron gate that opened from the road, and went up a lane oflilac bushes to the long stuccoed house, set with detached wings in a groveof maples. "Why, there's papa looking for me, " cried the child, as a man'sfigure darkened the square of light from the hall and came between theDoric columns of the portico down into the drive. 

"You won't have to search far, Governor, " called the Major, in his ringingvoice, and, as the other came up to him, he stopped to shake hands. "MissBetty has given me the pleasure of a stroll with her. "

"Ah, it was like you, Major, " returned the other, heartily. "I'm afraid itisn't good for your gout, though. "

He was a small, soldierly-looking man, with a clean-shaven, classic face, and thick, brown hair, slightly streaked with gray. Beside the Major'sgaunt figure he appeared singularly boyish, though he held himself severelyto the number of his inches, and even added, by means of a simplicityalmost august, a full cubit to his stature. Ten years before he had beengovernor of his state, and to his friends and neighbours the empty honour, at least, was still his own. 

"Pooh! pooh!" the older man protested airily, "the gout's like a woman, mydear sir--if you begin to humour it, you'll get no rest. If you denyyourself a half bottle of port, the other half will soon follow. No, no, Isay--put a bold foot on the matter. Don't give up a good thing for the sakeof a bad one, sir. I remember my grandfather in England telling me that athis first twinge of gout he took a glass of sherry, and at the second hetook two. 'What! would you have my toe become my master?' he roared to thedoctor. 'I wouldn't give in if it were my whole confounded foot, sir!' Oh, those were ripe days, Governor!"

"A little overripe for the toe, I fear, Major. "

"Well, well, we're sober enough now, sir, sober enough and to spare. Eventhe races are dull things. I've just been in to have a look at that newmare Tom Bickels is putting on the track, and bless my soul, she can't holda candle to the Brown Bess I ran twenty years ago--you don't remember BrownBess, eh, Governor?"

"Why, to be sure, " said the Governor. "I can see her as if it wereyesterday, --and a beauty she was, too, --but come in to supper with us, mydear Major; we were just sitting down. No, I shan't take an excuse--comein, sir, come in. "

"No, no, thank you, " returned the Major. "Molly's waiting, and Mollydoesn't like to wait, you know. I got dinner at Merry Oaks tavern by theway, and a mighty bad one, too, but the worst thing about it was that theyactually had the impudence to put me at the table with an abolitionist. Why, I'd as soon eat with a darkey, sir, and so I told him, so I told him!"

The Governor laughed, his fine, brown eyes twinkling in the gloom. "Youwere always a man of your word, " he said; "so I must tell Julia to mend herviews before she asks you to dine. She has just had me draw up my will andfree the servants. There's no withstanding Julia, you know, Major. "

"You have an angel, " declared the other, "and she gets lovelier every day;my regards to her, --and to her aunts, sir. Ah, good night, good night, " andwith a last cordial gesture he started rapidly upon his homeward way. 

Betty caught the Governor's hand and went with him into the house. As theyentered the hall, Uncle Shadrach, the head butler, looked out to reprimandher. "Ef'n anybody 'cep'n Marse Peyton had cotch you, you'd er des beenlammed, " he grumbled. "An' papa was real mad!" called Virginia from thetable. 

"That's jest a story!" cried Betty. Still clinging to her father's hand, she entered the dining room; "that's jest a story, papa, " she repeated. 

"No, I'm not angry, " laughed the Governor. "There, my dear, for heaven'ssake don't strangle me. Your mother's the one for you to hang on. Can't yousee what a rage she's in?"

"My dear Mr. Ambler, " remonstrated his wife, looking over the high oldsilver service. She was very frail and gentle, and her voice was hardlymore than a clear whisper. "No, no, Betty, you must go up and wash yourface first, " she added decisively. 

The Governor sat down and unfolded his napkin, beaming hospitality upon hisfood and his family. He surveyed his wife, her two maiden aunts and his ownelder brother with the ineffable good humour he bestowed upon the majestichome-cured ham fresh from a bath of Madeira. 

"I am glad to see you looking so well, my dear, " he remarked to his wife, with a courtliness in which there was less polish than personality. "Ah, Miss Lydia, I know whom to thank for this, " he added, taking up a pale tearosebud from his plate, and bowing to one of the two old ladies seatedbeside his wife. "Have you noticed, Julia, that even the roses have becomemore plentiful since your aunts did us the honour to come to us?"

"I am sure the garden ought to be grateful to Aunt Lydia, " said his wife, with a pleased smile, "and the quinces to Aunt Pussy, " she added quickly, "for they were never preserved so well before. "

The two old ladies blushed and cast down their eyes, as they did everyevening at the same kindly by-play. "You know I am very glad to be of use, my dear Julia, " returned Miss Pussy, with conscious virtue. Miss Lydia, whowas tall and delicate and bent with the weight of potential sanctity, shookher silvery head and folded her exquisite old hands beneath the ruffles ofher muslin under-sleeves. She wore her hair in shining folds beneath herthread-lace cap, and her soft brown eyes still threw a youthful lustre overthe faded pallor of her face. 

"Pussy has always had a wonderful talent for preserving, " she murmuredplaintively. "It makes me regret my own uselessness. "

"Uselessness!" warmly protested the Governor. "My dear Miss Lydia, yourmere existence is a blessing to mankind. A lovely woman is never useless, eh, Brother Bill?"

Mr. Bill, a stout and bashful gentleman, who never wasted words, merelybowed over his plate, and went on with his supper. There was a theory inthe family--a theory romantic old Miss Lydia still hung hard by--that Mr. Bill's peculiar apathy was of a sentimental origin. Nearly thirty yearsbefore he had made a series of mild advances to his second cousin, VirginiaAmbler--and her early death before their polite vows were plighted had, inthe eyes of his friends, doomed the morose Mr. Bill to the position of aperpetual mourner. 

Now, as he shook his head and helped himself to chicken, Miss Lydia sighedin sympathy. 

"I am afraid Mr. Bill must find us very flippant, " she offered as a gentlereproof to the Governor. 

Mr. Bill started and cast a frightened glance across the table. Thirtyyears are not as a day, and, after all, his emotion had been hardly morethan he would have felt for a prize perch that had wriggled from his lineinto the stream. The perch, indeed, would have represented moreappropriately the passion of his life--though a lukewarm lover, he was anardent angler. 

"Ah, Brother Bill understands us, " cheerfully interposed the Governor. Hiskeen eyes had noted Mr. Bill's alarm as they noted the emptiness of MissPussy's cup. "By the way, Julia, " he went on with a change of the subject, "Major Lightfoot found Betty in the road and brought her home. The littlerogue had run away. "

Mrs. Ambler filled Miss Pussy's cup and pressed Mr. Bill to take a slice ofSally Lunn. "The Major is so broken that it saddens me, " she said, whenthese offices of hostess were accomplished. "He has never been himselfsince his daughter ran away, and that was--dear me, why that was twelveyears ago next Christmas. It was on Christmas Eve, you remember, he came totell us. The house was dressed in evergreens, and Uncle Patrick was makingpunch. "

"Poor Patrick was a hard drinker, " sighed Miss Lydia; "but he was a citizenof the world, my dear. "

"Yes, yes, I perfectly recall the evening, " said the Governor, thoughtfully. "The young people were just forming for a reel and you and Iwere of them, my dear, --it was the year, I remember, that the mistletoe wasbrought home in a cart, --when the door opened and in came the Major. 'Janehas run away with that dirty scamp Montjoy, ' he said, and was out again andon his horse before we caught the words. He rode like a madman that night. I can see him now, splashing through the mud with Big Abel after him. "

Betty came running in with smiling eyes, and fluttered into her seat. "Igot here before the waffles, " she cried. "Mammy said I wouldn't. UncleShadrach, I got here before you!"

"Dat's so, honey, " responded Uncle Shadrach from behind the Governor'schair. He was so like his master--commanding port, elaborate shirt-front, and high white stock--that the Major, in a moment of merry-making, had oncedubbed him "the Governor's silhouette. "

"Say your grace, dear, " remonstrated Miss Lydia, as the child shook out hernapkin. "It's always proper to offer thanks standing, you know. I rememberyour great-grandmother telling me that once when she dined at the WhiteHouse, when her father was in Congress, the President forgot to say grace, and made them all get up again after they were seated. Now, for what are weabout--"

"Oh, papa thanked for me, " cried Betty. "Didn't you, papa?"

The Governor smiled; but catching his wife's eyes, he quickly forced hisbenign features into a frowning mask. 

"Do as your aunt tells you, Betty, " said Mrs. Ambler, and Betty got up andsaid grace, while Virginia took the brownest waffle. When the thanksgivingwas ended, she turned indignantly upon her sister. "That was just a sly, mean trick!" she cried in a flash of temper. "You saw my eye on thatwaffle!"

"My dear, my dear, " murmured Miss Lydia. 

"She's des an out'n out fire bran', dat's w'at she is, " said UncleShadrach. 

"Well, the Lord oughtn't to have let her take it just as I was thanking Himfor it!" sobbed Betty, and she burst into tears and left the table, upsetting Mr. Bill's coffee cup as she went by. 

The Governor looked gravely after her. "I'm afraid the child is reallygetting spoiled, Julia, " he mildly suggested. 

"She's getting a--a vixenish, " declared Mr. Bill, mopping his expansivewhite waistcoat. 

"You des better lemme go atter a twig er willow, Marse Peyton, " mutteredUncle Shadrach in the Governor's ear. 

"Hold your tongue, Shadrach, " retorted the Governor, which was the harshestcommand he was ever known to give his servants. 

Virginia ate her waffle and said nothing. When she went upstairs a littlelater, she carried a pitcher of buttermilk for Betty's face. 

"It isn't usual for a young lady to have freckles, Aunt Lydia says, " sheremarked, "and you must rub this right on and not wash it off tillmorning--and, after you've rubbed it well in, you must get down on yourknees and ask God to mend your temper. "

Betty was lying in her little trundle bed, while Petunia, her small blackmaid, pulled off her stockings, but she got up obediently and laved herface in buttermilk. "I don't reckon there's any use about the other, " shesaid. "I believe the Lord's jest leavin' me in sin as a warnin' to you andPetunia, " and she got into her trundle bed and waited for the lights to goout, and for the watchful Virginia to fall asleep. 

She was still waiting when the door softly opened and her mother came in, alighted candle in her hand, the pale flame shining through her profile asthrough delicate porcelain, and illumining her worn and fragile figure. Shemoved with a slow step, as if her white limbs were a burden, and her head, with its smoothly parted bright brown hair, bent like a lily that has begunto fade. 

She sat down upon the bedside and laid her hand on the child's forehead. "Poor little firebrand, " she said gently. "How the world will hurt you!"Then she knelt down and prayed beside her, and went out again with thewhite light streaming upon her bosom. An hour later Betty heard her soft, slow step on the gravelled drive and knew that she was starting on aministering errand to the quarters. Of all the souls on the greatplantation, the mistress alone had never rested from her labours. 

The child tossed restlessly, beat her pillow, and fell back to wait morepatiently. At last the yellow strip under the door grew dark, and from theother trundle bed there came a muffled breathing. With a sigh, Betty sat upand listened; then she drew the frog's skin from beneath her pillow andcrept on bare feet to the door. It was black there, and black all down thewide, old staircase. The great hall below was like a cavern underground. Trembling when a board creaked under her, she cautiously felt her way withher hands on the balustrade. The front door was fastened with an iron chainthat rattled as she touched it, so she stole into the dining room, unbarredone of the long windows, and slipped noiselessly out. It was almost likesliding into sunshine, the moon was so large and bright. 

From the wide stone portico, the great white columns, looking grim andghostly, went upward to the roof, and beyond the steps the gravelled driveshone hard as silver. As the child went between the lilac bushes, themoving shadows crawled under her bare feet like living things. 

At the foot of the drive ran the big road, and when she came out upon ither trailing gown caught in a fallen branch, and she fell on her face. Picking herself up again, she sat on a loosened rock and looked about her. 

The strong night wind blew on her flesh, and she shivered in the moonlight, which felt cold and brazen. Before her stretched the turnpike, darkened byshadows that bore no likeness to the objects from which they borrowedshape. Far as eye could see, they stirred ceaselessly back and forth likean encamped army of grotesques. 

She got up from the rock and slipped the frog's skin into the earth beneathit. As she settled it in place, her pulses gave a startled leap, and shestood terror-stricken beside the stone. A thud of footsteps was comingalong the road. 

For an instant she trembled in silence; then her sturdy little heart tookcourage, and she held up her hand. 

"If you'll wait a minute, Mr. Devil, I'm goin' in, " she cried. 

From the shadows a voice laughed at her, and a boy came forward into thelight--a half-starved boy, with a white, pinched face and a dusty bundleswinging from the stick upon his shoulder. 

"What are you doing here?" he snapped out. 

Betty gave back a defiant stare. She might have been a tiny ghost in themoonlight, with her trailing gown and her flaming curls. 

"I live here, " she answered simply. "Where do you live?"

"Nowhere. " He looked her over with a laugh. 

"Nowhere?"

"I did live somewhere, but I ran away a week ago. "

"Did they beat you? Old Rainy-day Jones beat one of his servants and he ranaway. "

"There wasn't anybody, " said the boy. "My mother died, and my father wentoff--I hope he'll stay off. I hate him!"

He sent the words out so sharply that Betty's lids flinched. 

"Why did you come by here?" she questioned. "Are you looking for the devil, too?"

The boy laughed again. "I am looking for my grandfather. He lives somewhereon this road, at a place named Chericoke. It has a lot of elms in the yard;I'll know it by that. "

Betty caught his arm and drew him nearer. "Why, that's where Champe lives!"she cried. "I don't like Champe much, do you?"

"I never saw him, " replied the boy; "but I don't like him--"

"He's mighty good, " said Betty, honestly; then, as she looked at the boyagain, she caught her breath quickly. "You do look terribly hungry, " sheadded. 

"I haven't had anything since--since yesterday. "

The little girl thoughtfully tapped her toes on the road. "There's acurrant pie in the safe, " she said. "I saw Uncle Shadrach put it there. Areyou fond of currant pie?--then you just wait!"

She ran up the carriage way to the dining-room window, and the boy sat downon the rock and buried his face in his hands. His feet were set stubbornlyin the road, and the bundle lay beside them. He was dumb, yet disdainful, like a high-bred dog that has been beaten and turned adrift. 

As the returning patter of Betty's feet sounded in the drive, he looked upand held out his hands. When she gave him the pie, he ate almost wolfishly, licking the crumbs from his fingers, and even picking up a bit of crustthat had fallen to the ground. 

"I'm sorry there isn't any more, " said the little girl. It had seemed avery large pie when she took it from the safe. 

The boy rose, shook himself, and swung his bundle across his arm. 

"Will you tell me the way?" he asked, and she gave him a few childishdirections. "You go past the wheat field an' past the maple spring, an' atthe dead tree by Aunt Ailsey's cabin you turn into the road with thechestnuts. Then you just keep on till you get there--an' if you don't everget there, come back to breakfast. "

The boy had started off, but as she ended, he turned and lifted his hat. 

"I am very much obliged to you, " he said, with a quaint little bow; andBetty bobbed a courtesy in her nightgown before she fled back into thehouse. 

I

THE COMING OF THE BOY

The boy trudged on bravely, his stick sounding the road. Sharp pains ranthrough his feet where his shoes had worn away, and his head was swimminglike a top. The only pleasant fact of which he had consciousness was thatthe taste of the currants still lingered in his mouth. 

When he reached the maple spring, he swung himself over the stone wall andknelt down for a drink, dipping the water in his hand. The spring was lowand damp and fragrant with the breath of mint which grew in patches in thelittle stream. Overhead a wild grapevine was festooned, and he plucked aleaf and bent it into a cup from which he drank. Then he climbed the wallagain and went on his way. 

He was wondering if his mother had ever walked along this road on sobrilliant a night. There was not a tree beside it of which she had not toldhim--not a shrub of sassafras or sumach that she had not carried in herthoughts. The clump of cedars, the wild cherry, flowering in the springlike snow, the blasted oak that stood where the branch roads met, theperfume of the grape blossoms on the wall--these were as familiar to him asthe streets of the little crowded town in which he had lived. It was as ifnature had stood still here for twelve long summers, or as if he werewalking, ghostlike, amid the ever present memories of his mother's heart. 

His mother! He drew his sleeve across his eyes and went on more slowly. Shewas beside him on the road, and he saw her clearly, as he had seen herevery day until last year--a bright, dark woman, with slender, blue-veinedhands and merry eyes that all her tears had not saddened. He saw her in along, black dress, with upraised arm, putting back a crepe veil from hermerry eyes, and smiling as his father struck her. She had always smiledwhen she was hurt--even when the blow was heavier than usual, and the bloodgushed from her temple, she had fallen with a smile. And when, at last, hehad seen her lying in her coffin with her baby under her clasped hands, that same smile had been fixed upon her face, which had the brightness andthe chill repose of marble. 

Of all that she had thrown away in her foolish marriage, she had retainedone thing only--her pride. To the end she had faced her fate with all theinsolence with which she faced her husband. And yet--"the Lightfoots werenever proud, my son, " she used to say; "they have no false pride, but theyknow their place, and in England, between you and me, they were moreimportant than the Washingtons. Not that the General wasn't a great man, dear, he was a very great soldier, of course--and in his youth, you know, he was an admirer of your Great-great-aunt Emmeline. But she--why, she wasthe beauty and belle of two continents--there's an ottoman at home coveredwith a piece of her wedding dress. "

And the house? Was the house still as she had left it on that ChristmasEve? "A simple gentleman's home, my child--not so imposing as Uplands, withits pillars reaching to the roof, but older, oh, much older, and built ofbrick that was brought all the way from England, and over the fireplace inthe panelled parlour you will find the Lightfoot arms. 

"It was in that parlour, dear, that grandmamma danced a minuet with GeneralLafayette; it looks out, you know, upon a white thorn planted by theGeneral himself, and one of the windows has not been opened for fiftyyears, because the spray of English ivy your Great-aunt Emmeline set outwith her own hands has grown across the sash. Now the window is quite darkwith leaves, though you can still read the words Aunt Emmeline cut with herdiamond ring in one of the tiny panes, when young Harry Fitzhugh came inupon her just as she had written a refusal to an English earl. She wassitting in the window seat with the letter in her hand, and, when yourGreat-uncle Harry--she afterwards married him, you know--fell on his kneesand cried out that others might offer her fame and wealth, but that he hadnothing except love, she turned, with a smile, and wrote upon the pane'Love is best. ' You can still see the words, very faint against the ivythat she planted on her wedding day--"

Oh, yes, he knew it all--Great-aunt Emmeline was but the abiding presenceof the place. He knew the lawn with its grove of elms that overtopped thepeaked roof, the hall, with its shining floor and detached staircase thatcrooked itself in the centre where the tall clock stood, and, best of all, the white panels of the parlour where hung the portrait of that samefascinating great-aunt, painted, in amber brocade, as Venus with the applein her hand. 

And his grandmother, herself, in her stiff black silk, with a square oflace turned back from her thin throat and a fluted cap above her corkscrewcurls--her daguerreotype, taken in all her pride and her precision, wastied up in the bundle swinging on his arm. 

He passed Aunt Ailsey's cabin, and turned into the road with the chestnuts. A mile farther he came suddenly upon the house, standing amid the grove ofelms, dwarfed by the giant trees that arched above it. A dog's bark soundedsnappily from a kennel, but he paid no heed. He went up the broad whitewalk, climbed the steps to the square front porch, and lifted the greatbrass knocker. When he let it fall, the sound echoed through the shutteredhouse. 

The Major, who was sitting in his library with a volume of Mr. Addison openbefore him and a decanter of Burgundy at his right hand, heard the knock, and started to his feet. "Something's gone wrong at Uplands, " he saidaloud; "there's an illness--or the brandy is out. " He closed the book, pushed aside the bedroom candle which he had been about to light, and wentout into the hall. As he unbarred the door and flung it open, he began atonce:--

"I hope there's no ill news, " he exclaimed. 

The boy came into the hall, where he stood blinking from the glare of thelamplight. His head whirled, and he reached out to steady himself againstthe door. Then he carefully laid down his bundle and looked up with hismother's smile. 

"You're my grandfather, and I'm very hungry, " he said. 

The Major caught the child's shoulders and drew him, almost roughly, underthe light. As he towered there above him, he gulped down something in histhroat, and his wide nostrils twitched. 

"So you're poor Jane's boy?" he said at last. 

The boy nodded. He felt suddenly afraid of the spare old man with his longRoman nose and his fierce black eyebrows. A mist gathered before his eyesand the lamp shone like a great moon in a cloudy circle. 

The Major looked at the bundle on the floor, and again he swallowed. Thenhe stooped and picked up the thing and turned away. 

"Come in, sir, come in, " he said in a knotty voice. "You are at home. "

The boy followed him, and they passed the panelled parlour, from which hecaught a glimpse of the painting of Great-aunt Emmeline, and went into thedining room, where his grandfather pulled out a chair and bade him to beseated. As the old man opened the huge mahogany sideboard and brought out ashoulder of cold lamb and a plate of bread and butter, he questioned himwith a quaint courtesy about his life in town and the details of hisjourney. "Why, bless my soul, you've walked two hundred miles, " he cried, stopping on his way from the pantry, with the ham held out. "And no money!Why, bless my soul!"

"I had fifty cents, " said the boy, "that was left from my steamboat fare, you know. "

The Major put the ham on the table and attacked it grimly with thecarving-knife. 

"Fifty cents, " he whistled, and then, "you begged, I reckon?"

The boy flushed. "I asked for bread, " he replied, stung to the defensive. "They always gave me bread and sometimes meat, and they let me sleep in thebarns where the straw was, and once a woman took me into her house andoffered me money, but I would not take it. I--I think I'd like to send hera present, if you please, sir. "

"She shall have a dozen bottles of my best Madeira, " cried the Major. Theword recalled him to himself, and he got up and raised the lid of thecellaret, lovingly running his hand over the rows of bottles. 

"A pig would be better, I think, " said the boy, doubtfully, "or a cow, ifyou could afford it. She is a poor woman, you know. "

"Afford it!" chuckled the Major. "Why, I'll sell your grandmother's silver, but I'll afford it, sir. "

He took out a bottle, held it against the light, and filled a wine glass. "This is the finest port in Virginia, " he declared; "there is life in everydrop of it. Drink it down, " and, when the boy had taken it, he filled hisown glass and tossed it off, not lingering, as usual, for the pricelessflavour. "Two hundred miles!" he gasped, as he looked at the child withmoist eyes over which his red lids half closed. "Ah, you're a Lightfoot, "he said slowly. "I should know you were a Lightfoot if I passed you in theroad. " He carved a slice of ham and held it out on the end of the knife. "It's long since you've tasted a ham like this--browned in bread crumbs, "he added temptingly, but the boy gravely shook his head. 

"I've had quite enough, thank you, sir, " he answered with a quaint dignity, not unlike his grandfather's and as the Major rose, he stood up also, lifting his black head to look in the old man's face with his keen grayeyes. 

The Major took up the bundle and moved toward the door. "You must see yourgrandmother, " he said as they went out, and he led the way up the crookedstair past the old clock in the bend. On the first landing he opened a doorand stopped upon the threshold. "Molly, here is poor Jane's boy, " he said. 

In the centre of a big four-post bed, curtained in white dimity, a littleold lady was lying between lavender-scented sheets. On her breast stood atall silver candlestick which supported a well-worn volume of "TheMysteries of Udolpho, " held open by a pair of silver snuffers. The oldlady's face was sharp and wizened, and beneath her starched white nightcaprose the knots of her red flannel curlers. Her eyes, which were very smalland black, held a flickering brightness like that in live embers. 

"Whose boy, Mr. Lightfoot?" she asked sharply. 

Holding the child by the hand, the Major went into the room. 

"It's poor Jane's boy, Molly, " he repeated huskily. 

The old lady raised her head upon her high pillows, and looked at him bythe light of the candle on her breast. "Are you Jane's boy?" she questionedin suspicion, and at the child's "Yes, ma'am, " she said, "Come nearer. There, stand between the curtains. Yes, you are Jane's boy, I see. " Shegave the decision flatly, as if his parentage were a matter of herpleasure. "And what is your name?" she added, as she snuffed the candle. 

The boy looked from her stiff white nightcap to the "log-cabin" quilt onthe bed, and then at her steel hoops which were hanging from a chair back. He had always thought of her as in her rich black silk, with the tight graycurls about her ears, and at this revelation of her inner mysteries, hisfancy received a checkmate. 

But he met her eyes again and answered simply, "Dandridge--they call meDan--Dan Montjoy. "

"And he has walked two hundred miles, Molly, " gasped the Major. 

"Then he must be tired, " was the old lady's rejoinder, and she added withspirit: "Mr. Lightfoot, will you show Dan to Jane's old room, and see thathe has a blanket on his bed. He should have been asleep hours ago--goodnight, child, be sure and say your prayers, " and as they crossed thethreshold, she laid aside her book and blew out her light. 

The Major led the way to "Jane's old room" at the end of the hall, andfetched a candle from somewhere outside. "I think you'll find everythingyou need, " he said, stooping to feel the covering on the bed. "Yourgrandmother always keeps the rooms ready. God bless you, my son, " and hewent out, softly closing the door after him. 

The boy sat down on the steps of the tester bed, and looked anxiously roundthe three-cornered room, with its sloping windows filled with small, squarepanes of glass. By the candlelight, flickering on the plain, white wallsand simple furniture, he tried to conjure back the figure of hismother, --handsome Jane Lightfoot. Over the mantel hung two crude drawingsfrom her hand, and on the table at the bedside there were several bookswith her name written in pale ink on the fly leaves. The mirror to the highold bureau seemed still to hold the outlines of her figure, very shadowyagainst the greenish glass. He saw her in her full white skirts--she hadworn nine petticoats, he knew, on grand occasions--fastening her coralnecklace about her stately throat, the bands of her black hair drawn like aveil above her merry eyes. Had she lingered on that last Christmas Eve, hewondered, when her candlestick held its sprig of mistletoe and her room wasdressed in holly? Did she look back at the cheerful walls and the statelyfurniture before she blew out her light and went downstairs to ride madlyoff, wrapped in his father's coat? And the old people drank their eggnogand watched the Virginia reel, and, when they found her gone, shut her outforever. 

Now, as he sat on the bed-steps, it seemed to him that he had come home forthe first time in his life. All this was his own by right, --the queer oldhouse, his mother's room, and beyond the sloping windows, the meadows withtheir annual yield of grain. He felt the pride of it swelling within him;he waited breathlessly for the daybreak when he might go out and lord itover the fields and the cattle and the servants that were his also. And atlast--his head big with his first day's vanity--he climbed between thedimity curtains and fell asleep. 

When he awaked next morning, the sun was shining through the small squarepanes, and outside were the waving elm boughs and a clear sky. He wasaroused by a knock on his door, and, as he jumped out of bed, Big Abel, theMajor's driver and confidential servant, came in with the warm water. Hewas a strong, finely-formed negro, black as the ace of spades (so the Majorput it), and of a singularly open countenance. 

"Hi! ain't you up yit, young Marster?" he exclaimed. "Sis Rhody, she sezshe done save you de bes' puffovers you ever tase, en ef'n you don' come'long down, dey'll fall right flat. "

"Who is Sis Rhody?" inquired the boy, as he splashed the water on his face. 

"Who she? Why, she de cook. "

"All right, tell her I'm coming, " and he dressed hurriedly and ran downinto the hall where he found Champe Lightfoot, the Major's great-nephew, who lived at Chericoke. 

"Hello!" called Champe at once, plunging his hands into his pockets andpresenting an expression of eager interest. "When did you get here?"

"Last night, " Dan replied, and they stood staring at each other with twopairs of the Lightfoot gray eyes. 

"How'd you come?"

"I walked some and I came part the way on a steamboat. Did you ever see asteamboat?"

"Oh, shucks! A steamboat ain't anything. I've seen George Washington'ssword. Do you like to fish?"

"I never fished. I lived in a city. "

Zeke came in with a can of worms, and Champe gave them the greater share ofhis attention. "I tell you what, you'd better learn, " he said at last, returning the can to Zeke and taking up his fishing-rod. "There're a lot ofperch down yonder in the river, " and he strode out, followed by the smallnegro. 

Dan looked after him a moment, and then went into the dining room, wherehis grandmother was sitting at the head of her table, washing her pinkteaset in a basin of soapsuds. She wore her stiff, black silk this morningwith its dainty undersleeves of muslin, and her gray curls fell beneath hercap of delicate yellowed lace. "Come and kiss me, child, " she said as heentered. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't wake once, " answered the boy, kissing her wrinkled cheek. 

"Then you must eat a good breakfast and go to your grandfather in thelibrary. Your grandfather is a very learned man, Dan, he reads Latin everymorning in the library. --Cupid, has Rhody a freshly broiled chicken foryour young master?"

She got up and rustled about the room, arranging the pink teaset behind theglass doors of the corner press. Then she slipped her key basket over herarm and fluttered in and out of the storeroom, stopping at intervals toscold the stream of servants that poured in at the dining-room door. "Ef'nyou don' min', Ole Miss, Paisley, she done got de colick f'om a hull pa'celer green apples, " and "Abram he's des a-shakin' wid a chill en he say hecyarn go ter de co'n field. "

"Wait a minute and be quiet, " the old lady responded briskly, for, as theboy soon learned, she prided herself upon her healing powers, and sufferedno outsider to doctor her husband or her slaves. "Hush, Silas, don't say aword until I tell you. Cupid--you are the only one with any sense--measurePaisley a dose of Jamaica ginger from the bottle on the desk in the office, and send Abram a drink of the bitters in the brown jug--why, Car'line, whatdo you mean by coming into the house with a slit in your apron?"

"Fo' de Lawd, Ole Miss, hit's des done cotch on de fence. All de ducks Aun'Meeley been fattenin' up fur you done got loose en gone ter water. "

"Well, you go, too, every one of you!" and she dismissed them with waves ofher withered, little hands. "Send them out, Cupid. No, Car'line, not aword. Don't 'Ole Miss' me, I tell you!" and the servants streamed out againas they had come. 

When he had finished his breakfast the boy went back into the hall whereBig Abel was taking down the Major's guns from the rack, and, as he caughtsight of the strapping figure and kindly black face, he smiled for thefirst time since his home-coming. With a lordly manner, he went over andheld out his hand. 

"I like _you_, Big Abel, " he said gravely, and he followed him out into theyard. 

For the next few weeks he did not let Big Abel out of his sight. He rodewith him to the pasture, he sat with him on his doorstep of a fine evening, and he drove beside him on the box when the old coach went out. "Big Abelsays a gentleman doesn't go barefooted, " he said to Champe when he foundhim without his shoes in the meadow, "and I'm a gentleman. "

"I'd like to know what Big Abel knows about it, " promptly retorted Champe, and Dan grew white with rage and proceeded to roll up his sleeves. "I'llwhip any man who says Big Abel doesn't know a gentleman!" he cried, makinga lunge at his cousin. In point of truth, it was Champe who did thewhipping in such free fights; but bruises and a bleeding nose had neverscared the savage out of Dan. He would spring up from his last tumble asfrom his first, and let fly at his opponent until Big Abel rushed, intears, between them. 

From the garrulous negro, the boy soon learned the history of hisfamily--learned, indeed, much about his grandfather of which the Majorhimself was quite unconscious. He heard of that kindly, rollicking earlylife, half wild and wholly good-humoured, in which the eldest maleLightfoot had squandered his time and his fortune. Why, was not the oldcoach itself but an existing proof of Big Abel's stories? "'Twan' mo'ntwenty years back dat Ole Miss had de fines' car'ige in de county, " hebegan one evening on the doorstep, and the boy drove away a brood ofhalf-fledged chickens and settled himself to listen. "Hadn't you betterlight your pipe, Big Abel?" he inquired courteously. 

Big Abel shuffled into the cabin and came back with his corncob pipe and alighted taper. "We all ain' rid in de ole coach den, " he said with a sigh, as he sucked at the long stem, and threw the taper at the chickens. "De olecoach hit uz th'owed away in de out'ouse, en I 'uz des stiddyin' 'boutsplittin' it up fer kindlin' wood--en de new car'ige hit cos' mos' a minter money. Ole Miss she uz dat sot up dat she ain' let de hosses git nosleep--nor me nurr. Ef'n she spy out a speck er dus' on dem ar wheels, somebody gwine year f'om it, sho's you bo'n--en dat somebody wuz me. Yes, Lawd, Ole Miss she 'low dat dey ain' never been nuttin' like dat ar car'igein Varginny sence befo' de flood. "

"But where is it, Big Abel?"

"You des wait, young Marster, you des wait twel I git dar. I'se gwine gitdar w'en I come ter de day me an Ole Marster rid in ter git his gol' f'omMars Tom Braxton. De car'ige hit sutney did look spick en span dat day, enI done shine up my hosses twel you could 'mos' see yo' face in dey sides. Well, we rid inter town en we got de gol' f'om Marse Braxton, --all tied upin a bag wid a string roun' de neck er it, --en we start out agin (en OleMiss she settin' up at home en plannin' w'at she gwine buy), w'en we cometer de tave'n whar we all use ter git our supper, en meet Marse PlaintainDudley right face to face. Lawd! Lawd! I'se done knowed Marse PlaintainDudley afo' den, so I des tech up my hosses en wuz a-sailin' 'long by, w'enhe shake his han' en holler out, 'Is yer wife done tied you ter 'er ap'on, Maje?' (He knowed Ole Miss don' w'ar no ap'on des es well es I knowedhit--dat's Marse Plaintain all over agin); but w'en he holler out dat, OleMarster sez, 'Stop, Abel, ' en I 'bleeged ter stop, you know, I wuz w'en OleMarster tell me ter. 

"'I ain' tied, Plaintain, I'm tired, ' sez Ole Marster, 'I'm tired losin'money. ' Den Marse Plaintain he laugh like a devil. 'Oh, come in, suh, comein en win, den, ' he sez, en Ole Marster step out en walk right in wid MarsePlaintain behint 'im--en I set dar all night, --yes, suh, I set dar allnight a-hol'n' de hosses' haids. 

"Den w'en de sun up out come Ole Marster, white es a sheet, with his han'sa-trem'lin', en de bag er gol' gone. I look at 'im fur a minute, en den Ilet right out, 'Ole Marster, whar de gol'?' en he stan' still en ketch hisbreff befo' he say, 'Hit's all gone, Abel, en de car'ige en de hosses dey'sgone, too. " En w'en I bust out cryin' en ax 'im, 'My hosses gone, OleMarster?' he kinder sob en beckon me fer ter git down f'om my box, en denwe put out ter walk all de way home. 

"W'en we git yer 'bout'n dinner time, dar wuz Ole Miss at de do' wid de sunin her eyes, en soon es she ketch sight er Ole Marster, she put up her han'en holler out, 'Marse Lightfoot, whar de car'ige?' But Ole Marster, he deshang down his haid, same es a dawg dat's done been whupped fur rabbitrunnin', en he sob, 'Hit's gone, Molly en de bag er gol' en de hosses, dey's gone, too, I done loss 'em all cep'n Abel--en I'm a bad man, Molly. 'Dat's w'at Ole Marster say, 'I'm a bad man, Molly, ' en I stiddy 'bout myhosses en Ole Miss' car'ige en shet my mouf right tight, "

"And Grandma? Did she cry?" asked the boy, breathlessly. 

"Who cry? Ole Miss? Huh! She des th'ow up her haid en low, 'Well, MarseLightfoot, I'm glad you kep' Abel--en we'll use de ole coach agin', ' sezshe--en den she tu'n en strut right in ter dinner. "

"Was that all she ever said about it, Big Abel?"

"Dat's all I ever hyern, honey, en I b'lieve hit's all Ole Marster everhyern eeder, case w'en I tuck his gun out er de rack de nex' day, he wassettin' up des es prim in de parlour a-sippin' a julep wid Marse PeytonAmbler, en I hyern 'im kinder whisper, 'Molly, she's en angel, Peyton--'en he ain' never call Ole Miss en angel twel he loss 'er car'ige. "

IV

A HOUSE WITH AN OPEN DOOR

The master of Uplands was standing upon his portico behind the Doriccolumns, looking complacently over the fat lands upon which his fathers hadsown and harvested for generations. Beyond the lane of lilacs and the twosilver poplars at the gate, his eyes wandered leisurely across the bluegreen strip of grass-land to the tawny wheat field, where the slaves weresinging as they swung their cradles. The day was fine, and the outlyingmeadows seemed to reflect his gaze with a smile as beneficent as his own. He had cast his bread upon the soil, and it had returned to him threefold. 

As he stood there, a small, yet imposing figure, in his white duck suit, holding his broad slouch hat in his hand, he presented something of thegenial aspect of the country--as if the light that touched the pleasanthills and valleys was aglow in his clear brown eyes and comely features. Even the smooth white hand in which he held his hat and riding-whip hadabout it a certain plump kindliness which would best become a carelessgesture of concession. And, after all, he looked but what he was--a blandand generous gentleman, whose heart was as open as his wine cellar. 

A catbird was singing in one of the silver poplars, and he waited, withupraised head, for the song to end. Then he stooped beside a column andcarefully examined a newly planted coral honeysuckle before he went intothe wide hall, where his wife was seated at her work-table. 

From the rear door, which stood open until frost, a glow of sunshineentered, brightening the white walls with their rows of antlers andgunracks, and rippling over the well-waxed floor upon which no drop ofwater had ever fallen. A faint sweetness was in the air from thehoneysuckle arbour outside, which led into the box-bordered walks of thegarden. 

As the Governor hung up his hat, he begun at once with his daily news ofthe farm. "I hope they'll get that wheat field done to-day, " he said: "butit doesn't look much like it--they've been dawdling over it for the lastthree days. I am afraid Wilson isn't much of a manager, after all; if Itake my eyes off him, he seems to lose his head. "

"I think everything is that way, " returned his wife, looking up from one ofthe elaborately tucked and hemstitched shirt fronts which served to gratifythe Governor's single vanity. "I'm sure Aunt Pussy says she can't trustJudy for three days in the dairy without finding that the cream has stoodtoo long for butter--and Judy has been churning for twenty years. " She cutoff her thread and held the linen out for the Governor's inspection. "Ireally believe that is the prettiest one I've made. How do you like thisnew stitch?"

"Exquisite!" exclaimed her husband, as he took the shirt front in his hand. "Simply exquisite, my love. There isn't a woman in Virginia who can do suchneedlework; but it should go upon a younger and handsomer man, Julia. "

His wife blushed and looked up at him, the colour rising to her beautifulbrow and giving a youthful radiance to her nunlike face. "It couldcertainly go upon a younger man, Mr. Ambler, " she rejoined, with a touch ofthe coquetry for which she had once been noted; "but I should like to knowwhere I'd find a handsomer one. "

A pleased smile broadened the Governor's face, and he settled his waistcoatwith an approving pat. "Ah, you're a partial witness, my dear, " he said;"but I've an error to confess, so I mustn't forego your favour--I--I boughtseveral of Mr. Willis's servants, my love. "

"Why, Mr. Ambler!" remonstrated his wife, reproach softening her voiceuntil it fell like a caress. "Why, Mr. Ambler, you bought six of ColonelBlake's last year, you know and one of the house servants has been nursingthem ever since. The quarters are filled with infirm darkies. "

"But I couldn't help it, Julia, I really couldn't, " pleaded the Governor. "You'd have done it yourself, my dear. They were sold to a dealer goingsouth, and one of them wants to marry that Mandy of yours. "

"Oh, if it's Mandy's lover, " broke in Mrs. Ambler, with rising interest, "of course you had to buy him, and you did right about the others--youalways do right. " She put out her delicate blue-veined hand and touched hisarm. "I shall see them to-day, " she added, "and Mandy may as well be makingher wedding dress. "

"What an eye to things you have, " said the Governor, proudly. "You mighthave been President, had you been a man, my dear. "

His wife rose and took up her work-box with a laugh of protest. "I am quitecontent with the mission of my sex, sir, " she returned, half in jest, halfin wifely humility. "I'm sure I'd much rather make shirt fronts for youthan wear them myself. " Then she nodded to him and went, with her statelystep, up the broad staircase, her white hand flitting over the mahoganybalustrade. 

As he looked after her, the Governor's face clouded, and he sighed beneathhis breath. The cares she met with such serenity had been too heavy for herstrength; they had driven the bloom from her cheeks and the lustre from hereyes; and, though she had not faltered at her task, she had drooped dailyand grown older than her years. The master might live with a lavishdisregard of the morrow, not the master's wife. For him were the openhouse, the shining table, the well-stocked wine cellar and the morningrides over the dewy fields; for her the cares of her home and children, andof the souls and bodies of the black people that had been given into herhands. In her gentle heart it seemed to her that she had a charge to keepbefore her God; and she went her way humbly, her thoughts filled withthings so vital as the uses of her medicine chest and the unexpoundedmysteries of salvation. 

Now, as she reached the upper landing, she met Betty running to look forher. 

"O, mamma, may I go to fish with Champe and the new boy and Big Abel? AndVirginia wants to go, too, she says. "

"Wait a moment, child, " said Mrs. Ambler. "You have torn the trimming onyour frock. Stand still and I'll mend it for you, " and she got out herneedle and sewed up the rent, while Betty hopped impatiently from foot tofoot. 

"I think the new boy's a heap nicer than Champe, mamma, " she remarked asshe waited. 

"Do you, dear?"

"An' he says I'm nicer than Champe, too. He fought Champe 'cause he said Ididn't have as much sense as he had--an' I have, haven't I, mamma?"

"Women do not need as much sense as men, my dear, " replied Mrs. Ambler, taking a dainty stitch. 

"Well, anyway, Dan fought Champe about it, " said Betty, with pride. "He'llfight about 'most anything, he says, if he jest gets roused--an' thatcert'n'y did rouse him. His nose bled a long time, too, and Champe whippedhim, you know. But, when it was over, I asked him if I had as much sense ashe had, and he said, 'Psha! you're just a girl. ' Wasn't that funny, mamma?"

"There, there, Betty, " was Mrs. Ambler's rejoinder. "I'm afraid he's awicked boy, and you mustn't get such foolish thoughts into your head. Ifthe Lord had wanted you to be clever, He would have made you a man. Now, run away, and don't get your feet wet; and if you see Aunt Lydia in thegarden, you may tell her that the bonnet has come for her to look at. "

Betty bounded away and gave the message to Aunt Lydia over the whitewashedfence of the garden. "They've sent a bonnet from New York for you to lookat, Aunt Lydia, " she cried. "It came all wrapped up in tissue paper, withmamma's gray silk, and it's got flowers on it--a lot of them!" with whichparting shot, she turned her back upon the startled old lady and dashed offto join the boys and Big Abel, who, with their fishing-poles, had gatheredin the cattle pasture. 

Miss Lydia, who was lovingly bending over a bed of thyme, raised her eyesand looked after the child, all in a gentle wonder. Then she went slowly upand down the box-bordered walks, the full skirt of her "old lady's gown"trailing stiffly over the white gravel, her delicate face rising againstthe blossomless shrubs of snowball and bridal-wreath, like a faintly tintedflower that had been blighted before it fully bloomed. Around her thegarden was fragrant as a rose-jar with the lid left off, and the very pathsbeneath were red and white with fallen petals. Hardy cabbage roses, singlepink and white dailies, yellow-centred damask, and the last splendours ofthe giant of battle, all dipped their colours to her as she passed, whilethe little rustic summer-house where the walks branched off was but aflowering bank of maiden's blush and microphylla. 

Amid them all, Miss Lydia wandered in her full black gown, putting asideher filmy ruffles as she tied back a hanging spray or pruned a brokenstalk, sometimes even lowering her thread lace cap as she weeded the tangleof sweet Williams and touch-me-not. Since her gentle girlhood she hadtended bountiful gardens, and dreamed her virgin dreams in the purity oftheir box-trimmed walks. In a kind of worldly piety she had bound herprayer book in satin and offered to her Maker the incense of flowers. Sheregarded heaven with something of the respectful fervour with which sheregarded the world--that great world she had never seen; for "the properplace for a spinster is her father's house, " she would say with herconventional primness, and send, despite herself, a mild imagination inpursuit of the follies from which she so earnestly prayed to bedelivered--she, to whom New York was as the terror of a modern Babylon, anda Jezebel but a woman with paint upon her cheeks. "They tell me that otherwomen have painted since, " she had once said, with a wistful curiosity. "Your grandmamma, my dear Julia, had even seen one with an artificialcolour. She would not have mentioned it to me, of course, --an unmarriedlady, --but I was in the next room when she spoke of it to old Mrs. Fitzhugh. She was a woman of the world, was your grandmamma, my dear, andthe most finished dancer of her day. " The last was said with a timid pride, though to Miss Lydia herself the dance was the devil's own device, and theteaching of the catechism to small black slaves the chief end of existence. But the blood of the "most finished dancer of her day" still circulatedbeneath the old lady's gown and the religious life, and in her attenuatedromances she forever held the sinner above the saint, unless, indeed, thesinner chanced to be of her own sex, when, probably, the book would neverhave reached her hands. For the purely masculine improprieties, her charitywas as boundless as her innocence. She had even dipped into Shakespeare andbrought away the memory of Mercutio; she had read Scott, and enshrined inher pious heart the bold Rob Roy. "Men are very wicked, I fear, " she wouldgently offer, "but they are very a--a--engaging, too. "

To-day, when Betty came with the message, she lingered a moment to convinceherself that the bonnet was not in her thoughts, and then swept hertrailing bombazine into the house. "I have come to tell you that you may aswell send the bonnet back, Julia, " she began at once. "Flowers are much toofine for me, my dear. I need only a plain black poke. "

"Come up and try it on, " was Mrs. Ambler's cheerful response. "You have noidea how lovely it will look on you. "

Miss Lydia went up and took the bonnet out of its wrapping of tissue paper. "No, you must send it back, my love, " she said in a resigned voice. "Itdoes not become me to dress as a married woman. It may as well go back, Julia. "

"But do look in the glass, Aunt Lydia--there, let me put it straight foryou. Why, it suits you perfectly. It makes you look at least ten yearsyounger. "

"A plain black poke, my dear, " insisted Aunt Lydia, as she carefullyswathed the flowers in the tissue paper. "And, besides, I have my old one, which is quite good enough for me, my love. It was very sweet of you tothink of it, but it may as well go back. " She pensively gazed at the mirrorfor a moment, and then went to her chamber and took out her Bible to readSaint Paul on Woman. 

When she came down a few hours later, her face wore an angelic meekness. "Ihave been thinking of that poor Mrs. Brown who was here last week, " shesaid softly, "and I remember her telling me that she had no bonnet to wearto church. What a loss it must be to her not to attend divine service. "

Mrs. Ambler quickly looked up from her needlework. "Why, Aunt Lydia, itwould be really a charity to give her your old one!" she exclaimed. "Itdoes seem a shame that she should be kept away from church because of abonnet. And, then, you might as well keep the new one, you know, since itis in the house; I hate the trouble of sending it back. "

"It would be a charity, " murmured Miss Lydia, and the bonnet was broughtdown and tried on again. They were still looking at it when Betty rushed inand threw herself upon her mother. "O, mamma, I can't help it!" she criedin tears, "an' I wish I hadn't done it! Oh, I wish I hadn't; but I set fireto the Major's woodpile, and he's whippin' Dan!"

"Betty!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambler. She took the child by her shoulders anddrew her toward her. "Betty, did you set fire to the Major's woodpile?" shequestioned sternly. 

Betty was sobbing aloud, but she stopped long enough to gasp out an answer. 

"We were playin' Injuns, mamma, an' we couldn't make believe 'twas real, "she said, "an' it isn't any fun unless you can make believe, so I lit thewoodpile and pretended it was a fort, an' Big Abel, he was an Injun withthe axe for a tomahawk; but the woodpile blazed right up, an' the Majorcame runnin' out. He asked Dan who did it, an' Dan wouldn't say 'twasme, --an' I wouldn't say, either, --so he took Dan in to whip him. Oh, I wishI'd told! I wish I'd told!"

"Hush, Betty, " said Mrs. Ambler, and she called to the Governor in thehall, "Mr. Ambler, Betty has set fire to the Major's woodpile!" Her voicewas hopeless, and she looked up blankly at her husband as he entered. 

"Set fire to the woodpile!" whistled the Governor. "Why, bless my soul, wearen't safe in our beds!"

"He whipped Dan, " wailed Betty. 

"We aren't safe in our beds, " repeated the Governor, indignantly. "Julia, this is really too much. "

"Well, you will have to ride right over there, " said his wife, decisively. "Petunia, run down and tell Hosea to saddle his master's horse. Betty, Ihope this will be a lesson to you. You shan't have any preserves for supperfor a week. "

"I don't want any preserves, " sobbed Betty, her apron to her eyes. 

"Then you mustn't go fishing for two weeks. Mr. Ambler, you'd better bestarting at once, and don't forget to tell the Major that Betty is in greatdistress--you are, aren't you, Betty?"

"Yes, ma'am, " wept Betty. 

The Governor went out into the hall and took down his hat and riding-whip. 

"The sins of the children are visited upon the fathers, " he remarkedgloomily as he mounted his horse and rode away from his supper. 

V

THE SCHOOL FOR GENTLEMEN

The Governor rode up too late to avert the punishment. Dan had taken hiswhipping and was sitting on a footstool in the library, facing the Majorand a couple of the Major's cronies. His face wore an expression in whichthere was more resentment than resignation; for, though he took blowsdoggedly, he bore the memory of them long after the smart had ceased--long, indeed, after light-handed justice, in the Major's person, had forgottenalike the sin and the expiation. For the Major's hand was not steady at therod, and he had often regretted a weakness of heart which interfered witha physical interpretation of the wisdom of Solomon. "If you get yourdeserts, you'd get fifty lashes, " was his habitual reproof to his servants, though, as a matter of fact, he had never been known to order one. Hisanger was sometimes of the kind that appalls, but it usually vented itselfin a heightened redness of face or a single thundering oath; and a woman'ssob would melt his stoniest mood. It was only because his daughter had keptout of his sight that he had never forgiven her, people said; but therewas, perhaps, something characteristic in the proof that he was mostrelentless where he had most loved. 

As for Dan's chastisement, he had struck him twice across the shoulders, and when the boy had turned to him with the bitter smile which was JaneLightfoot's own, the Major had choked in his wrath, and, a moment later, flung the whip aside. "I'll be damned, --I beg your pardon, sir, --I'll beashamed of myself if I give you another lick, " he said. "You are agentleman, and I shall trust you. "

He held out his hand, but he had not counted on the Montjoy blood. The boylooked at him and stubbornly shook his head. "I can't shake hands yetbecause I am hating you just now, " he answered. "Will you wait awhile, sir?" and the Major choked again, half in awe, half in amusement. 

"You don't bear malice, I reckon?" he ventured cautiously. 

"I am not sure, " replied the boy, "I rather think I do. "

Then he put on his coat, and they went out to meet Mr. Blake and Dr. Crump, two hale and jolly gentlemen who rode over every Thursday to spend thenight. 

As the visitors came panting up the steps, the Major stood in the doorwaywith outstretched hands. 

"You are late, gentlemen, you are late, " was his weekly greeting, to whichthey as regularly responded, "We could never come too early for ourpleasure, my dear Major; but there are professional duties, you know, professional duties. "

After this interchange of courtesies, they would enter the house and settlethemselves, winter or summer, in their favourite chairs upon thehearth-rug, when it was the custom of Mrs. Lightfoot to send in afluttering maid to ask if Mrs. Blake had done her the honour to accompanyher husband. As Mrs. Blake was never known to leave her children and herpet poultry, this was merely a conventionalism by which the elder ladymeant to imply a standing welcome for the younger. 

On this evening, Mr. Blake--the rector of the largest church inLeicesterburg--straightened his fat legs and folded his hands as he did atthe ending of his sermons, and the others sat before him with the strainedand reverential faces which they put on like a veil in church and took offwhen the service was over. That it was not a prayer, but a pleasantry ofwhich he was about to deliver himself, they quite understood; but he had ahabit of speaking on week days in his Sunday tones, which gave, as it were, an official weight to his remarks. He was a fleshy wide-girthed gentleman, with a bald head, and a face as radiant as the full moon. 

"I was just asking the doctor when I was to have the honour of making thelittle widow Mrs. Crump?" he threw out at last, with a laugh that shook himfrom head to foot. "It is not good for man to live alone, eh, Major?"

"That sentence is sufficient to prove the divine inspiration of theScriptures, " returned the Major, warmly, while the doctor blushed andstammered, as he always did, at the rector's mild matrimonial jokes. Itwas twenty years since Mr. Blake began teasing Dr. Crump about hisbachelorship, and to them both the subject was as fresh as in itsbeginning. 

"I--I declare I haven't seen the lady for a week, " protested the doctor, "and then she sent for me. "

"Sent for you?" roared Mr. Blake. "Ah, doctor, doctor!"

"She sent for me because she had heart trouble, " returned the doctor, indignantly. The lady's name was never mentioned between them. 

The rector laughed until the tears started. 

"Ah, you're a success with the ladies, " he exclaimed, as he drew out aneatly ironed handkerchief and shook it free from its folds, "and nowonder--no wonder! We'll be having an epidemic of heart trouble next. "Then, as he saw the doctor wince beneath his jest, his kindly heartreproached him, and he gravely turned to politics and the dignity ofnations. 

The two friends were faithful Democrats, though the rector always began hisvery forcible remarks with: "A minister knows nothing of politics, and I ambut a minister of the Gospel. If you care, however, for the opinion of anoutsider--"

As for the Major, he had other leanings which were a source of unendinginterest to them all. "I am a Whig, not from principle, but from prejudice, sir, " he declared. "The Whig is the gentleman's party. I never saw a Whigthat didn't wear broadcloth. "

"And some Democrats, " politely protested the doctor, with a glance at hiscoat. 

The Major bowed. 

"And many Democrats, sir; but the Whig party, if I may say so, is thebroadcloth party--the cloth stamps it; and besides this, sir, I think its'parts are solid and will wear well. '"

Now when the Major began to quote Mr. Addison, even the rector was silent, save for an occasional prompting, as, "I was reading the _Spectator_ untileleven last night, sir, " or "I have been trying to recall the lines in _TheCampaign_ before. 'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved. "

This was the best of the day to Dan, and, as he turned on his footstool, hedid not even glare at Champe, who, from the window seat, was regarding himwith the triumphant eye with which the young behold the downfall of abrother. For a moment he had forgotten the whipping, but Champe had not; hewas thinking of it in the window seat. 

But the Major was standing on the hearth-rug, and the boy's gaze went tohim. Tossing back his long white hair, and fixing his eagle glance on hisfriends, the old gentleman, with a free sweep of his arm, thundered hisfavourite lines:--

 "So, when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land (Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed), Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. "

He had got so far when the door opened and the Governor entered--a littlehurriedly, for he was thinking of his supper. 

"I am the bearer of an apology, my dear Major, " he said, when he hadheartily shaken hands all round. "It seems that Betty--I assure you she isin great distress--set fire to your woodpile this afternoon, and that yourgrandson was punished for her mischief. My dear boy, " he laid his hand onDan's shoulder and looked into his face with the winning smile which hadmade him the most popular man in his State, "my dear boy, you are young tobe such a gentleman. "

A hot flush overspread Dan's face; he forgot the smart and the woundedpride--he forgot even Champe staring from the window seat. The Governor'svoice was like salve to his hurt; the upright little man with the warmbrown eyes seemed to lift him at once to the plane of his own chivalry. 

"Oh, I couldn't tell on a girl, sir, " he answered, and then his smotheredinjury burst forth; "but she ought to be ashamed of herself, " he addedbluntly. 

"She is, " said the Governor with a smile; then he turned to the others. "Major, the boy is a Lightfoot!" he exclaimed. 

"Ah, so I said, so I said!" cried the Major, clapping his hand on Dan'shead in a racial benediction. "'I'd know you were a Lightfoot if I met youin the road' was what I said the first evening. "

"And a Virginian, " added Mr. Blake, folding his hands on his stomach andsmiling upon the group. "My daughter in New York wrote to me last week foradvice about the education of her son. 'Shall I send him to the school oflearning at Cambridge, papa?' she asked; and I answered, 'Send him there, if you will, but, when he has finished with his books, by all means let himcome to Virginia--the school for gentlemen. '"

"The school for gentlemen!" cried the doctor, delightedly. "It is a proudertitle than the 'Mother of Presidents. '"

"And as honourably earned, " added the rector. "If you want polish, come toVirginia; if you want chivalry, come to Virginia. When I see these twothings combined, I say to myself, 'The blood of the Mother of Presidents ishere. '"

"You are right, sir, you are right!" cried the Major, shaking back hishair, as he did when he was about to begin the lines from _The Campaign_. "Nothing gives so fine a finish to a man as a few years spent with theinfluences that moulded Washington. Why, some foreigners are perfected bythem, sir. When I met General Lafayette in Richmond upon his second visit, I remember being agreeably impressed with his dignity and ease, which, Ihave no doubt, sir, he acquired by his association, in early years, withthe Virginia gentlemen. "

The Governor looked at them with a twinkle in his eye. He was aware of thehumorous traits of his friends, but, in the peculiar sweetness of histemper, he loved them not the less because he laughed at them--perhaps themore. In the rector's fat body and the Major's lean one, he knew that therebeat hearts as chivalrous as their words. He had seen the Major doff hishat to a beggar in the road, and the rector ride forty miles in a snowstormto read a prayer at the burial of a slave. So he said with a pleasantlaugh, "We are surely the best judges, my dear sirs, " and then, as Mrs. Lightfoot rustled in, they rose and fell back until she had taken her seat, and found her knitting. 

"I am so sorry not to see Mrs. Blake, " she said to the rector. "I have anew recipe for yellow pickle which I must write out and send to her. " And, as the Governor rose to go, she stood up and begged him to stay to supper. "Mr. Lightfoot, can't you persuade him to sit down with us?" she asked. 

"Where you have failed, Molly, it is useless for me to try, " gallantlyresponded the Major, picking up her ball of yarn. 

"But I must bear your pardon to my little girl, I really must, " insistedthe Governor. "By the way, Major, " he added, turning at the door, "what doyou think of the scheme to let the Government buy the slaves and ship themback to Africa? I was talking to a Congressman about it last week. "

"Sell the servants to the Government!" cried the Major, hotly. "Nonsense!nonsense! Why, you are striking at the very foundation of our society!Without slavery, where is our aristocracy, sir?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon, " said the Governor lightly. "Well, we shall keepthem a while longer, I expect. Good night, madam, good night, gentlemen, "and he went out to where his horse was standing. 

The Major looked after him with a sigh. "When I hear a man talking aboutthe abolition of slavery, " he remarked gloomily, "I always expect him towant to do away with marriage next--" he checked himself and coloured, asif an improper speech had slipped out in the presence of Mrs. Lightfoot. The old lady rose primly and, taking the rector's arm, led the way tosupper. 

Dan was not noticed at the table, --it was a part of his grandmother'ssocial training to ignore children before visitors, --but when he wentupstairs that night, the Major came to the boy's room and took him in hisarms. 

"I am proud of you, my child, " he said. "You are my grandson, every inch ofyou, and you shall have the finest riding horse in the stables on yourbirthday. "

"I'd rather have Big Abel, if you please, sir, " returned Dan. "I think BigAbel would like to belong to me, grandpa. "

"Bless my soul!" cried the Major. "Why, you shall have Big Abel and hiswhole family, if you like. I'll give you every darky on the place, if youwant them--and the horses to boot, " for the old gentleman was as unwise inhis generosity as in his wrath. 

"Big Abel will do, thank you, " responded the boy; "and I'd like to shakehands now, grandpa, " he added gravely; but before the Major left that nighthe had won not only the child's hand, but his heart. It was the beginningof the great love between them. 

For from that day Dan was as the light of his grandfather's eyes. As theboy strode manfully across the farm, his head thrown back, his handsclasped behind him, the old man followed, in wondering pride, on hisfootsteps. To see him stand amid the swinging cradles in the wheat field, ordering the slaves and arguing with the overseer, was sufficient delightunto the Major's day. "Nonsense, Molly, " he would reply half angrily to hiswife's remonstrances. "The child can't be spoiled. I tell you he's too finea boy. I couldn't spoil him if I tried, " and once out of his grandmother'ssight, Dan's arrogance was laughed at, and his recklessness was worshipped. "Ah, you will make a man, you will make a man!" the Major had exclaimedwhen he found him swearing at the overseer, "but you mustn't curse, youreally mustn't, you know. Why, your grandmother won't let me do it. "

"But I told him to leave that haystack for me to slide on, " complained theboy, "and he said he wouldn't, and began to pull it down. I wish you'd sendhim away, grandpa. "

"Send Harris away!" whistled the Major. "Why, where could I get another, Dan? He has been with me for twenty years. "

"Hi, young Marster, who gwine min' de han's?" cried Big Abel, from behind. 

"Do you like him, Big Abel?" asked the child, for the opinion of Big Abelwas the only one for which he ever showed respect. "It's because he's notfree, grandpa, " he had once explained at the Major's jealous questioning. "I wouldn't hurt his feelings because he's not free, you know, and hecouldn't answer back, " and the Major had said nothing more. 

Now "Do you like him, Big Abel?" he inquired; and to the negro's "He's doneuse me moughty well, suh, " he said gravely, "Then he shall stay, grandpa--and I'm sorry I cursed you, Harris, " he added before he left thefield. He would always own that he was wrong, if he could once be made tosee it, which rarely happened. 

"The boy's kind heart will save him, or he is lost, " said the Governor, sadly, as Dan tore by on his little pony, his black hair blown from hisface, his gray eyes shining. 

"He has a kind heart, I know, " returned Mrs. Ambler, gently; "the servantsand the animals adore him--but--but do you think it well for Betty to bethrown so much with him? He is very wild, and they deny him nothing. I wishshe went with Champe instead--but what do you think?"

"I don't know, I don't know, " answered the Governor, uneasily. "He told thedoctor to mind his own business, yesterday--and that is not unlike Betty, herself, I am sorry to say--but this morning I saw him give his month'spocket money to that poor free negro, Levi. I can't say, I really do notknow, " his eyes followed Betty as she flew out to climb behind Dan on thepony's back. "I wish it were Champe, myself, " he added doubtfully. 

For Betty--independent Betty--had become Dan's slave. Ever since theafternoon of the burning woodpile, she had bent her stubborn little kneesto him in hero-worship. She followed closer than a shadow on his footsteps;no tortures could wring his secrets from her lips. Once, when he hidhimself in the mountains for a day and night and played Indian, she keptsilence, though she knew his hiding-place, and a search party was out withlanterns until dawn. 

"I didn't tell, " she said triumphantly, when he came down again. 

"No, you didn't tell, " he frankly acknowledged. 

"So I can keep a secret, " she declared at last. 

"Oh, yes, you can keep a secret--for a girl, " he returned, and added, "Itell you what, I like you better than anybody about here, except grandpaand Big Abel. "

She shone upon him, her eyes narrowing; then her face darkened. "Not betterthan Big Abel?" she questioned plaintively. 

"Why, I have to like Big Abel best, " he replied, "because he belongs to me, you know--you ought to love the thing that belongs to you. "

"But I might belong to you, " suggested Betty. She smiled again, and, smiling or grave, she always looked as if she were standing in a patch ofsunshine, her hair made such a brightness about her. 

"Oh, you couldn't, you're white, " said Dan; "and, besides, I reckon BigAbel and the pony are as much as I can manage. It's a dreadful weight, having people belong to you. "

Then he loaded his gun, and Betty ran away with her fingers in her ears, because she couldn't bear to have things killed. 

A month later Dan and Champe settled down to study. The new tutor came--aserious young man from the North, who wore spectacles, and read the Bibleto the slaves on the half-holidays. He was kindly and conscientious, and, though the boys found him unduly weighed down by responsibility for thesouls of his fellows, they soon loved him in a light-hearted fashion. In asociety where even the rector harvested alike the true grain and the tares, and left the Almighty to do His own winnowing, Mr. Bennett's free-handedfight with the flesh and the devil was looked upon with smiling tolerance, as if he were charging a windmill with a wooden sword. 

On Saturdays he would ride over to Uplands, and discuss his schemes for theuplifting of the negroes with the Governor and Mrs. Ambler; and once heeven went so far as to knock at Rainy-day Jones's door and hand him apamphlet entitled "The Duties of the Slaveholder. " Old Rainy-day, who wasthe biggest bully in the county, set the dogs on him, and lit his pipe withthe pamphlet; but the Major, when he heard the story, laughed, and calledthe young man "a second David. "

Mr. Bennett looked at him seriously through his glasses, and then his eyeswandered to the small slave, Mitty, whose chief end in life was the findingof Mrs. Lightfoot's spectacles. He was an earnest young man, but he couldnot keep his eyes away from Mitty when she was in the room; and at the oldlady's, "Mitty, my girl, find me my glasses, " he felt like jumping from hisseat and calling upon her to halt. It seemed a survival of the dark agesthat one immortal soul should spend her life hunting for the spectacles ofanother. To Mr. Bennett, a soul was a soul in any colour; to the Major thesons of Ham were under a curse which the Lord would lighten in His own goodtime. 

But before many months, the young man had won the affection of the boys andthe respect of their grandfather, whose candid lack of logic wasoverpowered by the reasons which Mr. Bennett carried at every finger tip. He not only believed things, he knew why he believed them; and to theMajor, with whom feelings were convictions, this was more remarkable thanthe courage with which he had handed his tract to old Rainy-day Jones. 

As for Mr. Bennett, he found the Major a riddle that he could not read; butthe Governor's first smile had melted his reserve, and he declared Mrs. Ambler to be "a Madonna by Perugino. "

Mrs. Ambler had never heard of Perugino, and the word "Madonna" suggestedto her vague Romanist snares, but her heart went out to the stranger whenshe found that he was in mourning for his mother. She was not a cleverwoman in a worldly sense, yet her sympathy, from the hourly appeals to it, had grown as fine as intellect. She was hopelessly ignorant of ancienthistory and the Italian Renaissance; but she had a genius for theaffections, and where a greater mind would have blundered over a wound, hersoft hand went by intuition to the spot. It was very pleasant to sit in arosewood chair in her parlour, to hear her gray silk rustle as she crossedher feet, and to watch her long white fingers interlace. 

So she talked to the young man of his mother, and he showed her thedaguerrotype of the girl he loved; and at last she confided to him heranxieties for Betty's manners and the Governor's health, and her timidwonder that the Bible "countenanced" slavery. She was rare and elegant likea piece of fine point lace; her hands had known no harder work than thedelicate hemstitching, and her mind had never wandered over the nearerhills. 

As time went on, Betty was given over to the care of her governess, and shewas allowed to run wild no more in the meadows. Virginia, a pretty primlittle girl, already carried her prayer book in her hands when she drove tochurch, and wore Swiss muslin frocks in the evenings; but Betty when shewas made to hem tablecloths on sunny mornings, would weep until her needlerusted. 

On cloudy days she would sometimes have her ambitions to be ladylike, andonce, when she had gone to a party in town and seen Virginia dancing whileshe sat against the wall, she had come home to throw herself upon thefloor. 

"It's not that I care for boys, mamma, " she wailed, "for I despise them;but they oughtn't to have let me sit against the wall. And none of themasked me to dance--not even Dan. "

"Why, you are nothing but a child, Betty, " said Mrs. Ambler, in dismay. "What on earth does it matter to you whether the boys notice you or not?"

"It doesn't, " sobbed Betty; "but you wouldn't like to sit against the wall, mamma. "

"You can make them suffer for it six years hence, daughter, " suggested theGovernor, revengefully. 

"But suppose they don't have anything to do with me then, " cried Betty, andwept afresh. 

In the end, it was Uncle Bill who brought her to her feet, and, in doingso, he proved himself to be the philosopher that he was. 

"I tell you what, Betty, " he exclaimed, "if you get up and stop crying, I'll give you fifty cents. I reckon fifty cents will make up for any boy, eh?"

Betty lay still and looked up from the floor. 

"I--I reckon a dol-lar m-i-g-h-t, " she gasped, and caught a sob before itburst out. 

"Well, you get up and I'll give you a dollar. There ain't many boys wortha dollar, I can tell you. "

Betty got up and held out one hand as she wiped her eyes with the other. 

"I shall never speak to a boy again, " she declared, as she took the money. 

That was when she was thirteen, and a year later Dan went away to college. 

VI

COLLEGE DAYS

"My dear grandpa, " wrote Dan during his first weeks at college, "I think Iam going to like it pretty well here after I get used to the professors. The professors are a great nuisance. They seem to forget that a fellow ofseventeen isn't a baby any longer. 

"The Arcades are very nice, and the maples on the lawn remind me of thoseat Uplands, only they aren't nearly so fine. My room is rather small, butBig Abel keeps everything put away, so I manage to get along. Champe sleepsnext to me, and we are always shouting through the wall for Big Abel. Itell you, he has to step lively now. 

"The night after we came, we went to supper at Professor Ball's. There wasa Miss Ball there who had a pair of big eyes, but girls are so silly. Champe talked to her all the evening and walked out to the graveyard withher the next afternoon. I don't see why he wants to spend so much of histime with young ladies. It's because they think him good-looking, I reckon. 

"We are the only men who have horses here, so I am glad you made me bringPrince Rupert, after all. When I ride him into town, everybody turns tolook at him, and Batt Horsford, the stableman, says his trot is as clean asa razor. At first I wished I'd brought my hunter instead, they made such afuss over Champe's, and I tell you he's a regular timber-topper. 

"A week ago I rode to the grave of Mr. Jefferson, as I promised you, but Icouldn't carry the wreath for grandma because it would have lookedsilly--Champe said so. However, I made Big Abel get down and pull a fewflowers on the way. 

"You know, I had always thought that only gentlemen came to the University, but whom do you think I met the first evening?--why, the son of oldRainy-day Jones. What do you think of that? He actually had the impudenceto pass himself off as one of the real Joneses, and he was going with allthe men. Of course, I refused to shake hands with him--so did Champe--and, when he wanted to fight me, I said I fought only gentlemen. I wish youcould have seen his face. He looked as old Rainy-day did when he hit thefree negro Levi, and I knocked him down. 

"By the way, I wish you would please send me my half-year's pocket money ina lump, if you can conveniently do so. There is a man here who is workinghis way through Law, and his mother has just lost all her money, so, unlesssome one helps him, he'll have to go out and work before he takes hisdegree. I've promised to lend him my half-year's allowance--I said 'lend'because it might hurt his feelings; but, of course, I don't want him to payit back. He's a great fellow, but I can't tell you his name--I shouldn'tlike it in his place, you know. 

"The worst thing about college life is having to go to classes. If itwasn't for that I should be all right, and, anyway, I am solid on my Greekand Latin--but I can't get on with the higher mathematics. Mr. Bennettcouldn't drive them into my head as he did into Champe's. 

"I hope grandma has entirely recovered from her lumbago. Tell her Mrs. Ballsays she was cured by using red pepper plasters. 

"Do you know, by the way, that I left my half-dozen best waistcoats--theembroidered ones--in the bottom drawer of my bureau, at least Big Abelswears that's where he put them. I should be very much obliged if grandmawould have them fixed up and sent to me--I can't do without them. A greatmany gentlemen here are wearing coloured cravats, and Charlie Morson'sbrother, who came up from Richmond for a week, has a pair of side whiskers. He says they are fashionable down there, but I don't like them. 

"With affectionate greeting to grandma and yourself, "Your dutiful grandson, "DANDRIDGE MONTJOY. "

"P. S. I am using my full name now--it will look better if I am everPresident. I wonder if Mr. Jefferson was ever called plain Tom. 

 "DAN. "

"N. B. Give my love to the little girls at Uplands. 

 "D. "

The Major read the letter aloud to his wife while she sat knitting by thefireside, with Mitty holding the ball of yarn on a footstool at her feet. 

"What do you think of that, Molly?" he asked when he had finished, hisvoice quivering with excitement. 

"Red pepper plasters!" returned the old lady, contemptuously. "As if Ihadn't been making them for Cupid for the last twenty years. Red pepperplasters, indeed! Why, they're no better than mustard ones. I reckon I'vemade enough of them to know. "

"I don't mean that, Molly, " explained the Major, a little crestfallen. "Iwas speaking of the letter. That's a fine letter, now, isn't it?"

"It might be worse, " admitted Mrs. Lightfoot, coolly; "but for my part, Idon't care to have my grandson upon terms of equality with any of thatrascal Jones's blood. Why, the man whips his servants. "

"But he isn't upon any terms, my dear. He refused to shake hands with him, didn't you hear that? Perhaps I'd better read the letter again. "

"That is all very well, Mr. Lightfoot, " said his wife, clicking herneedles, "but it can't prevent his being in classes with him, all the same. And I am sure, if I had known the University was so little select, I shouldhave insisted upon sending him to Oxford, where his great-grandfather wentbefore him. "

"Good gracious, Molly! You don't wish the lad was across the ocean, doyou?"

"It matters very little where he is so long as he is a gentleman, " returnedthe old lady, so sharply that Mitty began to unwind the worsted rapidly. 

"Nonsense, Molly, " protested the Major, irritably, for he could not standopposition upon his own hearth-rug. "The boy couldn't be hurt by sitting inthe same class with the devil himself--nor could Champe, for that matter. They are too good Lightfoots. "

"I am not uneasy about Champe, " rejoined his wife. "Champe has never beenhumoured as Dan has been, I'm glad to say. "

The Major started up as red as a beet. 

"Do you mean that I humour him, madam?" he demanded in a terrible voice. 

"Do pray, Mr. Lightfoot, you will frighten Mitty to death, " said his wife, reprovingly, "and it is really very dangerous for you to excite yourselfso--you remember the doctor cautioned you against it. " And, by the time theMajor was thoroughly depressed, she skilfully brought out her point. "Ofcourse you spoil the child to death. You know it as well as I do. "

The Major, with the fear of apoplexy in his mind, had no answer on histongue, though a few minutes later he showed his displeasure by orderinghis horse and riding to Uplands to talk things over with the Governor. 

"I am afraid Molly is breaking, " he thought gloomily, as he rode along. "She isn't what she was when I married her fifty years ago. "

But at Uplands his ill humour was dispelled. The Governor read the letterand declared that Dan was a fine lad, "and I'm glad you haven't spoiledhim, Major, " he said heartily. "Yes, they're both fine lads and do youhonour. "

"So they do! so they do!" exclaimed the Major, delightedly. "That's justwhat I said to Molly, sir. And Dan sends his love to the little girls, " headded, smiling upon Betty and Virginia, who stood by. 

"Thank you, sir, " responded Virginia, prettily, looking at the old man withher dovelike eyes; but Betty tossed her head--she had an imperative littletoss which she used when she was angry. "I am only three years younger thanhe is, " she said, "and I'm not a little girl any longer--Mammy has had tolet down all my dresses. I am fourteen years old, sir. "

"And quite a young lady, " replied the Major, with a bow. "There are not twohandsomer girls in the state, Governor, which means, of course, that thereare not two handsomer girls in the world, sir. Why, Virginia's eyes arealmost a match for my Aunt Emmeline's, and poets have immortalized hers. Doyou recall the verses by the English officer she visited in prison?--

 "'The stars in Rebel skies that shine Are the bright orbs of Emmeline. '"

"Yes, I remember, " said the Governor. "Emmeline Lightfoot is as famous asDiana, " then his quick eyes caught Betty's drooping head, "and what of thislittle lady?" he asked, patting her shoulder. "There's not a brighter smilein Virginia than hers, eh, Major?"

But the Major was not to be outdone when there were compliments to beexchanged. 

"Her hair is like the sunshine, " he began, and checked himself, for at thefirst mention of her hair Betty had fled. 

It was on this afternoon that she brewed a dye of walnut juice and carriedit in secret to her room. She had loosened her braids and was about toplunge her head into the basin when Mrs. Ambler came in upon her. "Why, Betty! Betty!" she cried in horror. 

Betty turned with a start, wrapped in her shining hair. "It is the onlything left to do, mamma, " she said desperately. "I am going to dye it. Itisn't ladylike, I know, but red hair isn't ladylike either. I have triedconjuring, and it won't conjure, so I'm going to dye it. "

"Betty! Betty!" was all Mrs. Ambler could say, though she seized the basinand threw it from the window as if it held poison. "If you ever let thatstuff touch your hair, I--I'll shave your head for you, " she declared asshe left the room; but a moment afterward she looked in again to add, "Yourgrandmamma had red hair, and she was the beauty of her day--there, now, youought to be ashamed of yourself!"

So Betty smiled again, and when Virginia came in to dress for supper, shefound her parading about in Aunt Lydia's best bombazine gown. 

"This is how I'll look when I'm grown up, " she said, the corner of her eyeon her sister. 

"You'll look just lovely, " returned Virginia, promptly, for she always saidthe sweetest thing at the sweetest time. 

"And I'm going to look like this when Dan comes home next summer, " resumedBetty, sedately. 

"Not in Aunt Lydia's dress?"

"You goose! Of course not. I'm going to get Mammy to make me a Swiss muslindown to the ground, and I'm going to wear six starched petticoats because Ihaven't any hoops. I'm just wild to wear hoops, aren't you, Virginia?"

"I reckon so, " responded Virginia, doubtfully; "but it will be hard to sitdown, don't you think?"

"Oh, but I know how, " said Betty. "Aunt Lydia showed me how to do itgracefully. You give a little kick--ever so little and nobody sees it--andthen you just sink into your seat. I can do it well. "

"You were always clever, " exclaimed Virginia, as sweetly as before. She wasparting her satiny hair over her forehead, and the glass gave back ayouthful likeness of Mrs. Ambler. She was the beauty of the family, and sheknew it, which made her all the lovelier to Betty. 

"I declare, your freckles are all gone, " she said, as her sister's headlooked over her shoulder. "I wonder if it is the buttermilk that has madeyou so white?"

"It must be that, " admitted Betty, who had used it faithfully for the sixtynights. "Aunt Lydia says it works wonders. " Then, as she looked at herself, her eyes narrowed and she laughed aloud. "Why, Dan won't know me, " shecried merrily. 

But whatever hopes she had of Dan withered in the summer. When he came homefor the holidays, he brought with him an unmistakable swagger and a supplyof coloured neckerchiefs. On his first visit to Uplands he called Virginia"my pretty child, " and said "Good day, little lady, " to Betty. He carriedhimself like an Indian, as the Governor put it, and he was very lithe andmuscular, though he did not measure up to Champe by half a head. It was theMontjoy blood in him, people thought, for the Lightfoots were all of greatheight, and he had, too, a shock of his father's coarse black hair, whichflared stiffly above the brilliant Lightfoot eyes. As he galloped along theturnpike on Prince Rupert, the travelling countrymen turned to look afterhim, and muttered that "dare-devil Jack Montjoy had risen from hisgrave--if he had a grave. "

Once he met Betty at the gate, and catching her up before him, dashed withher as far as Aunt Ailsey's cabin and back again. "You are as light as afly, " he said with a laugh, "and not much bigger. There, take your hair outof my eyes, or I'll ride amuck. "

Betty caught her hair in one hand and drew it across her breast. "This islike--" she began gayly, and checked herself. She was thinking of "thatdevil Jack Montjoy and Jane Lightfoot. "

"I must take my chance now, " said Dan, in his easy, masterful way. "Youwill be too old for this by next year. Why, you will be in long dressesthen, and Virginia--have you noticed, by the way, what a beauty Virginia isgoing to be?"

"She is just lovely, " heartily agreed Betty. "She's prettier than yourGreat-aunt Emmeline, isn't she?"

"By George, she is. And I've been in love with Great-aunt Emmeline for tenyears because I couldn't find her match. I say, don't let anybody go offwith Virginia while I'm at college, will you?"

"All right, " said Betty, and though she smiled at him through her hair, hersmile was not so bright as it had been. It was all very well to hearVirginia praised, she told herself, but she should have liked it better hadDan been a little less emphatic. "I don't think any one is going to run offwith her, " she added gravely, and let the subject of her sister's beautypass. 

But at the end of the week, when Dan went back to college, her loyal heartreproached her, and she confided to Virginia that "he thought her a greatdeal lovelier than Great-aunt Emmeline. "

"Really?" asked Virginia, and determined to be very nice to him when hecame home for the holidays. 

"But what does he say about you?" she inquired after a moment. 

"About me?" returned Betty. "Oh, he doesn't say anything about me, exceptthat I am kind. "

Virginia stooped and kissed her. "You are kind, dear, " she said in hersweetest voice. 

And "kind, " after all, was the word for Betty, unless Big Abel had foundone when he said, "She is des all heart. " It was Betty who had trampedthree miles through the snow last Christmas to carry her gifts to the freenegro Levi, who was "laid up" and could not come to claim his share; and itwas Betty who had asked as a present for herself the lame boy Micah, thatbelonged to old Rainy-day Jones. She had met Micah in the road, and fromthat day the Governor's life was a burden until he sent the negro up to herdoor on Christmas morning. There was never a sick slave or a homeless dogthat she would not fly out to welcome, bareheaded and a little breathless, with the kindness brimming over from her eyes. "She has her father's headand her mother's heart, " said the Major to his wife, when he saw the girlgoing by with the dogs leaping round her and a young fox in her arms. "Whata wife she would make for Dan when she grows up! I wish he'd fancy her. They'd be well suited, eh, Molly?"

"If he fancies the thing that is suited to him, he is less of a man than Itake him to be, " retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, with a cynicism which confoundedthe Major. "He will lose his head over her doll baby of a sister, Isuppose--not that she isn't a good girl, " she added briskly. "Julia Amblercouldn't have had a bad child if she had tried, though I confess I amsurprised that she could have helped having a silly one; but Betty, why, there hasn't been a girl since I grew up with so much sense in her head asBetty Ambler has in her little finger. "

"When I think of you fifty years ago, I must admit that you put a highstandard, Molly, " interposed the Major, who was always polite when he wasnot angry. 

"She spent a week with me while you were away, " Mrs. Lightfoot went on inan unchanged voice, though with a softened face, "and, I declare, she kepthouse as well as I could have done it myself, and Cupid says she washed thepink teaset every morning with her own hands, and she actually curedRhody's lameness with a liniment she made out of Jimson weed. I tell younow, Mr. Lightfoot, that, if I get sick, Betty Ambler is the only girl I'mgoing to have inside the house. "

"Very well, my dear, " said the Major, meekly, "I'll try to remember; and, in that case, I reckon we'd as well drop a hint to Dan, eh, Molly?"

Mrs. Lightfoot looked at him a moment in silence. Then she said "Humph!"beneath her breath, and took up her knitting from the little table at herside. 

But Dan was living fast at college, and the Major's hints were thrown away. He read of "the Ambler girls who are growing into real beauties, " and heskipped the part that said, "Your grandmother has taken a great fancy toBetty and enjoys having her about. "

"Here's something for you, Champe, " he remarked with a laugh, as he tossedthe letter upon the table. "Gather your beauties while you may, for Iprefer bull pups. Did Batt Horsford tell you I'd offered him twenty-fivedollars for that one of his?"

Champe picked up the letter and unfolded it slowly. He was a tall, slenderyoung fellow, with curling pale brown hair and fine straight features. Hisface, in the strong light of the window by which he stood, showed a traceryof blue veins across the high forehead. 

"Oh, shut up about bull pups, " he said irritably. "You are as bad as abreeder, and yet you couldn't tell that thoroughbred of John Morson's froma cross with a terrier. "

"You bet I couldn't, " cried Dan, firing up; but Champe was reading theletter, and a faint flush had risen to his face. "The girl is like a sprayof golden-rod in the sunshine, " wrote the Major, with his old-fashionedrhetoric. 

"What is it he says, eh?" asked Dan, noting the flush and drawing hisconclusions. 

"He says that Aunt Molly and himself will meet us at the White Sulphur nextsummer. "

"Oh, I don't mean that. What is it he says about the girls; they are realbeauties aren't they? By the way, Champe, why don't you marry one of themand settle down?"

"Why don't you?" retorted Champe, as Dan got up and called to Big Abel tobring his riding clothes. "Oh, I'm not a lady's man, " he said lightly. "I've too moody a face for them, " and he began to dress himself with theelaborate care which had won for him the title of "Beau" Montjoy. 

By the next summer, Betty and Virginia had shot up as if in a night, butneither Champe nor Dan came home. After weeks of excited preparation, theMajor and Mrs. Lightfoot started, with Congo and Mitty, for the WhiteSulphur, where the boys were awaiting them. As the months went on, vaguerumours reached the Governor's ears--rumours which the Major did not quitedisprove when he came back in the autumn. "Yes, the boy is sowing his wildoats, " he said; "but what can you expect, Governor? Why, he is not yettwenty, and young blood is hot blood, sir. "

"I am sorry to hear that he has been losing at cards, " returned theGovernor; "but take my advice, and let him pick himself up when he falls tohurt. Don't back him up, Major. "

"Pooh! pooh!" exclaimed the Major, testily. "You're like Molly, Governor, and, bless my soul, one old woman is as much as I can manage. Why, shewants me to let the boy starve. "

The Governor sighed, but he did not protest. He liked Dan, with all hisyouthful errors, and he wanted to put out a hand to hold him back fromdestruction; but he feared to bring the terrible flush to the Major's face. It was better to leave things alone, he thought, and so sighed and saidnothing. 

That was an autumn of burning political conditions, and the excited slaverydebates in the North were reechoing through the Virginia mountains. TheMajor, like the old war horse that he was, had already pricked up his ears, and determined to lend his tongue or his sword, as his state might require. That a fight could go on in the Union so long as Virginia or himself keptout of it, seemed to him a possibility little less than preposterous. 

"Didn't we fight the Revolution, sir? and didn't we fight the War of 1812?and didn't we fight the Mexican War to boot?" he would demand. "And, blessmy soul, aren't we ready to fight all the Yankees in the universe, and towhip them clean out of the Union, too? Why, it wouldn't take us ten days tohave them on their knees, sir. "

The Governor did not laugh now; the times were too grave for that. Hisclear eyes had seen whither they were drifting, and he had thrown hisinfluence against the tide, which, he knew, would but sweep over him in theend. "You are out of place in Virginia, Major, " he said seriously. "Virginia wants peace, and she wants the Union. Go south, my dear sir, gosouth. "

During the spring before he had gone south himself to a convention atMontgomery, and he had spoken there against one of the greatest of theSouthern orators. His state had upheld him, but the Major had not. He camehome to find his old neighbour red with resentment, and refusing for thefirst few days to shake the hand of "a man who would tamper with the honourof Virginia. " At the end of the week the Major's hand was held out, but hisheart still bore his grievance, and he began quoting William L. Yancey, ashe had once quoted Mr. Addison. In the little meetings at Uplands or atChericoke, he would now declaim the words of the impassioned agitator asvigorously as in the old days he had recited those of the polishedgentleman of letters. The rector and the doctor would sit silent andabashed, and only the Governor would break in now and then with: "You gotoo far, Major. There is a step from which there is no drawing back, andthat step means ruin to your state, sir. "

"Ruin, sir? Nonsense! nonsense! We made the Union, and we'll unmake it whenwe please. We didn't make slavery; but, if Virginia wants slaves, by God, sir, she shall have slaves!"

It was after such a discussion in the Governor's library that the oldgentleman rose one evening to depart in his wrath. "The man who sits up inmy presence and questions my right to own my slaves is a damned blackabolitionist, sir, " he thundered as he went, and by the time he reached hiscoach he was so blinded by his rage that Congo, the driver, was obliged tolift him bodily into his seat. "Dis yer ain' no way ter do, Ole Marster, "said the negro, reproachfully. "How I gwine teck cyar you like Ole Missdone tole me, w'en you let yo' bile git ter yo' haid like dis? 'Tain' noway ter do, suh. "

The Major was too full for silence; and, ignoring the Governor, who hadhurried out to beseech him to return, he let his rage burst forth. 

"I can't help it, Congo, I can't help it!" he said. "They want to take youfrom me, do you hear? and that black Republican party up north wants totake you, too. They say I've no right to you, Congo, --bless my soul, andyou were born on my own land!"

"Go 'way, Ole Marster, who gwine min' w'at dey say?" returned Congo, soothingly. "You des better wrop dat ar neck'chif roun' yo' thoat er OleMiss'll git atter you sho' es you live!"

The Major wiped his eyes on the end of the neckerchief as he tied it abouthis throat. "But, if they elect their President, he may send down an armyto free you, " he went on, with something like a sob of anger, "and I'd liketo know what we'd do then, Congo. "

"Lawd, Lawd, suh, " said Congo, as he wrapped the robe about his master'sknees. "Did you ever heah tell er sech doin's!" then, as he mounted thebox, he leaned down and called out reassuringly, "Don' you min', OleMarster, we'll des loose de dawgs on 'em, dat's w'at we'll do, " and theyrolled off indignantly, leaving the Governor half angry and half apologeticupon his portico. 

It was on the way home that evening that Congo spied in the sassafrasbushes beside the road a runaway slave of old Rainy-day Jones's, anddescended, with a shout, to deliver his brother into bondage. 

"Hi, Ole Marster, w'at I gwine tie him wid?" he demanded gleefully. 

The Major looked out of the window, and his face went white. 

"What's that on his cheek, Congo?" he asked in a whisper. 

"Dat's des whar dey done hit 'im, Ole Marster. How I gwine tie 'im?"

But the Major had looked again, and the awful redness rose to his brow. 

"Shut up, you fool!" he said with a roar, as he dived under his seat andbrought out his brandy flask. "Give him a swallow of that--be quick, do youhear? Pour it into your cup, sir, and give him that corn pone in yourpocket. I see it sticking out. There, now hoist him up beside you, and, ifI meet that rascal Jones, I'll blow his damn brains out!"

The Major doubtless would have fulfilled his oath as surely as his twelvepeers would have shaken his hand afterwards; but, by the time they came upwith Rainy-day a mile ahead, his wrath had settled and he had decided that"he didn't want such dirty blood upon his hands. "

So he took a different course, and merely swore a little as he threw a rollof banknotes into the road. "Don't open your mouth to me, you hell hound, "he cried, "or I'll have you whipped clean out of this county, sir, andthere's not a gentleman in Virginia that wouldn't lend a hand. Don't openyour mouth to me, I tell you; here's the price of your property, and youcan stoop in the dirt to pick it up. There's no man alive that shallquestion the divine right of slavery in my presence; but--but it is aninstitution for gentlemen, and you, sir, are a damned scoundrel!"

With which the Major and old Rainy-day rode on in opposite ways. 

BOOK SECOND

YOUNG BLOOD

I

THE MAJOR'S CHRISTMAS

On Christmas Eve the great logs blazed at Chericoke. From the open door thered light of the fire streamed through the falling snow upon the broaddrive where the wheel ruts had frozen into ribbons of ice. The naked boughsof the old elms on the lawn tapped the peaked roof with twigs as cold andbright as steel, and the two high urns beside the steps had an iridescentfringe around their marble basins. 

In the hall, beneath swinging sprays of mistletoe and holly, the Major andhis hearty cronies were dipping apple toddy from the silver punch bowl halfhidden in its wreath of evergreens. Behind them the panelled parlour wasaglow with warmth, and on its shining wainscoting Great-aunt Emmeline, under her Christmas garland, held her red apple stiffly away from the skirtof her amber brocade. 

The Major, who had just filled the rector's glass, let the ladle fall witha splash, and hurried to the open door. 

"They're coming, Molly!" he called excitedly, "I hear their horses in thedrive. No, bless my soul, it's wheels! The Governor's here, Molly! Filltheir glasses at once--they'll be frozen through!"

Mrs. Lightfoot, who had been watching from the ivied panes of the parlour, rustled, with sharp exclamation, into the hall, and began hastily dippingfrom the silver punch bowl. "I really think, Mr. Lightfoot, that the housewould be more comfortable if you'd be content to keep the front doorclosed, " she found time to remark. "Do take your glass by the fire, Mr. Blake; I declare, I positively feel the sleet in my face. Don't you thinkit would be just as hospitable, Mr. Lightfoot, to open to them when theyknock?"

"What, keep the door shut on Christmas Eve, Molly!" exclaimed the Majorfrom the front steps, where the snow was falling on his bare head. "Why, you're no better than a heathen. It's time you were learning your catechismover again. Ah, here they are, here they are! Come in, ladies, come in. Thenight is cold, but the welcome's warm. --Cupid, you fool, bring an umbrella, and don't stand grinning there. --Here, my dear Miss Lydia, take my arm, andnever mind the weather; we've the best apple toddy in Virginia to warm youwith, and the biggest log in the woods for you to look at. Ah, come in, come in, " and he led Miss Lydia, in her white wool "fascinator, " into thehouse where Mrs. Lightfoot stood waiting with open arms and the appletoddy. The Governor had insisted upon carrying his wife, lest she chill herfeet, and Betty and Virginia, in their long cloaks, fluttered across thesnow and up the steps. As they reached the hall, the Major caught them inhis arms and soundly kissed them. "It isn't Christmas every day, you know, "he lamented ruefully, "and even our friend Mr. Addison wasn't steeledagainst rosy cheeks, though he was but a poor creature who hadn't been toVirginia. But come to the fire, come to the fire. There's eggnog to yourliking, Mr. Bill, and just a sip of this, Miss Lydia, to warm you up. Youmay defy the wind, ma'am, with a single sip of my apple toddy. " He seizedthe poker and, while Congo brought the glasses, prodded the giant log untilthe flames leaped, roaring, up the chimney and the wainscoting glowed deepred. 

"What, not a drop, Miss Lydia?" he cried, in aggrieved tones, when heturned his back upon the fire. 

Miss Lydia shook her head, blushing as she untied her "fascinator. " She wasfond of apple toddy, but she regarded the taste as an indelicate one, andwould as soon have admitted, before gentlemen, a liking for cabbage. 

"Don't drink it, dear, " she whispered to Betty, as the girl took her glass;"it will give you a vulgar colour. "

Betty turned upon her the smile of beaming affection with which she alwaysregarded her family. She was standing under the mistletoe in her light bluecloak and hood bordered with swan's-down, and her eyes shone like lamps inthe bright pallor of her face. 

"Why, it is delicious!" she said, with the pretty effusion the old manloved. "It is better than my eggnog, isn't it, papa?"

"If anything can be better than your eggnog, my dear, " replied theGovernor, courteously, "it is the Major's apple toddy. " The Major bowed, and Betty gave a merry little nod. "If you hadn't put it so nicely, Ishould never have forgiven you, " she laughed; "but he always puts itnicely, Major, doesn't he? I made him the other day a plum pudding of myvery own, --I wouldn't even let Aunt Floretta seed the raisins, --and when itcame on burnt, what do you think he said? Why, I asked him how he liked it, and he thought for a minute and replied, 'My dear, it's the very best burntplum pudding I ever ate. ' Now wasn't that dear of him?"

"Ah, but you should have heard how he put things when he was in politics, "said the Major, refilling his glass. "On my word, he could make the truthsound sweeter than most men could make a lie. "

"Come, come, Major, " protested the Governor. "Julia, can't you induce ourgood friend to forbear?"

"He knows I like to hear it, " said Mrs. Ambler, turning from a discussionof her Christmas dinner with Mrs. Lightfoot. 

"Then you shall hear it, madam, " declared the Major, "and I may as well sayat once that if the Governor hasn't told you about the reply he made toPlaintain Dudley when he asked him for his political influence, you haven'tthe kind of husband, ma'am, that Molly Lightfoot has got. Keep a secretfrom Molly! Why, I'd as soon try to keep a keg full of brandy fromfollowing an auger. "

"Auger, indeed!" exclaimed the little old lady, to whom the Major'sfacetiousness was the only serious thing about him. "Your secrets are likeapples, sir, that hang to every passer-by, until I store them away. Auger, indeed!"

"No offence, my dear, " was the Major's meek apology. "An auger is a veryuseful implement, eh, Governor; and it's Plaintain Dudley, after all, thatwe're concerned with. Do you remember Plaintain, Mrs. Ambler, a big ruddyfellow, with ruffled shirts? Oh, he prided himself on his shirts, didPlaintain!"

"A very becoming weakness, " said Mrs. Ambler, smiling at the Governor, whowas blushing above his tucks. 

"Becoming? Well, well, I dare say, " admitted the Major. "Plaintain thoughtso, at any rate. Why, I can see him now, on the day he came to theGovernor, puffing out his front, and twirling his white silk handkerchief. 'May I ask your opinion of me, sir?' he had the audacity to begin, and theGovernor! Bless my soul, ma'am, the Governor bowed his politest bow, andreplied with his pleasantest smile, 'My opinion of you, sir, is that wereyou as great a gentleman as you are a scoundrel, you would be a greatergentleman than my Lord Chesterfield. ' Those were his words, ma'am, on myoath, those were his words!"

"But he was a scoundrel!" exclaimed the Governor. "Why, he swindled women, Major. It was always a mystery to me how you tolerated him. "

"And a mystery to Mrs. Lightfoot, " responded the Major, in a half whisper;"but as I tell her, sir, you mustn't judge a man by his company, or a'possum by his grin. " Then he raised a well-filled glass and gave a toastthat brought even Mr. Bill upon his feet, "To Virginia, the home of bravemen and, " he straightened himself, tossed back his hair, and bowed to theladies, "and of angels. "

The Governor raised his glass with a smile, "To the angels who take pityupon the men, " he said. 

"That more angels may take pity upon men, " added the rector, rising fromhis seat by the fireside, with a wink at the doctor. 

And the toast was drunk, standing, while the girls ran up the crooked stairto lay aside their wraps in a three-cornered bedroom. 

As Virginia threw off her pink cloak and twirled round in her flaringskirts, Betty gave a little gasp of admiration and stood holding thelighted candle, with its sprig of holly, above her head. The tall girlishfigure, in its flounces of organdy muslin, with the smooth parting ofbright brown hair and the dovelike eyes, had flowered suddenly into abeauty that took her breath away. 

"Why, you are a vision--a vision!" she cried delightedly. 

Virginia stopped short in her twirling and settled the illusion ruche overher slim white shoulders. "It's the first time I've dressed like this, youknow, " she said, glancing at herself in the dim old mirror. 

"Ah, I'm not half so pretty, " sighed Betty, hopelessly, "Is the rose inplace, do you think?" She had fastened a white rose in the thick coil onher neck, where it lay half hidden by her hair. 

"It looks just lovely, " replied Virginia, heartily. "Do you hear some onein the drive?" She went to the window, and looked out into the fallingsnow, her bare shoulders shrinking from the frosted pane. "What a long ridethe boys have had, and how cold they'll be. Why, the ground is quitecovered with snow. " Betty, with the candle still in her hand, turned fromthe mirror, and gave a quick glance through the sloping window, to thenaked elms outside. "Ah, poor things, poor things!" she cried. 

"But they have their riding cloaks, " said Virginia, in her placid voice. 

"Oh, I don't mean Dan and Champe and Big Abel, " answered Betty, "I mean theelms, the poor naked elms that wear their clothes all summer, and arestripped bare for the cold. How I should like to warm you, you dearthings, " she added, going to the window. Against the tossing branches herhair made a glow of colour, and her vivid face was warm with tenderness. "And Jane Lightfoot rode away on a night like this!" she whispered after apause. 

"She wore a muslin dress and a coral necklace, you know, " said Virginia, inthe same low tone, "and she had only a knitted shawl over her head when shemet Jack Montjoy at the end of the drive. He wrapped her in his cape, andthey rode like mad to the town--and she was laughing! Uncle Shadrach metthem in the road, and he says he heard her laughing in the wind. She musthave been very wicked, mustn't she, Betty?"

But Betty was looking into the storm, and did not answer. "I wonder if hewere in the least like Dan, " she murmured a moment later. 

"Well, he had black hair, and Dan has that, " responded Virginia, lightly;"and he had a square chin, and Dan has that, too. Oh, every one says thatDan's the image of his father, except for the Lightfoot eyes. I'm glad hehas the Lightfoot eyes, anyway. Are you ready to go down?"

Betty was ready, though her face had grown a little grave, and with a lastlook at the glass, they caught hands and went sedately down the windingstair. 

In the hall below they met Mrs. Lightfoot, who sent Virginia into thepanelled parlour, and bore Betty off to the kitchen to taste the sauce forthe plum pudding. "I can't do a thing on earth with Rhody, " she remarkeduneasily, throwing a knitted scarf over her head as they went from the backporch along the covered way that led to the brick kitchen. "She insiststhat yours is the only palate in all the country she will permit to passjudgment upon her sauce. I made the Major try it, and he thinks it needs adash more of rum, but Rhody says she shan't be induced to change it untilshe has had your advice. Here, Rhody, open the door; I've brought youryoung lady. "

The door swung back with a jerk upon the big kitchen, where before theChristmas turkeys toasting on the spit, Aunt Rhody was striding to and frolike an Amazon in charcoal. From the beginning of the covered way they hadbeen guided by the tones of penetrant contempt, with which she lashed thecircle of house servants who had gathered to her assistance. "You des lemmealont now, " was the advice she royally offered. "Ef you gwine ax me w'atyou'd better do, I des tell you right now, you'd better lemme alont. Ca'line, you teck yo' eyes off dat ar roas' pig, er I'll fling dis yerb'ilin' lard right spang on you. I ain' gwine hev none er my cookin'conjured fo' my ve'y face. Congo, you shet dat mouf er yourn, er I'll shethit wid er flat-iron, en den hit'll be shet ter stay. "

Then, as Mrs. Lightfoot and Betty came in, she broke off, and wiped herlarge black hands on her apron, before she waved with pride to the shelvesand tables bending beneath her various creations. "I'se done stuff dat arpig so full er chestnuts dat he's fitten ter bus', " she exclaimed proudly. "Lawd, Lawd, hit's a pity he ain' 'live agin des ter tase hese'f!"

"Poor little pig, " said Betty, "he looks so small and pink, Aunt Rhody, Idon't see how you have the heart to roast him. "

"I'se done stuff 'im full, " returned Aunt Rhody, in justification. 

"I hope he's well done, Rhody, " briskly broke in Mrs. Lightfoot; "and besure to bake the hams until the juice runs through the bread crumbs. Iseverything ready for to-morrow?"

"Des es ready es ef 'twuz fer Kingdom Come, Ole Miss, en dar ain' gwine beno better dinner on Jedgment Day nurr, I don' cyar who gwine cook hit. Youdes tase dis yer sass--dat's all I ax, you des tase dis yer sass. "

"You taste it, Betty, " begged Mrs. Lightfoot, shrinking from theapproaching spoon; and Betty tasted and pronounced it excellent, "and therenever was an Ambler who wasn't a judge of 'sass, " she added. 

Moved by the compliment, Aunt Rhody fell back and regarded the girl, withher arms akimbo. "I d'clar, her eyes do des shoot fire, " she exclaimedadmiringly. "I dunno whar de beaux done hid deyse'ves dese days; hit's awonner dey ain' des a-busin' dey sides ter git yer. Marse Dan, now, whynthe come a-prancin' roun' dese yer parts?"

Mrs. Lightfoot looked at Betty and saw her colour rise. "That will do, Rhody, " she cautioned; "you will let the turkeys burn, " but as they movedtoward the door, Betty herself paused and looked back. 

"I gave your Christmas gift to Uncle Cupid, Aunt Rhody, " she said; "he putit under the joists in your cabin, so you mustn't look at it till morning. "

"Lawd, chile, I'se done got Christmas gifts afo' now, " replied Aunt Rhody, ungratefully, "en I'se done got a pa'cel er no count ones, too. Folks deygive Christmas gifts same es de Lawd he give chillun--dey des han's outw'at dey's got on dey han's, wid no stiddyin' 'bout de tase. Sakes er live!Ef'n de Lawd hadn't hed a plum sight ter git rid er, he 'ouldn't er sontCa'line all dose driblets, fo' he'd done sont 'er a husban'. "

"Husban', huh!" exclaimed Ca'line, with a snort from the fireplace. "Husban' yo'se'f! No mo' niggerisms fer me, ma'am!"

"Hold your tongue, Ca'line, " said Mrs. Lightfoot, sternly; "and, Rhody, youought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so before your Miss Betty. "

"Husban', huh!" repeated the indignant Ca'line, under her breath. 

"Hold your tongues, both of you, " cried the old lady, as she lifted hersilk skirt in both hands and swept from the kitchen. 

When they reached the house again, they heard the Major's voice, on itshighest key, demanding: "Molly! Why, bless my soul, what's become ofMolly?" He was calling from the front steps, and the sound of tramping feetrang in the drive below. Against the whiteness of the storm Big Abel's faceshone in the light from the open door, and about him, as he held thehorses, Dan and Champe and a guest or two were dismounting upon the steps. 

As the old lady went forward, Champe rushed into the hall, and caught herin his arms. 

"On my word, you're so young I didn't know you, " he cried gayly. "If youkeep this up, Aunt Molly, there'll be a second Lightfoot beauty yet. Yougrow prettier every day--I declare you do!"

"Hold your tongue, you scamp, " said the old lady, flushing with pleasure, "or there'll be a second Ananias as well. Here, Betty, come and wish thisbad boy a Merry Christmas. "

Betty looked round with a smile, but as she did so, her eyes went beyondChampe, and saw Dan standing in the doorway, his soft slouch hat in hishand, and a powdering of snow on his dark hair. He had grown bigger andolder in the last few months, and the Lightfoot eyes, with the Lightfoottwinkle in their pupils, gave an expression of careless humour to his pale, strongly moulded face. The same humour was in his voice even as he held hisgrandfather's hand. 

"By George, we're glad to get here, " was his greeting. "Morson's beencursing our hospitality for the last three miles. Grandpa, this is myfriend Morson--Jack Morson, you've heard me speak of him; and this is BlandDiggs, you know of him, too. "

"Why, to be sure, to be sure, " cried the Major, heartily, as he held outboth hands. "You're welcome, gentlemen, as welcome as Christmas--what morecan I say? But come in, come in to the fire. Cupid, the glasses!"

"Ah, the ladies first, " suggested Dan, lightly; "grace before meat, youknow. So here you are, grandma, cap and all. And Virginia;--ye gods!--isthis little Virginia?"

His laughing eyes were on her as she stood, tall and lovely, beneath aChristmas garland, and with the laughter still in them, they blazed withapproval of her beauty. "Oh, but do you know, how did you do it?" hedemanded with his blithe confidence, as if it mattered very little how hiswords were met. 

"It wasn't any trouble, believe me, " responded Virginia, blushing, "nothalf so much trouble as you took to tie your neckerchief. "

Dan's hand went to his throat. "Then I may presume that it is mere naturalgenius, " he exclaimed. 

"Genius, to grow tall?"

"Well, yes, just that--to grow tall, " then he caught sight of Betty, andheld out his hand again. "And you, little comrade, you haven't grown up tothe world, I see. "

Betty laughed and looked him over with the smile the Major loved. "Icontent myself with merely growing up to you, " she returned. 

"Up to me? Why, you barely reach my shoulder. "

"Well, up to the greater part of you, at least. "

"Ah, up to my heart, " said Dan, and Betty coloured beneath the twinkle inhis eyes. 

The colour was still in her face when the Major came out, with Mrs. Ambleron his arm, and led the way to supper. 

"All of us are hungry, and some of us have a day's ride behind us, " heremarked, as, after the rector's grace, he stood waving the carving-knifeabove the roasted turkey. "I'd like to know how often during the last houryou've thought of this turkey, Mr. Morson?"

"It has had a fair share of my thoughts, I'm forced to admit, Major, "responded Jack Morson, readily. He was a hearty, light-haired young fellow, with a girlish complexion and pale blue eyes, as round as marbles. "As faira share as the apple toddy has had of Diggs's, I'll be bound. "

"Apple toddy!" protested Diggs, turning his serious face, flushed from thelong ride, upon the Major. "I was too busy thinking we should never gethere; and we were lost once, weren't we, Beau?" he asked of Dan. 

"Well, I for one am safely housed for the night, doctor, " declared therector, with an uneasy glance through the window, "and I trust that Mrs. Blake's reproach will melt before the snow does. But what's that aboutbeing lost, Dan?"

"Oh, we got off the road, " replied Dan; "but I gave Prince Rupert the reinand he brought us in. The sense that horse has got makes me fairly ashamedof going to college in his place; and I may as well warn you, Mr. Blake, that when I get ready to go to Heaven, I shan't seek your guidance atall--I'll merely nose Prince Rupert at the Bible and give him his head. "

"It's a comfort to know, at least, that you won't be trusting to your owndeserts, my boy, " responded the rector, who dearly loved his joke, as hehelped himself to yellow pickle. 

"Let us hope that the straight and narrow way is a little clearer than thetavern road to-night, " said Champe. "I'm afraid you'll have trouble gettingback, Governor. "

"Afraid!" took up the Major, before the Governor could reply. "Why, whereare your manners, my lad? It will be no ill wind that keeps them beneathour roof. We'll make room for you, ladies, never fear; the house willstretch itself to fit the welcome, eh, Molly?"

Mrs. Lightfoot, looking a little anxious, put forward a hearty assent; butthe Governor laughed and threw back the Major's hospitality as easily as itwas proffered. 

"I know that your welcome's big enough to hold us, my dear Major, " he said;"but Hosea's driving us, you see, and he could take us along the turnpikeblindfold. Why, he actually discovered in passing just before the stormthat somebody had dug up a sugar berry bush from the corner of your oldrail fence. "

"And we really must get back, " insisted Mrs. Ambler, "we haven't even fixedthe servants' Christmas, and Betty has to fill the stockings for thechildren in the quarters. "

"Then if you will go, go you shall, " cried the Major, as heartily as he hadpressed his invitation. "You shall get back, ma'am, if I have to go beforeyou with a shovel and clear the snow away. So just a bit more of this roastpig, just a bit, Governor. My dear Miss Lydia, I beg you to try that spicedbeef--and you, Mr. Bill?--Cupid, Mr. Bill will have a piece of roast pig. "

By the time the Tokay was opened, the Major had grown very jolly, and hebegan to exchange jokes with the Governor and the rector. Mr. Bill and thedoctor, neither of whom could have told a story for his life, listened witha kind of heavy gravity; and the young men, as they rattled off a collegetale or two, kept their eyes on Betty and Virginia. 

Betty, leaning back in her high mahogany chair, and now and then putting ina word with the bright effusion which belonged to her, gave ear half to theMajor's anecdotes, and half to a jest of Jack Morson's. Before her brancheda silver candelabrum, and beyond it, with the light in his face, Dan wassitting. She watched him with a frank curiosity from eyes, where the smile, with which she had answered the Major, still lingered in a gleam ofmerriment. There was a puzzled wonder in her mind that Dan--the Dan of herchildhood--should have become for her, of a sudden, but a strong, black-haired stranger from whom she shrank with a swift timidity. Shelooked at Champe's high blue-veined forehead and curling brown hair; he wasstill the big boy she had played with; but when she went back to Dan, thewonder returned with a kind of irritation, and she felt that she shouldlike to shake him and have it out between them as she used to do before hewent away. What was the meaning of it? Where the difference? As he satacross from her, with his head thrown back and his eyes dark with laughter, her look questioned him half humorously, half in alarm. From his broad browto his strong hand, playing idly with a little heap of bread crumbs, sheknew that she was conscious of his presence--with a consciousness that hadquickened into a living thing. 

To Dan, himself, her gaze brought but the knowledge that her smile was uponhim, and he met her question with lifted eyebrows and perplexed amusement. What he had once called "the Betty look" was in her face, --so kind a look, so earnest yet so humorous, with a sweet sane humour at her ownbewilderment, that it held his eyes an instant before they plunged back toVirginia--an instant only, but long enough for him to feel the thrill of animpulse which he did not understand. Dear little Betty, he thought, tenderly, and went back to her sister. 

The next moment he was telling himself that "the girl was a tearingbeauty. " He liked that modest droop of her head and those bashful softeyes, as if, by George, as if she were really afraid of him. Or was itChampe or Jack Morson that she bent her bewitching glance upon? Well, Champe, or Morson, or himself, in a week they would all be over head andears in love with her, and let him win who might. It was mere folly, ofcourse, to break one's heart over a girl, and there was no chance of thatso long as he had his horses and the bull pups to fall back upon; but shewas deucedly pretty, and if he ever came to the old house to live it wouldbe rather jolly to have her about. He would be twenty-one by this time nextyear, and a man of twenty-one was old enough to settle down a bit. In themeantime he laughed and met Virginia's eye, and they both blushed andlooked away quickly. 

But when they left the dining room an hour later, it was not Virginia thatDan sought. He had learned the duties of hospitality in the Major's school, and so he sat down beside Miss Lydia and asked her about her window garden, while Jack Morson made desperate love to his beautiful neighbour. Once, indeed, he drew Betty aside for an instant, but it was only to whisper:"Look here, you'll be real nice to Diggs, won't you? He's bashful, youknow, and besides he's awfully poor, and works like the devil. You make himenjoy his holidays, and I--well, yes, I'll let that fox get away next week, I declare I will. "

"All right, " agreed Betty, "it's a bargain. Mr. Diggs shall have a merryChristmas, and the fox shall have his life. You'll keep faith with me?"

"Sworn, " said Dan, and he went back to Miss Lydia, while Betty danced areel with young Diggs, who fell in love with her before he was an hourolder. The terms cost him his heart, perhaps, but there was a life atstake, and Betty, who had not a touch of the coquette in her nature, wouldhave flirted open-eyed with the rector could she have saved a robin fromthe shot. As for Diggs, he might have been a family portrait or a Christmasgarland for all the sentiment she gave him. 

When she went upstairs some hours later to put on her wraps, she hadforgotten, indeed, that Diggs or his emotion was in existence. She tied onher blue hood with the swan's-down, and noticed, as she did so, that thewhite rose was gone from her hair. "I hope I lost it after supper, " shethought rather wistfully, for it was becoming; and then she slipped intoher long cloak and started down again. It was not until she reached thebend in the staircase, where the tall clock stood, that she looked over thebalustrade and saw Dan in the hall below with the white rose in his hand. 

She had come so softly that he had not heard her step. The light from thecandelabra was full upon him, and she saw the half-tender, half-quizzicallook in his face. For an instant he held the white rose beneath his eyes, then he carefully folded it in his handkerchief and hid it in the pocket ofhis coat. As he did so, he gave a queer little laugh and went quickly backinto the panelled parlour, while Betty glowed like a flower in the darkenedbend of the staircase. 

When they called her and she came down the bright colour was still in herface, and her eyes were shining happily under the swan's-down border of herhood. "This little lady isn't afraid of the cold, " said the Major, as hepinched her cheeks. "Why, she's as warm as a toast, and, bless my soul, ifI were thirty years younger, I'd ride twenty miles to-night to catch aglimpse of her in that bonny blue hood. Ah, in my day, men were men, sir. "

Dan, who had come back from escorting Miss Lydia to the carriage, laughedand held out his arms. 

"Let me carry you, Betty; I'll show grandpa that there's still a manalive. "

"No, sir, no, " said Betty, as she stood on tiptoe and held her cheek to theMajor. "You haven't a chance when your grandfather's by. There, I'll letyou carry the sleeping draught for Aunt Pussy; but my flounces, no, never!"and she ran past him and slipped into the carriage beside Mrs. Ambler andMiss Lydia. 

In a moment Virginia came out under an umbrella that was held by JackMorson, and the carriage rolled slowly along the drive, while the young menstood, bareheaded, in the falling snow. 

"Keep a brave heart, Morson, " said Champe, with a laugh, as he ran backinto the house, where the Major waited to bar the door, "remember, you'veknown her but three hours, and stand it like a man. Well I'm off to bed, "and he lighted his candle and, with a gay "good night, " went whistling upthe stair. 

In Dan's bedroom, where he had crowded for the holidays, he found hiscousin, upon the hearth-rug, looking abstractedly into the flames. 

As Champe entered he turned, with the poker in his hand, and spoke out ofthe fulness of his heart:--

"She's a beauty, I declare she is. "

Champe broke short his whistling, and threw off his coat. 

"Well, I dare say she was fifty years ago, " he rejoined gravely. 

"Oh, don't be an utter ass; you know I mean Virginia. "

"My dear boy, I had supposed Miss Lydia to be the object of yourattentions. You mustn't be a Don Juan, you know, you really mustn't. Sparethe sex, I entreat. "

Dan aimed a blow at him with a boot that was lying on the rug. "Shut up, won't you, " he growled. 

"Well, Virginia is a beauty, " was Champe's amiable response. "Jack Morsonswears Aunt Emmeline's picture can't touch her. He's writing to his fathernow, I don't doubt, to say he can't live without her. Go down, and he'llread you the letter. "

Dan's face grew black. "I'll thank him to mind his own business, " hegrumbled. 

"Oh, he thinks he's doing it. "

"Well, his business isn't either of the Ambler girls, and I'll have him toknow it. What right has he got, I'd like to know, to come up here and fallin love with our neighbours. "

"Oh, Beau, Beau! Why, it was only last week you ran him away from BattHorsford's daughter. Are you going in for a general championship?"

"The devil! Sally Horsford's a handsome girl, and a good girl, too; andI'll fight any man who says she isn't. By George, a woman's a woman, if sheis a stableman's daughter!"

"Bravo!" cried Champe, with a whistle, "there spoke the Lightfoot. "

"She's a good girl, " repeated Dan, furiously, as he flung the other boot athis cousin. Champe caught the boot, and carefully set it beside the door. "Well, she's welcome to be, as far as I'm concerned, " he replied calmly. "Turn not your speaking eye upon me. I harbour no dark intent, SirGalahad. "

"Damn Sir Galahad!" said Dan, and blew out the light. 

II

BETTY DREAMS BY THE FIRE

Betty, lying back in the deep old carriage as it rolled through the storm, felt a glow at her heart as if a lamp were burning there, shut in from thenight. Above the wind and the groaning of the wheels, she heard Hoseacalling to the horses, but the sound reached her through muffled ears. 

"Git along dar!" cried Hosea, with sudden spirit, "dar ain' no oats disside er home, en dar ain' no co'n, nurr. Git along dar! 'Tain' no usea-mincin'. Git along dar!"

The snow beat softly on the windows, and the Governor's profile wasrelieved, fine and straight, against the frosted glass. "Are you asleep, daughter?" he asked, turning to where the girl lay in her dark corner. 

"Asleep!" She came back with a start, and caught his hand above the robe inher demonstrative way. "Why, who can sleep on Christmas Eve? there's toomuch to do, isn't there, mamma? Twenty stockings to fill and I don't knowhow many bundles to tie up. Oh, no, I shan't sleep to-night. "

"We might get up early to-morrow and do them, " suggested Virginia, noddingin her pink hood. 

"You, at least, must go to bed, dear, " insisted Mrs. Ambler. "Betty and Iwill fix the things. "

"Indeed, you shall go to bed, mamma, " said Betty, sternly. "Papa and Ishall make Christmas this year. You'll help me, won't you, papa?"

"Well, my dear, I don't see how I can help myself, " returned the Governor;"I wasn't born to be the father of a Betty for nothing. "

"Get along dar!" sang out Hosea again. "'Tain' no use a-mincin', gemmun. Dar ain' no fiddlin' roun'. Git along dar!"

Miss Lydia had fallen asleep, with her head on her breast, but the soundaroused her, and she opened her eyes and sat up very straight. 

"Why, I declare I'd almost dropped off, " she said. "Are we nearly there, Peyton?"

"I think so, " replied the Governor, "but the snow's so thick I can't see;"he opened the window and put out his head. "Are we nearly there, Hosea?"

"We des done pas' de clump er cedars, suh, " yelled Hosea through the storm. "I'ud a knowd 'em ef dey'd come a-struttin' down de road--dey cyarn foolme. Den we got ter pas' de wil' cher'y and de gap in de fence, en dar weare. "

"Yes, we're nearly there, " said the Governor, as he drew in his head, andMiss Lydia slept again until the carriage turned into the drive and stoppedbefore the portico. 

Uncle Shadrach, in the open doorway, was grinning with delight. "Ef'n desnow had er kep' you, dar 'ouldn't a been no Christmas for de res' er us, "he declared. 

"Oh, the snow couldn't keep us, Shadrach, " returned the Governor, as hegave him his overcoat, and set himself to unfastening his wife's wraps. "Wewere too anxious to get home. There, Julia, you go to bed, and leave Bettyand myself to manage things. Don't say I can't do it. I tell you I've beenGovernor of Virginia, and I'll not be daunted by an empty stocking. Now goaway, and you, too, Virginia--you're as sleepy as a kitten. Miss Lydia, shall I take Mrs. Lightfoot's mixture to Miss Pussy, or will you?"

Miss Lydia took the pitcher, and Betty put her arm about her mother and ledher upstairs, holding her hand and kissing it as she went. She was alwayslavish with little ways of love, but to-night she felt tenderer thanever--she felt that she should like to take the world in her arms and holdit to her bosom. "Dearest, sweetest, " she said, and her voice was full andtremulous, though still with its crisp brightness of tone. It was as if shecaressed with her whole being, with those hidden possibilities of passionwhich troubled her yet, only as the vibration of strong music, making herjoy pensive and her sadness sweet. She felt that she was walking in apleasant and vivid dream; she was happy, she could not tell why; nor couldshe tell why she was sorrowful. 

In Mrs. Ambler's room they found Mammy Riah, awaiting her mistress'sreturn. 

"Put her to bed, Mammy, " she said; "she is all chilled by the drive, " andshe gave her mother over to the old negress, and ran down again to thedining room, where the Governor was standing surrounded by the Christmaslitter. 

"Do you expect to straighten out all these things, daughter?" he askedhopelessly. 

"Why, there's hardly anything left to do, " was Betty's cheerful assurance. "You just sit down at the table and put the nuts into the toes of thosestockings, and I'll count out these print frocks. "

The Governor obediently sat down and went to work. "I am moved to offerthanks that we are not as the beasts that have four legs, " he remarkedthoughtfully. "I shouldn't care to fill stockings for quadrupeds, Betty. "

"Why, you goose, there's only one stocking for each child. "

"Ah, but with four feet our expectations might be doubled, " suggested theGovernor. "You can't convince me that it isn't a merciful providence, mydear. "

When the stockings were filled and the packages neatly tied up andseparated, Uncle Shadrach came with a hamper, and Betty went out to thekitchen to prepare for the morning gathering of the field hands and theirfamilies. Returning after the work was over, she lingered a moment in thepath to the house, looking far across the white country. The snow hadceased, and a single star was shining, through a rift in the scuddingclouds, straight overhead. From the northwest the wind blew hard, and thefleecy covering on the ground was fast freezing a foot deep in ice. With ashiver she drew her cloak about her and ran indoors and upstairs to whereVirginia lay asleep in the high, white bed. 

In the great brick fireplace the logs had fallen apart, and she softlypushed them together again as she threw on a knot of resinous pine. Theblaze shot up quickly, and blowing out the candle upon the bureau, sheundressed by the firelight, crooning gently as she did so in a voice thatwas lower than the singing flames. With the glow on her bared arms and herhair unbound upon her shoulders, she sat close against the chimney; andwhile Virginia slept in the tester bed, went dreaming out into the night. 

At first her dreams went back into her childhood, and somehow, she knew notwhy, she could not bring back her childhood but Dan came with it. Shefancied herself in all kinds of impossible places, but she had no soonergot safely into them than she looked up and Dan was there before her, standing very still and laughing at her with his eyes. It was the samething even when she was a baby. Her earliest memory was of a May morningwhen they took her out into a field of buttercups, and told her that shemight pluck her arms full if she could, and then, as she stretched out herlittle hands and began to gather very fast, she looked across to where thewaving yellow buttercups stood up against the blue spring sky. That memoryhad always been her own before; but now, when she went back to it, she knewthat all the time she had been gathering buttercups for Dan. And she hadplucked faster and faster only that she might have a bigger bunch for himwhen the gathering was done. She saw herself working bonnetless in thesunshine, her baby face red, her lips breathless, working so hard, she didnot know for whom. Oh, how funny that he should have been somewhere all thetime!

And again on the day when they gave her her first doll, and she let it falland cried her heart out over its broken pink face. She knew, at last, thatsomewhere in that ugly town Dan had dropped his toy; and it was for thatshe was crying, not for her own poor doll. Yes, all her life she had hadtwo griefs to weep for, and two joys to be glad over. She had been really adouble self from her babyhood up--from her babyhood up! It had been alwaysup, up, up--like a lark that rises to the sun. She had all her life beenrising to the sun, and she was warmed at last. 

Then she asked herself if it were happiness, after all, this newrestlessness of hers. The melancholy of the early spring was there--theroving impulse that comes on April afternoons when the first buds are onthe trees and the air is keen with the smell of the newly turned earth. Shefelt that it was time for the spring to come again; she wanted to walkalone in the woods and to watch the swallows flying from the north. Andagain she wanted only to lie close upon the hearth and to hear the flamesleap up the chimney. One of her selves cried to be up and roaming; theother to turn over on the rug and sleep again. 

But gradually her thoughts returned to him, and she went over, bit by bit, what he had said last evening, asking herself if he had meant much at thistime, or little at another. It seemed to her that she found new meaningsnow in things that she had once overlooked. She read words in his eyeswhich he had never spoken; and, one by one, she brought back each sentence, each look, each gesture, holding it up to her remembrance, and laying itaside to give place to the next. Oh, there were so many, so many!

And then from the past her dreams went groping out into the future, becoming dimmer, and shaping themselves into unreal forms. Scatteredvisions came drifting through her mind, --of herself in romantic adventures, and of Dan--always of Dan--appearing like the prince in the fairy tale, atthe perilous moment. She saw herself on the breast of a great river, borne, while she stretched her hands at a white rose-bush blooming in the clouds, to a cataract which she could not see, though she heard its thunder farahead. She tried to call, but no sound came, for the water filled hermouth. The river went on and on, and the falling of the cataract was in herears, when she felt Dan's arm about her, and saw his eyes laughing at herabove the waters. 

"Betty!" called Virginia, suddenly, rising on her elbow and rubbing hereyes. "Betty, is it morning?"

Betty awoke with a cry, and stood up in the firelight. 

"Oh, no, not yet, " she answered. 

"What are you doing? Aren't you coming to bed?"

"I--I was just thinking, " stammered Betty, twisting her hair into a rope;"yes, I'm coming now, " and she crossed the room and climbed into the bedbeside her sister. 

"I believe I fell asleep by the fire, " she said, as she turned over. 

III

DAN AND BETTY

On the last day of the year the young men from Chericoke, as they rode downthe turnpike, came upon Betty bringing holly berries from the wood. She wasfollowed by two small negroes laden with branches, and beside her ran heryoung setters, Peyton and Bill. 

As Dan came up with her, he checked his horse and swung himself to theground. "Thank God I've passed the boundary!" he exclaimed over hisshoulder to the others. "Ride on, my lads, ride on! Don't prate of theclaims of hospitality to me. My foot is on my neighbours' heath; I'm hostto no man. "

"Come, now, Beau, " remonstrated Jack Morson, looking down from his saddle;"I see in Miss Betty's eyes that she wants me to carry that holly--I swearI do. "

"Then you see more than is written, " declared Champe, from the other side, "for it's as plain as day that one eye says Diggs and one Lightfoot--isn'tit, Betty?"

Betty looked up, laughing. "If you are so skilled in foreign tongues, whatcan I answer?" she asked. "Only that I've been a mile after this holly forthe party to-night, and I wouldn't trust it to all of you together--forworlds. "

"Oh, go on, go on, " said Dan, impatiently, "doesn't that mean that she'lltrust it to me alone? Good morning, my boys, God be with you, " and he ledPrince Rupert aside while the rest rode by. 

When they were out of sight he turned to one of the small negroes, his handon the bridle. "Shall we exchange burdens, O eater of 'possums?" he askedblandly. "Will you permit me to tote your load, while you lead my horse tothe house? You aren't afraid of him, are you?"

The little negro grinned. "He do look moughty glum, suh, " he replied, halffearfully. 

"Glum! Why, the amiability in that horse's face is enough to draw tears. Come up, Prince Rupert, your highness is to go ahead of me; it's to obligea lady, you know. "

Then, as Prince Rupert was led away, Dan looked at Betty. 

"Shall it be the turnpike or the meadow path?" he inquired, with the gaydeference he used toward women, as if a word might turn it to a jest or alook might make it earnest. 

"The meadow, but not the path, " replied the girl; "the path is asleep underthe snow. " She cast a happy glance over the white landscape, down the longturnpike, and across the broad meadow where a cedar tree waved like a snowyplume. "Jake, we must climb the wall, " she added to the negro boy, "becareful about the berries. "

Dan threw his holly into the meadow and lifted Betty upon the stone wall. "Now wait a moment, " he cautioned, as he went over. "Don't move till I tellyou. I'm managing this job--there, now jump!"

He caught her hands and set her on her feet beside him. "Take your fence, my beauties, " he called gayly to the dogs, as they came bounding across theturnpike. 

Betty straightened her cap and took up her berries. 

"Your tender mercies are rather cruel, " she complained, as she did so. "Even my hair is undone. "

"Oh, it's all the better, " returned Dan, without looking at her. "I don'tsee why girls make themselves so smooth, anyway. That's what I like aboutyou, you know--you've always got a screw loose somewhere. "

"But I haven't, " cried Betty, stopping in the snow. 

"What! if I find a curl where it oughtn't to be, may I have it?"

"Of course not, " she answered indignantly. 

"Well, there's one hanging over your ear now. Shall I put it straight withthis piece of holly? My hands are full, but I think I might manage it. "

"Don't touch me with your holly!" exclaimed Betty, walking faster; then ina moment she turned and stood calling to the dogs. "Have you noticed whatbeauties Bill and Peyton have grown to be?" she questioned pleasantly. "There weren't any boys to be named after papa and Uncle Bill, so I calledthe dogs after them, you know. Papa says he would rather have had a sonnamed Peyton; but I tell him the son might have been wicked and brought hishairs in sorrow to the grave. "

"Well, I dare say, you're right, " he stopped with a sweep of his hand, andstood looking to where a flock of crows were flying over the dried spectresof carrot flowers that stood up above the snow; "That's fine, now, isn'tit?" he asked seriously. 

Betty followed his gesture, then she gave a little cry and threw her armsround the dogs. "The poor crows are so hungry, " she said. "No, no, youmustn't chase them, Bill and Peyton, it isn't right, you see. Here, Jake, come and hold the dogs, while I feed the crows. " She drew a handful of cornfrom the pocket of her cloak, and flung it out into the meadow. 

"I always bring corn for them, " she explained; "they get so hungry, andsometimes they starve to death right out here. Papa says they arepernicious birds; but I don't care--do you mind their being pernicious?"

"I? Not in the least. I assure you I trouble myself very little about themorals of my associates. I'm not fond of crows; but it is their voicesrather than their habits I object to. I can't stand their eternal'cawing!'--it drives me mad. "

"I suppose foxes are pernicious beasts, also, " said Betty, as she walkedon; "but there's an old red fox in the woods that I've been feeding foryears. I don't know anything that foxes like to eat except chickens, but Icarry him a basket of potatoes and turnips and bread, and pile them upunder a pine tree; it's just as well for him to acquire the taste for them, isn't it?"

She smiled at Dan above her fur tippet, and he forgot her words in watchingthe animation come and go in her face. He fell to musing over her decisivelittle chin, the sensitive curves of her nostrils and sweet wide mouth, andabove all over her kind yet ardent look, which gave the peculiar beauty toher eyes. 

"Ah, is there anything in heaven or earth that you don't like?" he asked, as he gazed at her. 

"That I don't like? Shall I really tell you?"

He bent toward her over his armful of holly. 

"I have a capacious breast for secrets, " he assured her. 

"Then you will never breathe it?"

"Will you have me swear?" he glanced about him. 

"Not by the inconstant moon, " she entreated merrily. 

"Well, by my 'gracious self'; what's the rest of it?"

She coloured and drew away from him. His eyes made her self-conscious, illat ease; the very carelessness of his look disconcerted her. 

"No, do not swear, " she begged. "I shall trust you with even so weighty aconfidence. I do not like--"

"Oh, come, why torture me?" he demanded. 

She made a little gesture of alarm. "From fear of the wrath to come, " sheadmitted. 

"Of my wrath?" he regarded her with amazement. "Oh, don't you like_me_?" he exclaimed. 

"You! Yes, yes--but--have mercy upon your petitioner. I do not like yourcravats. "

She shut her eyes and stood before him with lowered head. 

"My cravats!" cried Dan, in dismay, as his hand went to his throat, "but mycravats are from Paris--Charlie Morson brought them over. What is thematter with them?"

"They--they're too fancy, " confessed Betty. "Papa wears only white, orblack ones you know. "

"Too fancy! Nonsense! do you want to send me back to grandfather's stocks, I wonder? It's just pure envy--that's what it is. Never mind, I'll give youthe very best one I've got. "

Betty shook her head. "And what should I do with it, pray?" she asked. "Uncle Shadrach wouldn't wear it for worlds--he wears only papa's clothes, you see. Oh, I might give it to Hosea; but I don't think he'd like it. "

"Hosea! Well, I declare, " exclaimed Dan, and was silent. 

When he spoke a little later it was somewhat awkwardly. 

"I say, did Virginia ever tell you she didn't like my cravats?" heinquired. 

"Virginia!" her voice was a little startled. "Oh, Virginia thinks they'relovely. "

"And you don't?"

"No, I don't. "

"Well, you are a case, " he said, and walked on slowly. 

They were already in sight of the house, and he did not speak again untilthey had passed the portico and entered the hall. There they found Virginiaand the young men, who had ridden over ahead of them, hanging evergreensfor the approaching party. Jack Morson, from the top of the step-ladder, was suspending a holly wreath above the door, while Champe was entwiningthe mahogany balustrade in running cedar. 

"Oh, Betty, would it be disrespectful to put mistletoe above GeneralWashington's portrait?" called Virginia, as they went into the hall. 

"I don't think he'd mind--the old dear, " answered Betty, throwing herarmful of holly upon the floor. "There, Dan, the burden of the day isover. "

"And none too soon, " said Dan, as he tossed the holly from him. "Diggs, yousluggard, what are you sitting there in idleness for? Miss Pussy, can't youset him to work?"

Miss Pussy, who was bustling in and out with a troop of servants at herheels, found time to reply seriously that she really didn't think there wasanything she could trust him with. "Of course, I don't mind your amusingyourselves with the decorations, " she added briskly, "but the cooking isquite a different thing, you know. "

"Amusing myself!" protested Dan, in astonishment. "My dear lady, do youcall carrying a wagon load of brushwood amusement? Now, I'll grant, if youplease, that Morson is amusing himself on the step-ladder. "

"Keep off, " implored Morson, in terror; "if you shake the thing, I'm gone, I declare I am. "

He nailed the garland in place and came down cautiously. "Now, that's whatI call an artistic job, " he complacently remarked. 

"Why, it's lovely, " said Virginia, smiling, as he turned to her. "It'slovely, isn't it, Betty?"

"As lovely as a crooked thing can be, " laughed Betty. She was lookingearnestly at Virginia, and wondering if she really liked Jack Morson sovery much. The girl was so bewitching in her red dress, with the flush ofa sudden emotion in her face, and the shyness in her downcast eyes. 

"Oh, that isn't fair, Virginia, " called Champe from the steps. "Save yourfavour for the man that deserves it--and look at me. " Virginia did look athim, sending him the same radiant glance. 

"But I've many 'lovelies' left, " she said quickly; "it's my favouriteword. "

"A most appropriate taste, " faltered Diggs, from his chair beneath the hallclock. 

Champe descended the staircase with a bound. 

"What do I hear?" he exclaimed. "Has the oyster opened his mouth andbrought forth a compliment?"

"Oh, be quiet, " commanded Dan, "I shan't hear Diggs made fun of, and it'stime to get back, anyway. Well, loveliest of lovely ladies, you must put onyour prettiest frock to-night. "

Virginia's blush deepened. Did she like Dan so very much? thought Betty. 

"But you mustn't notice me, please, " she begged, "all the neighbours arecoming, and there are so many girls, --the Powells and the Harrisons and theDulaneys. I am going to wear pink, but you mustn't notice it, you know. "

"That's right, " said Jack Morson, "make him do his duty by the County, andkeep your dances for Diggs and me. "

"I've done my duty by you, sir, " was Dan's prompt retort, "so I'll begin todo my pleasure by myself. Now I give you fair warning, Virginia, if youdon't save the first reel for me, I'll dance all the rest with Betty. "

"Then it will be a Betty of your own making, " declared Betty over hershoulder, "for this Betty doesn't dance a single step with you to-night, sothere, sir. "

"Your punishment be on your own head, rash woman, " said Dan, sternly, as hetook up his riding-whip. "I'll dance with Peggy Harrison, " and he went outto Prince Rupert, lifting his hat, as he mounted, to Miss Lydia, who stoodat her window above. A moment later they heard his horse's hoofs ringing inthe drive, and his voice gayly whistling:--

 "They tell me thou'rt the favor'd guest. "

When the others joined him in the turnpike, the four voices took up theair, and sent the pathetic melody fairly dancing across the snow. 

 "Do I thus haste to hall and bower Among the proud and gay to shine? Or deck my hair with gem and flower To flatter other eyes than thine? Ah, no, with me love's smiles are past; Thou hadst the first, thou hadst the last. "

The song ended in a burst of laughter, and up the white turnpike, beneaththe melting snow that rained down from the trees, they rode merrily back toChericoke. 

In the carriage way they found the Major, wrapped in his broadcloth cape, taking what he called a "breath of air. "

"Well, gentlemen, I hope you had a pleasant ride, " he remarked, followingthem into the house. "You didn't see your way to stop by Uplands, Ireckon?"

"That we did, sir, " said Diggs, who was never bashful with the Major. "Infact, we made ourselves rather useful, I believe. "

"They're charming young ladies over there, eh?" inquired the Major, genially; and a little later when Dan and he were alone, he put the samequestion to his grandson. "They're delightful girls, are they not, my boy?"he ventured incautiously. "You have noticed, I dare say, how yourgrandmother takes to Betty--and she's not a woman of many fancies, is yourgrandmother. "

"Oh, but Virginia!" exclaimed Dan, with enthusiasm. "I wish you could haveseen her in her red dress to-day. You don't half realize what a thunderingbeauty that girl is. Why, she positively took my breath away. "

The Major chuckled and rubbed his hands together. 

"I don't, eh?" he said, scenting a romance as an old war horse scents abattle. "Well, well, maybe not; but I see where the wind blows anyway, andyou have my congratulations on either hand. I shan't deny that we old folkshad a leaning to Betty; but youth is youth, and we shan't oppose yourfancy. So I congratulate you, my boy, I congratulate you. "

"Ah, she wouldn't look at me, sir, " declared Dan, feeling that the pace wasbecoming a little too impetuous. "I only wish she would; but I'd as soonexpect the moon to drop from the skies. "

"Not look at you! Pooh, pooh!" protested the old gentleman, indignantly. "Proper pride is not vanity, sir; and there's never been a Lightfoot yetthat couldn't catch a woman's eye, if I do say it who should not. Pooh, pooh! it isn't a faint heart that wins the ladies. "

"I know you to be an authority, my dear grandpa, " admitted the young man, lightly glancing into the gilt-framed mirror above the mantel. "If there'sany of your blood in me, it makes for conquest. " From the glass he caughtthe laughter in his eyes and turned it on his grandfather. 

"It ill becomes me to rob the Lightfoots of one of their chiefdistinctions, " said the Major, smiling in his turn. "We are not a proudpeople, my boy; but we've always fought like men and made love likegentlemen, and I hope that you will live up to your inheritance. "

Then, as his grandson ran upstairs to dress, he followed him as far as Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber, and informed her with a touch of pomposity: "That itwas Virginia, not Betty, after all. But we'll make the best of it, mydear, " he added cheerfully. "Either of the Ambler girls is a jewel ofpriceless value. "

The little old lady received this flower of speech with more than ordinaryunconcern. 

"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Lightfoot, that the boy has begun already?"she demanded, in amazement. 

"He doesn't say so, " replied the Major, with a chuckle; "but I see what hemeans--I see what he means. Why, he told me he wished I could have seen herto-day in her red dress--and, bless my soul, I wish I could, ma'am. "

"I don't see what good it would do you, " returned his wife, coolly. "Butdid he have the face to tell you he was in love with the girl, Mr. Lightfoot?"

"Have the face?" repeated the Major, testily. "Pray, why shouldn't he havethe face, ma'am? Whom should he tell, I'd like to know, before he tells hisgrandfather?" and with a final "pooh, pooh!" he returned angrily to hislibrary and to the _Richmond Whig_, a paper he breathlessly read andmightily abused. 

Dan, meanwhile, upstairs in his room with Champe, was busily sorting hiscollection of neckwear. 

"Look here, Champe, I'll give you all these red ties, if you want them, " hegenerously concluded. "I believe, after all, I'll take to wearing white orblack ones again. "

"What?" asked Champe, in astonishment, turning on his heel. "Have the skiesfallen, or does Beau Montjoy forsake the fashions?"

"Confound the fashions!" retorted Dan, impatiently. "I don't care a jot forthe fashions. You may have all these, if you choose, " and he tossed theneckties upon the bed. 

Champe picked up one and examined it with interest. 

"O woman, " he murmured as he did so, "your hand is small but mighty. "

IV

LOVE IN A MAZE

Despite Virginia's endeavour to efface herself for her guests, she shoneunrivalled at the party, and Dan, who had held her hand for an ecstaticmoment under the mistletoe, felt, as he rode home in the moonlightafterwards, that his head was fairly on fire with her beauty. She had beensweetly candid and flatteringly impartial. He could not honestly assertthat she had danced with him oftener than with Morson, or a dozen others, but he had a pleasant feeling that even when she shook her head and said, "I cannot, " her soft eyes added for her, "though I really wish to. " Therewas something almost pitiable, he told himself in the complacency withwhich that self-satisfied ass Morson would come and take her from him. Asif he hadn't sense enough to discover that it was merely because she washis hostess that she went with him at all. But some men would neverunderstand women, though they lived to be a thousand, and got rejected oncea day. 

Out in the moonlight, with the Governor's wine singing in his blood, hefound that his emotions had a way of tripping lightly off his tongue. Therewere hot words with Diggs, who hinted that Virginia was not the beauty ofthe century, and threats of blows with Morson, who too boldly affirmed thatshe was. In the end Champe rode between them, and sent Prince Rupert on hisway with a touch of the whip. 

"For heaven's sake, keep your twaddle to yourselves!" he exclaimedimpatiently, "or take my advice, and make for the nearest duck pond. You'veboth gone over your depth in the Governor's Madeira, and I advise you tokeep quiet until you've had your heads in a basin of ice water. There, getout of my road, Morson. I can't sit here freezing all night. "

"Do you dare to imply that I am drunk, sir?" demanded Morson, in a fury. "Bear witness, gentlemen, that the insult was unprovoked. "

"Oh, insult be damned!" retorted Champe. "If you shake your fist at meagain, I'll pitch you head over heels into that snowdrift. "

"Pitch whom, sir?" roared Morson, riding at the wall, when Diggs caught hisbridle and roughly dragged him back. 

"Come, now, don't make a beast of yourself, " he implored. 

"Who's a beast?" was promptly put by Morson; but leaving it unanswered, Diggs wheeled his horse about and started up the turnpike. "You've let Beauget out of sight, " he said. "We'd better catch up with him, " and he set offat a gallop. 

Dan, who had ridden on at Champe's first words, did not even turn his headwhen the three came abreast with him. The moonlight was in his eyes, andthe vision of Virginia floated before him at his saddle bow. He let thereins fall loosely on Prince Rupert's neck, and as the hoofs rang on thefrozen road, thrust his hands for warmth into his coat. In another dress, with his dark hair blown backward in the wind, he might have been acavalier fresh from the service of his lady or his king, or ridingcarelessly to his death for the sake of the drunken young Pretender. 

But he was only following his dreams, and they hovered round Virginia, catching their rosy glamour from her dress. In the cold night air he sawher walking demurely through the lancers, her skirt held up above her satinshoes, her coral necklace glowing deeper pink against her slim whitethroat. Mistletoe and holly hung over her, and the light of the candlesshone brighter where her radiant figure passed. He caught the soft flash ofher shy brown eyes, he heard her gentle voice speaking trivial things withprofound tenderness. His hand still burned from the light pressure of herfinger tips. Oh, his day had come, he told himself, and he was furiously inlove at last. 

As for going back to college, the very idea was absurd. At twenty years itwas quite time for him to settle down and keep open house like other men. Virginia, in rose pink, flitted up the crooked stair and across the whitepanels of the parlor, and with a leap, his heart went after her. He sawGreat-aunt Emmeline lean down from her faded canvas as if to toss her appleat the young girl's feet. Ah, poor old beauty, hanging in a gilded frame, what was her century of dust to a bit of living flesh that had bright eyesand was coloured like a flower?

When he was safely married he would have his wife's portrait hung upon theopposite wall, only he rather thought he should have the dogs in and lether be Diana, with a spear instead of an apple in her hand. Two beauties inone family--that was something to be proud of even in Virginia. 

It was at this romantic point that Champe shattered his visions by shootinga jest at him about the "love sick swain. "

"Oh, be off, and let a fellow think, won't you?" he retorted angrily. 

"Do you hear him call it thinking?" jeered Diggs, from the other side. 

"He doesn't call it mooning, oh, no, " scoffed Champe. 

"Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life, " sang Morson, striking anattitude that almost threw him off his horse. 

"Shut up, Morson, " commanded Diggs, "you ought to be thankful if you hadenough sense left to moon with. "

"Sense, who wants sense?" inquired Morson, on the point of tears. "I haveheart, sir. "

"Then keep it bottled up, " rejoined Champe, coolly, as they turned into thedrive at Chericoke. 

In Dan's room they found Big Abel stretched before the fire asleep; and asthe young men came in, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

"Hi! young Marsters, hit's ter-morrow!" he exclaimed. 

"To-morrow! I wish it were to-morrow, " responded Dan, cheerfully. "The firemakes my head spin like a top. Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel, or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on. "

Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out hishand for Champe's. 

"I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me, " hemuttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes, nohow, Marse Dan. I'se de wuss dress somebody dis yer side er de po' w'itetrash. Wat's de use er bein' de quality ef'n you ain' got de close?"

"Stop grumbling, you fool you, " returned Dan, with his lordly air. "If it'smy second best evening suit you're after, you may take it; but I tell younow, it's the last thing you're going to get out of me till summer. "

Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them withan interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does sethard, " he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar deshuts gwine come f'om. "

"Not from me, " replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm goingto sleep. "

But when he threw himself upon his bed it was to toss with feverishrose-coloured dreams until the daybreak. 

His blood was still warm when he came down to breakfast; but he met hisgrandfather's genial jests with a boyish attempt at counter-buff. 

"Oh, you needn't twit me, sir, " he said with an embarrassed laugh; "to wearthe heart upon the sleeve is hereditary with us, you know. "

"Keep clear of the daws, my son, and it does no harm, " responded the Major. "There's nothing so becoming to a gentleman as a fine heart well worn, eh, Molly?"

He carefully spread the butter upon his cakes, for his day of love-makingwas over, and his eye could hold its twinkle while he watched Dan fidget inhis seat. 

Mrs. Lightfoot promptly took up the challenge. "For my part I prefer oneunder a buttoned coat, " she replied briskly; "but be careful, Mr. Lightfoot, or you will put notions into the boys' heads. They are at theage when a man has a fancy a day and gets over it before he knows it. "

"They are at the age when I had my fancy for you, Molly, " gallantlyretorted the Major, "and I seem to be carrying it with me to my grave. "

"It would be a dull wit that would go roving from Aunt Molly, " said Champe, affectionately; "but there aren't many of her kind in the world. "

"I never found but one like her, " admitted the Major, "and I've seen a gooddeal in my day, sir. "

The old lady listened with a smile, though she spoke in a severe voice. "You mustn't let them teach you how to flatter, Mr. Morson, " she saidwarningly, as she filled the Major's second cup of coffee--"Cupid, Mr. Morson will have a partridge. "

"The man who sits at your table will never question your supremacy, dearmadam, " returned Jack Morson, as he helped himself to a bird. "There islittle merit in devotion to such bounty. "

"Shall I kick him, grandma?" demanded Dan. "He means that we love youbecause you feed us, the sly scamp. "

Mrs. Lightfoot shook her head reprovingly. "Oh, I understand you, Mr. Morson, " she said amiably, "and a compliment to my housekeeping never goesamiss. If a woman has any talent, it will come out upon her table. "

"You're right, Molly, you're right, " agreed the Major, heartily. "I'vealways held that there was nothing in a man who couldn't make a speech orin a woman who couldn't set a table. "

Dan stirred restlessly in his chair, and at the first movement of Mrs. Lightfoot he rose and went out into the hall. An hour later he orderedPrince Rupert and started joyously to Uplands. 

As he rode through the frosted air he pictured to himself a dozen differentways in which it was possible that he might meet Virginia. Would she beupon the portico or in the parlour? Was she still in pink or would she wearthe red gown of yesterday? When she gave him her hand would she smile asshe had smiled last night? or would she stand demurely grave with downdropped lashes?

The truth was that she did none of the things he had half expected of her. She was sitting before a log fire, surrounded by a group of Harrisons andPowells, who had been prevailed upon to spend the night, and when heentered she gave him a sleepy little nod from the corner of a rosewoodsofa. As she lay back in the firelight she was like a drowsy kitten thathad just awakened from a nap. Though less radiant, her beauty was moreappealing, and as she stared at him with her large eyes blinking, he wantedto stoop down and rock her off to sleep. He regarded her calmly thismorning, for, with all his tenderness, she did not fire his brain, and theglory of the vision had passed away. Half angrily he asked himself if hewere in love with a pink dress and nothing more?

An hour afterward he came noisily into the library at Chericoke and arousedthe Major from his Horace by stamping distractedly about the room. 

"Oh, it's all up with me, sir, " he began despondently. "I might as well goout and hang myself. I don't know what I want and yet I'm going mad becauseI can't get it. "

"Come, come, " said the Major, soothingly. "I've been through it myself, sir, and since your grandmother's out of earshot, I'd as well confess thatI've been through it more than once. Cheer up, cheer up, you aren't thefirst to dare the venture--_Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona_, you know. "

His assurance was hardly as comforting as he had intended it to be. "Oh, Idare say, there've been fools enough before me, " returned Dan, impatiently, as he flung himself out of the room. 

He grew still more impatient when the day came for him to return tocollege; and as they started out on horseback, with Zeke and Big Abelriding behind their masters, he declared irritably that the whole system ofeducation was a nuisance, and that he "wished the ark had gone down withall the ancient languages on board. "

"There would still be law, " suggested Morson, pleasantly. "So cheer up, Beau, there's something left for you to learn. "

Then, as they passed Uplands, they turned, with a single impulse, andcantered up the broad drive to the portico. Betty and Virginia were in thelibrary; and as they heard the horses, they came running to the window andthrew it open. 

"So you will come back in the summer--all of you, " said Virginia, hopefully, and as she leaned out a white camellia fell from her bosom tothe snow beneath. In an instant Jack Morson was off his horse and theflower was in his hand. "We'll bring back all that we take away, " heanswered gallantly, his fair boyish face as red as Virginia's. 

Dan could have kicked him for the words, but he merely said savagely, "Haveyou left your pocket handkerchief?" and turned Prince Rupert toward theroad. When he looked back from beneath the silver poplars, the girls werestill standing at the open window, the cold wind flushing their cheeks andblowing the brown hair and the red together. 

Virginia was the first to turn away. "Come in, you'll take cold, " she said, going to the fire. "Peggy Harrison never goes out when the wind blows, youknow, she says it's dreadful for the complexion. Once when she had to comeback from town on a March day, she told me she wore six green veils. Iwonder if that's the way she keeps her lovely colour?"

"Well, I wouldn't be Peggy Harrison, " returned Betty, gayly, and she addedin the same tone, "so Mr. Morson got your camellia, after all, didn't he?"

"Oh, he begged so hard with his eyes, " answered Virginia. "He had seen megive Dan a white rose on Christmas Eve, you know, and he said it wasn'tfair to be so unfair. "

"You gave Dan a white rose?" repeated Betty, slowly. Her face was pale, butshe was smiling brightly. 

Virginia's soft little laugh pealed out. "And it was your rose, too, darling, " she said, nestling to Betty like a child. "You dropped it on thestair and I picked it up. I was just going to take it to you because itlooked so lovely in your hair, when Dan came along and he would have it, whether or no. But you don't mind, do you, just a little bit of whiterosebud?" She put up her hand and stroked her sister's cheek. "Men are sosilly, aren't they?" she added with a sigh. 

For a moment Betty looked down upon the brown head on her bosom; then shestooped and kissed Virginia's brow. "Oh, no, I don't mind, dear, " sheanswered, "and women are very silly, too, sometimes. "

She loosened Virginia's arms and went slowly upstairs to her bedroom, wherePetunia was replenishing the fire. "You may go down, Petunia, " she said asshe entered. "I am going to put my things to rights, and I don't want youto bother me--go straight downstairs. "

"Is you gwine in yo' chist er draws?" inquired Petunia, pausing upon thethreshold. 

"Yes, I'm going into my chest of drawers, but you're not, " retorted Betty, sharply; and when Petunia had gone out and closed the door after her, shepulled out her things and began to straighten rapidly, rolling up herribbons with shaking fingers, and carefully folding her clothes intocompact squares. Ever since her childhood she had always begun to work ather chest of drawers when any sudden shock unnerved her. After a greathappiness she took up her trowel and dug among the flowers of the garden;but when her heart was heavy within her, she shut her door and put herclothes to rights. 

Now, as she worked rapidly, the tears welled slowly to her lashes, but shebrushed them angrily away, and rolled up a sky-blue sash. She had worn thesash at Chericoke on Christmas Eve, and as she looked at it, she felt, withthe keenness of pain, a thrill of her old girlish happiness. The figure ofDan, as he stood upon the threshold with the powdering of snow upon hishair, rose suddenly to her eyes, and she flinched before the carelesshumour of his smile. It was her own fault, she told herself a littlebitterly, and because it was her own fault she could bear it as she shouldhave borne the joy. There was nothing to cry over, nothing even to regret;she knew now that she loved him, and she was glad--glad even of this. Ifthe bitterness in her heart was but the taste of knowledge, she would notlet it go; she would keep both the knowledge and the bitterness. 

In the next room Mammy Riah was rocking back and forth upon the hearth, crooning to herself while she carded a lapful of wool. Her cracked oldvoice, still with its plaintive sweetness, came faintly to the girl wholeaned her cheek upon the sky-blue sash and listened, half against herwill:--

 "Oh, we'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye, little chillun, We'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye. Oh, we'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye, little chillun, We'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye. "

The door opened and Virginia came softly into the room, and stopped shortat the sight of Betty. 

"Why, your things were perfectly straight, Betty, " she exclaimed insurprise. "I declare, you'll be a real old maid. "

"Perhaps I shall, " replied Betty, indifferently; "but if I am, I'm going tobe a tidy one. "

"I never heard of one who wasn't, " remarked Virginia, and added, "you'veput all your ribbons into the wrong drawer. "

"I like a change, " said Betty, folding up a muslin skirt. 

 "Oh, we'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye, little chillun, We'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye, "

sang Mammy Riah, in the adjoining room. 

"Aunt Lydia found six red pinks in bloom in her window garden, " observedVirginia, cheerfully. "Why, where are you going, Betty?"

"Just for a walk, " answered Betty, as she put on her bonnet and cloak. "I'mnot afraid of the cold, you know, and I'm so tired sitting still, " and sheadded, as she fastened her fur tippet, "I shan't be long, dear. "

She opened the door, and Mammy Riah's voice followed her across the halland down the broad staircase:--

 "Oh, we'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye, little chillun, We'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye. "

At the foot of the stair she called the dogs, and they came boundingthrough the hall and leaped upon her as she crossed the portico. Then, asshe went down the drive and up the desolate turnpike, they ran ahead of herwith short, joyous barks. 

The snow had melted and frozen again, and the long road was like a grayriver winding between leafless trees. The gaunt crows were still flyingback and forth over the meadows, but she did not have corn for them to-day. Had she been happy, she would not have forgotten them; but the pain in herbreast made her selfish even about the crows. 

With the dogs leaping round her, she pressed bravely against the wind, flying breathlessly from the struggle at her heart. There was nothing tocry over, she told herself again, nothing even to regret. It was her ownfault, and because it was her own fault she could bear it quietly as sheshould have borne the joy. 

She had reached the spot where he had lifted her upon the wall, and leaningagainst the rough stones she looked southward to where the swelling meadowsdipped into the projecting line of hills. He was before her then, as healways would be, and shrinking back, she put up her hand to shut out thememory of his eyes. She could have hated that shallow gayety, she toldherself, but for the tenderness that lay beneath it--since jest as he mightat his own scars, when had he ever made mirth of another's? Had she notseen him fight the battles of free Levi? and when Aunt Rhody's cabin was inflames did he not bring out one of the negro babies in his coat? Thatdare-devil courage which had first caught her girlish fancy, thrilled hereven to-day as the proof of an ennobling purpose. She remembered that hehad gone whistling into the burning cabin, and coming out again had coollytaken up the broken air; and to her this inherent recklessness was clothedwith the sublimity of her own ideals. 

The cold wind had stiffened her limbs, and she ran back into the road andwalked on rapidly. Beyond the whitened foldings of the mountains a deep redglow was burning in the west, and she wanted to hold out her hands to itfor warmth. Her next thought was that a winter sunset soon died out, and asshe turned quickly to go homeward, she saw that she was before AuntAilsey's cabin, and that the little window was yellow from the lightwithin. 

Aunt Ailsey had been dead for years, but the free negro Levi had moved intoher hut, and as Betty looked up she saw him standing beneath the blastedoak, with a bundle of brushwood upon his shoulder. He was an honest-eyed, grizzled-haired old negro, who wrung his meagre living from a blacksmith'strade, bearing alike the scornful pity of his white neighbours and thewithering contempt of his black ones. For twenty years he had moved fromspot to spot along the turnpike, and he had lived in the dignity ofloneliness since the day upon which his master had won for himself thefreedom of Eternity, leaving to his servant Levi the labour of his ownhands. 

As the girl spoke to him he answered timidly, fingering the edge of hisragged coat. 

Yes, he had managed to keep warm through the winter, and he had worn thered flannel that she had given him. 

"And your rheumatism?" asked Betty, kindly. 

He replied that it had been growing worse of late, and with a sympatheticword the girl was passing by when some newer pathos in his solitary figurestayed her feet, and she called back quickly, "Uncle Levi, were you evermarried?"

"Dar, now, " cried Uncle Levi, halting in the path while a gleam of thewistful humour of his race leaped to his eyes. "Dar, now, is you ever hyernde likes er dat? Mah'ed! Cose I'se mah'ed. I'se mah'ed quick'en MarseBolling. Ain't you never hyern tell er Sarindy?"

"Sarindy?" repeated the girl, questioningly. 

"Lawd, Lawd, Sarindy wuz a moughty likely nigger, " said Uncle Levi, proudly; "she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz a moughtylikely nigger. "

"And did she die?" asked Betty, in a whisper. 

Uncle Levi rubbed his hands together, and shifted the brushwood upon hisshoulder. 

"Who say Sarindy dead?" he demanded sternly, and added with a chuckle, "shewarn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', young miss, en I 'uz Marse Bolling's bodysarvent, so w'en dey sot me loose, dey des sol' Sarindy up de river. Lawd, Lawd, she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz pow'ful likely. "

He went chuckling up the path, and Betty, with a glance at the fadingsunset, started briskly homeward. As she walked she was asking herself, ina wonder greater than her own love or grief, if Uncle Levi really thoughtit funny that they sold Sarindy up the river. 

V

THE MAJOR LOSES HIS TEMPER

When Betty reached home the dark had fallen, and as she entered the houseshe heard the crackling of fresh logs from the library, and saw her mothersitting alone in the firelight, which flickered softly on her pearl-graysilk and ruffles of delicate lace. 

She was humming in a low voice one of the old Scotch ballads the Governorloved, and as she rocked gently in her rosewood chair, her shadow flittedto and fro upon the floor. One loose bell sleeve hung over the carved armof the rocker, and the fingers of her long white hand, so fragile that itwas like a flower, played silently upon the polished wood. 

As the girl entered she looked up quickly. "You haven't been wandering offby yourself again?" she asked reproachfully. 

"Oh, it is quite safe, mamma, " replied Betty, impatiently. "I didn't meet asoul except free Levi. "

"Your father wouldn't like it, my dear, " returned Mrs. Ambler, in the tonein which she might have said, "it is forbidden in the Scriptures, " and sheadded after a moment, "but where is Petunia? You might, at least, takePetunia with you. "

"Petunia is such a chatterbox, " said Betty, tossing her wraps upon a chair, "and if she sees a cricket in the road she shrieks, 'Gawd er live, MissBetty, ' and jumps on the other side of me. No, I can't stand Petunia. "

She sat down upon an ottoman at her mother's feet, and rested her chin inher clasped hands. 

"But did you never go walking in your life, mamma?" she questioned. 

Mrs. Ambler looked a little startled. "Never alone, my dear, " she repliedwith dignity. "Why, I shouldn't have thought of such a thing. There was apath to a little arbour in the glen at my old home, I remember, --I think itwas at least a quarter of a mile away, --and I sometimes strolled there withyour father; but there were a good many briers about, so I usuallypreferred to stay on the lawn. "

Her voice was clear and sweet, but it had none of the humour which gavepiquancy to Betty's. It might soothe, caress, even reprimand, but it couldnever jest; for life to Mrs. Ambler was soft, yet serious, like a continuedprayer to a pleasant and tender Deity. 

"I'm sure I don't see how you stood it, " said Betty, sympathetically. 

"Oh, I rode, my dear, " returned her mother. "I used to ride very often withyour father or--or one of the others. I had a brown mare named Zephyr. "

"And you never wanted to be alone, never for a single instant?"

"Alone?" repeated Mrs. Ambler, wonderingly, "why, of course I read my Bibleand meditated an hour every morning. In my youth it would have beenconsidered very unladylike not to do it, and I'm sure there's no better wayof beginning the day than with a chapter in the Bible and a littlemeditation. I wish you would try it, Betty. " Her eyes were upon herdaughter, and she added in an unchanged voice, "Don't you think you mightmanage to make your hair lie smoother, dear? It's very pretty, I know; butthe way it curls about your face is just a bit untidy, isn't it?"

Then, as the Governor came in from his day in town, she turned eagerly tohear the news of his latest speech. 

"Oh, I've had a great day, Julia, " began the Governor; but as he stooped tokiss her, she gave a little cry of alarm. "Why, you're frozen through!" sheexclaimed. "Betty, stir the fire, and make your father sit down by thefender. Shall I mix you a toddy, Mr. Ambler?"

"Tut, tut!" protested the Governor, laughing, "a touch of the wind is goodfor the blood, my dear. "

There was a light track of snow where he had crossed the room, and as herested his foot upon the brass knob of the fender, the ice clinging to hisriding-boot melted and ran down upon the hearth. 

"Oh, I've had a great day, " he repeated heartily, holding his plump whitehands to the flames. "It was worth the trip to test the spirit of Virginia;and it's sound, Julia, as sound as steel. Why, when I said in myspeech--you'll remember the place, my dear--that if it came to a choicebetween slavery and the Union, we'd ship the negroes back to Africa, andhold on to the flag, I was applauded to the echo, and it would have doneyou good to hear the cheers. "

"I knew it would be so, Mr. Ambler, " returned his wife, with conviction. "Even if they thought otherwise I was sure your speech would convince them. Dr. Crump was talking to me only yesterday, and he said that he had heardboth Mr. Yancey and Mr. Douglas, and that neither of them--"

"I know, my love, I know, " interposed the Governor, waving his hand. "Ihave myself heard the good doctor commit the same error of judgment. But, remember, it is easy to convince a man who already thinks as you do; andsince the Major has gone over to the Democrats, the doctor has grownWhiggish, you know. "

Mrs. Ambler flushed. "I'm sure I don't see why you should deny that youhave a talent for oratory, " she said gravely. "I have sometimes thought itwas why I fell in love with you, you made such a beautiful speech the firstday I met you at the tournament in Leicesterburg. Fred Dulany crowned me, you remember; and in your speech you brought in so many lovely things aboutflowers and women. "

"Ah, Julia, Julia, " sighed the Governor, "so the sins of my youth arerising to confound me, " and he added quickly to Betty, "Isn't that some onecoming up the drive, daughter?"

Betty ran to the window and drew back the damask curtains. "It's the Major, papa, " she said, nodding to the old gentleman through the glass, "and hedoes look so cold. Go out and bring him in, and don't--please don't talkhorrid politics to-night. "

"I'll not, daughter, on my word, I'll not, " declared the Governor, and hewore the warning as a breastplate when he went out to meet his guest. 

The Major, in his tight black broadcloth, entered, with his blandest smile, and bowed over Mrs. Ambler's hand. 

"I saw your firelight as I was passing, dear madam, " he began, "and Icouldn't go on without a glimpse of you, though I knew that Molly waswaiting for me at the end of three cold miles. "

He put his arm about Betty and drew her to him. 

"You must borrow some of your sister's blushes, my child, " he said; "itisn't right to grow pale at your age. I don't like to see it, " and then, asVirginia came shyly in, he held out his other hand, and accused her ofstealing his boy's heart away from him. "But we old folks must give placeto the young, " he continued cheerfully; "it's nature, and it's humannature, too. "

"It will be a dull day when you give place to any one else, Major, "returned the Governor, politely. 

"And a far off one I trust, " added Mrs. Ambler, with her plaintive smile. 

"Well, maybe so, " responded the Major, settling himself in an easy chairbeside the fire. "Any way, you can't blame an old man for fighting for hisown, as my friend Harry Smith put it when he lost his leg in the War of1812. 'By God, it belongs to me, ' he roared to the surgeon, 'and if itcomes off, I'll take it off myself, sir. ' It took six men to hold him, andwhen it was over all he said was, 'Well, gentlemen, you mustn't blame a manfor fighting for his own. ' Ah, he was a sad scamp, was Harry, a sad scamp. He used to say that he didn't know whether he preferred a battle or adinner, but he reckoned a battle was better for the blood. And to thinkthat he died in his bed at last like any Christian. "

"That reminds me of Dick Wythe, who never needed any tonic but a fight, "returned the Governor, thoughtfully. "You remember Dick, don't you, Major?--a hard drinker, poor fellow, but handsome enough to have steppedout of Homer. I've been sitting by him at the post-office on a spring day, and seen him get up and slap a passer-by on the face as coolly as he'd takehis toddy. Of course the man would slap back again, and when it was overDick would make his politest bow, and say pleasantly, 'Thank you, sir, Ifelt a touch of the gout. ' He told me once that if it was only a twinge, hechose a man of his own size; but if it was a positive wrench, he struck outat the biggest he could find. "

The Major leaned back, laughing. "That was Dick, sir, that was Dick!" heexclaimed, "and it was his father before him. Why, I've had my own blowswith Taylor Wythe in his day, and never a hard word afterward, never aword. " Then his face clouded. "I saw Dick's brother Tom in town thismorning, " he added. "A sneaking fellow, who hasn't the spirit in his wholebody that was in his father's little finger. Why, what do you suppose hehad the impudence to tell me, sir? Some one had asked him, he said, what heshould do if Virginia went to war, and he had answered that he'd stay athome and build an asylum for the fools that brought it on. " He turned hisindignant face upon Mrs. Ambler, and she put in a modest word of sympathy. 

"You mustn't judge Tom by his jests, sir, " rejoined the Governor, persuasively. "His wit takes with the town folks, you know, and I hear thathe's becoming famous as a post-office orator. "

"There it is, sir, there it is, " retorted the Major. "I've always said thatthe post-offices were the ruin of this country--and that proves my words. Why, if there were no post-offices, there'd be fewer newspapers; and ifthere were fewer newspapers, there wouldn't be the _Richmond Whig_. "

The Governor's glance wandered to his writing table. 

"Then I should never see my views in print, Major, " he added, smiling; anda moment afterward, disregarding Mrs. Ambler's warning gestures, he plungedheadlong into a discussion of political conditions. 

As he talked the Major sat trembling in his chair, his stern face flushingfrom red to purple, and the heavy veins upon his forehead standing out likecords. "Vote for Douglas, sir!" he cried at last. "Vote for the biggesttraitor that has gone scot free since Arnold! Why, I'd sooner go over tothe arch-fiend himself and vote for Seward. "

"I'm not sure that you won't go farther and fare worse, " replied theGovernor, gravely. "You know me for a loyal Whig, sir, but I tell youfrankly, that I believe Douglas to be the man to save the South. Cast himoff, and you cast off your remaining hope. "

"Tush, tush!" retorted the Major, hotly. "I tell you I wouldn't vote tohave Douglas President of Perdition, sir. Don't talk to me about yourloyalty, Peyton Ambler, you're mad--you're all mad! I honestly believe thatI am the only sane man in the state. "

The Governor had risen from his chair and was walking nervously about theroom. His eyes were dim, and his face was pallid with emotion. 

"My God, sir, don't you see where you are drifting?" he cried, stretchingout an appealing hand to the angry old gentleman in the easy chair. 

"Drifting! Pooh, pooh!" protested the Major, "at least I am not driftinginto a nest of traitors, sir. "

And with his wrath hot within he rose to take his leave, very red andstormy, but retaining the presence of mind to assure Mrs. Ambler that theglimpse of her fireside would send him rejoicing upon his way. 

Such burning topics went like strong wine to his head, and like strong wineleft a craving which always carried him back to them in the end. He wouldquarrel with the Governor, and make his peace, and at the next meetingquarrel, without peace-making, again. 

"Don't, oh, please don't talk horrid politics, papa, " Betty would implore, when she saw the nose of his dapple mare turn into the drive between thesilver poplars. 

"I'll not, daughter, I give you my word I'll not, " the Governor wouldanswer, and for a time the conversation would jog easily along the wellworn roads of county changes and by the green graves of many a long deadjovial neighbour. While the red logs spluttered on the hearth, they wouldsip their glasses of Madeira and amicably weigh the dust of "my friend DickWythe--a fine fellow, in spite of his little weakness. "

But in the end the live question would rear its head and come hissing fromamong the quiet graves; and Dick Wythe, who loved his fight, or PlaintainDudley, in his ruffled shirt, would fall back suddenly to make way for thewrangling figures of the slaveholder and the abolitionist. 

"I can't help it, Betty, I can't help it, " the Governor would declare, whenhe came back from following the old gentleman to the drive; "did you seeMr. Yancey step out of Dick Wythe's dry bones to-day? Poor Dick, an honestfellow who loved no man's quarrel but his own; it's too bad, I declare it'stoo bad. " And the next day he would send Betty over to Chericoke to strokedown the Major's temper. "Slippery are the paths of the peacemaker, " thegirl laughed one morning, when she had ridden home after an hour ofpersuasion. "I go on tip-toe because of your indiscretions, papa. Youreally must learn to control yourself, the Major says. "

"Control myself!" repeated the Governor, laughing, though he looked alittle vexed. "If I hadn't the control of a stoic, daughter, to say nothingof the patience of Job, do you think I'd be able to listen calmly to histirades? Why, he wants to pull the Government to pieces for his pleasure, "then he pinched her cheek and added, smiling, "Oh, you sly puss, why don'tyou play your pranks upon one of your own age?"

Through the long winter many visits were exchanged between Uplands andChericoke, and once, on a mild February morning, Mrs. Lightfoot drove overin her old coach, with her knitting and her handmaid Mitty, to spend theday. She took Betty back with her, and the girl stayed a week in the queerold house, where the elm boughs tapped upon her window as she slept, andthe shadows on the crooked staircase frightened her when she went up anddown at night. It seemed to her that the presence of Jane Lightfoot stillhaunted the home that she had left. When the snow fell on the roof and thewind beat against the panes, she would open her door and look out into thelong dim halls, as if she half expected to see a girlish figure in a muslingown steal softly to the stair. 

Dan was less with her in that stormy week than was the memory of hismother; even Great-aunt Emmeline, whose motto was written on the iviedglass, grew faint beside the outcast daughter of whom but one paleminiature remained. Before Betty went back to Uplands she had grown to knowJane Lightfoot as she knew herself. 

When the spring came she took up her trowel and followed Aunt Lydia intothe garden. On bright mornings the two would work side by side among theflowers, kneeling in a row with the small darkies who came to theirassistance. Peter, the gardener, would watch them lazily, as he leaned uponhis hoe, and mutter beneath his breath, "Dat dut wuz dut, en de dut er deflow'r baids warn' no better'n de dut er de co'n fiel'. "

Betty would laugh and shake her head as she planted her square of pansies. She was working feverishly to overcome her longing for the sight of Dan, and her growing dread of his return. 

But at last on a sunny morning, when the lilacs made a lane of purple tothe road, the Major drove over with the news that "the boys would not beback again till autumn. They'll go abroad for the summer, " he addedproudly. "It's time they were seeing something of the world, you know. I'vealways said that a man should see the world before thirty, if he wants tostay at home after forty, " then he smiled down on Virginia, and pinched hercheek. "It won't hurt Dan, my dear, " he said cheerfully. "Let him get aglimpse of artificial flowers, that he may learn the value of our ownbeauties. "

"Of Great-aunt Emmeline, you mean, sir, " replied Virginia, laughing. 

"Oh, yes, my child, " chuckled the Major. "Let him learn the value ofGreat-aunt Emmeline, by all means. "

When the old gentleman had gone, Betty went into the garden, where thegrass was powdered with small spring flowers, and gathered a bunch of whiteviolets for her mother. Aunt Lydia was walking slowly up and down in themild sunshine, and her long black shadow passed over the girl as she kneltin the narrow grass-grown path. A slender spray of syringa drooped downupon her head, and the warm wind was sweet with the heavy perfume of thelilacs. On the whitewashed fence a catbird was calling over the meadow, andanother answered from the little bricked-up graveyard, where the gate wasopened only when a fresh grave was to be hollowed out amid the periwinkle. 

As Betty knelt there, something in the warm wind, the heavy perfume, or theold lady's flitting shadow touched her with a sudden melancholy, and whilethe tears lay upon her lashes, she started quickly to her feet and lookedabout her. But a great peace was in the air, and around her she saw onlythe garden wrapped in sunshine, the small spring flowers in bloom, and AuntLydia moving up and down in the box-bordered walk. 

VI

THE MEETING IN THE TURNPIKE

On a late September afternoon Dan rode leisurely homeward along theturnpike. He had reached New York some days before, but instead of hurryingon with Champe, he had sent a careless apology to his expectantgrandparents while he waited over to look up a missing trunk. 

"Oh, what difference does a day make?" he had urged in reply to Champe'sremonstrances, "and after going all the way to Paris, I can't afford tolose my clothes, you know. I'm not a Leander, my boy, and there's no Heroawaiting me. You can't expect a fellow to sacrifice the proprieties forhis grandmother. "

"Well, I'm going, that's all, " rejoined Champe, and Dan heartily responded, "God be with you, " as he shook his hand. 

Now, as he rode slowly up the turnpike on a hired horse, he was beginningto regret, with an impatient self-reproach, the three tiresome days he hadstolen from his grandfather's delight. It was characteristic of him at theage of twenty-one that he began to regret what appeared to be a pleasureonly after it had proved to be a disappointment. Had the New York days beengay instead of dull, it is probable that he would have ridden home with aneasy conscience and a lordly belief that there was something generous inthe spirit of his coming back at all. 

A damp wind was blowing straight along the turnpike, and the autumn fields, brilliant with golden-rod and sumach, stretched under a sky which hadclouded over so suddenly that the last rays of sun were still shining uponthe mountains. 

He had left Uplands a mile behind, throwing, as he passed, a wistful glancebetween the silver poplars. A pink dress had fluttered for an instantbeyond the Doric columns, and he had wondered idly if it meant Virginia, and if she were still the pretty little simpleton of six months ago. At thethought of her he threw back his head and whistled gayly into thethreatening sky, so gayly that a bluebird flying across the road hoveredround him in the air. The joy of living possessed him at the moment, a merephysical delight in the circulation of his blood, in the healthy beating ofhis pulses. Old things which he had half forgotten appealed to him suddenlywith all the force of fresh impressions. The beauty of the Septemberfields, the long curve in the white road where the tuft of cedars grew, thefalling valley which went down between the hills, stood out for him as ifbathed in a new and tender light. The youth in him was looking through hiseyes. 

And the thought of Virginia went merrily with his mood. What a prettylittle simpleton she was, by George, and what a dull world this would bewere it not for the pretty simpletons in pink dresses! Why, in that caseone might as well sit in a library and read Horace and wear red flannel. One might as well--a drop of rain fell in his face and he lowered his head. When he did so he saw that Betty was coming along the turnpike, and thatshe wore a dress of blue dimity. 

In a flash of light his first wonder was that he should ever have preferredpink to blue; his second that a girl in a dimity gown and a white chipbonnet should be fleeing from a storm along the turnpike. As he jumped fromhis horse he faced her a little anxiously. 

"There's a hard shower coming, and you'll be wet, " he said. 

"And my bonnet!" cried Betty, breathlessly. She untied the blue strings andswung them over her arm. There was a flush in her cheeks, and as he drewnearer she fell back quickly. 

"You--you came so suddenly, " she stammered. 

He laughed aloud. "Doesn't the Prince always come suddenly?" he asked. "Youare like the wandering princess in the fairy tale--all in blue upon alonely road; but this isn't just the place for loitering, you know. Come upbehind me and I'll carry you to shelter in Aunt Ailsey's cabin; it isn'tthe first time I've run away, with you, remember. " He lifted her upon thehorse, and started at a gallop up the turnpike. "I'm afraid the steeddoesn't take the romantic view, " he went on lightly. "There, get up, Barebones, the lady doesn't want to wet her bonnet. Lean against me, Betty, and I'll try to shelter you. "

But the rain was in their faces, and Betty shut her eyes to keep out thehard bright drops. As she clung with both hands to his arm, her wet cheekwas hidden against his coat, and the blue ribbons on her breast were blownround them in the wind. It was as if one of her dreams had awakened fromsleep and come boldly out into the daylight; and because it was like adream she trembled and was half ashamed of its reality. 

"Here we are!" he exclaimed, in a moment, as he turned the horse round theblasted tree into the little path amid the vegetables. "If you are soakedthrough, we might as well go on; but if you're half dry, build a fire andget warm. " He put her down upon the square stone before the doorway, andslipping the reins over the branch of a young willow tree, followed herinto the cabin. "Why, you're hardly damp, " he said, with his hand on herarm. "I got the worst of it. "

He crossed over to the great open fireplace, and kneeling upon the hearthraked a hollow in the old ashes; then he kindled a blaze from a pile oflightwood knots, and stood up brushing his hands together. "Sit down andget warm, " he said hospitably. "If I may take upon myself to do the dutiesof free Levi's castle, I should even invite you to make yourself at home. "With a laugh he glanced about the bare little room, --at the uncoveredrafters, the rough log walls, and the empty cupboard with its swingingdoors. In one corner there was a pallet hidden by a ragged patchwork quilt, and facing it a small pine table upon which stood an ash-cake ready for theembers. 

The laughter was still in his eyes when he looked at Betty. "Now where'sthe sense of going walking in the rain?" he demanded. 

"I didn't, " replied Betty, quickly. "It was clear when I started, and theclouds came up before I knew it. I had been across the fields to the woods, and I was coming home along the turnpike. " She loosened her hair, andkneeling upon the smooth stones, dried it before the flames. As she shookthe curling ends a sparkling shower of rain drops was scattered over Dan. 

"Well, I don't see much sense in that, " he returned slowly, with his gazeupon her. 

She laughed and held out her moist hands to the fire. "Well, there was morethan you see, " she responded pleasantly, and added, while she smiled at himwith narrowed eyes, "dear me, you've grown so much older. "

"And you've grown so much prettier, " he retorted boldly. 

A flush crossed her face, and her look grew a little wistful. "The rain hasbewitched you, " she said. 

"You may call me a fool if you like, " he pursued, as if she had not spoken, "but I did not know until to-day that you had the most beautiful hair inthe world. Why, it is always sunshine about you. " He put out his hand totouch a loose curl that hung upon her shoulder, then drew it quickly back. "I don't suppose I might, " he asked humbly. 

Betty gathered up her hair with shaking hands, which gleamed white in thefirelight, and carelessly twisted it about her head. 

"It is not nearly so pretty as Virginia's, " she said in a low voice. 

"Virginia's? Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed, and walked rapidly up and downthe room. 

Beyond the open door the rain fell heavily; he heard it beating softly onthe roof and dripping down upon the smooth square stone before thethreshold. A red maple leaf was washed in from the path and lay a wet bitof colour upon the floor. "I wonder where old man Levi is?" he saidsuddenly. 

"In the rain, I'm afraid, " Betty answered, "and he has rheumatism, too; hewas laid up for three months last winter. "

She spoke quietly, but she was conscious of a quiver from head to foot, asif a strong wind had swept over her. Through the doorway she saw the youngwillow tree trembling in the storm and felt curiously akin to it. 

Dan came slowly back to the hearth, and leaning against the crumblingmortar of the chimney, looked thoughtfully down upon her. "Do you know whatI thought of when I saw you with your hair down, Betty?"

She shook her head, smiling. 

"I don't suppose I'd thought of it for years, " he went on quickly; "butwhen you took your hair down, and looked up at me so small and white, itall came back to me as if it were yesterday. I remembered the night I firstcame along this road--God-forsaken little chap that I was--and saw youstanding out there in your nightgown--with your little cold bare feet. Themoonlight was full upon you, and I thought you were a ghost. At first Iwanted to run away; but you spoke, and I stood still and listened. Iremember what it was, Betty. --'Mr. Devil, I'm going in, ' you said. Did youtake me for the devil, I wonder?"

She smiled up at him, and he saw her kind eyes fill with tears. Thewavering smile only deepened the peculiar tenderness of her look. 

"I had been sitting in the briers for an hour, " he resumed, after a moment;"it was a day and night since I had eaten a bit of bread, and I had beendigging up sassafras roots with my bare fingers. I remember that I rootedat one for nearly an hour, and found that it was sumach, after all. Then Igot up and went on again, and there you were standing in the moonlight--"He broke off, hesitated an instant, and added with the gallant indiscretionof youth, "By George, that ought to have made a man of me!"

"And you are a man, " said Betty. 

"A man!" he appeared to snap his fingers at the thought. "I am aweather-vane, a leaf in the wind, a--an ass. I haven't known my own mindten minutes during the last two years, and the only thing I've ever gonehonestly about is my own pleasure. Oh, yes, I have the courage of myinclinations, I admit. "

"But I don't understand--what does it mean?--I don't understand, " falteredBetty, vaguely troubled by his mood. 

"Mean? Why, it means that I've been ruined, and it's too late to mend me. I'm no better than a pampered poodle dog. It means that I've gotteneverything I wanted, until I begin to fancy there's nothing under heaven Ican't get. " Then, in one of his quick changes of temper, his face clearedwith a burst of honest laughter. 

She grew merry instantly, and as she smiled up at him, he saw her eyes likerays of hazel light between her lashes. "Has the black crow gone?" sheasked. "Do you know when I have a gray day Mammy calls it the black crowflying by. As long as his shadow is over you, there's always a gloom at thebrain, she says. Has he quite gone by?"

"Oh, he flew by quickly, " he answered, laughing, "he didn't even stay toflap his wings. " Then he became suddenly grave. "I wonder what kind of aman you'll fall in love with, Betty?" he said abruptly. 

She drew back startled, and her eyes reminded him of those of a frightenedwild thing he had come upon in the spring woods one day. As she shrank fromhim in her dim blue dress, her hair fell from its coil and lay like a goldbar across her bosom, which fluttered softly with her quickened breath. 

"I? Why, how can I tell?" she asked. 

"He'll not be black and ugly, I dare say?"

She shook her head, regaining her composure. 

"Oh, no, fair and beautiful, " she answered. 

"Ah, as unlike me as day from night?"

"As day from night, " she echoed, and went on after a moment, her girlishvisions shining in her eyes:--

"He will be a man, at least, " she said slowly, "a man with a faith to fightfor--to live for--to make him noble. He may be a beggar by the roadside, but he will be a beggar with dreams. He will be forever travelling to somegreat end--some clear purpose. " The last words came so faintly that he bentnearer to hear. A deep flush swept to her forehead, and she turned from himto the fire. These were things that she had hidden even from Virginia. 

But as he looked steadily down upon her, something of her own pure fervourwas in his face. Her vivid beauty rose like a flame to his eyes, and for asingle instant it seemed to him that he had never looked upon a woman untilto-day. 

"So you would sit with him in the dust of the roadside?" he asked, smiling. 

"But the dust is beautiful when the sun shines on it, " answered the girl;"and on wet days we should go into the pine woods, and on fair ones rest inthe open meadows; and we should sing with the robins, and make friends withthe little foxes. "

He laughed softly. "Ah, Betty, Betty, I know you now for a dreamer ofdreams. With all your pudding-mixing and your potato-planting you aremoon-mad like the rest of us. "

She made a disdainful little gesture. "Why, I never planted a potato in mylife. "

"Don't scoff, dear lady, " he returned warningly; "too great literalness isthe sin of womankind, you know. "

"But I don't care in the least for vegetable-growing, " she persistedseriously. 

The humour twinkled in his eyes. "Thriftless woman, would you prefer tobeg?"

"When the Major rode by, " laughed Betty; "but when I heard you coming, I'dlie hidden among the briers, and I'd scatter signs for other gypsies thatread, 'Beware the Montjoy. '"

His face darkened and he frowned. "So it's the Montjoy you're afraid of, "he rejoined gloomily. "I'm not all Lightfoot, though I'm apt to forget it;the Montjoy blood is there, all the same, and it isn't good blood. "

"Your blood is good, " said Betty, warmly. 

He laughed again and met her eyes with a look of whimsical tenderness. "Make me your beggar, Betty, " he prayed, smiling. 

"You a beggar!" She shook a scornful head. "I can shut my eyes and see yourfortune, sir, and it doesn't lie upon the roadside. I see a well-fedcountry gentleman who rises late to breakfast and storms when the birds areoverdone, who drinks his two cups of coffee and eats syrup upon hiscakes--"

"O pleasant prophetess!" he threw in. 

"I look and see him riding over the rich fields in the early morning, watching from horseback the planting and the growing and the ripening ofthe corn. He has a dozen servants to fetch the whip he drops, and a dozenothers to hold his bridle when he pleases to dismount; the dogs leap roundhim in the drive, and he brushes away the one that licks his face. I seehim grow stout and red-faced as he reads a dull Latin volume beside hisbottle of old port--there's your fortune, sir, the silver, if you please. "She finished in a whining voice, and rose to drop a courtesy. 

"On my word, you're a witch, Betty, " he exclaimed, laughing, "a regularwitch on a broomstick. "

"Does the likeness flatter you? Shall I touch it up a bit? Just a dash moreof red in the face?"

"Well, I reckon it's true as prophecy ever was, " he said easily. "It isn'tlikely that I'll ever be a beggar, despite your kindly wishes for my soul'swelfare; and, on the whole, I think I'd rather not. When all's said anddone, I'd rather own my servants and my cultivated acres, and come downlate to hot cakes than sit in the dust by the roadside and eat sour grapes. It may not be so good for the soul, but it's vastly more comfortable; andI'm not sure that a fat soul in a lean body is the best of life, Betty. "

"At least it doesn't give one gout, " retorted Betty, mercilessly, adding asshe went to the door: "but the rain is holding up, and I must be going. I'll borrow your horse, if you please, Dan. " She tied on her flattenedbonnet, and with her foot on the threshold, stood looking across the wetfields, where each spear of grass pieced a string of shining rain drops. Over the mountains the clouds tossed in broken masses, and loose streamersof vapour drifted down into the lower foldings of the hills. The cool smellof the moist road came to her on the wind. 

Dan unfastened the reins from the young willow, and led the horse to thestone at the entrance. Then he threw his coat over the dampened saddle andlifted Betty upon it. "Pooh! I'm as tough as a pine knot. " He scoffed ather protests. "There, sit steady; I'd better hold you on, I suppose. "

Slipping the reins loosely over his arm, he laid his hand upon the bluefolds of her skirt. "If you feel yourself going, just catch my shoulder, "he added; "and now we're off. "

They left the little path and went slowly down the turnpike, under thedripping trees. Across the fields a bird was singing after the storm, andthe notes were as fresh as the smell of the rain-washed earth. A fullersplendour seemed to have deepened suddenly upon the meadows, and thegolden-rod ran in streams of fire across the landscape. 

"Everything looks so changed, " said Betty, wistfully; "are you sure that weare still in the same world, Dan?"

"Sure?" he looked up at her gayly. "I'm sure of but one thing in this life, Betty, and that is that you should thank your stars you met me. "

"I don't doubt that I should have gotten home somehow, " responded Betty, ungratefully, "so don't flatter yourself that you have saved even mybonnet. " From its blue-lined shadow she smiled brightly down upon him. 

"Well, all the same, I dare to be grateful, " he rejoined. "Even if youhaven't saved my hat, --and I can't honestly convince myself that youhave, --I thank my stars I met you, Betty. " He threw back his head and sangsoftly to himself as they went on under the scudding clouds. 

VII

IF THIS BE LOVE

An hour later, Cephas, son of Cupid, gathering his basketful of chips atthe woodpile, beheld his young master approaching by the branch road, andstarted shrieking for the house. "Hi! hit's Marse Dan! hit's Marse Dan!" heyelled to his father Cupid in the pantry; "I seed 'im fu'st! Fo' de Lawd, Iseed 'im fu'st!" and the Major, hearing the words, appeared instantly atthe door of his library. 

"It's the boy, " he called excitedly. "Bless my soul, Molly, the boy hascome!"

The old lady came hurriedly downstairs, pinning on her muslin cap, and bythe time Dan had dismounted at the steps the whole household was assembledto receive him. 

"Well, well, my boy, " exclaimed the Major, moving nervously about, "this isa surprise, indeed. We didn't look for you until next week. Well, well. "

He turned away to wipe his eyes, while Dan caught his grandmother in hisarms and kissed her a dozen times. The joy of these simple souls touchedhim with a new tenderness; he felt unworthy of his grandmother's kisses andthe Major's tears. Why had he stayed away when his coming meant so much?What was there in all the world worth the closer knitting of these strongblood ties?

"By George, but I'm glad to get here, " he said heartily. "There's nothingI've seen across the water that comes up to being home again; and the sightof your faces is better than the wonders of the world, I declare. Ah, Cupid, old man, I'm glad to see you. And Aunt Rhody and Congo, how are youall? Why, where's Big Abel? Don't tell me he isn't here to welcome me. "

"Hyer I is, young Marster, hyer I is, " cried Big Abel, stretching out hishand over Congo's head, and "Hyer I is, too, " shouted Cephas from behindhim. "I seed you fu'st, fo' de Lawd, I seed you fu'st!"

They gathered eagerly round him, and with a laugh, and a word for one andall, he caught the outstretched hands, scattering his favours like a youngJove. "Yes, I've remembered you--there, don't smother me. Did you think I'ddare to show my face, Aunt Rhody, without the gayest neckerchief in Europe?Why, I waited over in New York just to see that it was safe. Oh, don'tsmother me, I say. " The dogs came bounding in, and he greeted them withmuch the same affectionate condescension, caressing them as they sprangupon him, and pushing away the one that licked his face. When the overseerran in hastily to shake his hand, there was no visible change in hismanner. He greeted black and white with a courtesy which marked the socialline, with an affability which had a touch of the august. Had the gulfbetween them been less impassable, he would not have dared the heartyhandshake, the genial word, the pat upon the head--these were a tributewhich he paid to the very humble. 

When the servants had streamed chattering out through the back door, he puthis arms about the old people and led them into the library. "Why, what'sbecome of Champe?" he inquired, glancing complacently round the book-linedwalls. 

"Ah, you mustn't expect to see anything of Champe these days, " replied theMajor, waiting for Mrs. Lightfoot to be seated before he drew up his chair. "His heart's gone roving, I tell him, and he follows mighty closely afterit. If you don't find him at Uplands, you've only to inquire at PowellHall. "

"Uplands!" exclaimed Dan, hearing the one word. "What is he doing atUplands?"

The Major chuckled as he settled himself in his easy chair and stretchedout his slippered feet. "Well, I should say that he was doing a verycommendable thing, eh, Molly?" he rejoined jokingly. 

"He's losing his head, if that's what you mean, " retorted the old lady. 

"Not his head, but his heart, my dear, " blandly corrected the Major, "and Irepeat that it is a very commendable thing to do--why, where would you beto-day, madam, if I hadn't fallen in love with you?"

Mrs. Lightfoot sniffed as she unwound her knitting. "I don't doubt that Ishould be quite as well off, Mr. Lightfoot, " she replied convincingly. 

"Ah, maybe so, maybe so, " admitted the Major, with a sigh; "but I'm verysure that I shouldn't be, my dear. "

The old lady softened visibly, but she only remarked:--

"I'm glad that you have found it out, sir, " and clicked her needles. 

Dan, who had been wandering aimlessly about the room, threw himself into achair beside his grandmother and caught at her ball of yarn. 

"It's Virginia, I suppose, " he suggested. 

The Major laughed until his spectacles clouded. 

"Virginia!" he gasped, wiping the glasses upon his white silk handkerchief. "Listen to the boy, Molly, he believes every last one of us--myself toboot, I reckon--to be in love with Miss Virginia. "

"If he does, he believes as many men have done before him, " interposed Mrs. Lightfoot, with a homely philosophy. 

"Well, isn't it Virginia?" asked Dan. 

"I tell you frankly, " pursued the Major, in a confidential voice, "that ifyou want a rival with Virginia, you'll be apt to find a stout one in JackMorson. He was back a week ago, and he's a fine fellow--a first-ratefellow. I declare, he came over here one evening and I couldn't begin asingle quotation from Horace that he didn't know the end of it. On my word, he's not only a fine fellow, but a cultured gentleman. You may remember, sir, that I have always maintained that the two most refining influencesupon the manners were to be found in the society of ladies and a knowledgeof the Latin language. "

Dan gave the yarn an impatient jerk. "Tell me, grandma, " he besought her. 

As was her custom, the old lady came quickly to the point and appeared totransfix the question with the end of her knitting-needle. "I really thinkthat it is Betty, my child, " she answered calmly. 

"What does he mean by falling in love with Betty?" demanded Dan, while herose to his feet, and the ball of yarn fell upon the floor. 

"Don't ask me what he means, sir, " protested the Major. "If a man in lovehas any meaning in him, it takes a man in love to find it out. Maybe you'llbe better at it than I am; but I give it up--I give it up. "

With a gloomy face Dan sat down again, and resting his arms on his knees, stared at the vase of golden-rod between the tall brass andirons. Cupidcame in to light the lamps, and stopped to inquire if Mrs. Lightfoot wouldlike a blaze to be started in the fireplace. "It's a little chilly, mydear, " remarked the Major, slapping his arm. "There's been a sharp changein the weather;" and Cupid removed the vase of golden-rod and laid anarmful of sticks crosswise on the andirons. 

"Draw up to the hearth, my boy, " said the Major, when the fire burned. "Even if you aren't cold, it looks cheerful, you know--draw up, draw up, "and he at once began to question his grandson about the London streets, evoking as he talked dim memories of his own early days in England. Heasked after St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey half as if they were personalfriends of whose death he feared to hear; and upon being answered that theystill stood unchanged, he pressed eagerly for the gossip of the Strand andFleet Street. Was Dr. Johnson's coffee-house still standing? and did Danremember to look up the haunts of Mr. Addison in his youth? "I've gotten agood deal out of Champe, " he confessed, "but I like to hear it again--Ilike to hear it. Why, it takes me back forty years, and makes me younger. "

And when Champe came in from his ride, he found the old gentleman upon thehearth-rug, his white hair tossing over his brow, as he recited from Mr. Addison with the zest of a schoolboy of a hundred years ago. 

"Hello, Beau! I hope you got your clothes, " was Champe's greeting, as heshook his cousin's hand. 

"Oh, they turned up all right, " said Dan, carelessly, "and, by-the-way, there was an India shawl for grandma in that very trunk. "

Champe crossed to the fireplace and stood fingering one of the tall vases. "It's a pity you didn't stop by Uplands, " he observed. "You'd have foundVirginia more blooming than ever. "

"Ah, is that so?" returned Dan, flushing, and a moment afterward he addedwith an effort, "I met Betty in the turnpike, you know. "

Six months ago, he remembered, he had raved out his passion for Virginia, and to-day he could barely stammer Betty's name. A great silence; seemed tosurround the thought of her. 

"So she told me, " replied Champe, looking steadily at Dan. For a moment heseemed about to speak again; then changing his mind, he left the room witha casual remark about dressing for supper. 

"I'll go, too, " said Dan, rising from his seat. "If you'll believe me, Ihaven't spoken to my old love, Aunt Emmeline. So proud a beauty is not tobe treated with neglect. "

He lighted one of the tall candles upon the mantel-piece, and taking it inhis hand, crossed the hall and went into the panelled parlour, whereGreat-aunt Emmeline, in the lustre of her amber brocade, smiled herchangeless smile from out the darkened canvas. There was wit in her curvedlip and spirit in her humorous gray eyes, and the marble whiteness of herbrow, which had brought her many lovers in her lifetime, shone undimmedbeneath the masses of her chestnut hair. With her fair body gone to dust, she still held her immortal apple by the divine right of her rememberedbeauty. 

As Dan looked at her it seemed to him for the first time that he found alikeness to Betty--to Betty as she smiled up at him from the hearth in AuntAilsey's cabin. It was not in the mouth alone, nor in the eyes alone, butin something indefinable which belonged to every feature--in the kindlyfervour that shone straight out from the smiling face. Ah, he knew now whyAunt Emmeline had charmed a generation. 

He blew out the candle, and went back into the hall where the front doorstood half open. Then taking down his hat, he descended the steps andstrolled thoughtfully up and down the gravelled drive. 

The air was still moist, and beyond the gray meadows the white cloudshuddled like a flock of sheep upon the mountain side. From the branches ofthe old elms fell a few yellowed leaves, and among them birds were flyingback and forth with short cries. A faint perfume came from the high urnsbeside the steps, where a flowering creeper was bruised against the marblebasins. 

With a cigar in his mouth, Dan passed slowly to and fro against the lightedwindows, and looked up tenderly at the gray sky and the small flying birds. There was a glow in his face, for, with a total cessation of time, he wasback in Aunt Ailsey's cabin, and the rain was on the roof. 

In one of those rare moods in which the least subjective mind becomes thatof a mystic, he told himself that this hour had waited for him from thebeginning of time--had bided patiently at the crossroads until he came upwith it at last. All his life he had been travelling to meet it, not inignorance, but with half-unconscious knowledge, and all the while the firehad burned brightly on the hearth, and Betty had knelt upon the flat stonesdrying her hair. Again it seemed to him that he had never looked into awoman's face before, and the shame of his wandering fancies was heavy uponhim. He called himself a fool because he had followed for a day the flutterof Virginia's gown, and a dotard for the many loves he had sworn to longbefore. In the twilight he saw Betty's eyes, grave, accusing, darkened withreproach; and he asked himself half hopefully if she cared--if it werepossible for a moment that she cared. There had been humour in her smile, but, for all his effort, he could bring back no deeper emotion than pity ordisdain--and it seemed to him that both the pity and the disdain were forhimself. 

The library window was lifted suddenly, as the Major called out to him that"supper was on its way"; and, with an impatient movement of the shoulders, he tossed his cigar into the grass and went indoors. 

The next afternoon he rode over to Uplands, and found Virginia alone in thedim, rose-scented parlour, where the quaint old furniture stood in thegloom of a perpetual solemnity. The girl, herself, made a bright spot ofcolour against the damask curtains, and as he looked at her he felt thesame delight in her loveliness that he felt in Great-aunt Emmeline's. Virginia had become a picture to him, and nothing more. 

When he entered she greeted him with her old friendliness, gave him bothher cool white hands, and asked him a hundred shy questions about thecountries over sea. She was delicately cordial, demurely glad. 

"It seems an age since you went away, " she said flatteringly, "and so manythings have happened--one of the big trees blew down on the lawn, and JackPowell broke his arm--and--and Mr. Morson has been back twice, you know. "

"Yes, I know, " he answered, "but I rather think the tree's the biggestthing, isn't it?"

"Well, it is the biggest, " admitted Virginia, sweetly. "I couldn't get myarms halfway round it--and Betty was so distressed when it fell that shecried half the day, just as if it were a human being. Aunt Lydia has beentrying to build a rockery over the root, and she's going to cover it withportulaca. " She went to the long window and pointed out the spot where ithad stood. "There are so many one hardly misses it, " she added cheerfully. 

At the end of an hour Dan asked timidly for Betty, to hear that she hadgone riding earlier with Champe. "She is showing him a new path over themountain, " said Virginia. "I really think she knows them all by heart. "

"I hope she hasn't taken to minding cattle, " observed Dan, irritably. "Ibelieve in women keeping at home, you know, " and as he rose to go he toldVirginia that she had "an Irish colour. "

"I have been sitting in the sun, " she answered shyly, going back to thewindow when he left the room. 

Dan went quickly out to Prince Rupert, but with his foot in the stirrup, hesaw Miss Lydia training a coral honeysuckle at the end of the portico, andturned away to help her fasten up a broken string. "It blew downyesterday, " she explained sadly. "The storm did a great deal of damage tothe flowers, and the garden looked almost desolate this morning, but Bettyand I worked there until dinner. I tell Betty she must take my place amongthe flowers, she has such a talent for making them bloom. Why, if you willcome into the garden, you will be surprised to see how many summer plantsare still in blossom. "

She spoke wistfully, and Dan looked down on her with a tender reverencewhich became him strangely. "Why, I shall be delighted to go with you, " heanswered. "Do you know I never see you without thinking of your roses? Youseem to carry their fragrance in your clothes. " There was a touch of theMajor's flattery in his manner, but Miss Lydia's pale cheeks flushed withpleasure. 

Smiling faintly, she folded her knitted shawl over her bosom, and hefollowed her across the grass to the little whitewashed gate of the garden. There she entered softly, as if she were going into church, her light stepsbarely treading down the tall grass strewn with rose leaves. Beyond thehigh box borders the gay October roses bent toward her beneath a lightwind, and in the square beds tangles of summer plants still flowereduntouched by frost. The splendour of the scarlet sage and the delicateclusters of the four-o'clocks and sweet Williams made a single blur ofcolour in the sunshine, and under the neatly clipped box hedges, blossomsof petunias and verbenas straggled from their trim rows across the walk. 

As he stood beside her, Dan drew in a long breath of the fragrant air. "Ideclare, it is like standing in a bunch of pinks, " he remarked. 

"There has been no hard frost as yet, " returned Miss Lydia, looking up athim. "Even the verbenas were not nipped, and I don't think I ever had thembloom so late. Why, it is almost the first of October. "

They strolled leisurely up and down the box-bordered paths, Miss Lydiatalking in her gentle, monotonous voice, and Dan bending his head as heflicked at the tall grass with his riding-whip. 

"He is a great lover of flowers, " said the old lady after he had gone, andthought in her simple heart that she spoke the truth. 

For two days Dan's pride held him back, but the third being Sunday, he wentover in the afternoon with the pretence of a message from his grandmother. As the day was mild the great doors were standing open, and from the drivehe saw Mrs. Ambler sitting midway of the hall, with her Bible in her handand her class of little negroes at her feet. Beyond her there was a stripof green and the autumn glory of the garden, and the sunlight coming fromwithout fell straight upon the leaves of the open book. 

She was reading from the gospel of St. John, and she did not pause untilthe chapter was finished; then she looked up and said, smiling: "Shall Iask you to join my class, or will you look for the girls out of doors?Virginia, I think, is in the garden, and Betty has just gone riding downthe tavern road. "

"Oh, I'll go after Betty, " replied Dan, promptly, and with a gay "good-by"he untied Prince Rupert and started at a canter for the turnpike. 

A quarter of a mile beyond Uplands the tavern road branched off under adeep gloom of forest trees. The white sand of the turnpike gave place to aheavy clay soil, which went to dust in summer and to mud in winter, impeding equally the passage of wheels. On either side a thick wood ran forseveral miles, and the sunshine filtered in bright drops through the greenarch overhead. 

When Dan first caught sight of Betty she was riding in a network of sun andshade, her face lifted to the bit of blue sky that showed between thetree-tops. At the sound of his horse she threw a startled look behind her, and then, drawing aside from the sunken ruts in the "corduroy" road, waited, smiling, until he galloped up. 

"Why, it's never you!" she exclaimed, surprised. 

"Well, that's not my fault, Betty, " he gayly returned. "If I had my way, Iassure you it would be always I. You mustn't blame a fellow for his illluck, you know. " Then he laid his hand on her bridle and faced her sternly. 

"Look here, Betty, you haven't been treating me right, " he said. 

She threw out a deprecating little gesture. "Do I need to put on morehumility?" she questioned, humbly. "Is it respect that I have failed in, sir?"

"Oh, bosh!" he interposed, rudely. "I want to know why you went ridingthree afternoons with Champe--it wasn't fair of you, you know. "

Betty sighed sadly. "No one has ever asked me before why I went riding withChampe, " she confessed, "and the mighty secret has quite gnawed into myheart. "

"Share it with me, " begged Dan, gallantly, "only I warn you that I shallhave no mercy upon Champe. "

"Poor Champe, " said Betty. 

"At least he went riding with you three afternoons--lucky Champe!"

"Ah, so he did; and must I tell you why?"

He nodded. "You shan't go home until you do, " he declared grimly. 

Betty reached up and plucked a handful of aspen leaves, scattering themupon the road. 

"By what right, O horse-taming Hector (isn't that the way they talk inHomer?)"

"By the right of the strongest, O fair Helena (it's the way they talk intranslations of Homer). "

"How very learned you are!" sighed Betty. 

"How very lovely you are!" sighed Dan. 

"And you will really force me to tell you?" she asked. 

"For your own sake, don't let it come to that, " he replied. 

"But are you sure that you are strong enough to hear it?"

"I am strong enough for anything, " he assured her, "except suspense. "

"Well, if I must, then let me whisper it--I went because--" she drew back, "I implore you not to uproot the forest in your wrath. "

"Speak quickly, " urged Dan, impatiently. 

"I went because--brace yourself--I went because he asked me. "

"O Betty!" he cried, and caught her hand. 

"O Dan!" she laughed, and drew her hand away. 

"You deserve to be whipped, " he went on sternly. "How dare you play withthe green-eyed monster I'm wearing on my sleeve? Haven't you heard hisgrowls, madam?"

"He's a pretty monster, " said Betty. "I should like to pat him. "

"Oh, he needs to be gently stroked, I tell you. "

"Does he wake often--poor monster?"

Dan lowered his abashed eyes to the road. 

"Well, that--ah, that depends--" he began awkwardly. 

"Ah, that depends upon your fancies, " finished Betty, and rode on rapidly. 

It was a moment before he came up with her, and when he did so his face wasflushed. 

"Do you mind about my fancies, Betty?" he asked humbly. 

"I?" said Betty, disdainfully. "Why, what have I to do with them?"

"With my fancies? nothing--so help me God--nothing. "

"I am glad to hear it, " she replied quietly, stroking her horse. Her cheekswere glowing and she let the overhanging branches screen her face. As theyrode on silently they heard the rustling of the leaves beneath the horses'feet, and the soft wind playing through the forest. A chain of lights andshadows ran before them into the misty purple of the distance, where thedim trees went up like gothic spires. 

Betty's hands were trembling, but fearing the stillness, she spoke in acareless voice. 

"When do you go back to college?" she inquired politely. 

"In two days--but it's all the same to you, I dare say. "

"Indeed it isn't. I shall be very sorry. "

"You needn't lie to me, " he returned irritably. "I beg your pardon, but alie is a lie, you know. "

"So I suppose, but I wasn't lying--I shall be very sorry. "

A fiery maple branch fell between them, and he impatiently thrust it aside. 

"When you treat me like this you raise the devil in me, " he said angrily. "As I told you before, Betty, when I'm not Lightfoot I'm Montjoy--it may bethis that makes you plague me so. "

"O Dan, Dan!" she laughed, but in a moment added gravely: "When you'reneither Lightfoot nor Montjoy, you're just yourself, and it's then, afterall, that I like you best. Shall we turn now?" She wheeled her horse abouton the rustling leaves, and they started toward the sunset light shiningfar up the road. 

"When you like me best, " said Dan, passionately. "Betty, when is that?" Hisardent look was on her face, and she, defying her fears, met it with herbeaming eyes. "When you're just yourself, Dan, " she answered and gallopedon. Her lips were smiling, but there was a prayer in her heart, for itcried, "Dear God, let him love me, let him love me. "

VIII

BETTY'S UNBELIEF

"Dear God, let him love me, " she prayed again in the cool twilight of herchamber. Before the open window she put her hands to her burning cheeks andfelt the wind trickle between her quivering fingers. Her heart flutteredlike a bird and her blood went in little tremours through her veins. For asingle instant she seemed to feel the passage of the earth through space. "Oh, let him love me! let him love me!" she cried upon her knees. 

When Virginia came in she rose and turned to her with the brightness oftears on her lashes. 

"Do you want me to help you, dear?" she asked, gently. 

"Oh, I'm all dressed, " answered Virginia, coming toward her. She held alamp in her hand, and the light fell over her girlish figure in its muslingown. "You are so late, Betty, " she added, stopping before the bureau. "Were you by yourself?"

"Not all the way, " replied Betty, slowly. 

"Who was with you? Champe?"

"No, not Champe--Dan, " said Betty, stooping to unfasten her boots. 

Virginia was pinning a red verbena in her hair, and she turned to catch aside view of her face. 

"Do you know I really believe Dan likes you best, " she carelessly remarked. "I asked him the other afternoon what colour hair he preferred, and hesnapped out, 'red' as suddenly as that. Wasn't it funny?"

For a moment Betty did not speak; then she came over and stood beside hersister. 

"Would you mind if he liked me better than you, dear?" she asked, doubtfully. "Would you mind the least little bit?"

Virginia laughed merrily and stooped to kiss her. 

"I shouldn't mind if every man in the world liked you better, " she answeredgayly. "If they only had as much sense as I've got, they would, foolishthings. "

"I never knew but one who did, " returned Betty, "and that was the Major. "

"But Champe, too. "

"Well, perhaps, --but Champe's afraid of you. He calls you Penelope, youknow, because of the 'wooers. ' We counted six horses at the porticoyesterday, and he made a bet with me that all of them belonged to the'wooers'--and they really did, too. "

"Oh, but wooing isn't winning, " laughed Virginia, going toward the door. "You'd better hurry, Betty, supper's ready. I wouldn't touch my hair, if Iwere you, it looks just lovely. " Her white skirts fluttered across thedimly lighted hall, and in a moment Betty heard her soft step on the stair. 

Two days later Betty told Dan good-by with smiling lips. He rode over inthe early morning, when she was in the garden gathering loose rose leavesto scatter among her clothes. There had been a sharp frost the nightbefore, and now as it melted in the slanting sun rays, Miss Lydia's summerflowers hung blighted upon their stalks. Only the gay October roses werestill in their full splendour. 

"What an early Betty, " said Dan, coming up to her as she stood in the wetgrass beside one of the quaint rose squares. "You are all dewy like aflower. "

"Oh, I had breakfast an hour ago, " she answered, giving him her moist handto which a few petals were clinging. 

"Ye Gods! have I missed an hour? Why, I expected to sit waiting on thedoor-step until you had had your sleep out. "

"Don't you know if you gather rose leaves with the dew on them, theirsweetness lasts twice as long?" asked Betty. 

"So you got up to gather ye rosebuds, after all, and not to wish me Godspeed?" he said despondently. 

"Well, I should have been up anyway, " replied Betty, frankly. "This is theloveliest part of the day, you know. The world looks so fresh with thefirst frost over it--only the poor silly summer flowers take cold and die. "

"If you weren't a rose, you'd take cold yourself, " remarked Dan, pointing, with his riding-whip, to the hem of her dimity skirt. "Don't stand in thegrass like that, you make me shiver. "

"Oh, the sun will dry me, " she laughed, stepping from the path to the bareearth of the rose bed. "Why, when you get well into the sunshine it feelslike summer. " She talked on merrily, and he, paying small heed to what shesaid, kept his ardent look upon her face. His joy was in her brightpresence, in the beauty of her smile, in the kind eyes that shone upon him. Speech meant so little when he could put out his arm and touch her if hedared. 

"I am going away in an hour, Betty, " he said, at last. 

"But you will be back again at Christmas. "

"At Christmas! Heavens alive! You speak as if it were to-morrow. "

"Oh, but time goes very quickly, you know. "

Dan shook his head impatiently. "I dare say it does with you, " he returned, irritably, "but it wouldn't if you were as much in love as I am. "

"Why, you ought to be used to it by now, " urged Betty, mercilessly. "Youwere in love last year, I remember. "

"Betty, don't punish me for what I couldn't help. You know I love you. "

"Oh, no, " said Betty, nervously plucking rose leaves. "You have been toooften in love before, my good Dan. "

"But I was never in love with you before, " retorted Dan, decisively. 

She shook her head, smiling. "And you are not in love with me now, " shereplied, gravely. "You have found out that my hair is pretty, or that I canmix a pudding; but I do not often let down my hair, and I seldom cook, soyou'll get over it, my friend, never fear. "

He flushed angrily. "And if I do not get over it?" he demanded. 

"If you do not get over it?" repeated Betty, trembling. She turned awayfrom him, strewing a handful of rose leaves upon the grass. "Then I shallthink that you value neither my hair nor my housekeeping, " she added, lightly. 

"If I swear that I love you, will you believe me, Betty?"

"Don't tempt my faith, Dan, it's too small. "

"Whether you believe it or not, I do love you, " he went on. "I may havebeen a fool now and then before I found it out, but you don't think thatwas falling in love, do you? I confess that I liked a pair of fine eyes orrosy cheeks, but I could laugh about it even while I thought it was love Ifelt. I can't laugh about being in love with you, Betty. "

"I thank you, sir, " replied Betty, saucily. 

"When I saw you kneeling by the fire in free Levi's cabin, I knew that Iloved you, " he said, hotly. 

"But I can't always kneel to you, Dan, " she interposed. 

He put her words impatiently aside, "and what's more I knew then that I hadloved you all my life without knowing it, " he pursued. "You may taunt mewith fickleness, but I'm not fickle--I was merely a fool. It took me a longtime to find out what I wanted, but I've found out at last, and, so help meGod, I'll have it yet. I never went without a thing I wanted in my life. "

"Then it will be good for you, " responded Betty. "Shall I put some roseleaves into your pocket?" She spoke indifferently, but all the while sheheard her heart singing for joy. 

In the rage of his boyish passion, he cut brutally at the flowers growingat his feet. 

"If you keep this up, you'll send me to the devil!" he exclaimed. 

She caught his hand and took the whip from his fingers. "Ah, don't hurt thepoor flowers, " she begged, "they aren't to blame. "

"Who is to blame, Betty?"

She looked up wistfully into his angry face. "You are no better than achild, Dan, " she said, almost sadly, "and you haven't the least idea whatyou are storming so about. It's time you were a man, but you aren't, you'rejust--"

"Oh, I know, I'm just a pampered poodle dog, " he finished, bitterly. 

"Well, you ought to be something better, and you must be. "

"I'll be anything you please, Betty; I'll be President, if you wish it. "

"No, thank you, I don't care in the least for Presidents. "

"Then I'll be a beggar, you like beggars. "

"You'll be just yourself, if you want to please me, Dan, " she saidearnestly. "You will be your best self--neither the flattering Lightfoot, nor the rude Montjoy. You will learn to work, to wait patiently, and tolove one woman. Whoever she may be, I shall say, God bless her. "

"God bless her, Betty, " he echoed fervently, and added, "Since it's a manyou want, I'll be a man, but I almost wish you had said a President. Icould have been one for you, Betty. "

Then he held out his hand. "I don't suppose you will kiss me good-by?" hepleaded. 

"No, I shan't kiss you good-by, " she answered. 

"Never, Betty?"

Smiling brightly, she gave him her hand. "When you have loved me two years, perhaps, --or when you marry another woman. Good-by, dear, good-by. "

He turned quickly away and went up the little path to the gate. There hepaused for an instant, looked back, and waved his hand. "Good-by, mydarling!" he called, boldly, and passed under the honeysuckle arbour. As hemounted his horse in the drive he saw her still standing as he had lefther, the roses falling about her, and the sunshine full upon her bendedhead. 

Until he was hidden by the trees she watched him breathlessly, then, kneeling in the path, she laid her cheek upon the long grass he had troddenunderfoot. "O my love, my love, " she whispered to the ground. 

Miss Lydia called her from the house, and she went to her with some looseroses in her muslin apron. "Did you call me, Aunt Lydia?" she asked, lifting her radiant eyes to the old lady's face. "I haven't gathered verymany leaves. "

"I wanted you to pot some white violets for me, dear, " answered Miss Lydia, from the back steps. "My winter garden is almost full, but there's a spotwhere I can put a few violets. Poor Mr. Bill asked for a geranium for hiswindow, so I let him take one. "

"Oh, let me pot them for you, " begged Betty, eager to be of service. "SendPetunia for the trowel, and I'll choose you a lovely plant. It's too bad tosee all the dear verbenas bitten by the frost. " She tossed a rose into MissLydia's hands, and went back gladly into the garden. 

A fortnight after this the Major came over and besought her to return withhim for a week at Chericoke. Mrs. Lightfoot had taken to her bed, he saidsadly, and the whole place was rapidly falling to rack and ruin. "We needyour hands to put it straight again, " he added, "and Molly told me on noaccount to come back without you. I am at your mercy, my dear. "

"Why, I should love to go, " replied Betty, with the thought of Dan at herheart. "I'll be ready in a minute, " and she ran upstairs to find hermother, and to pack her things. 

The Major waited for her standing; and when she came down, followed byPetunia with her clothes, he helped her, with elaborate courtesy, into theold coach before the portico. 

"It takes me back to my wedding day, Betty, " he said, as he stepped inafter her and slammed the door. "It isn't often that I carry off a prettygirl so easily. "

"Now I know that you didn't carry off Mrs. Lightfoot easily, " returnedBetty, laughing from sheer lightness of spirits. "She has told me the wholestory, sir, from the evening that she wore the peach-blow brocade, thatmade you fall in love with her on the spot, to the day that she almostbroke down at the altar. You had a narrow escape from bachelorship, sir, soyou needn't boast. "

The Major chuckled in his corner. "I don't doubt that Molly told you so, "he replied, "but, between you and me, I don't believe it ever occurred toher until forty years afterwards. She got it out of one of those sillyromances she reads in bed--and, take my word for it, you'll find itsomewhere in the pages of her Mrs. Radcliffe, or her Miss Burney. Molly's asensible woman, my child, --I'm the last man to deny it--but she always didread trash. You won't believe me, I dare say, but she actually tried tofaint when I kissed her in the carriage after her wedding--and, bless mysoul, I came to find that she had 'Evelina' tucked away under her cape. "

"Why, she is the most sensible woman in the world, " said Betty, "and I'mquite sure that she was only fitting herself to your ideas, sir. No, youcan't make me believe it of Mrs. Lightfoot. "

"My ideas never took the shape of an Evelina, " dissented the Major, warmly, "but it's a dangerous taste, my dear, the taste for trash. I've always saidthat it ruined poor Jane, with all her pride. She got into her head allkind of notions about that scamp Montjoy, with his pale face and his longblack hair. Poor girl, poor girl! I tried to bring her up on Homer andMilton, but she took to her mother's bookshelf as a duck to water. " Hewiped his eyes, and Betty patted his hand, and wondered if "the scampMontjoy" looked the least bit like his son. 

When they reached Chericoke she shook hands with the servants and ranupstairs to Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber. The old lady, in her rufflednightcap, which she always put on when she took to bed, was sitting uprightunder her dimity curtains, weeping over "Thaddeus of Warsaw. " There was alittle bookstand at her bedside filled with her favourite romances, and atthe beginning of the year she would start systematically to read from thefirst volume upon the top shelf to the last one in the corner near thedoor. "None of your newfangled writers for me, my dear, " she would protest, snapping her fingers at literature. "Why, they haven't enough sentiment togive their hero a title--and an untitled hero! I declare, I'd as lief havea plain heroine, and, before you know it, they'll be writing about theirSukey Sues, with pug noses, who eloped with their Bill Bates, from thenearest butcher shop. Ugh! don't talk to me about them! I opened one of Mr. Dickens's stories the other day and it was actually about a chimneysweep--a common chimney sweep from a workhouse! Why, I really felt as if Ihad been keeping low society. "

Now, as she caught sight of Betty, she laid aside her book, wiped her eyeson a stiffly folded handkerchief, and became cheerful at once. "I warnedMr. Lightfoot not to dare to show his face without you, " she began; "so Isuppose he brought you off by force. "

"I was only too glad to come, " replied Betty, kissing her; "but what must Ido for you first? Shall I rub your head with bay rum?"

"There's nothing on earth the matter with my head, child, " retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, promptly, "but you may go downstairs, as soon as you take offyour things, and make me some decent tea and toast. Cupid brought me up twowaiters at dinner, and I wouldn't touch either of them with a ten-footpole. "

Betty took off her bonnet and shawl and hung them on a chair. "I'll go downat once and see about it, " she answered, "and I'll make Car'line put awaymy things. It's my old room I'm to have, I suppose. "

"It's the whole house, if you want it, only don't let any of the darkieshave a hand at my tea. It's their nature to slop. "

"But it isn't mine, " Betty answered her, and ran, laughing, down into thedining room. 

"Dar ain' been no sich chunes sense young Miss rid away in de dead er denight time, " muttered Cupid, in the pantry. "Lawd, Lawd, I des wish you'dteck up wid Marse Champe, en move 'long over hyer fer good en all. I reckondar 'ud be times, den, I reckon, dar 'ould. "

"There are going to be times now, Uncle Cupid, " responded Betty, cheerfully, as she arranged the tray for Mrs. Lightfoot. "I'm going to makesome tea and toast right on this fire for your old Miss. You bring thekettle, and I'll slice the bread. "

Cupid brought the kettle, grumbling. "I ain' never hyern tell er sich amouf es ole Miss es got, " he muttered. "I ain' sayin' nuttin' agin erstomick, case she ain' never let de stuff git down dat fur--en de stomickhit ain' never tase it yit. "

"Oh, stop grumbling, Uncle Cupid, " returned Betty, moving briskly about theroom. She brought the daintiest tea cup from the old sideboard, and leanedout of the window to pluck a late microphylla rosebud from the creeper uponthe porch. Then, with the bread on the end of a long fork, she sat beforethe fire and asked Cupid about the health and fortunes of the houseservants and the field hands. 

"I ain' mix wid no fiel' han's, " grunted Cupid, with a social pridebefitting the Major. "Dar ain' no use er my mixin' en I ain' mix. Dey stayin dere place en I stay in my place--en dere place hit's de quarters, en myplace hit's de dinin' 'oom. "

"But Aunt Rhody--how's she?" inquired Betty, pleasantly, "and Big Abel? Hedidn't go back to college, did he?"

"Zeke, he went, " replied Cupid, "en Big Abel he wuz bleeged ter stay behint'case his wife Saphiry she des put 'er foot right down. Ef'n he 'uz gwineoff again, sez she, she 'uz des gwine tu'n right in en git mah'ed agin. Sheain' so sho', nohow, dat two husban's ain' better'n one, is Saphiry, en shegot 'mos' a min' ter try hit. So Big Abel he des stayed behint. "

"That was wise of Big Abel, " remarked Betty. "Now open the door, UncleCupid, and I'll carry this upstairs, " and as Cupid threw open the door, shewent out, holding the tray before her. 

The old lady received her graciously, ate the toast and drank the tea, andeven admitted that it couldn't have been better if she had made it with herown hands. "I think that you will have to come and live with me, Betty, "she said good-humouredly. "What a pity you can't fancy one of those uselessboys of mine. Not that I'd have you marry Dan, child, the Major has spoiledhim to death, and now he's beginning to repent it; but Champe, Champe is agood and clever lad and would make a mild and amiable husband, I am sure. Don't marry a man with too much spirit, my dear; if a man has any extraspirit, he usually expends it in breaking his wife's. "

"Oh, I shan't marry yet awhile, " replied Betty, looking out upon thefalling autumn leaves. 

"So I said the day before I married Mr. Lightfoot, " rejoined the old lady, settling her pillows, "and now, if you have nothing better to do, you mightread me a chapter of 'Thaddeus of Warsaw'; you will find it to be a book ofvery pretty sentiment. "

IX

THE MONTJOY BLOOD

In the morning Betty was awakened by the tapping of the elm boughs on theroof above her. An autumn wind was blowing straight from the west, and whenshe looked out through the small greenish panes of glass, she saw eddies ofyellowed leaves beating gently against the old brick walls. Overhead lightgray clouds were flying across the sky, and beyond the waving tree-tops awhite mist hung above the dim blue chain of mountains. 

When she went downstairs she found the Major, in his best black broadcloth, pacing up and down before the house. It was Sunday, and he intended todrive into town where the rector held his services. 

"You won't go in with me, I reckon?" he ventured hopefully, when Bettysmiled out upon him from the library window. "Ah, my dear, you're as freshas the morning, and only an old man to look at you. Well, well, age has itsconsolations; you'll spare me a kiss, I suppose?"

"Then you must come in to get it, " answered Betty, her eyes narrowing. "Breakfast is getting cold, and Cupid is calling down Aunt Rhody's wrathupon your head. "

"Oh, I'll come, I'll come, " returned the Major, hurrying up the steps, andadding as he entered the dining room, "My child, if you'd only take a fancyto Champe, I'd be the happiest man on earth. "

"Now I shan't allow any matchmaking on Sunday, " said Betty, warningly, asshe prepared Mrs. Lightfoot's breakfast. "Sit down and carve the chickenwhile I run upstairs with this. "

She went out and came back in a moment, laughing merrily. "Do you know, shethreatens to become bedridden now that I am here to fix her trays, " sheexplained, sitting down between the tall silver urns and pouring out theMajor's coffee. "What an uncertain day you have for church, " she added asshe gave his cup to Cupid. 

With his eyes on her vivid face the old man listened rapturously to herfresh young voice--the voice, he said, that always made him think of clearwater falling over stones. It was one of the things that came to her fromPeyton Ambler, he knew, with her warm hazel eyes and the sweet, strongcurve of her mouth. "Ah, but you're like your father, " he said as hewatched her. "If you had brown hair you'd be his very image. "

"I used to wish that I had, " responded Betty, "but I don't now--I'd just assoon have red. " She was thinking that Dan did not like brown hair so much, and the thought shone in her face--only the Major, in his ignorance, mistook its meaning. 

After breakfast he got into the coach and started off, and Betty, with thekey basket on her arm, followed Cupid and Aunt Rhody into the storeroom. Then she gathered fresh flowers for the table, and went upstairs to read achapter from the Bible to Mrs. Lightfoot. 

The Major stayed to dinner in town, returning late in a moody humour andexhausted by his drive. As Betty brushed her hair before her bureau, sheheard him talking in a loud voice to Mrs. Lightfoot, and when she went inat supper time the old, lady called her to her bedside and took her hand. 

"He has had a touch of the gout, Betty, " she whispered in her ear, "and heheard some news in town which upset him a little. You must try to cheer himup at supper, child. "

"Was it bad news?" asked Betty, in alarm. 

"It may not be true, my dear. I hope it isn't, but, as I told Mr. Lightfoot, it is always better to believe the worst, so if any surprisecomes it may be a pleasant one. Somebody told him in church--and they hadmuch better have been attending to the service, I'm sure, --that Dan hadgotten into trouble again, and Mr. Lightfoot is very angry about it. He hada talk with the boy before he went away, and made him promise to turn overa new leaf this year--but it seems this is the most serious thing that hashappened yet. I must say I always told Mr. Lightfoot it was what he had toexpect. "

"In trouble again?" repeated Betty, kneeling by the bed. Her hands wentcold, and she pressed them nervously together. 

"Of course we know very little about it, my dear, " pursued Mrs. Lightfoot. "All we have heard is that he fought a duel and was sent away from theUniversity. He was even put into gaol for a night, I believe--a Lightfootin a common dirty gaol! Well, well, as I said before, all we can do now isto expect the worst. "

"Oh, is that all?" cried Betty, and the leaping of her heart told her thehorror of her dim foreboding. She rose to her feet and smiled brightly downupon the astonished old lady. 

"I don't know what more you want, " replied Mrs. Lightfoot, tartly. "If heever gets clean again after a whole night in a common gaol, I must say Idon't see how he'll manage it. But if you aren't satisfied I can only tellyou that the affair was all about some bar-room wench, and that the paperswill be full of it. Not that the boy was anything but foolish, " she addedhastily. "I'll do him the justice to admit that he's more of a fool than avillain--and I hardly know whether it's a compliment that I'm paying him ornot. He got some quixotic notion into his head that Harry Maupin insultedthe girl in his presence, and he called him to account for it. As if thehonour of a barkeeper's daughter was the concern of any gentleman!"

"Oh!" cried Betty, and caught her breath. The word went out of her in asudden burst of joy, but the joy was so sharp that a moment afterwards shehid her wet face in the bedclothes and sobbed softly to herself. 

"I don't think Mr. Lightfoot would have taken it so hard but for Virginia, "said the old lady, with her keen eyes on the girl. "You know he has alwayswanted to bring Dan and Virginia together, and he seems to think that theboy has been dishonourable about it. "

"But Virginia doesn't care--she doesn't care, " protested Betty. 

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, " returned Mrs. Lightfoot, relieved, "and I hopethe foolish boy will stay away long enough for his grandfather to cool off. Mr. Lightfoot is a high-tempered man, my child. I've spent fifty years inkeeping him at peace with the world. There now, run down and cheer him up. "

She lay back among her pillows, and Betty leaned over and kissed her withcold lips before she dried her eyes and went downstairs to find the Major. 

With the first glance at his face she saw that Dan's cause was hopeless forthe hour, and she set herself, with a cheerful countenance, to a discussionof the trivial happenings of the day. She talked pleasantly of the rector'ssermon, of the morning reading with Mrs. Lightfoot, and of a great hawkthat had appeared suddenly in the air and raised an outcry among theturkeys on the lawn. When these topics were worn threadbare she bethoughtherself of the beauty of the autumn woods, and lamented the ruined gardenwith its last sad flowers. 

The Major listened gloomily, putting in a word now and then, and keepinghis weak red eyes upon his plate. There was a heavy cloud on his brow, andthe flush that Betty had learned to dread was in his face. Once when shespoke carelessly of Dan, he threw out an angry gesture and inquired if she"found Mrs. Lightfoot easier to-night?"

"Oh, I think so, " replied the girl, and then, as they rose from the table, she slipped her hand through his arm and went with him into the library. 

"Shall I sit with you this evening?" she asked timidly. "I'd be so glad toread to you, if you would let me. "

He shook his head, patted her affectionately upon the shoulder, and smileddown into her upraised face. "No, no, my dear, I've a little work to do, "he replied kindly. "There are a few papers I want to look over, so run upto Molly and tell her I sent my sunshine to her. "

He stooped and kissed her cheek; and Betty, with a troubled heart, wentslowly up to Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber. 

The Major sat down at his writing table, and spread his papers out beforehim. Then he raised the wick of his lamp, and with his pen in his hand, resolutely set himself to his task. When Cupid came in with the decanter ofBurgundy, he filled a glass and held it absently against the light, but hedid not drink it, and in a moment he put it down with so tremulous a handthat the wine spilled upon the floor. 

"I've a touch of the gout, Cupid, " he said testily. "A touch of the goutthat's been hanging over me for a month or more. "

"Huccome you ain' fit hit, Ole Marster?"

"Oh, I've been fighting it tooth and nail, " answered the old gentleman, "but there are some things that always get the better of you in the end, Cupid, and the gout's one of them. "

"En rheumaticks hit's anurr, " added Cupid, rubbing his knee. 

He rolled a fresh log upon the andirons and went out, while the Majorreturned, frowning, to his work. 

He was still at his writing table, when he heard the sound of a horsetrotting in the drive, and an instant afterwards the quick fall of the oldbrass knocker. The flush deepened in his face, and with a look at onceangry and appealing, he half rose from his chair. As he waited the outsidebars were withdrawn, there followed a few short steps across the hall, andDan came into the library. 

"I suppose you know what's brought me back, grandpa?" he said quietly as heentered. 

The Major started up and then sat down again. 

"I do know, sir, and I wish to God I didn't, " he replied, choking in hisanger. 

Dan stood where he had halted upon his entrance, and looked at him witheyes in which there was still a defiant humour. His face was pale and hishair hung in black streaks across his forehead. The white dust of theturnpike had settled upon his clothes, and as he moved it floated in alittle cloud about him. 

"I reckon you think it's a pretty bad thing, eh?" he questioned coolly, though his hands trembled. 

The Major's eyes flashed ominously from beneath his heavy brows. 

"Pretty bad?" he repeated, taking a long breath. "If you want to know whatI think about it, sir, I think that it's a damnable disgrace. Prettybad!--By God, sir, do you call having a gaol-bird for a grandson prettybad?"

"Stop, sir!" called Dan, sharply. He had steadied himself to withstand theshock of the Major's temper, but, in the dash of his youthful folly, he hadforgotten to reckon with his own. "For heaven's sake, let's talk about itcalmly, " he added irritably. 

"I am perfectly calm, sir!" thundered the Major, rising to his feet. Theterrible flush went in a wave to his forehead, and he put up one quiveringhand to loosen his high stock. "I tell you calmly that you've done adamnable thing; that you've brought disgrace upon the name of Lightfoot. "

"It is not my name, " replied Dan, lifting his head. "My name is Montjoy, sir. "

"And it's a name to hang a dog for, " retorted the Major. 

As they faced each other with the same flash of temper kindling in bothfaces, the likeness between them grew suddenly more striking. It was as ifthe spirit of the fiery old man had risen, in a finer and younger shape, from the air before him. 

"At all events it is not yours, " said Dan, hotly. Then he came nearer, andthe anger died out of his eyes. "Don't let's quarrel, grandpa, " he pleaded. "I've gotten into a mess, and I'm sorry for it--on my word I am. "

"So you've come whining to me to get you out, " returned the Major, shakingas if he had gone suddenly palsied. 

Dan drew back and his hand fell to his side. 

"So help me God, I'll never whine to you again, " he answered. 

"Do you want to know what you have done, sir?" demanded the Major. "Youhave broken your grandmother's heart and mine--and made us wish that we hadleft you by the roadside when you came crawling to our door. And, on myoath, if I had known that the day would ever come when you would try tomurder a Virginia gentleman for the sake of a bar-room hussy, I would haveleft you there, sir. "

"Stop!" said Dan again, looking at the old man with his mother's eyes. 

"You have broken your grandmother's heart and mine, " repeated the Major, ina trembling voice, "and I pray to God that you may not break VirginiaAmbler's--poor girl, poor girl!"

"Virginia Ambler!" said Dan, slowly. "Why, there was nothing between us, nothing, nothing. "

"And you dare to tell me this to my face, sir?" cried the Major. 

"Dare! of course I dare, " returned Dan, defiantly. "If there was everanything at all it was upon my side only--and a mere trifling fancy. "

The old gentleman brought his hand down upon his table with a blow thatsent the papers fluttering to the floor. "Trifling!" he roared. "Would youtrifle with a lady from your own state, sir?"

"I was never in love with her, " exclaimed Dan, angrily. 

"Not in love with her? What business have you not to be in love with her?"retorted the Major, tossing back his long white hair. "I have given her tounderstand that you are in love with her, sir. "

The blood rushed to Dan's head, and he stumbled over an ottoman as heturned away. 

"Then I call it unwarrantable interference, " he said brutally, and wenttoward the door. There the Major's flashing eyes held him back an instant. 

"It was when I believed you to be worthy of her, " went on the old man, relentlessly, "when--fool that I was--I dared to hope that dirty bloodcould be made clean again; that Jack Montjoy's son could be a gentleman. "

For a moment only Dan stood motionless and looked at him from thethreshold. Then, without speaking, he crossed the hall, took down his hat, and unbarred the outer door. It slammed after him, and he went out into thenight. 

A keen wind was still blowing, and as he descended the steps he felt itlifting the dampened hair from his forehead. With a breath of relief hestood bareheaded in the drive and raised his face to the cool elm leavesthat drifted slowly down. After the heated atmosphere of the library therewas something pleasant in the mere absence of light, and in the softrustling of the branches overhead. The humour of his blood went suddenlyquiet as if he had plunged headlong into cold water. 

While he stood there motionless his thoughts were suspended, and hissenses, gaining a brief mastery, became almost feverishly alert; he feltthe night wind in his face, he heard the ceaseless stirring of the leaves, and he saw the sparkle of the gravel in the yellow shine that streamed fromthe library windows. But with his first step, his first movement, therecame a swift recoil of his anger, and he told himself with a touch ofyouthful rhetoric, "that come what would, he was going to the devil--andgoing speedily. "

He had reached the gate and his hand was upon the latch, when he heard thehouse door open and shut behind him and his name called softly from thesteps. 

He turned impulsively and stood waiting, while Betty came quickly throughthe lamplight that fell in squares upon the drive. 

"Oh, come back, Dan, come back, " she said breathlessly. 

With his hand still on the gate he faced her, frowning. 

"I'd die first, Betty, " he answered. 

She came swiftly up to him and stood, very pale, in the faint starlightthat shone between the broken clouds. A knitted shawl was over hershoulders, but her head was bare and her hair made a glow around her face. Her eyes entreated him before she spoke. 

"Oh, Dan, come back, " she pleaded. 

He laughed angrily and shook his head. 

"I'll die first, Betty, " he repeated. "Die! I'd die a hundred times first!"

"He is so old, " she said appealingly. "It is not as if he were young andquite himself, Dan--Oh, it is not like that--but he loves you, and he is soold. "

"Don't, Betty, " he broke in quickly, and added bitterly, "Are you, too, against me?"

"I am for the best in you, " she answered quietly, and turned away from him. 

"The best!" he snapped his fingers impatiently. "Are you for the shot atMaupin? the night I spent in gaol? or the beggar I am now? There's an equalchoice, I reckon. "

She looked gravely up at him. 

"I am for the boy I've always known, " she replied, "and for the man who washere two weeks ago--and--yes, I am for the man who stands here now. Whatdoes it matter, Dan? What does it matter?"

"O, Betty!" he cried breathlessly, and hid his face in his hands. 

"And most of all, I am for the man you are going to be, " she went onslowly, "for the great man who is growing up. Dan, come back!"

His hands fell from his eyes. "I'll not do that even for you, Betty, " heanswered, "and, God knows, there's little else I wouldn't do foryou--there's nothing else. "

"What will you do for yourself, Dan?"

"For myself?" his anger leaped out again, and he steadied himself againstthe gate. "For myself I'll go as far as I can from this damned place. Iwish to God I'd fallen in the road before I came here. I wish I'd goneafter my father and followed in his steps. I'll live on no man's charity, so help me God. Am I a dog to be kicked out and to go whining back when thedoor opens? Go--I'll go to the devil, and be glad of it!" For a momentBetty did not answer. Her hands were clasped on her bosom, and her eyeswere dark and bright in the pallor of her face. As he looked at her therage died out of his voice, and it quivered with a deeper feeling. 

"My dear, my dearest, are you, too, against me?" he asked. 

She met his gaze without flinching, but the bright colour swept suddenly toher cheeks and dyed them crimson. 

"Then if you will go, take me with you, " she said. 

He fell back as if a star had dropped at his feet. For a breathless instantshe saw only his eyes, and they drew her step by step. Then he opened hisarms and she went straight into them. 

"Betty, Betty, " he said in a whisper, and kissed her lips. 

She put her hands upon his shoulders, and stood with his arms about her, looking up into his face. 

"Take me with you--oh, take me with you, " she entreated. "I can't be left. Take me with you. "

"And you love me--Betty, do you love me?"

"I have loved you all my life--all my life, " she answered; "how can I beginto unlove you now--now when it is too late? Do you think I am any the lessyours if you throw me away? If you break my heart can I help its stillloving you?"

"Betty, Betty, " he said again, and his voice quivered. 

"Take me with you, " she repeated passionately, saying it over and overagain with her lips upon his arm. 

He stooped and kissed her almost roughly, and then put her gently away fromhim. 

"It is the way my mother went, " he said, "and God help me, I am my father'sson. I am afraid, --afraid--do you know what that means?"

"But I am not afraid, " answered the girl steadily. 

He shivered and turned away; then he came back and knelt down to kiss herskirt. "No, I can't take you with me, " he went on rapidly, "but if I liveto be a man I shall come back--I _will_ come back--and you--"

"And I am waiting, " she replied. 

He opened the gate and passed out into the road. 

"I will come back, beloved, " he said again, and went on into the darkness. 

Leaning over the gate she strained her eyes into the shadows, crying hisname out into the night. Her voice broke and she hid her face in her arm;then, fearing to lose the last glimpse of him, she looked up quickly andsobbed to him to come back for a moment--but for a moment. It seemed toher, clinging there upon the gate, that when he went out into the darknesshe had gone forever--that the thud of his footsteps in the dust was thelast sound that would ever come from him to her ears. 

Had he looked back she would have gone straight out to him, had he raised afinger she would have followed with a cheerful face; but he did not lookback, and at last his footsteps died away upon the road. 

When she could see or hear nothing more of him, she turned slowly and crepttoward the house. Her feet dragged under her, and as she walked she castback startled glances at the gate. The rustling of the leaves made herstand breathless a moment, her hand at her bosom; but it was only the wind, and she went step by step into the house, turning upon the threshold tothrow a look behind her. 

In the hall she paused and laid her hand upon the library door, but theMajor had bolted her out, and she heard him pacing with restless strides upand down the room. She listened timidly awhile, then, going softly by, wentup to Mrs. Lightfoot. 

The old lady was asleep, but as the girl entered she awoke and sat up, verystraight, in bed. "My pain is much worse, Betty, " she complained. "I don'texpect to get a wink of sleep this entire night. "

"I thought you were asleep when I came in, " answered Betty, keeping awayfrom the candlelight; "but I am so sorry you are in pain. Shall I make youa mustard plaster?"

Though she smiled, her voice was spiritless and she moved with an effort. She felt suddenly very tired, and she wanted to lie down somewhere alone inthe darkness. 

"I'd just dropped off when Mr. Lightfoot woke me slamming the doors, "pursued the old lady, querulously. "Men have so little consideration thatnothing surprises me, but I do think he might be more careful when he knowsI am suffering. No, I won't take the mustard plaster, but you may bring mea cup of hot milk, if you will. It sometimes sends me off into a doze. "

Betty went slowly downstairs again and heated the milk on the dining-roomfire. When it was ready she daintily arranged it upon a tray and carried itupstairs. "I hope it will do you good, " she said gently as she gave it tothe old lady. "You must try to lie quiet--the doctor told you so. "

Mrs. Lightfoot drank the milk and remarked amiably that it was "very nicethough a little smoked--and now, go to bed, my dear, " she added kindly. "Imustn't keep you from your beauty sleep. I'm afraid I've worn you out as itis. "

Betty smiled and shook her head; then she placed the tray upon a chair, andwent out, softly closing the door after her. 

In her own room she threw herself upon her bed, and cried for Dan until themorning. 

X

THE ROAD AT MIDNIGHT

When Dan went down into the shadows of the road, he stopped short before hereached the end of the stone wall, and turned for his last look atChericoke. He saw the long old house, with its peaked roof over which theelm boughs arched, the white stretch of drive before the door, and theleaves drifting ceaselessly against the yellow squares of the librarywindows. As he looked Betty came slowly from the shadow by the gate, whereshe had lingered, and crossed the lighted spaces amid the falling leaves. On the threshold, as she turned to throw a glance into the night, it seemedto him, for a single instant, that her eyes plunged through the darknessinto his own. Then, while his heart still bounded with the hope, the dooropened, and shut after her, and she was gone. 

For a moment he saw only blackness--so sharp was the quick shutting off ofthe indoor light. The vague shapes upon the lawn showed like mere drawingsin outline, the road became a pallid blur in the formless distance, and theshine of the lamplight on the drive shifted and grew dim as if a curtainhad dropped across the windows. Like a white thread on the blackness he sawthe glimmer beneath his grandmother's shutters, and it was as if he hadlooked in from the high top of an elm and seen her lying with her candle onher breast. 

As he stood there the silence of the old house knocked upon his heart likesound--and quick fears sprang up within him of a sudden death, or of Bettyweeping for him somewhere alone in the stillness. The long roof under thewaving elm boughs lost, for a heartbeat, the likeness of his home, andbecame, as the clouds thickened in the sky, but a great mound of earth overwhich the wind blew and the dead leaves fell. 

But at last when he turned away and followed the branch road, his racialtemperament had triumphed over the forebodings of the moment; and with theflicker of a smile upon his lips, he started briskly toward the turnpike. As the mind in the first ecstasy of a high passion is purified from thestain of mere emotion, so the Major, and the Major's anger, were forgotten, and his own bitter resentment swept as suddenly from his thoughts. He wasoverpowered and uplifted by the one supreme feeling from which he stilltrembled. All else seemed childish and of small significance beside thememory of Betty's lips upon his own. What room had he for anger when he wasfilled to overflowing with the presence of love?

The branch road ran out abruptly into the turnpike, and once off thefamiliar way by his grandfather's stone wall, he felt the blackness of thenight close round him like a vault. Without a lantern there was small hopeof striking the tavern or the tavern road till morning. To go on meant anight upon the roadside or in the fields. 

As he stretched out his arm, groping in the blackness, he struck suddenlyupon the body of the blasted tree, and coming round it, his eyes caught thered light of free Levi's fire, and he heard the sound of a hammer fallingupon heated iron. The little path was somewhere in the darkness, and as hevainly sought for it, he stumbled over a row of stripped and headlesscornstalks which ran up to the cabin door. Once upon the smooth stonebefore the threshold, he gave a boyish whistle and lifted his hand toknock. "It is I, Uncle Levi--there are no 'hants' about, " he cried. 

The hammer was thrown aside, and fell upon the stones, and a momentafterward, the door flew back quickly, showing the blanched face of freeLevi and the bright glow of the hearth. "Dis yer ain' no time fur pranks, "said the old man, angrily. "Ain't yer ever gwine ter grow up, yit?" and headded, slowly, "Praise de Lawd hit's you instid er de devil. "

"Oh, it's I, sure enough, " returned Dan, lightly, as he came into thecabin. "I'm on my way to Merry Oaks Tavern, Uncle Levi, --it's ten milesoff, you know, and this blessed night is no better than an ink-pot. I'dpositively be ashamed to send such a night down on a respectable planet. It's that old lantern of yours I want, by the way, and in case it doesn'tturn up again, take this to buy a new one. No, I can't rest to-night. Thisis my working time, and I must be up and doing. " He reached for the rustyold lantern behind the door, and lighted it, laughing as he did so. Hisface was pale, and there was a nervous tremor in his hands, but his voicehad lost none of its old heartiness. "Ah, that's it, old man, " he said, when the light was ready. "We'll shake hands in case it's a long parting. This is a jolly world. Uncle Levi, --good-by, and God bless you, " and, leaving the old man speechless on the hearth, he closed the door and wentout into the night. 

On the turnpike again, with the lantern swinging in his hand, he walkedrapidly in the direction of the tavern road, throwing quick flashes oflight before his footsteps. Behind him he heard the falling of free Levi'shammer, and knew that the old negro was toiling at his rude forge for thebread which he would to-morrow eat in freedom. 

With the word he tossed back his hair and quickened his steps, as if hewere leaving servitude behind him in the house at Chericoke; and, as theanger blazed up within his heart he found pleasure in the knowledge that atlast he was starting out to level his own road. Under the clouds on thelong turnpike it all seemed so easy--as easy as the falling of free Levi'shammer, which had faded in the distance. 

What was it, after all? A year or two of struggle and of attainment, and hewould come back flushed with success, to clasp Betty in his arms. In adozen different ways he pictured to himself the possible manner of thathome-coming, obliterating the year or two that lay between. He saw himselfa great lawyer from a little reading and a single speech, or a judge uponhis bench, famed for his classic learning and his grave decisions. He hadonly to choose, he felt, and he might be anything--had they not told him soat college? did not even his grandfather admit it? He had only tochoose--and, oh, he would choose well--he would choose to be a man, and tocome riding back with his honours thick upon him. 

Looking ahead, he saw himself a few years hence, as he rode leisurelyhomeward up the turnpike, while the stray countrymen he met took off theirharvest hats, and stared wonderingly long after he was gone. He saw theGovernor hastening to the road to shake his hand, he saw his grandfatherbowed with the sense of his injustice, tremulous with the flutter of hispride; and, best of all, he saw Betty--Betty, with the rays of lightbeneath her lashes, coming straight across the drive into his arms. 

And then all else faded slowly from him to give place to Betty, and he sawher growing, changing, brightening, as he had seen her from her childhoodup. The small white figure in the moonlight, the merry little playmate, hanging on his footsteps, eager to run his errands, the slender girl, withthe red braids and the proud shy eyes, and the woman who knelt upon thehearth in Aunt Ailsey's cabin, smiling up at him as she dried herhair--all gathered round him now illuminated against the darkness of thenight. Betty, Betty, --he whispered her name softly beneath his breath, hespoke it aloud in the silence of the turnpike, he even cried it out againstthe mountains, and waited for the echo--Betty, Betty. There was not onlysweetness in the thought of her, there was strength also. The hand that hadheld him back when he would have gone out blindly in his passion was thehand of a woman, not of a girl--of a woman who could face life smilingbecause she felt deep in herself the power to conquer it. Two days ago shehad been but the girl he loved, to-night, with her kisses on his lips, shehad become for him at once a shield and a religion. He looked outward andsaw her influence a light upon his pathway; he turned his gaze within andfound her a part of the sacred forces of his life--of his wistfulchildhood, his boyish purity, and the memory of his mother. 

He had passed Uplands, and now, as he followed the tavern way, he held theflash of his lantern near the ground, and went slowly by the crumblinghollows in the strip of "corduroy" road. There was a thick carpet of moistleaves underfoot, and above the wind played lightly among the overhangingbranches. His lantern made a shining circle in the midst of a surroundingblackness, and where the light fell the scattered autumn leaves sent outgold and scarlet flashes that came and went as quickly as a flame. Once anowl flew across his path, and startled by the lantern, blindly flutteredoff again. Somewhere in the distance he heard the short bark of a fox; thenit died away, and there was no sound except the ceaseless rustle of thetrees. 

By the time he came out of the wood upon the open road, his high spiritshad gone suddenly down, and the visions of an hour ago showed stale andlifeless to his clouded eyes. After a day's ride and a poor dinner, theten-mile walk had left him with aching limbs, and a growing conviction thatdespite his former aspirations, he was fast going to the devil along thetavern road. When at last he swung open the whitewashed gate before theinn, and threw the light of his lantern on the great oaks in the yard, therelief he felt was hardly brighter than despair, and it made very littledifference, he grimly told himself, whether he put up for the night or keptthe road forever. With a clatter he went into the little wooden porch andknocked upon the door. 

He was still knocking when a window was raised suddenly above him, and aman's voice called out, "if he wanted a place for night-hawks to go on tohell. " Then, being evidently a garrulous body, the speaker leanedcomfortably upon the sill, and sent down a string of remarks, which Danpromptly shortened with an oath. 

"Hold your tongue, Jack Hicks, " he cried, angrily, "and come down and openthis door before I break it in. I've walked ten miles to-night and I can'tstand here till morning. How long has it been since you had a guest?"

"There was six of 'em changin' stages this mornin', " drawled Jack, inreply, still hanging from the sill. "I gave 'em a dinner of fried chickenand battercakes, and two of 'em being Yankees hadn't never tasted itbefo'--and a month ago one dropped in to spend the night--"

He broke off hastily, for his wife had joined him at the window, and as Danlooked up with the flash of the lantern in his face, she gave a cry andcalled his name. 

"Put on your clothes and go down, you fool, " she said, "it's Mr. Dan--don'tyou see it's Mr. Dan, and he's as white as yo' nightshirt. Go down, I tellyou, --go down and let him in. " There was a skurrying in the room and on thestaircase, and a moment later the door was flung open and a lamp flashed inthe darkness. 

"Walk in, suh, walk right in, " said Jack Hicks, hospitably, "day or nightyou're welcome--as welcome as the Major himself. " He drew back and stoodwith the lamplight full upon him--a loose, ill-proportioned figure, with aflabby face and pale blue eyes set under swollen lids. 

"I want something to eat, Jack, " returned Dan, as he entered and put downhis lantern, "and a place to sleep--in fact I want anything you have tooffer. "

Then, as Mrs. Hicks appeared upon the stair, he greeted her, despite hisweariness, with something of his old jesting manner. "I am begging asupper, " he remarked affably, as he shook her hand, "and I may as wellconfess, by the way, that I am positively starving. "

The woman beamed upon him, as women always did, and while she led the wayinto the little dining room, and set out the cold meat and bread upon theoil-cloth covering of the table, she asked him eager questions about theMajor and Mrs. Lightfoot, which he aroused himself to parry with a tiredlaugh. She was tall and thin, with a wrinkled brown face, and a row of curlpapers about her forehead. Her faded calico wrapper hung loosely over hernightgown, and he saw her bare feet through the cracks in her worn-outleather slippers. 

"The poor young gentleman is all but dead, " she said at last. "You give himhis supper, Jack, and I'll go right up to fix his room. To think of hiswalkin' ten miles in the pitch blackness--the poor young gentleman. "

She went out, her run down slippers flapping on the stair, and Dan, as heate his ham and bread, listened impatiently to the drawling voice of JackHicks, who discussed the condition of the country while he drew apple ciderfrom a keg into a white china pitcher. As he talked, his fat face shonewith a drowsy good-humour, and his puffed lids winked sleepily over hisexpressionless blue eyes. He moved heavily as if his limbs were forevercoming in the way of his intentions. 

"Yes, suh, I never was one of them folks as ain't satisfied unless they'realways a-fussin', " he remarked, as he placed the pitcher upon the table. "Thar's a sight of them kind in these here parts, but I ain't one of 'em. Lord, Lord, I tell 'em, befo' you git ready to jump out of the fryin' pan, you'd better make mighty sure you ain't fixin' to land yo'self in the fire. That's what I always had agin these here abolitionists as used to comepokin' round here--they ain't never learned to set down an' cross tharhands, an' leave the Lord to mind his own business. Bless my soul, I reckonthey'd have wanted to have a hand in that little fuss of Lucifer's ifthey'd been alive--that's what I tell 'em, suh. An' now thar's all thistalk about the freein' of the niggers--free? What are they goin' to do with'em after they're done set 'em free? Ain't they the sons of Ham? I ask 'em;an' warn't they made to be servants of servants like the Bible says? It's abold man that goes plum agin the Bible, and flies smack into the face ofGod Almighty--it's a bold man, an' he ain't me, suh. What I say is, if theLord can stand it, I reckon the rest of the country--"

He paused to draw breath, and Dan laid down his knife and fork and pushedback his chair. "Before you begin again, Jack, " he said coolly, "will youspare enough wind to carry me upstairs?"

"That's what I tell 'em, " pursued Jack amiably, as he lighted a candle andled the way into the hall. "They used to come down here every once in awhile an' try to draw me out; and one of 'em 'most got a coat of tar an'feathers for meddlin' with my man Lacy; but if the Lord--here we are, herewe are. "

He stopped upon the landing and opened the door of a long room, in whichMrs. Hicks was putting the last touches to the bed. She stopped as Dan camein, and by the pale flicker of a tallow candle stood looking at him fromthe threshold. "If you'll jest knock on the floor when you wake up, I'llknow when to send yo' hot water, " she said, "and if thar's anything elseyou want, you can jest knock agin. "

With a smile he thanked her and promised to remember; and then as she wentout into the hall, he bolted the door, and threw himself into a chairbeside the window. Sleep had quite deserted him, and the dawn was on themountains when at last he lay down and closed his eyes. 

XI

AT MERRY OAKS TAVERN

Upon awaking his first thought was that he had got "into a deucedlyuncomfortable fix, " and when he stretched out his hand from the bedside theneed of fresh clothes appeared less easy to be borne than the more abstractwreck of his career. For the first time he clearly grasped some outline ofhis future--a future in which a change of linen would become a luxury; andit was with smarting eyes and a nervous tightening of the throat that heglanced about the long room, with its whitewashed walls, and told himselfthat he had come early to the end of his ambition. In the ill-regulatedtenor of his thoughts but a hair's breadth divided assurance from despair. Last night the vaguest hope had seemed to be a certainty; to-day his fatacres and the sturdy slaves upon them had vanished like a dream, and thebuilding of his fortunes had become suddenly a very different matter fromthe rearing of airy castles along the road. 

As he lay there, with his strong white hands folded upon the quilt, hiseyes went beyond the little lattice at the window, and rested upon the darkgray chain of mountains over which the white clouds sailed like birds. Somewhere nearer those mountains he knew that Chericoke was standing underthe clouded sky, with the half-bared elms knocking night and day upon thewindows. He could see the open doors, through which the wind blew steadily, and the crooked stair down which his mother had come in her carelessgirlhood. 

It seemed to him, lying there, that in this one hour he had drawn closerinto sympathy with his mother, and when he looked up from his pillow, hehalf expected to see her merry eyes bending over him, and to feel her thinand trembling hand upon his brow. His old worship of her awoke to life, andhe suffered over again the moment in his childhood when he had called herand she had not answered, and they had pushed him from the room and toldhim she was dead. He remembered the clear white of her face, with theviolet shadows in the hollows; and he remembered the baby lying as ifasleep upon her bosom. For a moment he felt that he had never grown oldersince that day--that he was still a child grieving for her loss--while allthe time she was not dead, but stood beside him and smiled down upon hispillow. Poor mother, with the merry eyes and the bitter mouth. 

Then as he looked the face grew younger, though the smile did not change, and he saw that it was Betty, after all--Betty with the tenderness in hereyes and the motherly yearning in her outstretched arms. The two women heloved were forever blended in his thoughts, and he dimly realized thatwhatever the, future made of him, he should be moulded less by events thanby the hands of these two women. Events might subdue, but love alone couldcreate the spirit that gave him life. 

There was a tap at his door, and when he arose and opened it, Mrs. Hickshanded in a pitcher of hot water and inquired "if he had recollected toknock upon the floor?"

He set the water upon the table, and after he had dressed brushedhopelessly, with a trembling hand, at the dust upon his clothes. Then hewent to the window and stood gloomily looking down among the great oaktrees to the strip of yard where a pig was rooting in the acorns. 

A small porch ran across the entrance to the inn, and Jack Hicks wasalready seated on it, with a pipe in his mouth, and his feet upon therailing. His drowsy gaze was turned upon the woodpile hard by, where an oldnegro slave was chopping aimlessly into a new pine log, and a black urchingathering chips into a big split basket. At a little distance the Hopevillestage was drawn out under the trees, the empty shafts lying upon theground, and on the box a red and black rooster stood crowing. Overheadthere was a dull gray sky, and the scene, in all its ugliness, showedstripped of the redeeming grace of lights and shadows. 

Jack Hicks, smoking on his porch, presented a picture of bodily comfort andphilosophic ease of mind. He was owner of some rich acres, and hispossessions, it was said, might have been readily doubled had he chosen tobarter for them the peace of perfect inactivity. To do him justice the ideahad never occurred to him in the light of a temptation, and when aneighbour had once remarked in his hearing that he "reckoned Jack wouldrather lose a dollar than walk a mile to fetch it, " he had answeredblandly, and without embarrassment, that "a mile was a goodish stretch on asandy road. " So he sat and dozed beneath his sturdy oaks, while his wifewent ragged at the heels and his swarm of tow-headed children rolledcontentedly with the pigs among the acorns. 

Dan was still looking moodily down into the yard, when he heard a gentlepressure upon the handle of his door, and as he turned, it opened quicklyand Big Abel, bearing a large white bundle upon his shoulders, staggeredinto the room. 

"Ef'n you'd des let me knowed hit, I could er brung a bigger load, " heremarked sternly. 

While he drew breath Dan stared at him with the blankness of surprise. "Where did you come from, Big Abel?" he questioned at last, speaking in awhisper. 

Big Abel was busily untying the sheet he had brought, and spreading out thecontents upon the bed, and he did not pause as he sullenly answered:--

"Ole Marster's. "

"Who sent you?"

Big Abel snorted. "Who gwine sen' me?" he demanded in his turn. 

"Well, I declare, " said Dan, and after a moment, "how did you get away, man?"

"Lawd, Lawd, " returned Big Abel, "I wa'n' bo'n yestiddy nur de day befo'. Terreckly I seed you a-cuttin' up de drive, I knowed dar wuz mo' den wuz inde tail er de eye, en w'en you des lit right out agin en bang de do' behintyou fitten ter bus' hit, den I begin ter steddy 'bout de close in de bigwa'drobe. I got out one er ole Miss's sheets w'en she wa'n' lookin, en Itie up all de summer close de bes' I kin--caze dat ar do' bang hit ain'soun' like you gwine be back fo' de summer right plum hyer. I'se done heaha do' bang befo' now, en dars mo' in it den des de shettin' ter stay shet. "

"So you ran away?" said Dan, with a long whistle. 

"Ain't you done run away?"

"I--oh, I was turned out, " answered the young man, with his eyes on thenegro. "But--bless my soul, Big Abel, why did you do it?"

Big Abel muttered something beneath his breath, and went on laying out thethings. 

"How you gwine git dese yer close ef I ain' tote 'em 'long de road?" heasked presently. "How you gwine git dis yer close bresh ef I ain' brung hitter you? Whar de close you got? Whar de close bresh?"

"You're a fool, Big Abel, " retorted Dan. "Go back where you belong anddon't hang about me any more. I'm a beggar, I tell you, and I'm likely tobe a beggar at the judgment day. "

"Whar de close bresh?" repeated Big Abel, scornfully. 

"What would Saphiry say, I'd like to know?" went on Dan. "It isn't fair toSaphiry to run off this way. "

"Don' you bodder 'bout Saphiry, " responded Big Abel. "I'se done loss mytase fur Saphiry, young Marster. "

"I tell you you're a fool, " snapped out Dan, sharply. 

"De Lawd he knows, " piously rejoined Big Abel, and he added: "Dar ain' nouse a-rumpasin' case hyer I is en hyer I'se gwine ter stay. Whar you run, dar I'se gwine ter run right atter, so 'tain' no use a-rumpasin'. Hit's apity dese yer ain' nuttin' but summer close. "

Dan looked at him a moment in silence, then he put out his hand and slappedhim upon the shoulder. 

"You're a fool--God bless you, " he said. 

"Go 'way f'om yer, young Marster, " responded the negro, in a highgood-humour. "Dar's a speck er dut right on yo' shut. "

"Then give me another, " cried Dan, gayly, and threw off his coat. 

When he went down stairs, carefully brushed, a half-hour afterward, theworld had grown suddenly to wear a more cheerful aspect. He greeted Mrs. Hicks with his careless good-humour, and spoke pleasantly to the dirtywhite-haired children that streamed through the dining room. 

"Yes, I'll take my breakfast now, if you please, " he said as he sat down atone end of the long, oilcloth-covered table. Mrs. Hicks brought him hiscoffee and cakes, and then stood, with her hands upon a chair back, andwatched him with a frank delight in his well-dressed comely figure. 

"You do favour the Major, Mr. Dan, " she suddenly remarked. 

He started impatiently. "Oh, the Lightfoots are all alike, you know, " heresponded. "We are fond of saying that a strain of Lightfoot blood is goodfor two centuries of intermixing. " Then, as he looked up at her fadedwrapper and twisted curl papers, he flinched and turned away as if herugliness afflicted his eyes. "Do not let me keep you, " he added hastily. 

But the woman stooped to shake a child that was tugging at her dress, andtalked on in her drawling voice, while a greedy interest gave life to herworn and sallow face. "How long do you think of stayin'?" she askedcuriously, "and do you often take a notion to walk so fur in the dead ofnight? Why, I declar, when I looked out an' saw you I couldn't believe myeyes. That's not Mr. Dan, I said, you won't catch Mr. Dan out in the pitchdarkness with a lantern and ten miles from home. "

"I really do not want to keep you, " he broke in shortly, all thegood-humour gone from his voice. 

"Thar ain't nothin' to do right now, " she answered with a searching lookinto his face. "I was jest waitin' to bring you some mo' cakes. " She wentout and came in presently with a fresh plateful. "I remember jest as wellthe first time you ever took breakfast here, " she said. "You wa'n't more'ntwelve, I don't reckon, an' the Major brought you by in the coach, with BigAbel driving. The Major didn't like the molasses we gave him, and he pushedthe pitcher away and said it wasn't fit for pigs; and then you looked aboutreal peart and spoke up, 'It's good molasses, grandpa, I like it. ' Sakesalive, it seems jest like yestiddy. I don't reckon the Major is comin' byto-day, is he?"

He pushed his plate away and rose hurriedly, then, without replying, hebrushed past her, and went out upon the porch. 

There he found Jack Hicks, and forced himself squarely into a discussion ofhis altered fortunes. "I may as well tell you, Jack, " he said, with a touchof arrogance, "that I'm turned out upon the world, at last, and I've got tomake a living. I've left Chericoke for good, and as I've got to stay hereuntil I find a place to go, there's no use making a secret of it. "

The pipe dropped from Jack's mouth, and he stared back in astonishment. 

"Bless my soul and body!" he exclaimed. "Is the old gentleman crazy or isyou?"

"You forget yourself, " sharply retorted Dan. 

"Well, well, " pursued Jack, good-naturedly, as he knocked the ashes fromhis pipe and slowly refilled it. "If you hadn't have told me, I wouldn'thave believed you--well, well. " He put his pipe into his mouth and hung onit for a moment; then he took it out and spoke thoughtfully. "I reckon I'veknown you from a child, haven't I, Mr. Dan?" he asked. 

"That's so, Jack, " responded the young man, "and if you can recommend me, Iwant you to help me to a job for a week or two--then I'm off to town. "

"I've known you from a child year in an' year out, " went on Jack, blandlydisregarding the interruption. "From the time you was sech apleasant-spoken little boy that it did me good to bow to you when you rodeby with the Major. 'Thar's not another like him in the country, ' I said toBill Bates, an' he said to me, 'Thar's not a man between here an'Leicesterburg as ain't ready to say the same. ' Then time went on an' yougot bigger, an' the year came when the crops failed an' Sairy got sick, an'I took a mortgage on this here house--an' what should happen but that youstepped right up an' paid it out of yo' own pocket. And you kept it fromthe Major. Lord, Lord, to think the Major never knew which way the moneywent. "

"We won't speak of that, " said Dan, throwing back his head. The thoughtthat the innkeeper might be going to offer him the money stung him intoanger. 

But Jack knew his man, and he would as soon have thought of throwing ahandful of dust into his face. "Jest as you like, suh, jest as you like, "he returned easily, and went on smoking. 

Dan sat down in a chair upon the porch, and taking out his knife began idlywhittling at the end of a stick. A small boy, in blue jean breeches, watched him eagerly from the steps, and he spoke to him pleasantly while hecut into the wood. 

"Did you ever see a horse's head on a cane, sonny?"

The child sucked his dirty thumb and edged nearer. 

"Naw, suh, but I've seen a dawg's, " he answered, drawing out his thumb likea stopper and sticking it in again. 

"Well, you watch this and you'll see a horse's. There, now don't take youreyes away. "

He whittled silently for a time, then as he looked up his glance fell onthe stagecoach in the yard, and he turned from it to Jack Hicks. 

"There's one thing on earth I know about, Jack, " he said, "and that's ahorse. "

"Not a better jedge in the county, suh, " was Jack's response. 

As Dan whittled a flush rose to his face. "Does Tom Hyden still drive theHopeville stage?" he asked. 

"Well, you see it's this way, " answered Jack, weighing his words. "Tom he'sa first-rate hand at horses, but he drinks like a fish, and last week hemarried a wife who owns a house an' farm up the road. So long as he had toearn his own livin' he kept sober long enough to run the stage, but sincehe's gone and married, he says thar's no call fur him to keep a levelhead--so he don't keep it. Yes, that's about how 'tis, suh. "

Dan finished the stick and handed it to the child. "I tell you what, Jack, "he said suddenly, "I want Tom Hyden's place, and I'm going to drive thatstage over to Hopeville this afternoon. Phil Banks runs it, doesn'the?--well, I know him. " He rose and stood humorously looking out upon thecoach. "There's no time like the present, " he added, "so I begin workto-day. "

Jack Hicks silently stared up at him for a moment; then he coughed andexclaimed hoarsely:--

"The jedgment ain't fur off, " but Dan laughed the prophecy aside and wentupstairs to write to Betty. 

"I've got a job, Big Abel, " he began, going into his room, where the negrowas pressing a pair of trousers with a flatiron, "and what's more it willkeep me till I get another. "

Big Abel gloomily shook his head. "We all 'ud des better go 'long home terOle Miss, " he returned, for he was in no mood for compromises. "Caze I ain'use ter de po' w'ite trash en dey ain' use ter me. "

"Go if you want to, " retorted Dan, sternly, "but you go alone, " and thenegro, protesting under his breath, laid the clothes away and went down tohis breakfast. 

Dan sat down by the window and wrote a letter to Betty which he never sent. When he thought of her now it was as if half the world instead of ten mileslay between them; and quickly as he would have resented the hint of it fromJack Hicks, to himself he admitted that he was fast sinking where Bettycould not follow him. What would the end be? he asked, and disheartenedby the question, tore the paper into bits and walked moodily up and downthe room. He had lived so blithely until to-day! His lines had fallen sosmoothly in the pleasant places! Not without a grim humour he rememberednow that last year his grievance had been that his tailor failed to fithim. Last year he had walked the floor in a rage because of a wrinkledcoat, and to-day-- His road had gone rough so suddenly that he stumbledlike a blind man when he tried to go over it in his old buoyant manner. 

An hour later he was still pacing restlessly to and fro, when the doorsoftly opened and Mrs. Hicks looked in upon him with a deprecating smile. As she lingered on the threshold, he stopped in the middle of the room andthrew her a sharp glance over his shoulder. 

"Is there anything you wish?" he questioned irritably. 

Shaking her head, she came slowly toward him and stood in her soiledwrapper and curl papers, where the gray light from the latticed window fellfull upon her. 

"It ain't nothin', " she answered hurriedly. "Nothin' except Jack's beentellin' me you're in trouble, Mr. Dan. "

"Then he has been telling you something that concerns nobody but myself, "he replied coolly, and continued his walking. 

There was a nervous flutter of her wrapper, and she passed her knotted handover her face. 

"You are like yo' mother, Mr. Dan, " she said with an unexpectedness thatbrought him to a halt. "An' I was the last one to see her the night shewent away. She came in here, po' thing, all shiverin' with the cold, an'she wouldn't set down but kep' walkin' up an' down, up an' down, jest likeyou've been doin' fur this last hour. Po' thing! Po' thing! I tried to makeher take a sip of brandy, but she laughed an' said she was quite warm, withher teeth chatterin' fit to break--"

"You are very good, Mrs. Hicks, " interrupted Dan, in an affected drawlwhich steadied his voice, "but do you know, I'd really rather that youwouldn't. "

Her sallow face twitched and she looked wistfully up at him. 

"It isn't that, Mr. Dan, " she went on slowly, "but I've had trouble myself, God knows, and when I think of that po' proud young lady, an' the way shewent, I can't help sayin' what I feel--it won't stay back. So if you'lljest keep on here, an' give up the stage drivin' an' wait twil the oldgentleman comes round--Jack an' I'll do our best fur you--we'll do ourbest, even if it ain't much. "

Her lips quivered, and as he watched her it seemed to him that a newmeaning passed into her face--something that made her look like Betty andhis mother--that made all good women who had loved him look alike. For themoment he forgot her ugliness, and with the beginning of that keenerinsight into life which would come to him as he touched with humanity, hesaw only the dignity with which suffering had endowed this plain and simplewoman. The furrows upon her cheeks were no longer mere disfigurements; theyraised her from the ordinary level of the ignorant and the ugly into somebond of sympathy with his dead mother. 

"My dear Mrs. Hicks, " he stammered, abashed and reddening. "Why, I shalltake a positive pleasure in driving the stage, I assure you. "

He crossed to the mirror and carefully brushed a stray lock of hair intoplace; then he took up his hat and gloves and turned toward the door. "Ithink it is waiting for me now, " he added lightly; "a pleasant evening toyou. "

But she stood straight before him and as he met her eyes his affectedjauntiness dropped from him. With a boyish awkwardness he took her hand andheld it for an instant as he looked at her. "My dear madam, you are a goodwoman, " he said, and went whistling down to take the stage. 

Upon the porch he found Jack Hicks seated between a stout gentleman and athin lady, who were to be the passengers to Hopeville; and as Dan appearedthe innkeeper started to his feet and swung open the door of the coach forthe thin lady to pass inside. "You'll find it a pleasant ride, mum, " heheartily assured her. "I've often taken it myself an', rain or shine, thar's not a prettier road in all Virginny, " then he moved humbly back asDan, carelessly drawing on his gloves, came down the steps. "I hope wehaven't hurried you, suh, " he stammered. 

"Not a bit--not a bit, " returned Dan, affably, slipping on his overcoat, which Big Abel had run up to hold for him. 

"You gwine git right soakin' wet, Marse Dan, " said Big Abel, anxiously. 

"Oh, I'll not melt, " responded Dan, and bowing to the thin lady he steppedupon the wheel and mounted lightly to the box. 

"There's no end to this eternal drizzle, " he called down, as he tucked thewaterproof robe about him and took up the reins. 

Then, with a merry crack of the whip, the stage rolled through the gate andon its way. 

As it turned into the road, a man on horseback came galloping from thedirection of the town, and when he neared the tavern he stood up in hisstirrups and shouted his piece of news. 

"Thar was a raid on Harper's Ferry in the night, " he yelled hoarsely. "Thearsenal has fallen, an' they're armin' the damned niggers. "

XII

THE NIGHT OF FEAR

Late in the afternoon, as the Governor neared the tavern, he was met by amessenger with the news; and at once turning his horse's head, he startedback to Uplands. A dim fear, which had been with him since boyhood, seemedto take shape and meaning with the words; and in a lightning flash ofunderstanding he knew that he had lived before through the horror of thismoment. If his fathers had sinned, surely the shadow of their wrong hadpassed them by to fall the heavier upon their sons; for even as his bloodrang in his ears, he saw a savage justice in the thing he feared--arecompense to natural laws in which the innocent should weigh as naughtagainst the guilty. 

A fine rain was falling; and as he went on, the end of a drizzlingafternoon dwindled rapidly into night. Across the meadows he saw the lampsin scattered cottages twinkle brightly through the dusk which rolled likefog down from the mountains. The road he followed sagged between two grayhills into a narrow valley, and regaining its balance upon the fartherside, stretched over a cattle pasture into the thick cover of the woods. 

As he reached the summit of the first hill, he saw the Major's coachcreeping slowly up the incline, and heard the old gentleman scoldingthrough the window at Congo on the box. 

"My dear Major, home's the place for you, " he said as he drew rein. "Is itpossible that the news hasn't reached you yet?"

Remembering Congo, he spoke cautiously, but the Major, in his anger, tosseddiscretion to the winds. 

"Reached me?--bless my soul!--do you take me for a ground hog?" he cried, thrusting his red face through the window. "I met Tom Bickels four milesback, and the horses haven't drawn breath since. But it's what I expectedall along--I was just telling Congo so--it all comes from the mistakentolerance of black Republicans. Let me open my doors to them to-day, andthey'll be tempting Congo to murder me in my bed to-morrow. "

"Go 'way f'om yer, Ole Marster, " protested Congo from the box, flicking atthe harness with his long whip. 

The Governor looked a little anxiously at the negro, and then shook hishead impatiently. Though a less exacting master than the Major, he had notthe same childlike trust in the slaves he owned. 

"Shall you not turn back?" he asked, surprised. 

"Champe's there, " responded the Major, "so I came on for the particulars. Anight in town isn't to my liking, but I can't sleep a wink until I hear athing or two. You're going out, eh?"

"I'm riding home, " said the Governor, "it makes me uneasy to be away fromUplands. " He paused, hesitated an instant, and then broke out suddenly. "Good God, Major, what does it mean?"

The Major shook his head until his long white hair fell across his eyes. 

"Mean, sir?" he thundered in a rage. "It means, I reckon, that those damnedfriends of yours have a mind to murder you. It means that after all yourspeech-making and your brotherly love, they're putting pitchforks into thehands of savages and loosening them upon you. Oh, you needn't mind Congo, Governor. Congo's heart's as white as mine. "

"Dat's so, Ole Marster, " put in Congo, approvingly. 

The Governor was trembling as he leaned down from his saddle. 

"We know nothing as yet, sir, " he began, "there must be some--"

"Oh, go on, go on, " cried the Major, striking the carriage window. "Keep upyour speech-making and your handshaking until your wife gets murdered inher bed--but, by God, sir, if Virginia doesn't secede after this, I'llsecede without her!"

The coach moved on and the Governor, touching his horse with the whip, roderapidly down the hill. 

As he descended into the valley, a thick mist rolled over him and the roadlost itself in the blur of the surrounding fields. Without slackening hispace, he lighted the lantern at his saddle-bow and turned up the collar ofhis coat about his ears. The fine rain was soaking through his clothes, butin the tension of his nerves he was oblivious of the weather. The sun mighthave risen overhead and he would not have known it. 

With the coming down of the darkness a slow fear crept, like a physicalchill, from head to foot. A visible danger he felt that he might meet faceto face and conquer; but how could he stand against an enemy that creptupon him unawares?--against the large uncertainty, the utter ignorance ofthe depth or meaning of the outbreak, the knowledge of a hidden evil whichmight be even now brooding at his fireside?

A thousand hideous possibilities came toward him from out the stretch ofthe wood. The light of a distant window, seen through the thinned edge ofthe forest; the rustle of a small animal in the underbrush; the drop of awalnut on the wet leaves in the road; the very odours which rose from themoist earth and dripped from the leafless branches--all sent him faster onhis way, with a sound within his ears that was like the drumming of hisheart. 

To quiet his nerves, he sought to bring before him a picture of the houseat Uplands, of the calm white pillars and the lamplight shining from thedoor; but even as he looked the vision of a slave-war rushed between, andthe old buried horrors of the Southampton uprising sprang suddenly to lifeand thronged about the image of his home. Yesterday those tales had beenfor him as colourless as history, as dry as dates; to-night, with this newfear at his heart, the past became as vivid as the present, and it seemedto him that beyond each lantern flash he saw a murdered woman, or an infantwith its brains dashed out at its mother's breast. This was what he feared, for this was what the message meant to him: "The slaves are armed andrising. "

And yet with it all, he felt that there was some wild justice in the thinghe dreaded, in the revolt of an enslaved and ignorant people, in thepitiable and ineffectual struggle for a freedom which would mean, in thebeginning, but the power to go forth and kill. It was the recognition ofthis deeper pathos that made him hesitate to reproach even while histhoughts dwelt on the evils--that would, if the need came, send himfearless and gentle to the fight. For what he saw was that behind the newwrongs were the old ones, and that the sinners of to-day were, perhaps, thesinned against of yesterday. 

When at last he came out into the turnpike, he had not the courage to lookamong the trees for the lights of Uplands; and for a while he rode with hiseyes following the lantern flash as it ran onward over the wet ground. Thesmall yellow circle held his gaze, and as if fascinated he watched itmoving along the road, now shining on the silver grains in a ring ofsand, now glancing back from the standing water in a wheelrut, and nowilluminating a mossy stone or a weed upon the roadside. It was the onebright thing in a universe of blackness, until, as he came suddenly upon anelevation, the trees parted and he saw the windows of his home glowing uponthe night. As he looked a great peace fell over him, and he rode on, thanking God. 

When he turned into the drive, his past anxiety appeared to him to beridiculous, and as he glanced from the clear lights in the great house tothe chain of lesser ones that stretched along the quarters, he laughedaloud in the first exhilaration of his relief. This at least was safe, Godkeep the others. 

At his first call as he alighted before the portico, Hosea came running forhis horse, and when he entered the house, the cheerful face of UncleShadrach looked out from the dining room. 

"Hi! Marse Peyton, I 'lowed you wuz gwine ter spen' de night. "

"Oh, I had to get back, Shadrach, " replied the Governor. "No, I won't takeany supper--you needn't bring it--but give me a glass of Burgundy, and thengo to bed. Where is your mistress, by the way? Has she gone to her room?"

Uncle Shadrach brought the bottle of Burgundy from the cellaret and placedit upon the table. 

"Naw, suh, Miss July she set out ter de quarters ter see atter Mahaley, " hereturned. "Mahaley she's moughty bad off, but 'tain' no night fur MissJuly--dat's w'at I tell 'er--one er dese yer spittin' nights ain' no nightter be out in. "

"You're right, Shadrach, you're right, " responded the Governor; and risinghe drank the wine standing. "It isn't a fit night for her to be out, andI'll go after her at once. "

He took up his lantern, and as the old negro opened the doors before him, went out upon the back porch and down the steps. 

From the steps a narrow path ran by the kitchen, and skirting thegarden-wall, straggled through the orchard and past the house of theoverseer to the big barn and the cabins in the quarters. There was a lightfrom the barn door, and as he passed he heard the sound of fiddles and theshuffling steps of the field hands in a noisy "game. " The words they sangfloated out into the night, and with the squeaking of the fiddles followedhim along his path. 

When he reached the quarters, he went from door to door, asking for hiswife. "Is this Mahaley's cabin?" he anxiously inquired, "and has yourmistress gone by?"

In the first room an old negro woman sat on the hearth wrapping the hair ofher grandchild, and she rose with a courtesy and a smile of welcome. At thequestion her face fell and she shook her head. 

"Dis yer ain' Mahaley, Marster, " she replied. "En dis yer ain' Mahaley'scabin--caze Mahaley she ain' never set foot inside my do', en I ain' gwineset foot at her buryin'. " She spoke shrilly, moved by a hidden spite, butthe Governor, without stopping, went on along the line of open doors. Inone a field negro was roasting chestnuts in the embers of a log fire, andwhile waiting he had fallen asleep, with his head on his breast and hisgnarled hands hanging between his knees. The firelight ran over him, and ashe slept he stirred and muttered something in his dreams. 

After the first glance, his master passed him by and moved on to theadjoining cabin. "Does Mahaley live here?" he asked again and yet again, until, suddenly, he had no need to put the question for from the last roomhe heard a low voice praying, and upon looking in saw his wife kneelingwith her open Bible near the bedside. 

With his hat in his hand, he stood within the shadow of the doorway andwaited for the earnest voice to fall silent. Mahaley was dying, this hesaw when his glance wandered to the shrunken figure beneath the patchworkquilt; and at the same instant he realized how small a part was his inMahaley's life or death. He should hardly have known her had he met herlast week in the corn field; and it was by chance only that he knew her nowwhen she came to die. 

As he stood there the burden of his responsibility weighed upon him likeold age. Here in this scant cabin things so serious as birth and deathshowed in a pathetic bareness, stripped of all ceremonial trappings, asmere events in the orderly working out of natural laws--events asseasonable as the springing up and the cutting down of the corn. In thesesimple lives, so closely lived to the ground, grave things were sweetenedby an unconscious humour which was of the soil itself; and even death lostsomething of its strangeness when it came like the grateful shadow whichfalls over a tired worker in the field. 

Mrs. Ambler finished her prayer and rose from her knees; and as she did sotwo slave women, crouching in a corner by the fire, broke into loudmoaning, which filled the little room with an animal and inarticulate soundof grief. 

"Come away, Julia, " implored the Governor in a whisper, resisting animpulse to close his ears against the cry. 

But his wife shook her head and spoke for a moment with the sick womanbefore she wrapped her shawl about her and came out into the open air. Thenshe gave a sigh of relief, and, with her hand through her husband's arm, followed the path across the orchard. 

"So you came home, after all, " she said. For a moment he made no response;then, glancing about him in the darkness, he spoke in a low voice, as iffearing the sound of his own words. 

"Bad news brought me home, Julia, " he replied, "At the tavern they told mea message had come to Leicesterburg from Harper's Ferry. An attack was madeon the arsenal at midnight, and, it may be but a rumour, my dear, it wasfeared that the slaves for miles around were armed for an uprising. "

His voice faltered, and he put out his hand to steady her, but she lookedup at him and he saw her clear eyes shining in the gloom. 

"Oh, poor creatures, " she murmured beneath her breath. 

"Julia, Julia, " he said softly, and lifted the lantern that he might lookinto her face. As the light fell on her he knew that she was as much amystery to him now as she had been twenty years ago on her wedding-day. 

When they went into the house, he followed Uncle Shadrach about andcarefully barred the windows, shooting bolts which were rusted from disuse. After the old negro had gone out he examined the locks again; and thengoing into the hall took down a bird gun and an army pistol from theirplaces on the rack. These he loaded and laid near at hand beside the booksupon his table. 

There was no sleep for him that night, and until dawn he sat, watchful, inhis chair, or moved softly from window to window, looking for a torch uponthe road and listening for the sound of approaching steps. 

XIII

CRABBED AGE AND CALLOW YOUTH

With the morning came trustier tidings. The slaves had taken no part in theattack, the weapons had dropped from the few dark hands into which they hadbeen given, and while the shots that might bring them freedom yet rang atHarper's Ferry, the negroes themselves went with cheerful faces to theirwork, or looked up, singing, from their labours in the field. In the greenvalley, set amid blue mountains, they moved quietly back and forth, rakingthe wind-drifts of fallen leaves, or ploughing the rich earth for theautumn sowing of the grain. 

As the Governor was sitting down to breakfast, the Lightfoot coach rolledup to the portico, and the Major stepped down to deliver himself of hisgarnered news. He was in no pleasant humour, for he had met Dan face toface that morning as he passed the tavern, and as if this were notsufficient to try the patience of an irascible old gentleman, a spasm ofgout had seized him as he made ready to descend. 

But at the sight of Mrs. Ambler, he trod valiantly upon his gouty toe, andscrewed his features into his blandest smile--an effort which drew soheavily upon the source of his good-nature, that he arrived at Chericoke anhour later in what was known to Betty as "a purple rage. "

"You know I have always warned you, Molly, " was his first offensive thrustas he entered Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber, "that your taste for trash would bethe ruin of the family. It has ruined your daughter, and now it is ruiningyour grandson. Well, well, you can't say that it is for lack of warning. "

From the centre of her tester bed, the old lady calmly regarded him. "Itold you to bring back the boy, Mr. Lightfoot, " she returned. "You surelysaw him in town, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, I saw him, " replied the Major, loosening his high black stock. "But where do you suppose I saw him, ma'am? and how? Why, the youngscapegrace has actually gone and hired himself out as a stagedriver--acommon stagedriver. And, bless my soul, he had the audacity to tip his hatto me from the box--from the box with the reins in his hand, ma'am!"

"What stage, Mr. Lightfoot?" inquired his wife, with an eye forparticulars. 

"Oh, I wash my hands of him, " pursued the Major, waving her question aside. "I wash my hands of him, and that's the end of it. In my day, the youngwere supposed to show some respect for their elders, and every calf wasn'tof the opinion that he could bellow like a bull--but things are changednow, and I wash my hands of it all. A more ungrateful family, I am willingto maintain, no man was ever blessed with--which comes, I reckon, fromsparing the rod and spoiling the child--but I'm sure I don't see how it isthat it is always your temper that gets inherited. "

The personal note fell unheeded upon his wife's ears. 

"You don't mean to tell me that you came away and left the boy sitting onthe box of a stagecoach?" she demanded sharply. 

"Would you have me claim a stagedriver as a grandson?" retorted the Major, "because I may as well say now, ma'am, that there are some things I'll notstoop to. Why, I'd as lief have an uncle who was a chimney sweep. "

Mrs. Lightfoot turned uneasily in bed. "It means, I suppose, that I shallhave to get up and go after him, " she remarked, "and you yourself heard thedoctor tell me not to move out of bed for a week. It does seem to me, Mr. Lightfoot, that you might show some consideration for my state of health. Do ride in this afternoon, and tell Dan that I say he must behave himselfproperly. "

But the Major turned upon her the terrific countenance she had last seen onJane's wedding day, and she fell silent from sheer inability to utter aprotest befitting the occasion. 

"If that stagedriver enters my house, I leave it, ma'am, " thundered the oldgentleman, with a stamp of his gouty foot. "You may choose between us, ifyou like, --I have never interfered with your fancies--but, by God, if youbring him inside my doors I--I will horsewhip him, madam, " and he wentlimping out into the hall. 

On the stair he met Betty, who looked at him with pleading eyes, but fled, affrighted, before the colour of his wrath; and in his library he foundChampe reading his favourite volume of Mr. Addison. 

"I hope you aren't scratching up my books, sir, " he observed, eying thepencil in his great-nephew's hand. 

Champe looked at him with his cool glance, and rose leisurely to his feet. "Why, I'd as soon think of scrawling over Aunt Emmeline's window pane, " hereturned pleasantly, and added, "I hope you had a successful trip, sir. "

"I got a lukewarm supper and a cold breakfast, " replied the Majorirritably, "and I heard that the Marines had those Kansas raiders entrappedlike rats in the arsenal, if that is what you mean. "

"No, I wasn't thinking of that, " replied Champe, as quietly as before. "Icame home to find out about Dan, you know, and I hoped you went into townto look him up. "

"Well, I didn't, sir, " declared the Major, "and as for that scamp--I haveas much knowledge of his whereabouts as I care for. --Do you know, sir, " hebroke out fiercely, "that he has taken to driving a common stage?"

Champe was sharpening his pencil, and he did not look up as he answered. "Then the sooner he leaves off the better, eh, sir?" he inquired. 

"Oh, there's your everlasting wrangling!" exclaimed the Major with ahopeless gesture. "You catch it from Molly, I reckon, and between you, you'll drive me into dotage yet. Always arguing! Never any peace. Why, Ibelieve if I were to take it into my head to remark that white is white, you would both be setting out to convince me that it is black. I tell younow, sir, that the sooner you curb that tendency of yours, the better itwill be. "

"Aren't we rather straying from the point?" interposed Champe half angrily. 

"There it is again, " gasped the Major. 

The knife slipped in Champe's hand and scratched his finger. "Surely youdon't intend to leave Dan to knock about for himself much longer?" he saidcoolly. "If you do, sir, I don't mind saying that I think it is a damnshame. "

"How dare you use such language in my presence?" roared the old gentleman, growing purple to the neck. "Have you, also, been fighting for barmaids andtaking up with gaol-birds? It is what I have to expect, I suppose, and Imay as well accustom my ears to profanity; but damn you, sir, you mustlearn some decency;" and going into the hall he shouted to Congo to bringhim a julep. 

Champe said nothing more; and when the julep appeared on a silver tray, heleft the room and went upstairs to where Betty was waiting. "He's awful, there's no use mincing words, he's simply awful, " he remarked in anexhausted voice. 

"But what does he say? tell me, " questioned Betty, as she moved to a littlepeaked window which overlooked the lawn. 

"What doesn't he say?" groaned Champe with his eyes upon her as she stoodrelieved against the greenish panes of glass. 

"Do you think I might speak to him?" she persisted eagerly. 

"My dear girl, do you want to have your head bitten off for your pains? Histemper is positively tremendous. By Jove, I didn't know he had it in himafter all these years; I thought he had worn it out on dear Aunt Molly. AndBeau, by the way, isn't going to be the only one to suffer for his daring, which makes me wish that he had chosen to embrace the saintly instead ofthe heroic virtues. I confess that I could find it in my heart to preferless of David and more of Job. "

"How can you?" remonstrated Betty. She pressed her hands together andlooked wistfully up at him. "But what are you going to do about it?" shedemanded. 

For a moment his eyes dwelt on her. 

"Betty, Betty, how you care!" he exclaimed. 

"Care?" she laughed impatiently. "Oh, I care, but what good does that do?"

"Would you care as much for me, I wonder?" She smiled up at him and shookher head. 

"No, I shouldn't, Champe, " she answered honestly. 

He turned his gaze away from her, and looked through the dim old windowpanes out upon the clustered elm boughs. 

"Well, I'll do this much, " he said in a cheerful voice. "I'll ride to thetavern this morning and find out how the land lies there. I'll see Beau, and I'll do my best for him, and for you, Betty. " She put out her hand andtouched his arm. "Dear Champe!" she exclaimed impulsively. 

"Oh, I dare say, " he scoffed, "but is there any message?"

"Tell him to come back, " she answered, "to come back now, or when he will. "

"Or when he will, " he repeated smiling, and went down to order his horse. 

At the tavern he found Jack Hicks and a neighbouring farmer or two, seatedupon the porch discussing the raid upon Harper's Ferry. They would havedrawn him into the talk, but he asked at once for Dan, and upon learningthe room in which he lodged, ran up the narrow stair and rapped upon thedoor. Then, without waiting for a response, he burst into the room withoutstretched hand. "Why, they've put you into a tenpin alley, " were hiswords of greeting. 

With a laugh Dan sprang up from his chair beside the window. "What on earthare you doing here, old man?" he asked. 

"Well, just at present I'm trying to pull you out of the hole you'vestumbled into. I say, in the name of all that's rational, why did you allowyourself to get into such a scrape?"

Dan sat down again and motioned to a split-bottomed chair he had used for afootstool. 

"There's no use going into that, " he replied frowning, "I raised the rowand I'm ready to bear the consequences. "

"Ah, that's the point, my dear fellow; Aunt Molly and I have been bearingthem all the morning. "

"Of course, I'm sorry for that, but I may as well tell you now that thingsare settled so far as I am concerned. I've been kicked out and I wouldn'tgo back again if they came for me in a golden chariot. "

"I hardly think that's likely to happen, " was Champe's cheerful rejoinder. "The old gentleman has had his temper touched, as, I dare say, you'reaware, and, as ill-luck would have it, he saw you on the stagecoach thismorning. My dear Beau, you ought to have crawled under the box. "

"Nonsense!" protested Dan, "it's no concern of his. " He turned his flushedboyish face angrily away. 

Champe looked at him steadily with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hopeyour independence will come buttered, " he remarked. "I doubt if you willfind the taste of dry bread to your liking. By the way, do you intend toenter Jack Hicks's household?"

"For a fortnight, perhaps. I've written to Judge Compton, and if he'll takeme into his office, I shall study law. "

Champe gave a long whistle. "I should have supposed that your taste wouldbe for tailoring, " he observed, "your genius for the fashions is immense. "

"I hope to cultivate that also, " said Dan, smiling, as he glanced at hiscoat. 

"What? on bread and cheese and Blackstone?"

"Oh, Blackstone! I never heard he wasn't a well-dressed old chap. "

"At least you'll take half my allowance?"

Dan shook his head. "Not a cent--not a copper cent. "

"But how will you live, man?"

"Oh, somehow, " he laughed carelessly. "I'll live somehow. "

"It's rather a shame, you know, " responded Champe, "but there's one thingof which I am very sure--the old gentleman will come round. We'll make himdo it, Aunt Molly and I--and Betty. "

Dan started. 

"Betty sent you a message, by the way, " pursued Champe, looking through thewindow. "It was something about coming home; she says you are to come homenow--or when you will. " He rose and took up his hat and riding-whip. 

"Or when I will, " said Dan, rising also. "Tell her--no, don't tell heranything--what's the use?"

"She doesn't need telling, " responded Champe, going toward the door; and headded as they went together down the stair, "She always understands withoutwords, somehow. "

Dan followed him into the yard, and watched him, from under the oaks besidethe empty stagecoach, as he mounted and rode away. 

"For heaven's sake, remember my warning, " said Champe, turning in thesaddle, "and don't insist upon eating dry bread if you're offered butter. "

"And you will look after Aunt Molly and Betty?" Dan rejoined. 

"Oh, I'll look after them, " replied the other lightly, and rode off at anamble. 

Dan looked after the horse and rider until they passed slowly out of sight;then, coming back to the porch, he sat down among the farmers, andlistened, abstractedly, to the drawling voice of Jack Hicks. 

When Champe reached Chericoke, he saw Betty looking for him from AuntEmmeline's window seat; and as he dismounted, she ran out and joined himupon the steps. 

"And you saw him?" she asked breathlessly. 

"It was pleasant to think that you came to meet me for my own sake, " hereturned; and at her impatient gesture, caught her hand and looked into hereyes. 

"I saw him, my dear, " he said, "and he was in a temper that would haveproved his descent had he been lost in infancy. "

She eagerly questioned him, and he answered with forbearing amusement. "Isthat all?" she asked at last, and when he nodded, smiling, she went up toMrs. Lightfoot's bedside and besought her "to make the Major listen toreason. "

"He never listened to it in his life, my child, " the old lady replied, "andI think it is hardly to be expected of him that he should begin at hispresent age. " Then she gathered, bit by bit, the news that Champe hadbrought, and ended by remarking that "the ways of men and boys were pastfinding out. "

"Do you think the Major will ever forgive him?" asked Betty, hopelessly. 

"He never forgave poor Jane, " answered Mrs. Lightfoot, her voice breakingat the mention of her daughter. "But whether he forgives him or not, thesilly boy must be made to come home; and as soon as I am out of this bed, I must get into the coach and drive to that God-forsaken tavern. After tenyears, nothing will content them, I suppose, but that I should jolt mybones to pieces. "

Betty looked at her anxiously. "When will you be up?" she inquired, flushing, as the old lady's sharp eyes pierced her through. 

"I really think, my dear, that you are less sensible than I took you tobe, " returned Mrs. Lightfoot. "It was very foolish of you to allow yourselfto take a fancy to Dan. You should have insisted upon preferring Champe, as I cautioned you to do. In entering into marriage it is always well toconsider first, family connections and secondly, personal disposition; andin both of these particulars there is no fault to be found with Champe. Hismother was a Randolph, my child, which is greatly to his credit. As forDan, I fear he will make anything but a safe husband. "

"Safe!" exclaimed Betty indignantly, "did you marry the Major because hewas 'safe, ' I wonder?"

Mrs. Lightfoot accepted the rebuke with meekness. 

"Had I done so, I should certainly have proved myself to be a fool, " shereturned with grim humour, "but since you have fully decided that youprefer to be miserable, I shall take you with me tomorrow when I go forDan. "

But on the morrow the old lady did not leave her bed, and the doctor, whocame with his saddlebags from Leicesterburg, glanced her over and ordered"perfect repose of mind and body" before he drank his julep and rode away. 

"Perfect repose, indeed!" scoffed his patient, from behind her curtains, when the visit was over. "Why, the idiot might as well have ordered me amustard plaster. If he thinks there's any 'repose' in being married to Mr. Lightfoot, I'd be very glad to have him try it for a week. "

Betty made no response, for her throat was strained and aching; but in amoment Mrs. Lightfoot called her to her bedside and patted her upon thearm. 

"We'll go next week, child, " she said gently. "When you have been marriedas long as I have been, you will know that a week the more or the less of aman's society makes very little difference in the long run. "

And the next week they went. On a ripe October day, when the earth was allred and gold, the coach was brought out into the drive, and Mrs. Lightfootcame down, leaning upon Champe and Betty. 

The Major was reading his Horace in the library, and though he heard thenew pair of roans pawing on the gravel, he gave no sign of displeasure. Hisage had oppressed him in the last few days, and he carried stains, likespilled wine, on his cheeks. He could not ease his swollen heart byoutbursts of anger, and the sensitiveness of his temper warned off thesympathy which he was too proud to unbend and seek. So he sat and stared atthe unturned Latin page, and the hand he raised to his throat trembledslightly in the air. 

Outside, Betty, in her most becoming bonnet, with her blue barege shawlover her soft white gown, wrapped Mrs. Lightfoot in woollen robes, andfluttered nervously when the old lady remembered that she had left herspectacles behind. 

"I brought the empty case; here it is, my dear, " she said, offering it tothe girl. "Surely you don't intend to take me off without my glasses?"

Mitty was sent upstairs on a search for them, and in her absence hermistress suddenly decided that she needed an extra wrap. "The little whitenuby in my top drawer, Betty--I felt a chill striking the back of my neck. "

Betty threw her armful of robes into the coach, and ran hurriedly up to theold lady's room, coming down, in a moment, with the spectacles in one handand the little white shawl in the other. 

"Now, we must really start, Congo, " she called, as she sat down beside Mrs. Lightfoot, and when the coach rolled along the drive, she leaned out andkissed her hand to Champe upon the steps. 

"It is a heavenly day, " she said with a sigh of happiness. "Oh, isn't ittoo good to be real weather?"

Mrs. Lightfoot did not answer, for she was busily examining the contents ofher black silk bag. 

"Stop Congo, Betty, " she exclaimed, after a hasty search. "I have forgottenmy handkerchief; I sprinkled it with camphor and left it on the bureau. Tell him to go back at once. "

"Take mine, take mine!" cried the girl, pressing it upon her; and thenturning her back upon the old lady, she leaned from the window and lookedover the valley filled with sunshine. 

The whip cracked, the fat roans kicked the dust, and on they went merrilydown the branch road into the turnpike; past Aunt Ailsey's cabin, past thewild cherry tree, where the blue sky shone through naked twigs; down thelong curve, past the tuft of cedars--and still the turnpike swept wide andwhite, into the distance, dividing gay fields dotted with browsing cattle. At Uplands Betty caught a glimpse of Aunt Lydia between the silver poplars, and called joyfully from the window; but the words were lost in therattling of the wheels; and as she lay back in her corner, Uplands was leftbehind, and in a little while they passed into the tavern road and went onbeneath the shade of interlacing branches. 

Underfoot the ground was russet, and through the misty woods she saw theleaves still falling against a dim blue perspective. The sunshine struck inarrows across the way, and far ahead, at the end of the long vista, therewas golden space. 

With the ten miles behind them, they came to the tavern in the earlyafternoon, and, as a small tow-headed boy swung open the gate, the coachrolled into the yard and drew up before the steps. 

Jack Hicks started from his seat, and throwing his pipe aside, camehurriedly to the wheels, but before he laid his hand upon the door, Bettyopened it and sprang lightly to the ground, her face radiant in the shadowof her bonnet. 

"Let me speak, child, " called Mrs. Lightfoot after her, adding, withcourteous condescension, "How are you, Mr. Hicks? Will you go up at onceand tell my grandson to pack his things and come straight down. As soon asthe horses are rested we must start back again. "

With visible perturbation Jack looked from the coach to the tavern door, and stood awkwardly scraping his feet upon the road. 

"I--I'll go up with all the pleasure in life, mum, " he stammered; "but Idon't reckon thar's no use--he--he's gone. "

"Gone?" cried the aghast old lady; and Betty rested her hand upon thewheel. 

"Big Abel, he's gone, too, " went on Jack, gaining courage from theaccustomed sound of his own drawl. "Mr. Dan tried his best to git awaywithout him--but Lord, Lord, the sense that nigger's got. Why, his marstermight as well have tried to give his own skin the slip--"

"Where did they go?" sharply put in the old lady. "Don't mumble your words, speak plainly, if you please. "

"He wouldn't tell me, mum; I axed him, but he wouldn't say. A letter camelast night, and this morning at sunup they were off--Mr. Dan in front, andBig Abel behind with the bundle on his shoulder. They walked toLeicestersburg, that's all I know, mum. "

"Let me get inside, " said Betty, quickly. Her face had gone white, but shethanked Jack when he picked up the shawl she dropped, and went steadilyinto the coach. "We may as well go back, " she added with a little laugh. 

Mrs. Lightfoot threw an anxious look into her face. 

"We must consider the horses, my dear, " she responded. "Mr. Hicks, will yousee that the horses are well fed and watered. Let them take their time. "

"Oh, I forgot the horses, " returned Betty apologetically, and patiently satdown with her arm leaning in the window. There was a smile on her lips, andshe stared with bright eyes at the oak trees and the children playing amongthe acorns. 

XIV

THE HUSH BEFORE THE STORM

The autumn crept into winter; the winter went by, short and fitful, and thespring unfolded slowly. With the milder weather the mud dried in the roads, and the Major and the Governor went daily into Leicesterburg. The youngerman had carried his oratory and his influence into the larger cities of thestate, and he had come home, at the end of a month of speech-making, in afervour of almost boyish enthusiasm. 

"I pledge my word for it, Julia, " he had declared to his wife, "it willtake more than a Republican President to sever Virginia from the Union--infact, I'm inclined to think that it will take a thunderbolt from heaven, orthe Major for a despot!"

When, as the spring went on, men came from the political turmoil to ask forhis advice, he repeated the words with a conviction that was in itself aring of emphasis. 

"We are in the Union, gentlemen, for better or for worse"--and of all theguests who drank his Madeira under the pleasant shade of his maples, onlythe Major found voice to raise a protest. 

"We'll learn, sir, we'll live and learn, " interposed the old gentleman. 

"Let us hope we shall live easily, " said the doctor, lifting his glass. 

"And learn wisdom, " added the rector, with a chuckle. 

Through the spring and summer they rode leisurely back and forth, bringingbundles of newspapers when they came, and taking away with them a memory ofthe broad white portico and the mellow wine. 

The Major took a spasmodic part in the discussions of peace or war, sittingsometimes in a moody silence, and flaring up, like an exhausted candle, atthe news of an abolition outbreak. In his heart he regarded the state ofpeace as a mean and beggarly condition and the sure resort of bloodlesscowards; but even a prospect of the inspiring dash of war could not elicitso much as the semblance of his old ardour. His smile flashed but seldomover his harsh features--it needed indeed the presence of Mrs. Ambler or ofBetty to bring it forth--and his erect figure had given way in the chest, as if a strong wind bent him forward when he walked. 

"He has grown to be an old man, " his neighbours said pityingly; and it istrue that the weight of his years had fallen upon him in a night--as if hehad gone to bed in a hale old age, with the sap of youth in his veins, toawaken with bleared eyes and a trembling hand. Since the day of his wife'sreturn from the tavern, when he had peered from his hiding-place in hislibrary window, he had not mentioned his grandson by name; and yet thethought of him seemed forever lying beneath his captious exclamations. Hepricked nervously at the subject, made roundabout allusions to the baseingratitude from which he suffered; and the desertion of Big Abel haddamned for him the whole faithful race from which the offender sprang. 

"They are all alike, " he sweepingly declared. "There is not a trustworthyone among them. They'll eat my bread and steal my chickens, and then runoff with the first scapegrace that gives them a chance. "

"I think Big Abel did just right, " said Betty, fearlessly. 

The old gentleman squared himself to fix her with his weak red eyes. 

"Oh, you're just the same, " he returned pettishly, "just the same. "

"But I don't steal your chickens, sir, " protested the girl, laughing. 

The Major grunted and looked down at her in angry silence; then his facerelaxed and a frosty smile played about his lips. 

"You are young, my child, " he replied, in a kind of austere sadness, "andyouth is always an enemy to the old--to the old, " he repeated quietly, andlooked at his wrinkled hand. 

But in the excitement of the next autumn, he showed for a time a revival ofhis flagging spirit. When the elections came he followed them with anabsorption that had in it all the violence of a mental malady. The fourpossible Presidents that stood before the people were drawn for him in boldlines of black and white--the outward and visible distinction between, onthe one side, the three "adventurers" whom he heartily opposed, and, on theother, the "Kentucky gentleman, " for whom he as heartily voted. There wasno wavering in his convictions--no uncertainty; he was troubled by nodelicate shades of indecision. What he believed, and that alone, wasGod-given right; what he did not believe, with all things pertaining to it, was equally God-forsaken error. 

Toward the Governor, when the people's choice was known, he displayed aresentment that was almost touching in its simplicity. 

"There's a man who would tear the last rag of honour from the OldDominion, " he remarked, in speaking of his absent neighbour. 

"Ah, Major, " sighed the rector, for it was upon one of his weekly visits, "what course would you have us gird our loins to pursue?"

"Course?" promptly retorted the Major. "Why, the course of courage, sir. "

The rector shook his great head. "My dear friend, I fear you recognize thevirtue only when she carries the battle-axe, " he observed. 

For a moment the Major glared at him; then, restrained by his inheritedreverence for the pulpit, he yielded the point with the soothingacknowledgment that he was always "willing to make due allowance forministers of the gospel. "

"My dear sir, " gasped Mr. Blake, as his jaw dropped. His face showedplainly that so professional an allowance was exactly what he did not taketo be his due; but he let sleeping dangers lie, and it was not until afortnight later, when he rode out with a copy of the _Charleston Mercury_and the news of the secession of South Carolina, that he found the daringto begin a direct approach. 

It was a cold, bright evening in December, and the Major unfolded the paperand read it by the firelight, which glimmered redly on the frosted windowpanes. When he had finished, he looked over the fluttering sheet into thepale face of the rector, and waited breathlessly for the first decisivewords. 

"May she depart in peace, " said the minister, in a low voice. 

The old gentleman drew a long breath, and, in the cheerful glow, the other, looking at him, saw his weak red eyes fill with tears. Then he took out hishandkerchief, shook it from its folds, and loudly blew his nose. 

"It was the Union our fathers made, Mr. Blake, " he said. 

"And the Union you fought for, Major, " returned the rector. 

"In two wars, sir, " he glanced down at his arm as if he half expected tosee a wound, "and I shall never fight for another, " he added with a sigh. "My fighting days are over. "

They were both silent, and the logs merrily crackled on the great brassandirons, while the flames went singing up the chimney. A glass of Burgundywas at the rector's hand, and he lifted it from the silver tray and sippedit as he waited. At last the old man spoke, bending forward from hisstation upon the hearth-rug. 

"You haven't seen Peyton Ambler, I reckon?"

"I passed him coming out of town and he was trembling like a leaf, " repliedthe rector. "He looks badly, by the way. I must remember to tell the doctorhe needs building up. "

"He didn't speak about this, eh?"

"About South Carolina? Oh, yes, he spoke, sir. It happened that Jack Powellcame up with him when I did--the boy was cheering with all his might, and Iheard him ask the Governor if he questioned the right of the state tosecede?"

"And Peyton said, sir?" The Major leaned eagerly toward him. 

"He said, " pursued the rector, laughing softly. "'God forbid, my boy, thatI should question the right of any man or any country to pursue folly. '"

"Folly!" cried the Major, sharply, firing at the first sign of opposition. "It was a brave deed, sir, a brave deed--and I--yes, I envy the honour forVirginia. And as for Peyton Ambler, it is my belief that it is he who hassapped the courage of the state. Why, my honest opinion is that there arenot fifty men in Virginia with the spirit to secede--and they are women. "

The rector laughed and tapped his wine-glass. 

"You mustn't let that reach Mrs. Lightfoot's ears, Major, " he cautioned, "for I happen to know that she prides herself upon being what the paperscall a 'skulker. '" He stopped and rose heavily to his feet, for, at thispoint, the door was opened by Cupid and the old lady rustled stiffly intothe room. 

"I came down to tell you, Mr. Lightfoot, that you really must not allowyourself to become excited, " she explained, when the rector had comfortablysettled her upon the hearth-rug. 

"Pish! tush! my dear, there's not a cooler man in Virginia, " replied theMajor, frowning; but for the rest of the evening he brooded in troubledsilence in his easy chair. 

In February, a week after a convention of the people was called atRichmond, the old gentleman surrendered to a sharp siege of the gout, andthrough the long winter days he sat, red and querulous, before the libraryfire, with his bandaged foot upon the ottoman that wore Aunt Emmeline'swedding dress. From Leicesterburg a stanch Union man had gone to theconvention; and the Major still resented the selection of his neighbours asbitterly as if it were an affront to aspirations of his own. 

"Dick Powell! Pooh! he's another Peyton Ambler, " he remarked testily, "andon my word there're too many of his kind--too many of his kind. What welack, sir, is men of spirit. "

When his friends came now he shot his angry questions, like bullets, fromthe fireside. "Haven't they done anything yet, eh? How much longer do youreckon that roomful of old women will gabble in Richmond? Why, we might aswell put a flock of sheep to decide upon a measure!"

But the "roomful of old women" would not be hurried, and the Major grewalmost hoarse with scolding. For more than two months, while North andSouth barked at each other across her borders, Virginia patiently andfruitlessly worked for peace; and for more than two months the Majorwrithed a prisoner upon the hearth. 

With the coming of the spring his health mended, and on an April morning, when Betty and the Governor drove over for a quiet chat, they found himlimping painfully up and down the drive with the help of a greatgold-knobbed walking-stick. 

He greeted them cordially, and limped after them into the library whereMrs. Lightfoot sat knitting. While he slowly settled his foot, in its loose"carpet" slipper, upon the ottoman, he began a rambling story of the War of1812, recalling with relish a time when rations grew scant in camp, and"Will Bolling and myself set out to scour the country. " His thoughts hadmade a quick spring backward, and in the midst of events that fired theGovernor's blood, he could still fondly dwell upon the battles of hisyouth. 

The younger man, facing him upon the hearth, listened with his patientcourtesy, and put in a sympathetic word at intervals. No personal anxietycould cloud his comely face, nor any grievance of his own sharpen the edgeof his peculiar suavity. It was only when he rose to go that he voiced, fora single instant, his recognition of the general danger, and replied to theMajor's inquiry about his health with the remark, "Ah, grave times makegrave faces, sir. "

Then he bowed over Mrs. Lightfoot's hand, and with his arm about Betty wentout to the carriage. 

"The Major's an old man, daughter, " he observed, as they rolled rapidlyback to Uplands. 

"You mean he has broken--" said Betty, and stopped short. 

"Since Dan went away. " As the Governor completed her sentence, he turnedand looked thoughtfully into her face. "It's hard to judge the young, mydear, but--" he broke off as Betty had done, and added after a pause, "Iwonder where he is now?"

Betty raised her eyes and met his look. "I do not know, " she answered, "butI do know that he will come back;" and the Governor, being wise in hisgeneration, said nothing more. 

That afternoon he went down into the country to inspect a decayedplantation which had come into his hands, and returning two days later, herode into Leicesterburg and up to the steps of the little post-office, where, as usual, the neighbouring farmers lounged while they waited for anexpected despatch, or discussed the midday mail with each newcomer. It wasApril weather, and the afternoon sunshine, having scattered the looseclouds in the west, slanted brightly down upon the dusty street, the littlewhitewashed building, and the locust tree in full bloom before the porch. 

When he had dismounted, the Governor tied his horse to the long white pole, raised for that purpose along the sidewalk, and went slowly up the steps, shaking a dozen outstretched hands before he reached the door. 

"What news, gentlemen?" he asked with his pleasant smile. "For two days Ihave been beyond the papers. "

"Then there's news enough, Governor, " responded several voices, uniting ina common excitement. "There's news enough since Tuesday, and yet we'rewaiting here for more. The President has called for troops from Virginia toinvade the South. "

"To invade the South, " repeated the Governor, paling, and a man behind himtook up the words and said them over with a fine sarcasm, "To invade theSouth!"

The Governor turned away and walked to the end of the little porch, wherehe stood leaning upon the railing. With his eyes on the blossoming locusttree, he waited, in helpless patience, for the words to enter into histhoughts and to readjust his conceptions of the last few months. Thereslowly came to him, as he recognized the portentous gravity in the airabout him, something of the significance of that ringing call; and ashe stood there he saw before him the vision of an army led by strangersagainst the people of its blood--of an army wasting the soil it loved, warring for an alien right against the convictions it clung to and thefaith it cherished. 

His brow darkened, and he turned with set lips to the group upon the steps. He was about to speak, but before the words were uttered, there was a cheerfrom the open doorway, and a man, waving a despatch in his hand, camerunning into the crowd. 

"Last night there was a secret session, " he cried gayly, "and Virginia hasseceded! hurrah! hurrah! Virginia has seceded!" The gay voice passed, andthe speaker, still waving the paper in his hand, ran down into the street. 

The men upon the porch looked at one another, and were silent. In thebright sunshine their faces showed pale and troubled, and when the sound ofcheers came floating from the courthouse green, they started as if at thefirst report of cannon. Then, raising his hand, the Governor bared his headand spoke:--

"God bless Virginia, gentlemen, " he said. 

 * * * * *

The next week Champe came home from college, flushed with enthusiasm, eagerto test his steel. 

"It's great news, uncle, " were his first joyful words, as he shook theMajor's hand. 

"That it is, my boy, that it is, " chuckled the Major, in a highgood-humour. 

"I'm going, you know, " went on the young man lightly. "They're getting up acompany in Leicesterburg, and I'm to be Captain. I got a letter about it aweek ago, and I've been studying like thunder ever since. "

"Well, well, it will be a pleasant little change for you, " responded theold man. "There's nothing like a few weeks of war to give one an appetite. "

Mrs. Lightfoot looked up from her knitting with a serious face. 

"Don't you think it may last months, Mr. Lightfoot?" she inquireddubiously. "I was wondering if I hadn't better supply Champe with extraunderclothing. "

"Tut-tut, ma'am, " protested the Major, warmly. "Can't you leave such thingsas war to my judgment? Haven't I been in two? Months! Nonsense! Why, in twoweeks we'll sweep every Yankee in the country as far north as Greenland. Two weeks will be ample time, ma'am. "

"Well, I give them six months, " generously remarked Champe, in defiance ofthe Major's gathering frown. 

"And what do you know about it, sir?" demanded the old gentleman. "Were youin the War of 1812? Were you even in the Mexican War, sir?"

"Well, hardly, " replied Champe, smiling, "but all the same I give them sixmonths to get whipped. "

"I'm sure I hope it will be over before winter, " observed Mrs. Lightfoot, glancing round. "Things will be a little upset, I fear. "

The Major twitched with anger. "There you go again--both of you!" heexclaimed. "I might suppose after all these years you would place somereliance on my judgment; but, no, you will keep up your croaking until ourtroops are dictating terms at Washington. Six months! Tush!"

"Professor Bates thinks it will take a year, " returned Champe, his interestoverleaping his discretion. 

"And when did he fight, sir?" inquired the Major. 

"Well, any way, it's safer to prepare for six months, " was Champe'srejoinder. "I shouldn't like to run short of things, you know. "

"You'll do nothing of the kind, sir, " thundered the Major. "It's going tobe a two weeks' war, and you shall take an outfit for two weeks, or stay athome! By God, sir, if you contradict me again I'll not let you go to fightthe Yankees. "

Champe stared for an instant into the inflamed face of the old gentleman, and then his cheery smile broke out. 

"That settles it, uncle, " he said soothingly. "It's to be a war of twoweeks, and I'll come home a Major-general before the holidays. "

BOOK THIRD

THE SCHOOL OF WAR

I

HOW MERRY GENTLEMEN WENT TO WAR

The July sun fell straight and hot upon the camp, and Dan, as he sat on awoodpile and ate a green apple, wistfully cast his eyes about for a deepershade. But the young tree from which he had just shaken its last fruitstood alone between the scattered tents and the blur of willows down thegentle slope, and beneath its speckled shadow the mess had gatheredsleepily, after the mid-day meal. 

In the group of privates, stretched under the gauzy shade on the trampledgrass, the first thing to strike an observer would have been, perhaps, their surprising youth. They were all young--the eldest hardly more thanthree and twenty--and the faces bore a curious resemblance in type, as ifthey were, one and all, variations from a common stock. There was aboutthem, too, a peculiar expression of enthusiasm, showing even in the facesof those who slept; a single wave of emotion which, rising to its height inan entire people revealed itself in the features of the individual soldier. As yet the flower of the South had not withered on its stalk, and the menfirst gathered to defend the borders were men who embraced a cause asfervently as they would embrace a woman; men in whom the love of anabstract principle became, not a religion, but a romantic passion. 

Beyond them, past the scattered tents and the piles of clean straw, thebruised grass of the field swept down to a little stream and the fallenstones that had once marked off the turnpike. Farther away, there was adark stretch of pines relieved against the faint blue tracery of thedistant mountains. 

Dan, sitting in the thin shelter on the woodpile, threw a single glance atthe strip of pines, and brought back his gaze to Big Abel who was splittingan oak log hard by. The work had been assigned to the master, who had, inturn, tossed it to the servant, with the remark that he "came out to killmen, not to cut wood. "

"I say, Big Abel, this sun's blazing hot, " he now offered cheerfully. 

Big Abel paused for a moment and wiped his brow with his blue cottonsleeve. 

"Dis yer ain' no oak, caze it's w'it-leather, " he rejoined in an injuredtone, as he lifted the axe and sent it with all his might into theshivering log, which threw out a shower of fine chips. The powerful strokebrought into play the negro's splendid muscles, and Dan, watching him, carelessly observed to a young fellow lying half asleep upon the ground, "Big Abel could whip us all, Bland, if he had a mind to. "

Bland grunted and opened his eyes; then he yawned, stretched his arms, andsat up against the logs. He was bright and boyish-looking, with a franktanned face, which made his curling flaxen hair seem almost white. 

"I worked like a darky hauling yesterday, " he said reproachfully, "but whenyour turn comes, you climb a woodpile and pass the job along. When we gointo battle I suppose Dandy and you will sit down to boil coffee, and handyour muskets to the servants. "

"Oh, are we ever going into battle?" growled Jack Powell from the otherside. "Here I've been at this blamed drilling until I'm stiff in everyjoint, and I haven't seen so much as the tail end of a fight. You may rantas long as you please about martial glory, but if there's any man whothinks it's fun merely to get dirty and eat raw food, well, he's welcome tomy share of it, that's all. I haven't had so much as one of the necessitiesof life since I settled down in this old field; even my hair has taken tostanding on end. I say, Beau, do you happen to have any pomade about you?Oh, you needn't jeer, Bland, there's no danger of your getting bald, withthat sheepskin over your scalp; and, besides, I'm willing enough tosacrifice my life for my country. I object only to giving it my hairinstead. "

"I believe you'll find a little in my knapsack, " gravely replied Dan, to beassailed on the spot by a chorus of comic demands. 

"I say, Beau, have you any rouge on hand? I'm growing pale. Please drop alittle cologne on this handkerchief, my boy. May I borrow your powder puff?I've been sitting in the sun. Don't you want that gallon of stalebuttermilk to take your tan off, Miss Nancy?"

"Oh, shut up!" cried Dan, sharply; "if you choose to turn pigs simplybecause you've come out to do a little fighting, I've nothing to sayagainst it; but I prefer to remain a gentleman, that's all. "

"He prefers to remain a gentleman, that's all, " chanted the chorus roundthe apple tree. 

"And I'll knock your confounded heads off, if you keep this up, " pursuedDan furiously. 

"And he'll knock our confounded heads off, if we keep this up, " shouted thechorus in a jubilant refrain. 

"Well, I'll tell you one thing, " remarked Jack Powell, feeling hisresponsibility in the matter of the pomade. "All I've got to say is, ifthis is what you call war, it's a pretty stale business. The next time Iwant to be frisky, I'll volunteer to pass the lemonade at a Sunday-schoolpicnic. "

"And has anybody called it war, Dandy?" inquired Bland, witheringly. 

"Well, somebody might, you know, " replied Jack, opening his fine whiteshirt at the neck, "did I hear you call it war, Kemper?" he asked politely, as he punched a stout sleeper beside him. 

Kemper started up and aimed a blow at vacancy. "Oh, you heard the devil!"he retorted. 

"I beg your pardon; it was mistaken identity, " returned Jack suavely. 

"Look here, my lad, don't fool with Kemper when he's hot, " cautioned Bland, "He's red enough to fire those bales of straw. I say, Kemper, may I lightmy pipe at your face?"

"Shut up, now, or he'll be puffing round here like a steam engine, " said asmall dark man named Baker, "let smouldering fires lie on a day like this. Give me a light, Dandy. "

Jack Powell held out his cigar, and then, leaning back against the tree, blew a cloud of smoke about his head. 

"I'll be blessed if I don't think seven hours' drill is too much of a badthing, " he plaintively remarked; "and I may as well add, by the bye, thatthe next time I go to war, I intend to go in the character of aMajor-general. "

"Make it Commander-in-chief. Don't be too modest, my boy. "

"Well, you may laugh if you like, " pursued Jack, "but between you and me, it was all the fault of those girls at home--they have an idea thatpatriotism never trims its sleeves, you know. On my word, I might have beenCaptain of the Leicesterburg Guards after Champe Lightfoot joined thecavalry; but such averted looks were turned from me by the ladies, that Ihad to jump into the ranks merely to reinstate myself in their regard. Theymade even Governor Ambler volunteer as a private, I believe, but he waslucky and got made a Colonel instead. "

Bland laughed softly. 

"That reminds me of our Colonel, " he observed. "I overheard him talking tohimself the other day, and he said: 'All I ask is not to be in command of avolunteer regiment in hell. '"

"Oh, he won't, " put in Dan; "all the volunteers will be in heaven--" unlessthey're sent down below because they were too big fools to join thecavalry. "

"Then, in heaven's name, why didn't you join the cavalry?" inquired Baker. 

Dan looked at him a moment, and then threw the apple core at a water bucketthat stood upside down upon the grass. "Well, I couldn't go on my ownhorse, you see, " he replied, "and I wouldn't go on the Government's. Idon't ride hacks. "

"So you came into the infantry to get court-martialled, " remarked Bland. "The captain said down the valley, you'll remember, that if the war lasteda month, you'd be court-martialled for disobedience on the thirtieth day. "

Dan growled under his breath. "Well, I didn't enter the army to be hectoredby any fool who comes along, " he returned. "Look at that fellow Jones, now. He thinks because he happens to be Lieutenant that he's got a right toforget that I'm a gentleman and he's not. Why, the day before we came uphere, he got after me at drill about being out of step, or some littlething like that; and, by George, to hear him roar you'd have thought thatwar wasn't anything but monkeying round with a musket. Why, the rascal camefrom my part of the country, and his father before him wasn't fit to blackmy boots. "

"Did you knock him down?" eagerly inquired Bland. 

"I told him to take off his confounded finery and I would, " answered Dan. "So when drill was over, we went off behind a tent, and I smashed his nose. He's no coward, I'll say that for him, and when the Captain told him helooked as if he'd been fighting, he laughed and said he had had 'a littlepersonal encounter with the enemy. '"

"Well, I'm willing enough to do battle for my country, " said Jack Powell, "but I'll be blessed if I'm going to have my elbow jogged by the poor whitetrash while I'm doing it. "

"He was scolding at us yesterday because when we were detailed to clean outthe camp, we gave the order to the servants, " put in Baker. "Clean out thecamp! Does he think my grandmother was a chambermaid?" He suddenly brokeoff and helped himself to a drink of water from a dripping bucket that atall mountaineer was passing round the group. 

"Been to the creek, Pinetop?" he asked good-humouredly. 

The mountaineer, who had won his title from his great height, towering ashe did above every man in the company, nodded drowsily as he settledhimself upon the ground. He was lithe and hardy as a young hickory, and hisabundant hair was of the colour of ripe wheat. At the call to arms he hadcome, with long strides, down from his bare little cabin in the Blue Ridge, bringing with him a flintlock musket, a corncob pipe, and a stockingful ofVirginia tobacco. Since the day of his arrival, he had accepted the pointedjokes of the mess into which he had drifted, with grave lips and a flickerof his calm blue eyes. They had jeered him unmercifully, and he hadregarded them with serene and wondering attention. "I say, Pinetop, is itraining up where you are?" a wit had put to him on the first day, and hehad looked down and answered placidly:--

"Naw, it's cl'ar. "

As he sat down in the group beside the woodpile, Bland tossed him thelatest paper, but carefully folding it into a square, he laid it aside, andstretched himself upon the brown grass. 

"This here's powerful weather for sweatin', " he pleasantly observed, as hepulled a mullein leaf from the foot of the apple tree and placed it overhis eyes. Then he turned over and in a moment was sleeping as quietly as achild. 

Dan got down from the logs and stood thoughtfully staring in the directionof the happy little town lying embosomed in green hills. That little towngave to him, as he stood there in the noon heat, a memory of deep gardensfilled with fragrance, of open houses set in blue shadows, and of thebright fluttering of Confederate flags. For a moment he looked toward itdown the hot road; then, with a sigh, he turned away and wandered off toseek the outside shadow of a tent. 

As he flung himself down in the strip of shade, his gaze went longingly tothe dim chain of mountains which showed like faint blue clouds against thesky, while his thoughts returned, as a sick man's, to the clustered elmboughs and the smooth lawn at Chericoke, and to Betty blooming like aflower in a network of sun and shade. 

The memory was so vivid that when he closed his eyes it was almost as if heheard the tapping of the tree-tops against the roof, and felt the pleasantbreeze blowing over the sweet-smelling meadows. He looked, through hisclosed eyes, into the dim old house, seeing the rustling grasses in thegreat blue jar and their delicate shadow trembling on the pure white wall. There was the tender hush about it that belongs to the memories of deadfriends or absent places; a hush that was reverent as a Sabbath calm. Hesaw the shining swords of the Major and the Major's father; the rear doorwith the microphylla roses nodding upon the lintel, and, high above all, the shadowy bend of the staircase, with Betty standing there in her coolblue gown. 

He opened his eyes with a start, and pillowing his head on his arm, laylooking off into the burning distance. A bee, straying from a field ofclover across the road, buzzed, for a moment, round his face, and thenknocked, with a flapping noise, against the canvas tent. Far away, beyondthe murmur of the camp, he heard a partridge whistling in a tangled meadow;and at the same instant his own name called through the sunlight. 

"I say, Beau, Beau, where are you?" He sat up, and shouted in response, andJack Powell came hurriedly round the tent to fling himself down upon thebeaten grass. 

"Oh, you don't know what you missed!" he cried, chuckling. "You didn't staylong enough to hear the joke on Bland. "

"I hope it's a fresh one, " was Dan's response. "If it's that old thingabout the mule and the darky, I may as well say in the beginning that Iheard it in the ark. "

"Oh, it's new, old man. He made the mistake of trying to get some fun outof Pinetop, and he got more than he bargained for, that's all. He began totease him about those blue jean trousers he carries in his knapsack. You'veseen them, I reckon?"

Dan nodded as he chewed idly at a blade of grass. "I tried to get him tothrow them away yesterday, " he said, "and he did go so far as to haul themout and look them over; but after meditating a half hour, he packed themaway again and declared there was 'a sight of wear left in them still. ' Hetold me if he ever made up his mind to get rid of them, and peace shouldcome next day, he'd never forgive himself. "

"Well, I warned Bland not to meddle with him, " pursued Jack, "but he gotbored and set in to make things lively. 'Look here, Pinetop, ' he began, 'will you do me the favour to give me the name of the tailor who made yourblue jeans?' and, bless your life, Pinetop just took the mullein leaf fromhis eyes, and sang out 'Maw. ' That was what Bland wanted, of course, so, without waiting for the danger signal, he plunged in again. 'Then if youdon't object I should be glad to have the pattern of them, ' he went on, assmooth as butter. 'I want them to wear when I go home again, you know. Why, they're just the things to take a lady's eye--they have almost the fit of aflour-sack--and the ladies are fond of flour, aren't they?' The whole crowdwas waiting, ready to howl at Pinetop's answer, and, sure enough, he raisedhimself on his elbow, and drawled out in his sing-song tone: 'I say, Sonny, ain't yo' Maw done put you into breeches yit?'"

"It serves him right, " said Dan sternly, "and that's what I like aboutPinetop, Jack, there's no ruffling him. " He brushed off the bee that hadfallen on his head, and dodged as it angrily flew back again. 

"Some of the boys raised a row when he came into our mess, " returned Jack, "but where every man's fighting for his country, we're all equal, say I. What makes me dog-tired, though, is the airs some of these fool officersput on; all this talk about an 'officer's mess' now, as if a man is toogood to eat with me who wouldn't dare to sit down to my table if he had oncivilian's clothes. It's all bosh, that's what it is. "

He got up and strolled off with his grievance, and Dan, stretching himselfupon the ground, looked across the hills, to the far mountains where theshadows thickened. 

II

THE DAY'S MARCH

In the gray dawn tents were struck, and five days' rations were issued withthe marching orders. As Dan packed his knapsack with trembling hands, hesaw men stalking back and forth like gigantic shadows, and heard the hoarseshouting of the company officers through the thick fog which had rolleddown from the mountains. There was a persistent buzz in the air, as if agreat swarm of bees had settled over the misty valley. Each man was askingunanswerable questions of his neighbour. 

At a little distance Big Abel, with several of the company "darkies" wasstruggling energetically over the property of the mess, storing the cookingutensils into a stout camp chest, which the strength of several men wouldlift, when filled, into the wagon. Bland, who had just tossed his overcoatacross to them, turned abruptly upon Dan, and demanded warmly "what hadbecome of his case of razors?"

"Where are we going?" was Dan's response, as he knelt down to roll up hisoilcloth and blanket. "By Jove, it looks as if we'd gobble up Patterson forbreakfast!"

"I say, where's my case of razors?" inquired Bland, with irritation. "Theywere lying here a moment ago, and now they're gone. Dandy, have you got myrazors?"

"Look here, Beau, what are you going to leave behind?" asked Kemper overBland's shoulder. 

"Leave behind? Why, dull care, " rejoined Dan gayly. "By the way, Pinetop, why don't you save your appetite for Patterson's dainties?"

Pinetop, who was leisurely eating his breakfast of "hardtack" and bacon, took a long draught from his tin cup, and replied, as he wiped his mouth onhis shirt sleeve, that he "reckoned thar wouldn't be any trouble aboutfinding room for them, too. " The general gayety was reflected in his face;he laughed as he bit deeply into his half-cooked bacon. 

Dan stood up and nervously strapped on his knapsack; then he swung hiscanteen over his shoulder and carefully tightened his belt. His face wasflushed, and when he spoke his voice quivered with emotion. It seemed tohim that the delay of every instant was a reckless waste of time, and hetrembled at the thought that the enemy might be preparing to fall upon themunawares; that while the camp was swarming like an ant's nest, Pattersonand his men might be making good use of the fleeting moments. 

"Why the devil don't we move? We ought to move, " he said angrily, as heglanced round the crowded field where the men were arraying themselves inall the useless trappings of the Southern volunteer. Kemper was busilyplacing his necessary toilet articles in his haversack, having thrown awayhalf his rations for the purpose; Jack Powell, completely dressed for themarch, was examining his heavy revolver, with the conscious pride a fieldofficer might have felt in his sword. As he stuck it into his belt, hestraightened himself with a laugh and jauntily set his small cap on hiscurling hair; he was clean, comely, and smooth-shaven as if he had juststepped from a hot bath and the hands of his barber. 

"You may roll Dandy in the dust and he'll come out washed, " Baker had onceforcibly remarked. 

"I say, boys, why don't we start?" persisted Dan impatiently, flicking withhis handkerchief at a grain of sand on his high boots. Then, as Big Abelbrought him a cup of coffee, he drank it standing, casting eager glancesover the rim of his cup. He had an odd feeling that it was all a great foxhunt they were soon to start upon; that they were waiting only for thecalling of the hounds. The Major's fighting blood had stirred within hisgrandson's veins, and generations of dead Lightfoots were scenting thecoming battle from the dust. When Dan thought now of the end to which heshould presently be marching, it suggested to him but a quickenedexhilaration of the pulses and an old engraving of "Waterloo, " which hungon the dining-room wall at Chericoke. That was war; and he rememberedvividly the childish thrill with which he had first looked up at it. He sawthe prancing horses, the dramatic gestures of the generals with flowinghair, the blur of waving flags and naked swords. It was like a page tornfrom the eternal Romance; a page upon which he and his comrades should playheroic parts; and it was white blood, indeed, that did not glow with thehope of sharing in that picture; of hanging immortal in an engraving on thewall. 

The "fall in" of the sergeant was already sounding from the road, and, witha last glance about the field, Dan ran down the gentle slope and across thelittle stream to take his place in the ranks of the forming column. Anofficer on a milk-white horse was making frantic gestures to the line, andthe young man followed him an instant with his eyes. Then, as he stoodthere in the warm sunshine, he felt his impatience prick him like a needle. He wanted to push forward the regiments in front of him, to start in anydirection--only to start. The suppressed excitement of the fox hunt wasupon him, and the hoarse voices of the officers thrilled him as if theywere the baying of the hounds. He heard the musical jingle of movingcavalry, the hurried tread of feet in the soft dust, the smothered oaths ofmen who stumbled over the scattered stones. And, at last, when the sunstood high above, the long column swung off toward the south, leaving theenemy and the north behind it. 

"By God, we're running away, " said Bland in a whisper. With the words thegayety passed suddenly from the army, and it moved slowly with thedispirited tread of beaten men. The enemy lay to the north, and it wasmarching to the south and home. 

As it passed through the fragrant streets of Winchester, women, withstartled eyes, ran from open doors into the deep old gardens, and watchedit over the honeysuckle hedges. Under the fluttering flags, past the longblue shadows, with the playing of the bands and the clatter of thecanteens--on it went into the white dust and the sunshine. From a widepiazza, a group of schoolgirls pelted the troops with roses, and as Danwent by he caught a white bud and stuck it into his cap. He looked backlaughing, to meet the flash of laughing eyes; then the gray line swept outupon the turnpike and went down the broad road through the smooth greenfields, over which the sunlight lay like melted gold. 

Dan, walking between Pinetop and Jack Powell, felt a sudden homesicknessfor the abandoned camp, which they were leaving with the gay little townand the red clay forts, naked to the enemy's guns. He saw the branchingapple tree, the burned-out fires, the silvery fringe of willows by thestream; and he saw the men in blue already in possession of his woodpile, broiling their bacon by the logs that Big Abel had cut. 

At the end of three miles the brigades abruptly halted, and he listened, looking at the ground, to an order, which was read by a slim young officerwho pulled nervously at his moustache. Down the column came a singleringing cheer, and, without waiting for the command, the men pushed eagerlyforward along the road. What was a forced march of thirty miles to an armythat had never seen a battle?

As they went on a boyish merriment tripped lightly down the turnpike; jestswere shouted, a wit began to tease a mounted officer who was trying toreach the front, and somebody with a tenor voice was singing "Dixie. " Astray countryman, sitting upon the wall of loose stones, was greetedaffectionately by each passing company. He was a big, stupid-looking man, with a gray fowl hanging, head downward, from his hand, and as he responded"Howdy, " in an expressionless tone, the fowl craned its long neck upwardand pecked at the creeper on the wall. 

"Howdy, Jim!" "Howdy, Peter!" "Howdy, Luke!" sang the first line. "How'syour wife?" "How's your wife's mother?" "How's your sister-in-law's uncle?"inquired the next. The countryman spat into the ditch and stared solemnlyin reply, and the gray fowl, still craning its neck, pecked steadily at theleaves upon the stones. 

Dan looked up into the blue sky, across the open meadows to the far-off lowmountains, and then down the long turnpike where the dust hung in a yellowcloud. In the bright sunshine he saw the flash of steel and the glitter ofgold braid, and the noise of tramping feet cheered him like music as hewalked on gayly, filled with visions. For was he not marching to his chosenend--to victory, to Chericoke--to Betty? Or if the worst came to theworst--well, a man had but one life, after all, and a life was a littlething to give his country. Then, as always, his patriotism appealed to himas a romance rather than a religion--the fine Southern ardour which hadsent him, at the first call, into the ranks, had sprung from an inward, notan outward pressure. The sound of the bugle, the fluttering of the flags, the flash of hot steel in the sunlight, the high old words that stirredmen's pulses--these things were his by blood and right of heritage. Hecould no more have stifled the impulse that prompted him to take a side inany fight than he could have kept his heart cool beneath the impassionedvoice of a Southern orator. The Major's blood ran warm through manygenerations. 

"I say, Beau, did you put a millstone in my knapsack?" inquired Blandsuddenly. His face was flushed, and there was a streak of wet dust acrosshis forehead. "If you did, it was a dirty joke, " he added irritably. Danlaughed. "Now that's odd, " he replied, "because there's one in mine also, and, moreover, somebody has stuck penknives in my boots. Was it you, Pinetop?"

But the mountaineer shook his head in silence, and then, as they halted torest upon the roadside, he flung himself down beneath the shadow of asycamore, and raised his canteen to his lips. He had come leisurely at hislong strides, and as Dan looked at him lying upon the short grass by thewall, he shook his own roughened hair, in impatient envy. "Why, you'vestood it like a Major, Pinetop, " he remarked. 

Pinetop opened his eyes. "Stood what?" he drawled. 

"Why, this heat, this dust, this whole confounded march. I don't believeyou've turned a hair, as Big Abel says. "

"Good Lord, " said Pinetop. "I don't reckon you've ever ploughed up hillwith a steer team. "

Without replying, Dan unstrapped his knapsack and threw it upon theroadside. "What doesn't go in my haversack, doesn't go, that's all, " heobserved. "How about you, Dandy?"

"Oh, I threw mine away a mile after starting, " returned Jack Powell, "myluxuries are with a girl I left behind me. I've sacrificed everything tothe cause except my toothbrush, and, by Jove, if the weight of that goes onincreasing, I shall be forced to dispense with it forever. I got rid of myrations long ago. Pinetop says a man can't starve in blackberry season, andI hope he's right. Anyway, the Lord will provide--or he won't, that'scertain. "

"Is this the reward of faith, I wonder?" said Dan, as he looked at a lameold negro who wheeled a cider cart and a tray of green apple pies down ared clay lane that branched off under thick locust trees. "This way, Uncle, here's your man. "

The old negro slowly approached them to be instantly surrounded by thethirsty regiment. 

"Howdy, Marsters? howdy?" he began, pulling his grizzled hair. "Dese yer'sright nice pies, dat dey is, suh. "

"Look here, Uncle, weren't they made in the ark, now?" inquired Blandjestingly, as he bit into a greasy crust. 

"De ark? naw, suh; my Mehaley she des done bake 'em in de cabin overyonder. " He lifted his shrivelled hand and pointed, with a tremulousgesture, to a log hut showing among the distant trees. 

"What? are you a free man, Uncle?"

"Free? Go 'way f'om yer! ain' you never hyearn tell er Marse Plunkett?"

"Plunkett?" gravely repeated Bland, filling his canteen with cider. "Lookhere, stand back, boys, it's my turn now. --Plunkett--Plunkett--can I have along-lost friend named Plunkett? Where is he, Uncle? has he gone to fight?"

"Marse Plunkett? Naw, suh, he ain' fit nobody. "

"Well, you tell him from me that he'd better enlist at once, " put in JackPowell. "This isn't the time for skulkers, Uncle; he's on our side, isn'the?" The old negro shook his head, looking uneasily at the froth thatdripped from the keg into the dust. 

"Naw, suh, Marse Plunkett, he's fur de Un'on, but he's pow'ful feared er deYankees, " he returned. 

Bland broke into a laugh. "Oh, come, that's downright treason, " heprotested merrily. "Your Marse Plunkett's a skulker sure enough, and youmay tell him so with my compliments. You're on the Yankee side, too, Ireckon, and there're bullets in these pies, sure as I live. "

The old man shuffled nervously on his bare feet. 

"Go 'way, Marster, w'at I know 'bout 'sides'?" he replied, tilting his kegto drain the last few drops into the canteen of a thirsty soldier. "I'se onde Lawd's side, dat's whar I is. "

He fell back startled, for the call of "Column, forward!" was shouted downthe road, and in an instant the men had left the emptied cart, and weremarching on into the sunny distance. 

As the afternoon lengthened the heat grew more oppressive. Straight aheadthere was dust and sunshine and the ceaseless tramp, and on either side thefresh fields were scorched and whitened by a powdering of hot sand. Beyondthe rise and dip of the hills, the mountains burned like blue flames on thehorizon, and overhead the sky was hard as an inverted brazier. 

Dan had begun to limp, for his stiff boots galled his feet. His senses wereblunted by the hot sand which filled his eyes and ears and nostrils, andthere was a shimmer over all the broad landscape. When he shook his hairfrom his forehead, the dust floated slowly down and settled in a scorchingring about his neck. 

The day closed gradually, and as they neared the river, the mountainsemerged from obscure outlines into wooded heights upon which the treesshowed soft and gray in the sunset. A cool breath was blown through a stripof damp woodland, where the pale bodies of the sycamores were festooned inluxuriant vines, and from the twilight long shadows stretched across thered clay road. Then, as they went down a rocky slope, a fringe of willowsappeared suddenly from the blur of green, and they saw the Shenandoahrunning between falling banks, with the colours of the sunset floating likepink flowers upon its breast. 

With a shout the front line plunged into the stream, holding its heavymuskets high above the current of the water, and filing upon the oppositebank, into a rough road which wound amid the ferns. 

Midway of the river, near the fording point, there was a little islandwhich lay like a feathery tree-top upon the tinted water; and as Dan wentby, he felt the brush of willows on his face and heard the soft lapping ofthe small waves upon the shore. The keen smell of the sycamores drifted tohim from the bank that he had left, and straight up stream he saw a singlepeaked blue hill upon which a white cloud rested. For a moment he lingered, breathing in the fragrance, then the rear line pressed upon him, and, crossing rapidly, he stood on the rocky edge, shaking the water from hisclothes. Out of the after-glow came the steady tramp of tired feet, andwith aching limbs, he turned and hastened with the column into the mountainpass. 

III

THE REIGN OF THE BRUTE

The noise of the guns rolled over the green hills into the little valleywhere the regiment had halted before a wayside spring, which lay hiddenbeneath a clump of rank pokeberry. As each company filled its canteens, itfiled across the sunny road, from which the dust rose like steam, and stoodresting in an open meadow that swept down into a hollow between two gentlyrising hills. From the spring a thin stream trickled, bordered by shortgrass, and the water, dashed from it by the thirsty men, gathered inshining puddles in the red clay road. By one of these puddles a man hadknelt to wash his face, and as Dan passed, draining his canteen, he lookedup with a sprinkling of brown drops on his forehead. Near him, unharmed bythe tramping feet, a little purple flower was blooming in the mud. 

Dan gazed thoughtfully down upon him and upon the little purple flower inits dangerous spot. What did mud or dust matter, he questioned grimly, whenin a breathing space they would be in the midst of the smoke that hungclose above the hill-top? The sound of the cannon ceased suddenly, asabruptly as if the battery had sunk into the ground, and through the sunnyair he heard a long rattle that reminded him of the fall of hail on theshingled roof at Chericoke. As his canteen struck against his side, itseemed to him that it met the resistance of a leaden weight. There was alump in his throat and his lips felt parched, though the moisture from thefresh spring water was hardly dried. When he moved he was conscious ofstepping high above the earth, as he had done once at college after anover-merry night and many wines. 

Straight ahead the sunshine lay hot and still over the smooth fields andthe little hollow where a brook ran between marshy banks. High above he sawit flashing on the gray smoke that hung in tatters from the tree-tops onthe hill. 

An ambulance, drawn by a white and a bay horse, turned gayly from the roadinto the meadow, and he saw, with surprise, that one of the surgeons wastrimming his finger nails with a small penknife. The surgeon was a slightyoung man, with pointed yellow whiskers, and light blue eyes that squintedin the sunshine. As he passed he stifled a yawn with an elaborateaffectation of unconcern. 

A man on horseback, with a white handkerchief tied above his collar, galloped up and spoke in a low voice to the Colonel. Then, as his horsereared, he glanced nervously about, grew embarrassed, and, with a sharpjerk of the bridle, galloped off again across the field. Presently othermen rode back and forth along the road; there were so many of them that Danwondered, bewildered, if anybody was left to make the battle beyond thehill. 

The regiment formed into line and started at "double quick" across thebroad meadow powdered white with daisies. As it went into the ravine, skirting the hillside, a stream of men came toward it and passed slowly tothe rear. Some were on stretchers, some were stumbling in the arms ofslightly wounded comrades, some were merely warm and dirty and very muchafraid. One and all advised the fresh regiment to "go home and finishploughing. " "The Yankees have got us on the hip, " they declaredemphatically. "Whoopee! it's as hot as hell where you're going. " Then aboy, with a blood-stained sleeve, waved his shattered arm in the air andlaughed deliriously. "Don't believe them, friends, it's glorious!" hecried, in the voice of the far South, and lurched forward upon the grass. 

The sight of the soaked shirt and the smell of blood turned Dan faint. Hefelt a sudden tremor in his limbs, and his arteries throbbed dully in hisears. "I didn't know it was like this, " he muttered thickly. "Why, they'reno better than mangled rabbits--I didn't know it was like this. "

They wound through the little ravine, climbed a hillside planted in thincorn, and were ordered to "load and lie down" in a strip of woodland. Dantore at his cartridge with set teeth; then as he drove his ramrod home, ashell, thrown from a distant gun, burst in the trees above him, and a redflame ran, for an instant, along the barrel of his musket. He dodgedquickly, and a rain of young pine needles fell in scattered showers fromthe smoked boughs overhead. Somewhere beside him a man was groaning interror or in pain. "I'm hit, boys, by God, I'm hit this time. " The groanschanged promptly into a laugh. "Bless my soul! the plagued thing went rightinto the earth beneath me. "

"Damn you, it went into my leg, " retorted a hoarse voice that fell suddenlysilent. 

With a shiver Dan lay down on the carpet of rotted pine-cones and peered, like a squirrel, through the meshes of the brushwood. At first he saw onlygray smoke and a long sweep of briers and broom-sedge, standing out dimlyfrom an obscurity that was thick as dusk. Then came a clatter near at hand, and a battery swept at a long gallop across the thinned edge of the pines. So close it came that he saw the flashing white eyeballs and the spreadingsorrel manes of the horses, and almost felt their hot breath upon hischeek. He heard the shouts of the outriders, the crack of the stout whips, the rattle of the caissons, and, before it passed, he had caught theexcited gestures of the men upon the guns. The battery unlimbered, as hewatched it, shot a few rounds from the summit of the hill, and retreatedrapidly to a new position. When the wind scattered the heavy smoke, he sawonly the broom-sedge and several ridges of poor corn; some of the gauntstalks blackened and beaten to the ground, some still flaunting their bravetassels beneath the whistling bullets. It was all in sunlight, and the graysmoke swept ceaselessly to and fro over the smiling face of the field. 

Then, as he turned a little in his shelter, he saw that there was a singleConfederate battery in position under a slight swell on his left. Beyond ithe knew that the long slope sank gently into a marshy stream and the broadturnpike, but the brow of the hill went up against the sky, and hidden inthe brushwood he could see only the darkened line of the horizon. Againstit the guns stood there in the sunlight, unsupported, solitary, majestic, while around them the earth was tossed up in the air as if a loose ploughhad run wild across the field. A handful of artillerymen moved back andforth, like dim outlines, serving the guns in a group of fallen horses thatshowed in dark mounds upon the hill. From time to time he saw a rammerwaved excitedly as a shot went home, or heard, in a lull, the hoarse voicesof the gunners when they called for "grape!"

As he lay there, with his eyes on the solitary battery, he forgot, for aninstant, his own part in the coming work. A bullet cut the air above him, and a branch, clipped as by a razor's stroke, fell upon his head; but hisnerves had grown steady and his thoughts were not of himself; he waswatching, with breathless interest, for another of the gray shadows at theguns to go down among the fallen horses. 

Then, while he watched, he saw other batteries come out upon the hill; sawthe cannon thrown into position and heard the call change from "grape!" to"canister!" On the edge of the pines a voice was speaking, and beyond thevoice a man on horseback was riding quietly back and forth in the open. Behind him Jack Powell called out suddenly, "We're ready, Colonel Burwell!"and his voice was easy, familiar, almost affectionate. 

"I know it, boys!" replied the Colonel in the same tone, and Dan felt aquick sympathy spring up within him. At that instant he knew that he lovedevery man in the regiment beside him--loved the affectionate Colonel, withthe sleepy voice, loved Pinetop, loved the lieutenant whose nose he hadbroken after drill. 

At a word he had leaped, with the others, to his feet, and stood drawn upfor battle against the wood. Then it was that he saw the General of the dayriding beside fluttering colours across the waste land to the crest of thehill. He was rallying the scattered brigades about the flag--so the fighthad gone against them and gone badly, after all. 

Around him the men drifted back, frightened, straggling, defeated, and thebroken ranks closed up slowly. The standards dipped for a moment before asharp fire, and then, as the colour bearers shook out the bright folds, soared like great red birds' wings above the smoke. 

It seemed to Dan that he stood for hours motionless there against thepines. For a time the fight passed away from him, and he remembered amountain storm which had caught him as a boy in the woods at Chericoke. Heheard again the cloud burst overhead, the soughing of the pines and thecrackling of dried branches as they came drifting down through interlacingboughs. The old childish terror returned to him, and he recalled his madrush for light and space when he had doubled like a hare in the woodedtwilight among the dim bodies of the trees. Then as now it was not the openthat he feared, but the unseen horror of the shelter. 

Again the affectionate voice came from the sunlight and he gripped hismusket as he started forward. He had caught only the last words, and herepeated them half mechanically, as he stepped out from the brushwood. Onceagain, when he stood on the trampled broom-sedge, he said them over with anervous jerk, "Wait until they come within fifty yards--and, for God'ssake, boys, shoot at the knees!"

He thought of the jolly Colonel, and laughed hysterically. Why, he had beenat that man's wedding--had kissed his bride--and now he was begging him toshoot at people's knees!

With a cheer, the regiment broke from cover and swept forward toward thesummit of the hill. Dan's foot caught in a blackberry vine, and he stumbledblindly. As he regained himself a shell ripped up the ground before him, flinging the warm clods of earth into his face. A "worm" fence at a littledistance scattered beneath the fire, and as he looked up he saw the longrails flying across the field. For an instant he hesitated; then somethingthat was like a nervous spasm shook his heart, and he was no more afraid. Over the blackberries and the broom-sedge, on he went toward the swirls ofgolden dust that swept upward from the bright green slope. If this was abattle, what was the old engraving? Where were the prancing horses and theuplifted swords?

Something whistled in his ears and the air was filled with sharp soundsthat set his teeth on edge. A man went down beside him and clutched at hisboots as he ran past; but the smell of the battle--a smell of oil andsmoke, of blood and sweat--was in his nostrils, and he could have kickedthe stiff hands grasping at his feet. The hot old blood of his fathers hadstirred again and the dead had rallied to the call of their descendant. Hewas not afraid, for he had been here long before. 

Behind him, and beside him, row after row of gray men leaped from theshadow--the very hill seemed rising to his support--and it was almostgayly, as the dead fighters lived again, that he went straight onward overthe sunny field. He saw the golden dust float nearer up the slope, saw thebrave flags unfurling in the breeze--saw, at last, man after man emergefrom the yellow cloud. As he bent to fire, the fury of the game swept overhim and aroused the sleeping brute within him. All the primeval instincts, throttled by the restraint of centuries--the instincts of bloodguiltiness, of hot pursuit, of the fierce exhilaration of the chase, of the deathgrapple with a resisting foe--these awoke suddenly to life and turned thebattle scarlet to his eyes. 

 * * * * *

Two hours later, when the heavy clouds were smothering the sunset, he cameslowly back across the field. A gripping nausea had seized upon him--anausea such as he had known before after that merry night at college. Hishead throbbed, and as he walked he staggered like a drunken man. Therevulsion of his overwrought emotions had thrown him into a state ofsensibility almost hysterical. 

The battle-field stretched grimly round him, and as the sunset was blottedout, a gray mist crept slowly from the west. Here and there he saw menlooking for the wounded, and he heard one utter an impatient "Pshaw!" as helifted a half-cold body and let it fall. Rude stretchers went by him oneither side, and still the field seemed as thickly sown as before; on theleft, where a regiment of Zouaves had been cut down, there was a flash ofwhite and scarlet, as if the loose grass was strewn with great tropicalflowers. Among them he saw the reproachful eyes of dead and dying horses. 

Before him, on the gradual slope of the hill, stood a group of abandonedguns, and there was something almost human in the pathos of their utterisolation. Around them the ground was scorched and blackened, and scatteredover the broken trails lay the men who had fallen at their post. He sawthem lying there in the fading daylight, with the sponges and the rammersstill in their hands, and he saw upon each man's face the look with whichhe had met and recognized the end. Some were smiling, some staring, and onelay grinning as if at a ghastly joke. Near him a boy, with the hair stilldamp on his forehead, had fallen upon an uprooted blackberry vine, and thepurple stain of the berries was on his mouth. As Dan looked down upon him, the smell of powder and burned grass came to him with a wave of sickness, and turning he stumbled on across the field. At the first step his footstruck upon something hard, and, picking it up, he saw that it was a Minieball, which, in passing through a man's spine, had been transformed into amass of mingled bone and lead. With a gesture of disgust he dropped it andwent on rapidly. A stretcher moved beside him, and the man on it, shotthrough the waist, was saying in a whisper, "It is cold--cold--so cold. "Against his will, Dan found, he had fallen into step with the men who borethe stretcher, and together they kept time to the words of the woundedsoldier who cried out ceaselessly that it was cold. On their way theypassed a group on horseback and, standing near it, a handsome artilleryman, who wore a red flannel shirt with one sleeve missing. As Dan went on hediscovered that he was thinking of the handsome man in the red shirt andwondering how he had lost his missing sleeve. He pondered the question asif it were a puzzle, and, finally, yielded it up in doubt. 

Beyond the base of the hill they came into the small ravine which had beenturned into a rude field hospital. Here the stretcher was put down, and atired-looking surgeon, wiping his hands upon a soiled towel, came and kneltdown beside the wounded man. 

"Bring a light--I can't see--bring a light!" he exclaimed irritably, as hecut away the clothes with gentle fingers. 

Dan was passing on, when he heard his name called from behind, and turningquickly found Governor Ambler anxiously regarding him. 

"You're not hurt, my boy?" asked the Governor, and from his tone he mighthave parted from the younger man only the day before. 

"Hurt? Oh, no, I'm not hurt, " replied Dan a little bitterly, "but there's awhole field of them back there, Colonel. "

"Well, I suppose so--I suppose so, " returned the other absently. "I'mlooking after my men now, poor fellows. A victory doesn't come cheap, youknow, and thank God, it was a glorious victory. "

"A glorious victory, " repeated Dan, looking at the surgeons who wereworking by the light of tallow candles. 

The Governor followed his gaze. "It's your first fight, " he said, "and youhaven't learned your lesson as I learned mine in Mexico. The best, or theworst of it, is that after the first fight it comes easy, my boy, it comestoo easy. "

There was hot blood in him also, thought Dan, as he looked at him--and yetof all the men that he had ever known he would have called the Governor themost humane. 

"I dare say--I'll get used to it, sir, " he answered. "Yes, it was aglorious victory. "

He broke away and went off into the twilight over the wide meadow to thelittle wayside spring. Across the road there was a field of clover, where afew campfires twinkled, and he hastened toward it eager to lie down in thedarkness and fall asleep. As his feet sank in the moist earth, he lookeddown and saw that the little purple flower was still blooming in the mud. 

IV

AFTER THE BATTLE

The field of trampled clover looked as if a windstorm had swept over it, strewing the contents of a dozen dismantled houses. There were stacks ofarms and piles of cooking utensils, knapsacks, half emptied, lay beside thecharred remains of fires, and loose fence rails showed red and whiteglimpses of playing cards, hidden, before the fight, by superstitioussoldiers. 

Groups of men were scattered in dark spots over the field, and about themstragglers drifted slowly back from the road to Centreville. There was nodiscipline, no order--regiment was mixed with regiment, and each man washopelessly inquiring for his lost company. 

As Dan stepped over the fallen fence upon the crushed pink heads of theclover, he came upon a circle of privates making merry over a lunch basketthey had picked up on the turnpike--a basket brought by one of theWashington parties who had gayly driven out to watch the battle. A brokenfence rail was ablaze in the centre of the group, and as the red light fellon each soiled and unshaven face, it stood out grotesquely from thesurrounding gloom. Some were slightly wounded, some had merely scented thebattle from behind the hill--all were drinking rare wine in honour of theearly ending of the war. As Dan looked past them over the darkening meadow, where the returning soldiers drifted aimlessly across the patches of redlight, he asked himself almost impatiently if this were the pure andpatriotic army that held in its ranks the best born of the South? To him, standing there, it seemed but a loosened mass, without strength and withoutcohesion, a mob of schoolboys come back from a sham battle on the collegegreen. It was his first fight, and he did not know that what he looked uponwas but the sure result of an easy victory upon the undisciplined ardour ofraw troops--that the sinews of an army are wrought not by a single trial, but by the strain of prolonged and strenuous endeavour. 

"I say, do you reckon they'll lemme go home ter-morrow?" inquired aslightly wounded man in the group before him. "Thar's my terbaccy needslookin' arter or the worms 'ull eat it clean up 'fo' I git thar. " He shookthe shaggy hair from his face, and straightened the white cotton bandageabout his chin. On the right side, where the wound was, his thick sandybeard had been cut away, and the outstanding tuft on his left cheek gavehim a peculiarly ill-proportioned look. 

"Lordy! I tell you we gave it ter 'em!" exclaimed another in excited jerks. "Fight! Wall, that's what I call fightin', leastways it's put. I declar' Ireckon I hit six Yankees plum on the head with the butt of this heremusket. "

He paused to knock the head off a champagne bottle, and lifting the brokenneck to his lips drained the foaming wine, which spilled in white frothupon his clothes. His face was red in the firelight, and when he spoke hiswords rolled like marbles from his tongue. Dan, looking at him, felt acurious conviction that the man had not gone near enough to the guns tosmell the powder. 

"Wall, it may be so, but I ain't seed you, " returned the first speaker, contemptuously, as he stroked his bandage. "I was thar all day and I ain'tseed you raise no special dust. "

"Oh, I ain't claimin' nothin' special, " put in the other, discomfited. 

"Six is a good many, I reckon, " drawled the wounded man, reflectively, "andI ain't sayin' I settled six on 'em hand to hand--I ain't sayin' that. " Hespoke with conscious modesty, as if the smallness of his assertion wasequalled only by the greatness of his achievements. "I ain't sayin' Isettled more'n three on 'em, I reckon. "

Dan left the group and went on slowly across the field, now and thenstumbling upon a sleeper who lay prone upon the trodden clover, obscured bythe heavy dusk. The mass of the army was still somewhere on the longroad--only the exhausted, the sickened, or the unambitious drifted back tofall asleep upon the uncovered ground. 

As Dan crossed the meadow he drew near to a knot of men from a Kentuckyregiment, gathered in the light of a small wood fire, and recognizing oneof them, he stopped to inquire for news of his missing friends. 

"Oh, you wouldn't know your sweetheart on a night like this, " replied theman he knew--a big handsome fellow, with a peculiar richness of voice. "Find a hole, Montjoy, and go to sleep in it, that's my advice. Were youmuch cut up?"

"I don't know, " answered Dan, uneasily. "I'm trying to make sure that wewere not. I lost the others somewhere on the road--a horse knocked medown. "

"Well, if this is to be the last battle, I shouldn't mind a scratchmyself, " put in a voice from the darkness, "even if it's nothing more thana bruise from a horse's hoof. By the bye, Montjoy, did you see the wayStuart rode down the Zouaves? I declare the slope looked like a field ofpoppies in full bloom. Your cousin was in that charge, I believe, and hecame out whole. I saw him afterwards. "

"Oh, the cavalry gets the best of everything, " said Dan, with a sigh, andhe was passing on, when Jack Powell, coming out of the darkness, stumbledagainst him, and broke into a delighted laugh. 

"Why, bless my soul, Beau, I thought you'd run after the fleshpots ofWashington!" His face was flushed with excitement and the soft curls uponhis forehead were wet and dark. Around his mouth there was a black stainfrom bitten cartridges. "By George, it was a jolly day, wasn't it, oldman?" he added warmly. 

"Where are the others?" asked Dan, grasping his arm in an almost franticpressure. 

"The others? they're all right--all except poor Welch, who got a ball inhis thigh, you know. Did you see him when he was taken off the field? Helaughed as he passed me and shouted back that he 'was always willing tospare a leg or two to the cause!'"

"Where are you off to?" inquired Dan, still grasping his arm. 

"I? oh, I'm on the scent of water. I haven't learned to sleep dirty yet, which Bland says is a sign I'm no soldier. By the way, your darky, BigAbel, has a coffee-boiler over yonder in the fence corner. He's beentearing his wool out over your absence; you'd better ease his mind. " With alaugh and a wave of his hand, he plunged into the darkness, and Dan madehis way slowly to the campfire, which twinkled from the old rail fence. Ashe groped toward it curses sprang up like mustard from the earth beneath. "Get off my leg, and be damned, " growled a voice under his feet. "Oh, thishere ain't no pesky jedgment day, " exclaimed another just ahead. Withoutanswering he stepped over the dark bodies, and, ten minutes later, cameupon Big Abel waiting patiently beside the dying fire. 

At sight of him the negro leaped, with a shout, to his feet; then, recovering himself, hid his joy beneath an accusing mask. 

"Dis yer coffee hit's done 'mos' bile away, " he remarked gloomily. "En ef'nit don' tase like hit oughter tase, 'tain' no use ter tu'n up yo' nose, caze 'tain' de faul' er de coffee, ner de faul' er me nurr. "

"How are you, old man?" asked Bland, turning over in the shadow. 

"Who's there?" responded Dan, as he peered from the light into theobscurity. 

"All the mess except Welch, poor devil. Baker got his hair singed by ourrear line, and he says he thinks it's safer to mix with the Yankees nexttime. Somebody behind him shot his cowlick clean off. "

"Cowlick, the mischief!" retorted Baker, witheringly. "Why, my scalp is asbald as your hand. The fool shaved me like a barber. "

"It's a pity he didn't aim at your whiskers, " was Dan's rejoinder. "Thechief thing I've got against this war is that when it's over there won't bea smooth-shaven man in the South. "

"Oh, we'll stand them up before our rear line, " suggested Baker, moodily. "You may laugh, Bland, but you wouldn't like it yourself, and if they keepup their precious marksmanship your turn will come yet. We'll be a regimentof baldheads before Christmas. "

Dan sat down upon the blanket Big Abel had spread and leaned heavily uponhis knapsack, which the negro had picked up on the roadside. A nervouschill had come over him and he was shaking with icy starts from head tofoot. Big Abel brought a cup of coffee, and as he took it from him, hishand quivered so that he set the cup upon the ground; then he lifted it anddrank the hot coffee in long draughts. 

"I should have lost my very identity but for you, Big Abel, " he observedgratefully, as he glanced round at the property the negro had protected. 

Big Abel leaned forward and stirred the ashes with a small stick. 

"En I done fit fer 'em, suh, " he replied. "I des tell you all de fittin'ain' been over yonder on dat ar hill caze I'se done fit right yer in disyer fence conder, en I ain' fit de Yankees nurr. Lawd, Lawd, dese yer folkses is been a-sniffin' roun' my pile all day, ain' de kinder folks I'se usedter, caze my folks dey don' steal w'at don' b'long ter 'em, en dese yerfolks dey do. Ole Marster steal? Huh! he 'ouldn't even tech a chicken dat'uz roos'in in his own yard. But dese yer sodgers!--Why, you cyarn tu'n yo'eye a splinter off de vittles fo' dey's done got 'em. Dey poke dey han'sright spang in de fire en eat de ashes en all. "

He went off grumbling to lie down at a little distance, and Dan satthoughtfully looking into the smouldering fire. Bland and Baker, havingheatedly discussed the details of the victory, had at last drifted intosilence; only Pinetop was awake--this he learned from the odour of thecorncob pipe which floated from a sheltered corner. 

"Come over, Pinetop, " called Dan, cordially, "and let's make ready for thepursuit to-morrow. Why, to-morrow we may eat a civilized dinner inWashington--think of that!"

He spoke excitedly, for he was still quivering from the tumult of histhoughts. There was no sleep possible for him just now; his limbs twitchedrestlessly, and he felt the prick of strong emotion in his blood. 

"I say, Pinetop, what do you think of the fight?" he asked with anembarrassed boyish eagerness. In the faint light of the fire his eyesburned like coals and there was a thick black stain around his mouth. Thehand in which he had held his ramrod was of a dark rust colour, as if thestain of the battle had seared into the skin. A smell of hot powder stillhung about his clothes. 

The mountaineer left the shadow of the fence corner and slowly draggedhimself into the little glow, where he sat puffing at his corncob pipe. Hegave an easy, sociable nod and stared silently at the embers. 

"Was it just what you imagined it would be?" went on Dan, curiously. 

Pinetop took his pipe from his mouth and nodded again. "Wall, 'twas and'twan't, " he answered pleasantly. 

"I must say it made me sick, " admitted Dan, leaning his head in his hand. "I've always been a fool about the smell of blood; and it made me downrightsick. "

"Wall, I ain't got much of a stomach for a fight myself, " returned Pinetop, reflectively. "You see I ain't never fought anythin' bigger'n a skunk untilto-day; and when I stood out thar with them bullets sizzlin' like fryin'pans round my head, I kind of says to myself: 'Look here, what's all thisfuss about anyhow? If these here folks have come arter the niggers, let 'emtake 'em off and welcome. ' I ain't never owned a nigger in my life, and, what's more, I ain't never seen one that's worth owning. 'Let 'em take 'emand welcome, ' that's what I said. Bless your life, as I stood out thar Ididn't see how I was goin' to fire my musket, till all of a jiffy a thoughtjest jumped into my head and sent me bangin' down that hill. 'Them folkshave set thar feet on ole Virginny, ' was what I thought 'They've set tharfeet on ole Virginny, and they've got to take 'em off damn quick!'"

His teeth closed over his pipe as if it were a cartridge; then, after asilent moment, he opened his mouth and spoke again. 

"What I can't make out for the life of me, " he said, "is how those boysfrom the other states gave thar licks so sharp. If I'd been born across theline in Tennessee, I wouldn't have fired my musket off to-day. They wan'ta-settin' thar feet on Tennessee. But ole Virginny--wall, I've got apowerful fancy for ole Virginny, and they ain't goin' to project with herdust, if I can stand between. " He turned away, and, emptying his pipe, rolled over upon the ground. 

Dan lay down upon the blanket, and, with his hand upon his knapsack, gazedat the small red ember burning amid the ashes. When the last spark fadedinto blackness it was as if his thoughts went groping for a light. Sleepcame fitfully in flights and pauses, in broken dreams and brief awakenings. Losing himself at last it was only to return to the woods at Chericoke andto see Betty coming to him among the dim blue bodies of the trees. He sawthe faint sunshine falling upon her head and the stir of the young leavesabove her as a light wind passed. Under her feet the grass was studded withviolets, and the bonnet swinging from her arm was filled with purpleblossoms. She came on steadily over the path of grass and violets, but whenhe reached out to touch her a great shame fell over him for there was bloodupon his hand. 

There was something cold in his face, and he emerged slowly from his sleepinto the consciousness of dawn and a heavy rain. The swollen clouds hungclose above the hills, and the distance was obscured by the gray sheets ofwater which fell like a curtain from heaven to earth. Near by a wagon haddrawn up in the night, and he saw that a group of half-drenched privateshad already taken shelter between the wheels. Gathering up his oilcloth, hehastily formed a tent with the aid of a deep fence corner, and, when he haddrawn his blanket across the opening, sat partly protected from the shower. As the damp air blew into his face, he became quickly and clearly awake, and it was with the glimmer of a smile that he looked over the wet meadowand the sleeping regiments. Then a shudder followed, for he saw in thelines of gray men stretched beneath the rain some likeness to that otherfield beyond the hill where the dead were still lying, row on row. He sawthem stark and cold on the scorched grass beside the guns, or in the thinridges of trampled corn, where the gay young tassels were now storm-beatenupon the ripped-up earth. He saw them as he had seen them the eveningbefore--not in the glow of battle, but with the acuteness of a broodingsympathy--saw them frowning, smiling, and with features which death hadtwisted into a ghastly grin. They were all there--each man with open eyesand stiff hands grasping the clothes above his wound. 

But to Dan, sitting in the gray dawn in the fence corner, the first horrorfaded quickly into an emotion almost triumphant. The great field wassilent, reproachful, filled with accusing eyes--but was it not filled withglory, too? He was young, and his weakened pulses quickened at the thought. Since men must die, where was a brighter death than to fall beneath theflutter of the colours, with the thunder of the cannon in one's ears? Heknew now why his fathers had loved a fight, had loved the glitter of thebayonets and the savage smell of the discoloured earth. 

For a moment the old racial spirit flashed above the peculiar sensitivenesswhich had come to him from his childhood and his suffering mother; then theflame went out and the rows of dead men stared at him through the fallingrain in the deserted field. 

V

THE WOMAN'S PART

At sunrise on the morning of the battle Betty and Virginia, from thewhitewashed porch of a little railway inn near Manassas, watched theGovernor's regiment as it marched down the single street and into the redclay road. Through the first faint sunshine, growing deeper as the sun rosegloriously above the hills, there sounded a peculiar freshness in themartial music as it triumphantly floated back across the fields. To Bettyit almost seemed that the drums were laughing as they went to battle; andwhen the gay air at last faded in the distance, the silence closed abouther with a strangeness she had never felt before--as if the absence ofsound was grown melancholy, like the absence of light. 

She shut her eyes and brought back the long gray line passing across thesunbeams: the tanned eager faces, the waving flags, the rapid, almostimpatient tread of the men as they swung onward. A laugh had run along thecolumn as it went by her and she had smiled in quick sympathy with somefoolish jest. It was all so natural to her, the gayety and the ardour andthe invincible dash of the young army--it was all so like the spirit of Danand so dear to her because of the likeness. 

Somewhere--not far away, she knew--he also was stepping briskly across thefirst sun rays, and her heart followed him even while she smiled down uponthe regiment before her. It was as if her soul were suddenly freed from herbodily presence, and in a kind of dual consciousness she seemed to bestanding upon the little whitewashed porch and walking onward beside Dan atthe same moment. The wonder of it glowed in her rapt face, and Virginia, turning to put some trivial question, was startled by the passion of herlook. 

"Have--have you seen--some one, Betty?" she whispered. 

The charm was snapped and Betty fell back into time and place. 

"Oh, yes, I have seen--some one, " her voice thrilled as she spoke. "I sawhim as clearly as I see you; he was all in sunshine and there was a flagclose above his head. He looked up and smiled at me. Yes, I saw him! I sawhim!"

"It was Dan, " said Virginia--not as a question, but in a wondering assent. "Why, Betty, I thought you had forgotten Dan--papa thought so, too. "

"Forgotten!" exclaimed Betty scornfully. She fell away from the crowd andVirginia followed her. The two stood leaning against the whitewashed wallin the dust that still rose from the street. "So you thought I hadforgotten him, " said Betty again. She raised her hand to her bosom andcrushed the lace upon her dress. "Well, you were wrong, " she added quietly. 

Virginia looked at her and smiled. "I am almost glad, " she answered in hersweet girlish voice. "I don't like to have Dan forgotten even if--if heought to be. "

"I didn't love him because he ought to be loved, " said Betty. "I loved himbecause I couldn't help it--because he was himself and I was myself, Isuppose. I was born to love him, and to stop loving him I should have to beborn again. I don't care what he does--I don't care what he is even--Iwould rather love him than--than be a queen. " She held her hands tightlytogether. "I would be his servant if he would let me, " she went on. "Iwould work for him like a slave--but he won't let me. And yet he does loveme just the same--just the same. "

"He does--he does, " admitted Virginia softly. She had never seen Betty likethis before, and she felt that her sister had become suddenly very strangeand very sacred. Her hands were outstretched to comfort, but Betty turnedgently away from her and went up the narrow staircase to the bare littleroom where the girls slept together. 

Alone within the four white walls she moved breathlessly to and fro like awoodland creature that has been entrapped. At the moment she was tellingherself that she wanted to keep onward with the army; then her couragewould have fluttered upward like the flags. It was not the sound of thecannon that she dreaded, nor the sight of blood--these would have nervedher as they nerved the generations at her back--but the folded hands andthe terrible patience that are the woman's share of a war. The old fightingblood was in her veins--she was as much the child of her father as a soncould have been--and yet while the great world over there was filled withnoise she was told to go into her room and pray. Pray! Why, a man mightpray with his musket in his hand, that was worth while. 

In the adjoining room she saw her mother sitting in a square of sunlightwith her open Bible on her knees. 

"Oh, speak, mamma!" she called half angrily. "Move, do anything but sit sostill. I can't bear it!" She caught her breath sharply, for with her wordsa low sound like distant thunder filled the room and the little streetoutside. As she clung with both hands to the window it seemed to her that agray haze had fallen over the sunny valley. "Some one is dead, " she saidalmost calmly, "that killed how many?"

The room stifled her and she ran hurriedly down into the street, where afew startled women and old men had rushed at the first roll of the cannon. As she stood among them, straining her eyes from end to end of the littlevillage, her heart beat in her throat and she could only quaver out anappeal for news. 

"Where is it? Doesn't any one know anything? What does it mean?"

"It means a battle, Miss, that's one thing, " remarked on obligingby-stander who leaned heavily upon a wooden leg. "Bless you, I kin a'mosttaste the powder. " He smacked his lips and spat into the dust. "To thinkthat I went all the way down to Mexico fur a fight, " he pursuedregretfully, "when I could have set right here at home and had it all inold Virginny. Well, well, that comes of hurryin' the Lord afo' he's ready. "

He rambled on excitedly, but Betty, frowning with impatience, turned fromhim and walked rapidly up and down the single street, where the voices ofthe guns growled through the muffling distance. "That killed how many? howmany?" she would say at each long roll, and again, "How many died thatmoment, and was one Dan?"

Up and down the little village, through the heavy sunshine and the whitedust, among the whimpering women and old men, she walked until the day woreon and the shadows grew longer across the street. Once a man had come withthe news of a sharp repulse, and in the early afternoon a deserterstraggled in with the cry that the enemy was marching upon the village. Itwas not until the night had fallen, when the wounded began to arrive onbaggage trains, that the story of the day was told, and a single shout wentup from the waiting groups. The Confederacy was established! Washington wastheirs by right of arms, and tomorrow the young army would dictate terms ofpeace to a great nation! The flags waved, women wept, and the woundedsoldiers, as they rolled in on baggage cars, were hailed as the deliverersof a people. The new Confederacy! An emotion half romantic, half maternalfilled Betty as she bent above an open wound--for it was in her blood to dobattle to the death for a belief, to throw herself into a cause as into thearms of a lover. She was made of the stuff of soldiers, and come what mightshe would always take her stand upon her people's side. 

There were cheers and sobs in the little street about her; in the distancea man was shouting for the flag, and nearer by a woman with a lantern inher hand was searching among the living for her dead. The joy and theanguish of it entered into the girl like wine. She felt her pulses leap anda vigour that was not her own nerved her from head to foot. With that powerof ardent sacrifice which lies beneath all shams in the Southern heart, shetold herself that no endurance was too great, no hope too large with whichto serve the cause. 

The exaltation was still with her when, a little later, she went up to herroom and knelt down to thank God. Her people's simple faith was hers also, and as she prayed with her brow on her clasped hands it was as if she gavethanks to some great warrior who had drawn his sword in defence of the landshe loved. God was on her side, supreme, beneficent, watchful in littlethings, as He has been on the side of all fervent hearts since thebeginning of time. 

But after her return to Uplands in midsummer she suffered a peculiarrestlessness from the tranquil August weather. The long white roadirritated her with its aspect of listless patience, and at times she wantedto push back the crowding hills and leave the horizon open to her view. When a squadron of cavalry swept along the turnpike her heart would followit like a bird while she leaned, with straining eyes, against a great whitecolumn. Then, as the last rider was blotted out into the landscape, shewould clasp her hands and walk rapidly up and down between the lilacs. Itwas all waiting--waiting--waiting--nothing else. 

"Something must happen, mamma, or I shall go mad, " she said one day, breaking in upon Mrs. Ambler as she sorted a heap of old letters in thelibrary. 

"But what? What?" asked Virginia from the shadow of the window seat. "Surely you don't want a battle, Betty?"

Mrs. Ambler shuddered. 

"Don't tempt Providence, dear, " she said seriously, untying a faded ribbonabout a piece of old parchment. "Be grateful for just this calm and go outfor a walk. You might take this pitcher of flaxseed tea to Floretta'scabin, if you've nothing else to do. Ask how the baby is to-day, and tellher to keep the red flannel warm on its chest. "

Betty went into the hall after her bonnet and came back for the pitcher. "I'm going to walk across the fields to Chericoke, " she said, "and Hosea isto bring the carriage for me about sunset. We must have some white silk tomake those flags out of, and there isn't a bit in the house. "

She went out, stepping slowly in her wide skirts and holding the pitchercarefully before her. 

Floretta's baby was sleeping, and after a few pleasant words the girl kepton to Chericoke. There she found that the Major had gone to town for news, leaving Mrs. Lightfoot to her pickle making in the big storeroom, where theearthenware jars stood in clean brown rows upon the shelves. The air wassharp with the smell of vinegar and spices, and fragrant moisture drippedfrom the old lady's delicate hands. At the moment she had forgotten the warjust beyond her doors, and even the vacant places in her household; hernervous flutter was caused by finding the plucked corn too large to salt. 

"Come in, child, come in, " she said, as Betty appeared in the doorway. "You're too good a housekeeper to mind the smell of brine. "

"How the soldiers will enjoy it, " laughed Betty in reply. "It's fortunatethat both sides are fond of spices. "

The old lady was tying a linen cloth over the mouth of a great brown jar, and she did not look up as she answered. "I'm not consulting their tastes, my dear, though, as for that, I'm willing enough to feast our own men solong as the Yankees keep away. This jar, by the bye, is filled with'Confederate pickle'--it was as little as I could do to compliment theGovernment, I thought, and the green tomato catchup I've named in honour ofGeneral Beauregard. "

Betty smiled; and then, while Mrs. Lightfoot stood sharply regardingCar'line, who was shucking a tray of young corn, she timidly began upon hermission. "The flags must be finished, and I can't find the silk, " shepleaded. "Isn't there a scrap in the house I may have? Let me look aboutthe attic. "

The old lady shook her head. "I haven't allowed anybody to set foot in myattic for forty years, " she replied decisively. "Why, I'd almost as soonthey'd step into my grandfather's vault. " Then as Betty's face fell sheadded generously. "As for white silk, I haven't any except my weddingdress, and that's yellow with age; but you may take it if you want it. I'msure it couldn't come to a better end; at least it will have been to thefront upon two important occasions. "

"Your wedding dress!" exclaimed Betty in surprise, "oh, how could you?"

Mrs. Lightfoot smiled grimly. 

"I could give more than a wedding dress if the Confederacy called for it, my dear, " she answered. "Indeed, I'm not perfectly sure that I couldn'tgive the Major himself--but go upstairs and wait for me while I sendCar'line for the keys. "

She returned to the storeroom, and Betty went upstairs to wander leisurelythrough the cool faintly lighted chambers. They were all newly swept andscented with lavender, and the high tester beds, with their slender flutedposts, looked as if they had stood spotless and untouched for generations. In Dan's room, which had been his mother's also, the girl walked slowly upand down, meeting, as she passed, her own eyes in the darkened mirror. Hermind fretted with the thought that Dan's image had risen so often in theglass, and yet had left no hint for her as she looked in now. If it hadonly caught and held his reflection, that blank mirror, she could havefound it, she felt sure, though a dozen faces had passed by since. Wasthere nothing left of him, she wondered, nothing in the place where he hadlived his life? She turned to the bed and picked up, one by one, thescattered books upon the little table. Among them there was a copy of the"Morte d'Arthur, " and as it fell open in her hand, she found a bit of herown blue ribbon between the faded leaves. A tremor ran through her limbs, and going to the window she placed the book upon the sill and read thewords aloud in the fragrant stillness. Behind her in the dim room Danseemed to rise as suddenly as a ghost--and that high-flown chivalry of his, which delighted in sounding phrases as in heroic virtues, was loosened fromthe leaves of the old romance. 

"For there was never worshipful man nor worshipful woman but they loved onebetter than another, and worship in arms may never be foiled; but firstreserve the honour to God, and secondly the quarrel must come of thy lady;and such love I call virtuous love. "

She leaned her cheek upon the book and looked out dreamily into the greenbox mazes of the garden. In the midst of war a great peace had come to her, and the quiet summer weather no longer troubled her with its unbroken calm. Her heart had grown suddenly strong again; even the long waiting had becomebut a fit service for her love. 

There was a step in the hall and Mrs. Lightfoot rustled in with her weddingdress. 

"You may take it and welcome, child, " she said, as she gave it into Betty'sarms. "I can't help feeling that there was something providential in myselecting white when my taste always leaned toward a peach-blow brocade. Well, well, who would have believed that I was buying a flag as well as afrock? If I'd even hinted such a thing, they would have said I had thevapours. "

Betty accepted the gift with her pretty effusion of manner, and wentdownstairs to where Hosea was waiting for her with the big carriage. As shedrove home in a happy revery, her eyes dwelt contentedly on the sunburntAugust fields, and the thought of war did not enter in to disturb herdreams. 

Once a line of Confederate cavalrymen rode by at a gallop and saluted heras her face showed at the window. They were strangers to her, but with thepeculiar feeling of kinship which united the people of the South, sheleaned out to wish them "God speed" as she waved her handkerchief. 

When, a little later, she turned into the drive at Uplands, it was to find, from the prints upon the gravel, that the soldiers had been there beforeher. Beyond the Doric columns she caught a glimpse of a gray sleeve, andfor a single instant a wild hope shot up within her heart. Then as thecarriage stopped, and she sprang quickly to the ground, the man in graycame out upon the portico, and she saw that it was Jack Morson. 

"I've come for Virginia, Betty, " he began impulsively, as he took her hand, "and she promises to marry me before the battle. "

Betty laughed with trembling lips. "And here is the dress, " she said gayly, holding out the yellowed silk. 

VI

ON THE ROAD TO ROMNEY

After a peaceful Christmas, New Year's Day rose bright and mild, and Dan ashe started from Winchester with the column felt that he was escaping tofreedom from the tedious duties of camp life. 

"Thank God we're on the war-path again, " he remarked to Pinetop, who wasstalking at his side. The two had become close friends during the dullweeks after their first battle, and Bland, who had brought a taste for theclassics from the lecture-room, had already referred to them in pointlessjokes as "Pylades and Orestes. "

"It looks mighty like summer, " responded Pinetop cheerfully. He threw akeen glance up into the blue clouds, and then sniffed suspiciously at thedust that rose high in the road. "But I ain't one to put much faith inlooks, " he added with his usual caution, as he shifted the knapsack uponhis shoulders. 

Dan laughed easily. "Well, I'm heartily glad I left my overcoat behind me, "he said, breathing hard as he climbed the mountain road, where the red clayhad stiffened into channels. 

The sunshine fell brightly over them, lying in golden drops upon the fallenleaves. To Dan the march brought back the early winter rides at Chericoke, and the chain of lights and shadows that ran on clear days over the tavernroad. Joyously throwing back his head, he whistled a love song as hetramped up the mountain side. The irksome summer, with its slow fevers andits sharp attacks of measles, its scarcity of pure water and supplies ofhalf-cooked food, was suddenly blotted from his thoughts, and his firstromantic ardour returned to him in long draughts of wind and sun. Aftereach depression his elastic temperament had sprung upward; the past monthshad but strengthened him in body as in mind. 

In the afternoon a gray cloud came up suddenly and the sunshine, after afeeble struggle, was driven from the mountains. As the wind blew in shortgusts down the steep road, Dan tightened his coat and looked at Pinetop'sknapsack with his unfailing laugh. 

"That's beginning to look comfortable. I hope to heaven the wagons aren'tfar off. "

Pinetop turned and glanced back into the valley. "I'll be blessed if Ibelieve they're anywhere, " was his answer. 

"Well, if they aren't, I'll be somewhere before morning; why, it feels likesnow. "

A gust of wind, sharp as a blade, struck from the gray sky, and whirlpoolsof dead leaves were swept into the forest. Falling silent, Dan swung hisarms to quicken the current of his blood, and walked on more rapidly. Overthe long column gloom had settled with the clouds, and they were brave lipsthat offered a jest in the teeth of the wind. There were no blankets, fewovercoats, and fewer rations, and the supply wagons were crawling somewherein the valley. 

The day wore on, and still the rough country road climbed upward embeddedin withered leaves. On the high wind came the first flakes of a snowstorm, followed by a fine rain that enveloped the hills like mist. As Dan stumbledon, his feet slipped on the wet clay, and he was forced to catch at thebared saplings for support. The cold had entered his lungs as a knife, andhis breath circled in a little cloud about his mouth. Through the storm heheard the quick oaths of his companions ring out like distant shots. 

When night fell they halted to bivouac by the roadside, and until daybreakthe pine woods were filled with the cheerful glow of the campfires. Therewere no rations, and Dan, making a jest of his hunger, had stretchedhimself in the full light of the crackling branches. With the defianthumour which had made him the favourite of the mess, he laughed at thefrozen roads, at the change in the wind, at his own struggles with the wetkindling wood, at the supply wagons creeping slowly after them. His couragehad all the gayety of his passions--it showed itself in a smile, in awhistle, in the steady hand with which he played toss and catch with fate. The superb silence of Pinetop, plodding evenly along, was as far removedfrom him as the lofty grandeur of the mountains. A jest warmed his heartagainst the cold; with set lips and grave eyes, he would have fallen beforethe next ridge was crossed. 

Through the woods other fires were burning, and long reddish shadows creptamong the pine trees over the rotting mould. For warmth Dan had spread acovering of dried leaves over him, raking them from sheltered corners ofthe forest. When he rose from time to time during the night to take histurn at replenishing the fire the leaves drifted in gravelike mounds abouthis feet. 

For three days the march was steadily upward over long ridges coated deepwith ice. In the face of the strong wind, which blew always down the steeproad, the army passed on, complaining, cursing, asking a gigantic questionof its General. Among the raw soldiers there had been desertions by thedozen, filling the streets of the little town with frost-bittenmalcontents. "It was all a wild goose chase, " they declared bitterly, "andif Old Jack wasn't a March hare--well, he was something madder!"

Dan listened to the curses with his ready smile, and walked on bravely. Since the first evening he had uttered no complaint, asked no question. Hehad undertaken to march, and he meant to march, that was all. In the frontwith which he veiled his suffering there was no lessening of his oldcareless confidence--if his dash had hardened into endurance it wore stillan expression that was almost debonair. 

So as the column straggled weakly upward, he wrung his stiffened fingersand joked with Jack Powell, who stumbled after him. The cold had brought aglow to his tanned face, and when he lifted his eyes from the road Pinetopsaw that they were shining brightly. Once he slipped on the frozen mud, andas his musket dropped from his hand, it went off sharply, the load enteringthe ground. 

"Are you hurt?" asked Jack, springing toward him; but Dan looked roundlaughing as he clasped his knee. 

"Oh, I merely groaned because I might have been, " he said lightly, andlimped on, singing a bit of doggerel which had taken possession of hisregiment. 

 "Then let the Yanks say what they will, We'll be gay and happy still; Gay and happy, gay and happy, We'll be gay and happy still. "

On the third day out they reached a little village in the mountains, butbefore the week's end they had pushed on again, and the white roads stillstretched before them. As they went higher the tracks grew steeper, and nowand then a musket shot rang out on the roadside as a man lost his footingand went down upon the ice. Behind them the wagon train crept inch by inch, or waited patiently for hours while a wheel was hoisted from the ditchbeside the road. There was blood on the muzzles of the horses and on theshining ice that stretched beyond them. 

To Dan these terrible days were as the anguish of a new birth, in which thething to be born suffered the conscious throes of awakening life. He couldnever be the same again; something was altered in him forever; this he feltdimly as he dragged his aching body onward. Days like these would prove thestuff that had gone into the making of him. When the march to Romney laybehind him he should know himself to be either a soldier or a coward. Asoldier or a coward! he said the words over again as he struggled to keepdown the pangs of hunger, telling himself that the road led not merely toRomney, but to a greater victory than his General dreamed of. Romney mightbe worthless, after all, the grim march but a mad prank of Jackson's, asmen said; but whether to lay down one's arms or to struggle till the endwas reached, this was the question asked by those stern mountains. Naturestood ranged against him--he fought it step by step, and day by day. 

At times something like delirium seized him, and he went on blindly, stepping high above the ice. For hours he was tortured by the longing forraw beef, for the fresh blood that would put heat into his veins. Thekitchen at Chericoke flamed upon the hillside, as he remembered it onwinter evenings when the great chimney was filled with light and the cranewas in its place above the hickory. The smell of newly baked bread floatedin his nostrils, and for a little while he believed himself to be lyingagain upon the hearth as he thrilled at Aunt Rhody's stories. Then hisfancies would take other shapes, and warm colours would glow in red andyellow circles before his eyes. When he thought of Betty now it was nolonger tenderly but with a despairing passion. He was haunted less by hervisible image than by broken dreams of her peculiar womanly beauties--ofher soft hands and the warmth of her girlish bosom. 

But from the first day to the last he had no thought of yielding; and eachfeeble step had sent him a step farther upon the road. He had often fallen, but he had always struggled up again and laughed. Once he made a ghastlyjoke about his dying in the snow, and Jack Powell turned upon him with anoath and bade him to be silent. 

"For God's sake don't, " added the boy weakly, and fell to whimpering likea child. 

"Oh, go home to your mother, " retorted Dan, with a kind of desperatecruelty. 

Jack sobbed outright. 

"I wish I could, " he answered, and dropped over upon the roadside. 

Dan caught him up, and poured his last spoonful of brandy down his throat, then he seized his arm and dragged him bodily along. 

"Oh, I say don't be an ass, " he implored. "Here comes old Stonewall. "

The commanding General rode by, glanced quietly over them, and passed on, his chest bowed, his cadet cap pulled down over his eyes. A moment laterDan, looking over the hillside, at the winding road, saw him dismount andput his shoulder to a sunken wheel. The sight suddenly nerved the youngerman, and he went on quickly, dragging Jack up with him. 

That night they rested in a burned-out clearing where the pine trees hadbeen felled for fence rails. The rails went readily to fires, and Pinetopfried strips of fat bacon in the skillet he had brought upon his musket. Somebody produced a handful of coffee from his pocket, and a little laterDan, dozing beside the flames, was awakened by the aroma. 

"By George!" he burst out, and sat up speechless. 

Pinetop was mixing thin cornmeal paste into the gravy, and he looked up ashe stirred busily with a small stick. 

"Wall, I reckon these here slapjacks air about done, " he remarked in amoment, adding with a glance at Dan, "and if your stomach's near as emptyas your eyes, I reckon your turn comes first. "

"I reckon it does, " said Dan, and filling his tin cup, he drank scaldingcoffee in short gulps. When he had finished it, he piled fresh rails uponthe fire and lay down to sleep with his feet against the embers. 

With the earliest dawn a long shiver woke him, and as he put out his handit touched something wet and cold. The fire had died to a red heart, and athick blanket of snow covered him from head to foot. Straight above therewas a pale yellow light where the stars shone dimly after the storm. 

He started to his feet, rubbing a handful of snow upon his face. The redembers, sheltered by the body of a solitary pine, still glowed under thecharred brushwood, and kneeling upon the ground, he fanned them into afeeble blaze. Then he laid the rails crosswise, protecting them with hisblanket until they caught and flamed up against the blackened pine. 

Near by Jack Powell was moaning in his sleep, and Dan leaned over to shakehim into consciousness. "Oh, damn it all, wake up, you fool!" he saidroughly, but Jack rolled over like one drugged and broke into frightenedwhimpers such as a child makes in the dark. He was dreaming of home, and asDan listened to the half-choked words, his face contracted sharply. "Wakeup, you fool!" he repeated angrily, rolling him back and forth before thefire. 

A little later, when Jack had grown warm beneath his touch, he threw ablanket over him, and turned to lie down in his own place. As he tossed alast armful on the fire, his eyes roamed over the long mounds of snow thatfilled the clearing, and he caught his breath as a man might who had wakedsuddenly among the dead. In the beginning of dawn, with the glimmer ofsmouldering fires reddening the snow, there was something almost ghastly inthe sloping field filled with white graves and surrounded by whitemountains. Even the wintry sky borrowed, for an hour, the spectral aspectof the earth, and the familiar shapes of cloud, as of hill, stood out withall the majesty of uncovered laws--stripped of the mere frivolous effect oflight or shade. It was like the first day--or the last. 

Dan, sitting watchful beside the fire, fell into the peculiar mental statewhich comes only after an inward struggle that has laid bare the sinews ofone's life. He had fought the good fight to the end, and he knew that fromthis day he should go easier with himself because he knew that he hadconquered. 

The old doubt--the old distrust of his own strength--was fallen from him. At the moment he could have gone to Betty, fearless and full of hope, andhave said, "Come, for I am grown up at last--at last I have grown up to mylove. " A great tenderness was in his heart, and the tears, which had notrisen for all the bodily suffering of the past two weeks, came slowly tohis eyes. The purpose of life seemed suddenly clear to him, and the largepatience of the sky passed into his own nature as he sat facing the whitedawn. At rare intervals in the lives of all strenuous souls there comesthis sense of kinship with external things--this passionate recognition ofthe appeal of the dumb world. Sky and mountains and the white sweep of thefields awoke in him the peculiar tenderness he had always felt for animalsor plants. His old childish petulance was gone from him forever; in itsplace he was aware of a kindly tolerance which softened even the commonoutlines of his daily life. It was as if he had awakened breathlessly tofind himself a man. 

And Betty came to him again--not in detached visions, but entire andwomanly. When he remembered her as on that last night at Chericoke it waswith the impulse to fall down and kiss her feet. Reckless and blind withanger as he had been, she would have come cheerfully with him wherever hisroad led; and it was this passionate betrayal of herself that had taughthim the full measure of her love. An attempt to trifle, to waver, tobargain with the future, he might have looked back upon with tender scorn;but the gesture with which she had made her choice was as desperate as hisown mood--and it was for this one reckless moment that he loved her best. 

The east paled slowly as the day broke in a cloud, and the long shadowsbeside the fire lost their reddish glimmer. A little bird, dazed by thecold and the strange light, flew into the smoke against the stunted pine, and fell, a wet ball of feathers at Dan's feet. He picked it up, warmed itin his coat, and fed it from the loose crumbs in his pocket. 

When Pinetop awoke he was gently stroking the bird while he sang in a lowvoice:--

 "Gay and happy, gay and happy, We'll be gay and happy still. "

VII

"I WAIT MY TIME"

When he returned to Winchester it was to find Virginia already there asJack Morson's wife. Since her marriage in late summer she had followed herhusband's regiment from place to place, drifting at last to a big yellowhouse on the edge of the fiery little town. Dan, passing along the streetone day, heard his name called in a familiar voice, and turned to find herlooking at him through the network of a tall, wrought-iron gate. 

"Virginia! Bless my soul! Where's Betty?" he exclaimed amazed. 

Virginia left the gate and gave him her hand over the dried creepers on thewall. 

"Why, you look ten years older, " was her response. 

"Indeed! Well, two years of beggary, to say nothing of eight months of war, isn't just the thing to insure immortal youth, is it? You see, I'm turninggray. "

The pallor of the long march was in his face, giving him a striking thoughunnatural beauty. His eyes were heavy and his hair hung dishevelled abouthis brow, but the change went deeper still, and the girl saw it. "You'rebigger--that's it, " she said, and added impulsively, "Oh, how I wish Bettycould see you now. "

Her hand was upon the wall and he gave it a quick, pleased pressure. 

"I wish to heaven she could, " he echoed heartily. 

"But I shall tell her everything when I write--everything. I shall tell herthat you are taller and stronger and that you have been in all the fightsand haven't a scar to show. Betty loves scars, you see, and she doesn'tmind even wounds--real wounds. She wanted to go into the hospitals, but Icame away and mamma wouldn't let her. "

"For God's sake, don't let her, " said Dan, with a shudder, his Southerninstincts recoiling from the thought of service for the woman he loved. "There are a plenty of them in the hospitals and it's no place for Betty, anyway. "

"I'll tell her you think so, " returned Virginia, gayly. "I'll tell herthat--and what else?"

He met her eyes smiling. 

"Tell her I wait my time, " he answered, and began to talk lightly of otherthings. Virginia followed his lead with her old shy merriment. Her marriagehad changed her but little, though she had grown a trifle stately, hethought, and her coquetry had dropped from her like a veil. As she stoodthere in her delicate lace cap and soft gray silk, the likeness to hermother was very marked, and looking into the future, Dan seemed to see herbeauty ripen and expand with her growing womanhood. How many of her racehad there been, he wondered, shaped after the same pure and formal plan. 

"And it is all just the same, " he said, his eyes delighting in her beauty. "There is no change--don't tell me there is any change, for I'll notbelieve it. You bring it all back to me, --the lawn and the lilacs and thewhite pillars, and Miss Lydia's garden, with the rose leaves in the paths. Why are there always rose leaves in Miss Lydia's paths, Virginia?"

Virginia shook her head, puzzled by his whimsical tone. 

"Because there are so many roses, " she answered seriously. 

"No, you're wrong, there's another reason, but I shan't tell you. "

"My boxes are filled with rose leaves now, " said Virginia. "Betty gatheredthem for me. "

The smile leaped to his eyes. "Oh, but it makes me homesick, " he returnedlightly. "If I tell you a secret, don't betray me, Virginia--I am downrighthomesick for Betty. "

Virginia patted his hand. 

"So am I, " she confessed, "and so is Mammy Riah--she's with me now, youknow--and she says that I might have been married without Jack, but neverwithout Betty. Betty made my dress and iced my cake and pinned on my veil. "

"Ah, is that so?" exclaimed Dan, absent-mindedly. He was thinking of Betty, and he could almost see her hands as she pinned on the wedding veil--thosesmall white hands with the strong fingers that had closed about his own. 

"When you get your furlough you must go home, Dan, " Virginia was saying;"the Major is very feeble and--and he quarrels with almost everyone. "

"My furlough, " repeated Dan, with a laugh. "Why, the war may end to-morrowand then we'll all go home together and kill the fatted calf among us. Yes, I'd like to see the old man again before I die. "

"I pray every night that the war may end tomorrow, " said Virginia, "but itnever does. " Then she turned eagerly to the Governor, who was coming towardthem under the leafless trees along the street. 

"Here's Dan, papa, do make him come in and be good. "

The Governor, holding himself erect in his trim gray uniform, insisted, with his hand upon Dan's shoulder, that Virginia should be obeyed; and theyounger man, yielding easily, followed him through the iron gate and intothe yellow house. 

"I don't see you every day, my boy, sit down, sit down, " began theGovernor, as he took his stand upon the hearth-rug. "Daughter, haven't youlearned the way to the pantry yet? Dan looks as if he'd been on starvationrations since he joined the army. They aren't living high at Romney, eh?"and then, as Virginia went out, he fell to discussing the questions on allmen's lips--the prospect of peace in the near future; hopes of interventionfrom England; the attitude of other foreign powers; and the reasons for thelatest appointments by the President. When the girl came in again they letsuch topics go, and talked of home while she poured the coffee and helpedDan to fried chicken. She belonged to the order of women who delight infeeding a hungry man, and her eyes did not leave his face as she sat behindthe tray and pressed the food upon him. 

"Dan thinks the war will be over before he gets his furlough, " she said alittle wistfully. 

A shadow crossed the Governor's face. 

"Then I may hope to get back in time to watch the cradles in the wheatfield, " he remarked. "There's little doing on the farm I'm afraid while I'maway. "

"If they hold out six months longer--well, I'll be surprised, " exclaimedDan, slapping the arm of his chair with a gesture like the Major's. "They've found out we won't give in so long as there's a musket left; andthat's enough for them. "

"Maybe so, maybe so, " returned the Governor, for it was a part of hisphilosophy to cast his conversational lines in the pleasant places. "PleaseGod, we'll drink our next Christmas glass at Chericoke. "

"In the panelled parlour, " added Dan, his eyes lighting. 

"With Aunt Emmeline's portrait, " finished Virginia, smiling. 

For a time they were all silent, each looking happily into the far-offroom, and each seeing a distinct and different vision. To the Governor thepeaceful hearth grew warm again--he saw his wife and children gatheredthere, and a few friendly neighbours with their long-lived, genial jokesupon their lips. To Virginia it was her own bridal over again with the fearof war gone from her, and the quiet happiness she wanted stretching outinto the future. To Dan there was first his own honour to be won, and thenonly Betty and himself--Betty and himself under next year's mistletoetogether. 

"Well, well, " sighed the Governor, and came back regretfully to thepresent. "It's a good place we're thinking of, and I reckon you're sorryenough you left it before you were obliged to. We all make mistakes, myboy, and the fortunate ones are those who live long enough to unmake them. "

His warm smile shone out suddenly, and without waiting for a reply, hebegan to ask for news of Jack Powell and his comrades, all of whom he knewby name. "I was talking to Colonel Burwell about you the other day, " headded presently, "and he gave you a fighting record that would do honour tothe Major. "

"He's a nice old chap, " responded Dan, easily, for in the first years ofthe Army of Northern Virginia the question of rank presented itself onlyupon the parade ground, and beyond the borders of the camp a private hadbeen known to condescend to his own Colonel. "A gentleman fights for hiscountry as he pleases, a plebeian as he must, " the Governor would haveexplained with a touch of his old oratory. "He's a nice old chap himself, but, by George, the discipline fits like a straight-jacket, " pursued Dan, as he finished his coffee. "Why, here we are three miles below Winchesterin a few threadbare tents, and they make as much fuss about our coming intotown as if we were the Yankees themselves. Talk about Romney! Why, it's nocolder at Romney than it was here last week, and yet Loring's men areliving in huts like princes. "

"Show me a volunteer and I'll show you a grumbler, " put in the Governor, laughing. 

"Oh, I'm not grumbling, I'm merely pointing out the facts, " protested Dan;then he rose and stood holding Virginia's hand as he met her upward glancewith his unflinching admiration. "Come again! Why, I should say so, " hedeclared. "I'll come as long as I have a collar left, and then--well, thenI'll pass the time of day with you over the hedge. Good-by, Colonel, remember I'm not a grumbler, I'm merely a man of facts. "

The door closed after him and a moment later they heard his clear whistlein the street. 

"The boy is like his father, " said the Governor, thoughtfully, "like hisfather with the devil broken to harness. The Montjoy blood may be badblood, but it makes big men, daughter. " He sighed and drew his small figureto its full height. 

Virginia was looking into the fire. "I hope he will come again, " shereturned softly, thinking of Betty. 

But when he called again a week later Virginia did not see him. It was acold starlit night, and the big yellow house, as he drew near it, glowedlike a lamp amid the leafless trees. Beside the porch a number of cavalryhorses were fastened to the pillars, and through the long windows therecame the sound of laughter and of gay "good-bys. "

The "fringe of the army, " as Dan had once jeeringly called it, was merrilymaking ready for a raid. 

As he listened he leaned nearer the window and watched, half enviously, themen he had once known. His old life had been a part of theirs and now, looking in from the outside, it seemed very far away--the poetry of warbeside which the other was mere dull history in which no names werewritten. He thought of Prince Rupert, and of his own joy in the saddle, andthe longing for the raid seized him like a heartache. Oh, to feel again theedge of the keen wind in his teeth and to hear the silver ring of the hoofson the frozen road. 

 "Jine the cavalry, Jine the cavalry, If you want to have a good time jine the cavalry. "

The words floated out to him, and he laughed aloud as if he had awakenedfrom a comic dream. 

That was the romance of war, but, after all, he was only the man who borethe musket. 

VIII

THE ALTAR OF THE WAR GOD

With the opening spring Virginia went down to Richmond, where Jack Morsonhad taken rooms for her in the house of an invalid widow whose three sonswere at the front. The town was filled to overflowing with refugees fromthe North and representatives from the South, and as the girl drove throughthe crowded streets, she exclaimed wonderingly at the festive air thehouses wore. 

"Why, the doors are all open, " she observed. "It looks like one bigfamily. "

"That's about what it is, " replied Jack. "The whole South is here andthere's not a room to be had for love or money. Food is getting dear, too, they say, and the stranger within the gates has the best of everything. " Hestopped short and laughed from sheer surprise at Virginia's loveliness. 

"Well, I'm glad I'm here, anyway, " said the girl, pressing his arm, "andMammy Riah's glad, too, though she won't confess it. --Aren't you justdelighted to see Jack again, Mammy?"

The old negress grunted in her corner of the carriage. "I ain' seed no usein all dis yer fittin', " she responded. "W'at's de use er fittin' ef darain' sumpen' ter fit fer dat you ain' got a'ready?"

"That's it, Mammy, " replied Jack, gayly, "we're fighting for freedom, andwe haven't had it yet, you see. "

"Is dat ar freedom vittles?" scornfully retorted the old woman. "Is itclose? is it wood ter bu'n?"

"Oh, it will soon be here and you'll find out, " said Virginia, cheerfully, and when a little later she settled herself in her pleasant rooms, shereturned to her assurances. 

"Aren't you glad you're here, Mammy, aren't you glad?" she insisted, withher arm about the old woman's neck. 

"I'd des like ter git a good look at ole Miss agin, " returned Mammy Riah, softening, "caze ef you en ole Miss ain' des like two peas in a pod, myeyes hev done crack wid de sight er you. Dar ain' been nuttin' so pretty esyou sence de day I dressed ole Miss in 'er weddin' veil. "

"You're right, " exclaimed Jack, heartily. "But look at this, Virginia, here's a regular corn field at the back. Mrs. Minor tells me thatvegetables have grown so scarce she has been obliged to turn her flowerbeds into garden patches. " He threw open the window, and they went out uponthe wide piazza which hung above the young corn rows. 

During the next few weeks, when Jack was often in the city, an almostfeverish gayety possessed the girl. In the war-time parties, where thewomen wore last year's dresses, and the wit served for refreshment, hergentle beauty became, for a little while, the fashion. The smooth bands ofher hair were copied, the curve of her eyelashes was made the subject ofsome verses which _The Examiner_ printed and the English papers quotedlater on. It was a bright and stately society that filled the capital thatyear; and on pleasant Sundays when Virginia walked from church, in herLeghorn bonnet and white ruffles flaring over crinoline as they neared theground, men, who had bled on fields of honour for the famous beauties ofthe South, would drop their talk to follow her with warming eyes. Citiesmight fall and battles might be lost and won, but their joy in a beautifulwoman would endure until a great age. 

At last Jack Morson rode away to service, and the girl kept to the quiethouse and worked on the little garments which the child would need in thesummer. She was much alone, but the delicate widow, who had left her couchto care for the sick and wounded soldiers, would sometimes come and sitnear her while she sewed. 

"This is the happiest time--before the child comes, " she said one day, andadded, with the observant eye of mothers, "it will be a boy; there is apink lining to the basket. "

"Yes, it will be a boy, " replied Virginia, wistfully. 

"I have had six, " pursued the woman, "six sons, and yet I am alone now. Three are dead, and three are in the army. I am always listening for thesummons that means another grave. " She clasped her thin hands and smiledthe patient smile that chilled Virginia's blood. 

"Couldn't you have kept one back?" asked the girl in a whisper. 

The woman shook her head. Much brooding had darkened her mind, but therewas a peculiar fervour in her face--an inward light that shone through herfaded eyes. 

"Not one--not one, " she answered. "When the South called, I sent the firsttwo, and when they fell, I sent the others--only the youngest I kept backat first--he is just seventeen. Then another call came and he begged sohard I let him go. No, I gave them all gladly--I have kept none back. "

She lowered her eyes and sat smiling at her folded hands. Weakened in bodyand broken by many sorrows as she was, with few years before her and thosefilled with inevitable suffering, the fire of the South still burned in herveins, and she gave herself as ardently as she gave her sons. The pity ofit touched Virginia suddenly, and in the midst of her own enthusiasm shefelt the tears upon her lashes. Was not an army invincible, she asked, intowhich the women sent their dearest with a smile?

Through the warm spring weather she sat beside the long window that gave onthe street, or walked slowly up and down among the vegetable rows in thegarden. The growing of the crops became an unending interest to her and shewatched them, day by day, until she learned to know each separate plant andto look for its unfolding. When the drought came she carried water from thehydrant, and assisted by Mammy Riah sprinkled the young tomatoes until theyshot up like weeds. "It is so much better than war, " she would say to Jackwhen he rode through the city. "Why will men kill one another when theymight make things live instead?"

Beside the piazza, there was a high magnolia tree, and under this she madea little rustic bench and a bed of flowers. When the hollyhocks and thesunflowers bloomed it would look like Uplands, she said, laughing. 

Under the magnolia there was quiet, but from her front window, while shesat at work, she could see the whole overcrowded city passing through sunand shadow. Sometimes distinguished strangers would go by, men from the farSouth in black broadcloth and slouch hats; then the President, slim anderect and very grave, riding his favourite horse to one of the encampmentsnear the city; and then a noted beauty from another state, her chin liftedabove the ribbons of her bonnet, a smile tucked in the red corners of herlips. Following there would surge by the same eager, staring throng--mentoo old to fight who had lost their work; women whose husbands fought inthe trenches for the money that would hardly buy a sack of flour; soldiersfrom one of the many camps; noisy little boys with tin whistles; silentlittle girls waving Confederate flags. Back and forth they passed on thebright May afternoons, filling the street with a ceaseless murmur and theblur of many colours. 

And again the crowd would part suddenly to make way for a battalionmarching to the front, or for a single soldier riding, with muffled drums, to his grave in Hollywood. The quick step or the slow gait of the riderlesshorse; the wild cheers or the silence on the pavement; the "Bonnie BlueFlag" or the funeral dirge before the coffin; the eager faces of menwalking to where death was or the fallen ones of those who came back withthe dead; the bold flags taking the wind like sails or the banners furledwith crepe as they drooped forward--there was not a day when these thingsdid not go by near together. To Virginia, sitting at her window, it was asif life and death walked on within each other's shadow. 

Then came the terrible days when the city saw McClellan sweeping toward itfrom the Chickahominy, when senators and clergymen gathered with the slavesto raise the breastworks, and men turned blankly to ask one another "Whereis the army?" With the girl the question meant only mystification; she feltnone of the white terror that showed in the faces round her. There was inher heart an unquestioning, childlike trust in the God of battles--sooneror later he would declare for the Confederacy and until then--well, therewas always General Lee to stand between. Her chief regret was that thelines had closed and her mother could not come to her as she had promised. 

In the intense heat that hung above the town she sat at her southernwindow, where the river breeze blew across the garden, and watched placidlythe palm-leaf fan which Mammy Riah waved before her face. The magnolia treehad flowered in great white blossoms, and the heavy perfume mingled inVirginia's thoughts with the yellow sunshine, the fretful clamour, and thehot dust of the city. When at the end of May a rain storm burst overheadand sent the wide white petals to the earth, it was almost a relief to seethem go. But by the morrow new ones had opened, and the perfume she hadsickened of still floated from the garden. 

That afternoon the sound of the guns rolled up the Williamsburg road, andin the streets men shouted hoarsely of an engagement with the enemy atSeven Pines. With the noise Virginia thrilled to her first feeling ofdanger, starting from a repose which, in its unconsciousness, had been asprofound as sleep. The horror of war rushed in upon her at the moment, andwith a cry she leaned out into the street, and listened for the next rollof the cannon. 

A woman, with a scared face, looked up, saw her, and spoke hysterically. 

"There's not a man left in the city, " she cried. "They've taken my fatherto defend the breastworks and he's near seventy. If you can sew or wash orcook, there'll be work enough for you, God knows, to-morrow!"

She hurried on and Virginia, turning from the window, buried herself in thepillows upon the bed, trying in vain to shut out the noise of thecannonading and the perfume of the magnolia blossoms which came in on thesouthern breeze. With night the guns grew silent and the streets empty, butstill the girl lay sleepless, watching with frightened eyes the shadow ofMammy Riah's palm-leaf fan. 

At dawn the restless murmur began again, and Virginia, looking out in thehot sunrise, saw the crowd hastening back to the hospitals lower down. Theywere all there, all as they had been the day before--old men limping outfor news or returning beside the wounded; women with trembling lips andarms filled with linen; ambulances passing the corner at a walk, surroundedby men who had staggered after them because there was no room left inside;and following always the same curious, pallid throng, fresh upon the scentof some new tragedy. Presently the ambulances gave out, and yet the woundedcame--some walking, and moaning as they walked, some borne on litters bydevoted servants, some drawn in market wagons pressed into use. The greatwarehouses and the churches were thrown open to give them shelter, butstill they came and still the cry went up, "Room, more room!"

Virginia watched it all, leaning out to follow the wagons as they passedthe corner. The sight sickened her, but something that was half a ghastlyfascination, and half the terror of missing a face she knew, kept her hourafter hour motionless upon her knees. At each roll of the guns she gave anervous shiver and grew still as stone. 

Then, as she knelt there, a man, in clerical dress, came down the pavementand stopped before her window. "I hope your husband's wound was notserious, Mrs. Morson, " he said sympathetically. "If I can be of anyassistance, please don't hesitate to call on me. "

"Jack wounded!--oh, he is not wounded, " replied Virginia. She rose andstood wildly looking down upon him. 

He saw his mistake and promptly retracted what he could. 

"If you don't know of it, it can't be true, " he urged kindly. "So manyrumours are afloat that half of them are without foundation. However, Iwill make inquiries if you wish, " and he passed on with a promise to returnat once. 

For a time Virginia stood blankly gazing after him; then she turnedsteadily and took down her bonnet from the wardrobe. She even went to thebureau and carefully tied the pink ribbon strings beneath her chin. 

"I am going out, Mammy Riah, " she said when she had finished. "No, don'ttell me I mustn't--I am going out, I say. "

She stamped her foot impatiently, but Mammy Riah made no protest. 

"Des let's go den, " she returned, smoothing her head handkerchief as sheprepared to follow. 

The sun was already high above, and the breeze, which had blown for threedays from the river, had dropped suddenly since dawn. Down the brickpavement the relentless glare flashed back into the sky which hung hot blueoverhead. To Virginia, coming from the shade of her rooms, the city seemeda furnace and the steady murmur a great discord in which every note was oneof pain. 

Other women looking for their wounded hurried by her--one stopped to ask ifshe had been into the unused tobacco warehouse and if she had seen there aboy she knew by name? Another, with lint bandages in her hand, begged herto come into a church hard by and assist in ravelling linen for thesurgeons. Then she looked down, saw the girl's figure, and grew nervous. "You are not fit, my dear, go home, " she urged, but Virginia shook her headand smiled. 

"I am looking for my husband, " she answered in a cold voice and passed on. Mammy Riah caught up with her, but she broke away. "Go home if you wantto--oh, go back, " she cried irritably. "I am looking for Jack, you know. "

Into the rude hospitals, one after one, she went without shuddering, passing up and down between the ghastly rows lying half clothed upon thebare plank floors. Her eyes were strained and eager, and more than onedying man turned to look after her as she went by, and carried the memoryof her face with him to death. Once she stopped and folded a blanket underthe head of a boy who moaned aloud, and then gave him water from a pitcherclose at hand. "You're so cool--so cool, " he sobbed, clutching at herdress, but she smiled like one asleep and passed on rapidly. 

When the long day had worn out at last, she came from an open store filledwith stretchers, and started homeward over the burning pavement. Her searchwas useless, and the reaction from her terrible fear left her with a suddentremor in her heart. As she walked she leaned heavily upon Mammy Riah, andher colour came and went in quick flashes. The heat had entered into herbrain and with it the memory of open wounds and the red hands of surgeons. Reaching the house at last, she flung herself all dressed upon the bed andfell into a sleep that was filled with changing dreams. 

At midnight she cried out in agony, believing herself to be still in thestreet. When Mammy Riah bent over her she did not know her, but held outshaking hands and asked for her mother, calling the name aloud in thesilent house, deserted for the sake of the hospitals lower down. She waswalking again on and on over the hot bricks, and the deep wounds wereopening before her eyes while the surgeons went by with dripping hands. Once she started up and cried out that the terrible blue sky was crushingher down to the pavement which burned her feet. Then the odour of themagnolia filled her nostrils, and she talked of the scorching dust, of thenoise that would not stop, and of the feeble breeze that blew toward herfrom the river. All night she wandered back and forth in the broad glare ofthe noon, and all night Mammy Riah passed from the clinging hands to thewindow where she looked for help in the empty street. And then, as the graydawn broke, Virginia put her simple services by, and spoke in a clearvoice. 

"Oh, how lovely, " she said, as if well pleased. A moment more and she laysmiling like a child, her chin pressed deep in her open palm. 

 * * * * *

In the full sunrise a physician, who had run in at the old woman's cry, came from the house and stopped bareheaded in the breathless heat. For amoment he stared over the moving city and then up into the cloudless blueof the sky. 

"God damn war!" he said suddenly, and went back to his knife. 

IX

THE MONTJOY BLOOD AGAIN

A month later Dan heard of Virginia's death when, at the end of the SevenDays, he was brought wounded into Richmond. As he lay upon church cushionson the floor of an old warehouse on Main Street, with Big Abel shaking atattered palm-leaf fan at his side, a cavalryman came up to him and heldout a hand that trembled slightly from fatigue. 

"I heard you were here. Can I do anything for you, Beau?" he asked. 

For an instant Dan hesitated; then the other smiled, and he recognized JackMorson. 

"My God! You've been ill!" he exclaimed in horror. Jack laughed and let hishand fall. The boyish colour was gone from his face, and he wore anuntrimmed beard which made him look twice his age. 

"Never better in my life, " he answered shortly. "Some men are made ofindia-rubber, Montjoy, and I'm one of them. I've managed to get into mostof these blessed fights about Richmond, and yet I haven't so much as a pinprick to show for it. But what's wrong with you? Not much, I hope. I'vejust seen Bland, and he told me he thought you were left at Malvern Hillduring that hard rain on Tuesday night. How did you get knocked over, anyway?"

"A rifle ball went through my leg, " replied Dan impatiently. "I say, BigAbel, can't you flirt that fan a little faster? These confounded fliesstick like molasses. " Then he held up his left hand and looked at it with agrim smile. "A nasty fragment of a shell took off a couple of my fingers, "he added. "At first I thought they had begun throwing hornets' nests fromtheir guns--it felt just like it. Yes, that's the worst with me so far;I've still got a bone to my leg, and I'll be on the field again beforelong, thank God. "

"Well, the worst thing about getting wounded is being stuffed into a holelike this, " returned Jack, glancing about contemptuously. "Whoever has hadthe charge of our hospital arrangements may congratulate himself that hehas made a ghastly mess of them. Why, I found a man over there in thecorner whose leg had mortified from sheer neglect, and he told me that thesupplies for the sick had given out, and they'd offered him cornbread andbacon for breakfast. "

Dan began to toss restlessly, grumbling beneath his breath. "If you eversee a ball making in your direction, " he advised, "dodge it clean or takeit square in the mouth; don't go in for any compromises with a gun, theyaren't worth it. " He lay silent for a moment, and then spoke proudly. "BigAbel hauled me off the field after I went down. How he found me, God onlyknows, but find me he did, and under fire, too. "

"'Twuz des like pepper, " remarked Big Abel, fanning briskly, "but soon es Iheah dat Marse Dan wuz right flat on de groun', I know dat dar warn' nobodyter go atter 'im 'cep'n' me. Marse Bland he come crawlin' out er de bresh, wuckin' 'long on his stomick same es er mole, wid his face like a rabbitw'en de dawgs are 'mos' upon 'im, en he sez hard es flint, 'Beau he's downover yonder, en I tried ter pull 'im out, Big Abel, 'fo' de Lawd I did!'Den he drap right ter de yerth, en I des stop long enough ter put a tinbucket on my haid 'fo' I began ter crawl atter Marse Dan. Whew! dat arbucket hit sutney wuz a he'p, dat 'twuz, case I des hyeard de cawna-poppin' all aroun' hit, en dey ain' never come thoo yit. 

"Well, suh, w'en I h'ist dat bucket ter git a good look out dar dey wuza-fittin' twel dey bus', a-dodgin' in en out er de shucks er wheat dat deydone pile 'mos' up ter de haids. I ain' teck but one good look, suh, den Idrap de bucket down agin en keep a-crawlin' like Marse Bland tole me twel Igit 'mos' ter de cawn fiel' dat run right spang up de hill whar de big gunswuz a-spittin' fire en smoke. En sho' 'nough dar wuz Marse Dan lyin' unnera pine log dat Marse Bland hed roll up ter 'im ter keep de Yankees f'omhittin' 'im; en w'en he ketch sight er me he des blink his eyes fur aminute en laugh right peart. 

"'Wat dat you got on yo' haid, Big Abel?' he sez. "

"Big Abel's a hero, there's no mistake, " put in Dan, delighted. "Do youknow he lifted me as if I were a baby and toted me out of that God-forsakencorn field in the hottest fire I ever felt--and I tipped the scales at ahundred and fifty pounds before I went to Romney. "

"Go way, Marse Dan, you ain' nuttin' but a rail, " protested Big Abel, andcontinued his story. "Atter I done tote him outer de cawn fiel' en thoo debresh, den I begin ter peer roun' fer one er dese yer ambushes, but derewarn' nairy one un um dat warn' a-bulgin' a'ready. I d'clar dey des bulgedtwel dey sides 'mos' split. I seed a hack drive long by wid two gemmena-settin' up in hit, en one un em des es well es I is, --but w'en I heltMarse Dan up right high, he shake his haid en pint ter de udder like hekinder skeered. 'Dis yer's my young brudder, ' he sez, speakin' sof'; 'endis yer's my young Marster, ' I holler back, but he shake his haid agin endrive right on. Lawd, Lawd, my time's 'mos' up, I 'low den--yes, suh, Ido--but w'en I tu'n roun' squintin' my eyes caze de sun so hot--de sun hewuz kinder shinin' thoo his back like he do w'en he hu't yo' eyes en youcyan' see 'im--dar came a dump cyart a-joltin' up de road wid a speckledmule hitch ter it. A lot er yuther w'ite folks made a bee line fer dat ardump cyart, but dey warn' 'fo' me, caze w'en dey git dar, dar I wuza-settin' wid Marse Dan laid out across my knees. Well, dey lemme go--deybleeged ter caze I 'uz gwine anyway--en de speckled mule she des laid back'er years en let fly fer Richmon'. Yes, suh, I ain' never seed sech a mulees dat. She 'uz des es full er sperit es a colt, en her name wuz Sally. "

"The worst of it was after getting here, " finished Dan, who had lainregarding Big Abel with a proud paternal eye, "they kept us trundling roundin that cart for three mortal hours, because they couldn't find a hole toput us into. An uncovered wagon was just in front of us, filled with poorfellows who had been half the day in the sweltering heat, and we made theprocession up and down the city, until at last some women rushed up withtheir servants and cleared out this warehouse. One was not over sixteen andas pretty as a picture. 'Don't talk to me about the proper authorities, 'she said, stamping her foot, 'I'll hang the proper authorities when theyturn up--and in the meantime we'll go to work!' By Jove, she was a trump, that girl! If she didn't save my life, she did still better and saved myleg. "

"Well, I'll try to get you moved by to-morrow, " said Jack reassuringly. "Every home in the city is filled with the wounded, they tell me, but Iknow a little woman who had two funerals from her house to-day, so she maybe able to find room for you. This heat is something awful, isn't it?"

"Damnable. I hope, by the way, that Virginia is out of it by now. "

Jack flinched as if the words struck him between the eyes. For a moment hestood staring at the straw pallets along the wall; then he spoke in a queervoice. 

"Yes, Virginia's out of it by now; Virginia's dead, you know. "

"Dead!" cried Dan, and raised himself upon his cushion. The room went blackbefore him, and he steadied himself by clutching at Big Abel's arm. At theinstant the horrors of the battle-field, where he had seen men fall likegrass before the scythe, became as nothing to the death of this one younggirl. He thought of her living beauty, of the bright glow of her flesh, andit seemed to him that the earth could not hide a thing so fair. 

"I left her in Richmond in the spring, " explained Jack, gripping himselfhard. "I was off with Stuart, you know, and I thought her mother would getto her, but she couldn't pass the lines and then the fight came--the one atSeven Pines and--well, she died and the child with her. "

Dan's eyes grew very tender; a look crept into them which only Betty andhis mother had seen there before. 

"I would have died for her if I could, Jack, you know that, " he saidslowly. 

Jack walked off a few paces and then came back again. "I remember theGovernor's telling me once, " he went on in the same hard voice, "that if aman only rode boldly enough at death it would always get out of the way. Ididn't believe it at the time, but, by God, it's true. Why, I've gonestraight into the enemy's lines and heard the bullets whistling in my ears, but I've always come out whole. When I rode with Stuart round McClellan'sarmy, I was side by side with poor Latane when he fell in the skirmish atOld Church, and I sat stock still on my horse and waited for a fellow toclub me with his sabre, but he wouldn't; he looked at me as if he thought Ihad gone crazy, and actually shook his head. Some men can't die, confoundit, and I'm one of them. "

He went out, his spurs striking the stone steps as he passed into thestreet, and Dan fell back upon the narrow cushions to toss with fever andthe memory of Virginia--of Virginia in the days when she wore her rose-pinkgown and he believed he loved her. 

At the door an ambulance drew up and a stretcher was brought into thebuilding, and let down in one corner. The man on it was lying very still, and when he was lifted off and placed upon the blood-soaked top of the longpine table, he made no sound, either of fear or of pain. The close odoursof the place suddenly sickened Dan and he asked Big Abel to draw him nearerthe open window, where he might catch the least breeze from the river; butoutside the July sunlight lay white and hot upon the bricks, and when hestruggled up the reflected heat struck him down again. On the sidewalk hesaw several prisoners going by amid a hooting crowd, and with his oldinstinct to fight upon the weaker side, he hurled an oath at the tormentersof his enemies. 

"Go to the field, you crows, and be damned!" he called. 

One of the prisoners, a ruddy-cheeked young fellow in private's clothes, looked up and touched his cap. 

"Thank you, sir, I hope we'll meet at the front, " he said, in a rich Irishbrogue. Then he passed on to Libby prison, while Dan turned from the windowand lay watching the surgeon's faces as they probed for bullets. 

It was a long unceiled building, filled with bright daylight and thebuzzing of countless flies. Women, who had volunteered for the service, passed swiftly over the creaking boards, or knelt beside the pallets asthey bathed the shattered limbs with steady fingers. Here and there a childheld a glass of water to a man who could not raise himself, or sat fanningthe flies from a pallid face. None was too old nor too young where therewas work for all. 

A stir passed through the group about the long pine table, and one of thesurgeons, wiping the sweat from his brow, came over to where Dan lay, andstopped to take breath beside the window. 

"By Jove, that man died game, " he said, shaking his handkerchief at theflies. "We took both his legs off at the knee, and he just gripped thetable hard and never winked an eyelash. I told him it would kill him, buthe said he'd be hanged if he didn't take his chance--and he took it anddied. Talk to me about nerve, that fellow had the cleanest grit I eversaw. "

Dan's pulses fluttered, as they always did at an example of pure pluck. 

"What's his regiment?" he asked, watching the two slaves who, followed bytheir mistresses, were bringing the body back to the stretcher. 

"Oh, he was a scout, I believe, serving with Stuart when he was wounded. His name is--by the way, his name is Montjoy. Any relative of yours, Iwonder?"

Raising himself upon his elbow, Dan turned to look at the dead man besidehim. A heavy beard covered the mouth and chin, but he knew the sunken blackeyes and the hair that was like his own. 

"Yes, " he answered after a long pause, "he is a relative of mine, I think;"and then, while the man lay waiting for his coffin, he propped himself uponhis arm and followed curiously the changes made by death. 

At his first recognition there had come only a wave of repulsion--the olddisgust that had always dogged the memory of his father; then, with thedead face before his eyes, he was aware of an unreasoning pride in theblood he bore--in the fact that the soldier there had died pure game to thelast. It was as a braggart and a bully that he had always thought of him;now he knew that at least he was not a craven--that he could take blows ashe dealt them, from the shoulder out. He had hated his father, he toldhimself unflinchingly, and he did not love him now. Had the dead man openedhis eyes he could have struck him back again with his mother's memory for aweapon. There had been war between them to the grave, and yet, despitehimself, he knew that he had lost his old boyish shame of the Montjoyblood. With the instinct of his race to glorify physical courage, he hadseen the shadow of his boyhood loom from the petty into the gigantic. JackMontjoy may have been a scoundrel, --doubtless he was one, --but, with allhis misdeeds on his shoulders, he had lived pure game to the end. 

A fresh bleeding of Dan's wound brought on a sudden faintness, and he fellheavily upon Big Abel's arm. With the pain a groan hovered an instant onhis lips, but, closing his eyes, he bit it back and lay silent. For thefirst time in his life there had come to him, like an impulse, theknowledge that he must not lower his father's name. 

BOOK FOURTH

THE RETURN OF THE VANQUISHED

I

THE RAGGED ARMY

The brigade had halted to gather rations in a corn field beside the road, and Dan, lying with his head in the shadow of a clump of sumach, hungrilyregarded the "roasting ears" which Pinetop had just rolled in the ashes. Amalarial fever, which he had contracted in the swamps of the Chickahominy, had wasted his vitality until he had begun to look like the mere shadow ofhimself; gaunt, unwashed, hollow-eyed, yet wearing his torn gray jacket andbrimless cap as jauntily as he had once worn his embroidered waistcoats. His hand trembled as he reached out for his share of the green corn, butweakened as he was by sickness and starvation, the defiant humour shone allthe clearer in his eyes. He had still the heart for a whistle, Bland hadsaid last night, looking at him a little wistfully. 

As he lay there, with the dusty sumach shrub above him, he saw the raggedarmy pushing on into the turnpike that led to Maryland. Lean, sun-scorched, half-clothed, dropping its stragglers like leaves upon the roadside, marching in borrowed rags, and fighting with the weapons of its enemies, dirty, fevered, choking with the hot dust of the turnpike--it still pressedonward, bending like a blade beneath Lee's hand. For this army of the sick, fighting slow agues, old wounds, and the sharp diseases that follow ongreen food, was becoming suddenly an army of invasion. The road led intoMaryland, and the brigades swept into it, jesting like schoolboys on afrolic. 

Dan, stretched exhausted beside the road, ate his ear of corn, and idlywatched the regiment that was marching by--marching, not with the eventread of regular troops, but with scattered ranks and broken column, eachman limping in worn-out shoes, at his own pace. They were not fancysoldiers, these men, he felt as he looked after them. They were notimposing upon the road, but when their chance came to fight, they would bevery sure to take it. Here and there a man still carried his old squirrelmusket, with a rusted skillet handle stuck into the barrel, but when beforemany days the skillet would be withdrawn, the load might be relied upon towing straight home a little later. On wet nights those muskets would standupright upon their bayonets, with muzzles in the earth, while the raindripped off, and on dry days they would carry aloft the full property ofthe mess, which had dwindled to a frying pan and an old quart cup; thoughseldom cleaned, they were always fit for service--or if they went foul whatwas easier than to pick up a less trusty one upon the field. On the otherside hung the blankets, tied at the ends and worn like a sling from theleft shoulder. The haversack was gone and with it the knapsack and theovercoat. When a man wanted a change of linen he knelt down and washed hissingle shirt in the brook, sitting in the sun while it dried upon the bank. If it was long in drying he put it on, wet as it was, and ran ahead to fallin with his company. Where the discipline was easy, each infantryman mightbecome his own commissary. 

Dan finished his corn, threw the husks over his head, and sat up, lookingidly at the irregular ranks. He was tired and sick, and after a short restit seemed all the harder to get up and take the road again. As he sat therehe began to bandy words with the sergeant of a Maryland regiment that waspassing. 

"Hello! what brigade?" called the sergeant in friendly tones. He looked fatand well fed, and Dan felt this to be good ground for resentment. 

"General Straggler's brigade, but it's none of your business, " he promptlyretorted. 

"General Straggler has a pretty God-forsaken crew, " taunted the sergeant, looking back as he stepped on briskly. "I've seen his regiments lining theroad clear up from Chantilly. "

"If you'd kept your fat eyes open at Manassas the other day, you'd haveseen them lining the battle-field as well, " pursued Dan pleasantly, chewinga long green blade of corn. "Old Stonewall saw them, I'll be bound. IfGeneral Straggler didn't win that battle I'd like to know who did. "

"Oh, shucks!" responded the sergeant, and was out of hearing. 

The regiment passed by and another took its place. "Was that General Leeyou were yelling at down there, boys?" inquired Dan politely, smiling thesmile of a man who sits by the roadside and sees another sweating on themarch. 

"Naw, that warn't Marse Robert, " replied a private, limping with bare feetover the border of dried grass. "'Twas a blamed, blank, bottomless well, that's what 'twas. I let my canteen down on a string and it never came backno mo'. "

Dan lowered his eyes, and critically regarded the tattered banner of theregiment, covered with the names of the battles over which it had hungunfurled. "Tennessee, aren't you?" he asked, following the flag. 

The private shook his head, and stooped to remove a pebble from between histoes. 

"Naw, we ain't from Tennessee, " he drawled. "We've had the measles--that'swhat's the matter with us. "

"You show it, by Jove, " said Dan, laughing. "Step quickly, if youplease--this is the cleanest brigade in the army. "

"Huh!" exclaimed the private, eying them with contempt. "You look like it, don't you, sonny? Why, I'd ketch the mumps jest to look at sech a set o'rag-a-muffins!"

He went on, still grunting, while Dan rose to his feet and slung hisblanket from his shoulder. "Look here, does anybody know where we're goinganyway?" he asked of the blue sky. 

"I seed General Jackson about two miles up, " replied a passing countryman, who had led his horse into the corn field. "Whoopee! he was going at aGod-a'mighty pace, I tell you. If he keeps that up he'll be over thePotomac before sunset. "

"Then we are going into Maryland!" cried Jack Powell, jumping to his feet. "Hurrah for Maryland! We're going to Maryland, God bless her!"

The shouts passed down the road and the Maryland regiment in front sentback three rousing cheers. 

"By Jove, I hope I'll find some shoes there, " said Dan, shaking the sandfrom his ragged boots, and twisting the shreds of his stockings about hisfeet. "I've had to punch holes in my soles and lace them with shoe stringsto the upper leather, or they'd have dropped off long ago. "

"Well, I'll begin by making love to a seamstress when I'm over thePotomac, " remarked Welch, getting upon his feet. "I'm decidedly in need ofa couple of patches. "

"You make love! You!" roared Jack Powell. "Why, you're the kind of thingthey set up in Maryland to keep the crows away. Now if it were Beau, there, I see some sense in it--for, I'll be bound, he's slain more hearts thanYankees in this campaign. The women always drain out their last drop ofbuttermilk when he goes on a forage. "

"Oh, I don't set up to be a popinjay, " retorted Welch witheringly. 

"Popinjay, the devil!" scowled Dan, "who's a popinjay?"

"Wall, I'd like a pair of good stout breeches, " peacefully interposedPinetop. "I've been backin' up agin the fence when I seed a lady comin' forthe last three weeks, an' whenever I set down, I'm plum feared to git upagin. What with all the other things, --the Yankees, and the chills, and themeasles, --it's downright hard on a man to have to be a-feared of his ownbreeches. "

Dan looked round with sympathy. "That's true; it's a shame, " he admittedsmiling. "Look here, boys, has anybody got an extra pair of breeches?"

A howl of derision went up from the regiment as it fell into ranks. 

"Has anybody got a few grape-leaves to spare?" it demanded in a highchorus. 

"Oh, shut up, " responded Dan promptly. "Come on, Pinetop, we'll clotheourselves to-morrow. "

The brigade formed and swung off rapidly along the road, where the dust laylike gauze upon the sunshine. At the end of a mile somebody stopped andcried out excitedly. "Look here, boys, the persimmons on that tree overthar are gittin' 'mos fit to eat. I can see 'em turnin', " and with thewords the column scattered like chaff across the field. But the first manto reach the tree came back with a wry face, and fell to swearing at "thedarn fool who could eat persimmons before frost. "

"Thar's a tree in my yard that gits ripe about September, " remarkedPinetop, as he returned dejectedly across the waste. "Ma she begins to dry'em 'fo' the frost sets in. "

"Oh, well, we'll get a square meal in the morning, " responded Dan, growingcheerful as he dreamed of hospitable Maryland. 

Some hours later, in the warm dusk, they went into bivouac among the trees, and, in a little while, the campfires made a red glow upon the twilight. 

Pinetop, with a wooden bucket on his arm, had plunged off in search ofwater, and Dan and Jack Powell were sent, in the interests of the mess, toforage through the surrounding country. 

"There's a fat farmer about ten miles down, I saw him, " remarked a lazysmoker, by way of polite suggestion. 

"Ten miles? Well, of all the confounded impudence, " retorted Jack, as hestrolled off with Dan into the darkness. 

For a time they walked in silence, depressed by hunger and the exhaustionof the march; then Dan broke into a whistle, and presently they foundthemselves walking in step with the merry air. 

"Where are your thoughts, Beau?" asked Jack suddenly, turning to look athim by the faint starlight. 

Dan's whistle stopped abruptly. 

"On a dish of fried chicken and a pot of coffee, " he replied at once. 

"What's become of the waffles?" demanded Jack indignantly. "I say, old man, do you remember the sinful waste on those blessed Christmas Eves atChericoke? I've been trying to count the different kinds of meat--roastbeef, roast pig, roast goose, roast turkey--"

"Hold your tongue, won't you?"

"Well, I was just thinking that if I ever reach home alive I'll deliver theMajor a lecture on his extravagance. "

"It isn't the Major; it's grandma, " groaned Dan. 

"Oh, that queen among women!" exclaimed Jack fervently; "but the wines arethe Major's, I reckon, --it seems to me I recall some port of which he wasvastly proud. "

Dan delivered a blow that sent Jack on his knees in the stubble of an oldcorn field. 

"If you want to make me eat you, you're going straight about it, " hedeclared. 

"Look out!" cried Jack, struggling to his feet, "there's a light over thereamong the trees, " and they walked on briskly up a narrow country lane whichled, after several turnings, to a large frame house well hidden from theroad. 

In the doorway a woman was standing, with a lamp held above her head, andwhen she saw them she gave a little breathless call. 

"Is that you, Jim?"

Dan went up the steps and stood, cap in hand, before her. The lamplight wasfull upon his ragged clothes and upon his pallid face with its stronghigh-bred lines of mouth and chin. 

"I thought you were my husband, " said the woman, blushing at her mistake. "If you want food you are welcome to the little that I have--it is verylittle. " She led the way into the house, and motioned, with a pitiablegesture, to a table that was spread in the centre of the sitting room. 

"Will you sit down?" she asked, and at the words, a child in the corner ofthe room set up a frightened cry. 

"It's my supper--I want my supper, " wailed the child. 

"Hush, dear, " said the woman, "they are our soldiers. "

"Our soldiers, " repeated the child, staring, with its thumb in its mouthand the tear-drops on its cheeks. 

For an instant Dan looked at them as they stood there, the woman holdingthe child in her arms, and biting her thin lips from which hunger haddrained all the red. There was scant food on the table, and as his gazewent back to it, it seemed to him that, for the first time, he grasped thefull meaning of a war for the people of the soil. This was the realthing--not the waving banners, not the bayonets, not the fighting in theranks. 

His eyes were on the woman, and she smiled as all women did upon whom helooked in kindness. 

"My dear madam, you have mistaken our purpose--we are not as hungry as welook, " he said, bowing in his ragged jacket. "We were sent merely to askyou if you were in need of a guard for your smokehouse. My Colonel hopesthat you have not suffered at our hands. "

"There is nothing left, " replied the woman mystified, yet relieved. "Thereis nothing to guard except the children and myself, and we are safe, Ithink. Your Colonel is very kind--I thank him;" and as they went out shelighted them with her lamp from the front steps. 

An hour later they returned to camp with aching limbs and empty hands. 

"There's nothing above ground, " they reported, flinging themselves besidethe fire, though the night was warm. "We've scoured the whole country andthe Federals have licked it as clean as a plate before us. Bless my soul!what's that I smell? Is this heaven, boys?"

"Licked it clean, have they?" jeered the mess. "Well, they left a sheepanyhow loose somewhere. Beau's darky hadn't gone a hundred yards before hefound one. "

"Big Abel? You don't say so?" whistled Dan, in astonishment, regarding themutton suspended on ramrods above the coals. 

"Well, suh, 'twuz des like dis, " explained Big Abel, poking the roast witha small stick. "I know I ain' got a bit a bus'ness ter shoot dat ar sheepwid my ole gun, but de sheep she ain' got no better bus'ness strayin' roun'loose needer. She sutney wuz a dang'ous sheep, dat she wuz. I 'uz desa-bleeged ter put a bullet in her haid er she'd er hed my blood sho'. "

As the shout went up he divided the legs of mutton into shares and went offto eat his own on the dark edge of the wood. 

A little later he came back to hang Dan's cap and jacket on the branches ofa young pine tree. When he had arranged them with elaborate care, he rakeda bed of tags together, and covered them with an army blanket stamped inthe centre with the half obliterated letters U. S. 

"That's a good boy, Big Abel, go to sleep, " said Dan, flinging himself downupon the pine-tag bed. "Strange how much spirit a sheep can put into a man. I wouldn't run now if I saw Pope's whole army coming. "

Turning over he lay sleepily gazing into the blue dusk illuminated with thecampfires which were slowly dying down. Around him he heard the subduedmurmur of the mess, deep and full, though rising now and then into aclearer burst of laughter. The men were smoking their brier-root pipesabout the embers, leaning against the dim bodies of the pines, while theydiscussed the incidents of the march with a touch of the unconquerablehumour of the Confederate soldier. Somebody had a fresh joke on thequartermaster, and everybody hoped great things of the campaign intoMaryland. 

"I pray it may bring me a pair of shoes, " muttered Dan, as he dropped offinto slumber. 

The next day, with bands playing "Maryland, My Maryland, " and the SouthernCross taking the September wind, the ragged army waded the Potomac, andpassed into other fields. 

II

A STRAGGLER FROM THE RANKS

In two weeks it swept back, wasted, stubborn, hungrier than ever. On asultry September afternoon, Dan, who had gone down with a sharp return offever, was brought, with a wagonful of the wounded, and placed on a heap ofstraw on the brick pavement of Shepherdstown. For two days he had beendelirious, and Big Abel had held him to his bed during the long nights whenthe terrible silence seemed filled with the noise of battle; but, as he waslifted from the wagon and laid upon the sidewalk, he opened his eyes andspoke in a natural voice. 

"What's all this fuss, Big Abel? Have I been out of my head?"

"You sutney has, suh. You've been a-prayin' en shoutin' so loud dese las'tree days dat I wunner de Lawd ain' done shet yo' mouf des ter git rid eryou. "

"Praying, have I?" said Dan. "Well, I declare. That reminds me of Mr. Blake, Big Abel. I'd like to know what's become of him. "

Big Abel shook his head; he was in no pleasant humour, for the corners ofhis mouth were drawn tightly down and there was a rut between his bushyeyebrows. 

"I nuver seed no sich place es dis yer town in all my lifetime, " hegrumbled. "Dey des let us lie roun' loose on de bricks same es ef we ain'been fittin' fur 'em twel we ain' nuttin' but skin en bone. Dose two wagonloads er cut-up sodgers hev done fill de houses so plum full dat dey sticksspang thoo de cracks er de do's. Don' talk ter me, suh, I ain' got no usefur dis wah, noways, caze hit's a low-lifeted one, dat's what 'tis; en efyou'd a min' w'at I tell you, you'd be settin' up at home right dis minutewid ole Miss a-feedin' you on br'ile chicken. You may fit all you wanter--Iain' sayin' nuttin' agin yo' fittin ef yo' spleen hit's up--but you coulder foun' somebody ter fit wid back at home widout comin' out hyer ter gityo'se'f a-jumbled up wid all de po' white trash in de county. Dis yer wahain' de kin' I'se use ter, caze hit jumbles de quality en de trashtergedder des like dey wuz bo'n blood kin. "

"What are you muttering about now, Big Abel?" broke in Dan impatiently. "For heaven's sake stop and find me a bed to lie on. Are they going toleave me out here in the street on this pile of straw?"

"De Lawd he knows, " hopelessly responded Big Abel. "Dey's a-fixin' places, dey sez, dat's why all dese folks is a-runnin' dis away en dat away likechickens wid dere haids chopped off. 'Fo' you hed yo' sense back dey wantedter stick you over yonder in dat ole blue shanty wid all de skin peelin'off hit, but I des put my foot right down en 'lowed dey 'ouldn't. W'at youwan' ketch mo'n you got fur?"

"But I can't stay here, " weakly remonstrated Dan, "and I must havesomething to eat--I tell you I could eat nails. Bring me anything on God'searth except green corn. "

The street was filled with women, and one of them, passing with a bowl ofgruel in her hand, came back and held it to his lips. 

"You poor fellow!" she said impulsively, in a voice that was rich withsympathy. "Why, I don't believe you've had a bite for a month. "

Dan smiled at her from his heap of straw--an unkempt haggard figure. 

"Not from so sweet a hand, " he responded, his old spirit rising strongabove misfortune. 

His voice held her, and she regarded him with a pensive face. She had knownmen in her day, which had declined long since toward its evening, and withthe unerring instinct of her race she knew that the one before her was wellworth the saving. Gallantry that could afford to jest in rags upon a pileof straw appealed to her Southern blood as little short of the heroic. Shesaw the pinch of hunger about the mouth, and she saw, too, the singularbeauty which lay, obscured to less keen eyes, beneath the fever and thedirt. 

"The march must have been fearful--I couldn't have stood it, " she said, half to test the man. 

Rising to the challenge, he laughed outright. "Well, since you mention it, it wasn't just the thing for a lady, " he answered, true to his salt. 

For a moment she looked at him in silence, then turned regretfully to BigAbel. 

"The houses have filled up already, I believe, " she said, "but there is anice dry stable up the street which has just been cleaned out for ahospital. Carry your master up the next square and then into the alley afew steps where you will find a physician. I am going now for food andbandages. "

She hurried on, and Big Abel, seizing Dan beneath the arms, dragged himbreathlessly along the street. 

"A stable! Huh! Hit's a wunner dey ain' ax us ter step right inter a niceclean pig pen, " he muttered as he walked on rapidly. 

"Oh, I don't mind the stable, but this pace will kill me, " groaned Dan. "Not so fast, Big Abel, not so fast. "

"Dis yer ain' no time to poke, " replied Big Abel, sternly, and lifting theyoung man in his arms, he carried him bodily into the stable and laid himon a clean-smelling bed of straw. The place was large and well lighted, andDan, as he turned over, heaved a grateful sigh. 

"Let me sleep--only let me sleep, " he implored weakly. 

And for two days he slept, despite the noise about him. Dressed in cleanclothes, brought by the lady of the morning, and shaved by the skilful handof Big Abel, he buried himself in the fresh straw and dreamed of Chericokeand Betty. The coil of battle swept far from him; he heard none of the fretand rumour that filled the little street; even the moans of the men beneaththe surgeons' knives did not penetrate to where he lay sunk in the stuporof perfect contentment. It was not until the morning of the third day, whenthe winds that blew over the Potomac brought the sounds of battle, that hewas shocked back into a troubled consciousness of his absence from thearmy. Then he heard the voices of the guns calling to him from across theriver, and once or twice he struggled up to answer. 

"I must go, Big Abel--they are in need of me, " he said. "Listen! don't youhear them calling?"

"Go way f'om yer, Marse Dan, dey's des a-firin' at one anurr, " returned BigAbel, but Dan still tossed impatiently, his strained eyes searching throughthe door into the cloudy light of the alley. It was a sombre day, and theoppressive atmosphere seemed heavy with the smoke of battle. 

"If I only knew how it was going, " he murmured, in the anguish ofuncertainty. "Hush! isn't that a cheer, Big Abel?"

"I don' heah nuttin' but de crowin' er a rooster on de fence. "

"There it is again!" cried Dan, starting up. "I can swear it is our side. Listen--go to the door--by God, man, that's our yell! Ah, there comes therattle of the muskets--don't you hear it?"

"Lawd, Marse Dan, I'se done hyern dat soun' twel I'm plum sick er it, "responded Big Abel, carefully measuring out a dose of arsenic, which hadtaken the place of quinine in a country where medicine was becoming asscarce as food. "You des swallow dis yer stuff right down en tu'n over engo fas' asleep agin. "

Taking the glass with trembling hands, Dan drained it eagerly. 

"It's the artillery now, " he said, quivering with excitement. "Theexplosions come so fast I can hardly separate them. I never knew how longshells could screech before--do you mean to say they are really across theriver? Go into the alley, Big Abel, and tell me if you see the smoke. "

Big Abel went out and returned, after a few moments, with the news that thesmoke could be plainly seen, he was told, from the upper stories. There wassuch a crowd in the street, he added, that he could barely getalong--nobody knew anything, but the wounded, who were arriving in greatnumbers, reported that General Lee could hold his ground "against Luciferand all his angels. "

"Hold his ground, " groaned Dan, with feverish enthusiasm, "why, he couldhold a hencoop, for the matter of that, against the whole of North America!Oh, but this is worse than fighting. I must get up!"

"You don' wanter git out dar in dat mess er skeered rabbits, " returned BigAbel. "You cyarn see yo' han' befo' you fur de way dey's w'igglin' roun' destreet, en w'at's mo' you cyarn heah yo' own w'uds fur de racket dey'sa-kickin' up. Des lis'en ter 'em now, des lis'en!"

"Oh, I wish I could tell our guns, " murmured Dan at each quick explosion. "Hush! there comes the cheer, now--somebody's charging! It may be ourbrigade, Big Abel, and I not in it. "

He closed his eyes and fell back from sheer exhaustion, still following, ashe lay there, the battalion that had sprung forward with that chargingyell. Gray, obscured in smoke, curved in the centre, uneven as theConfederate line of battle always was--he saw it sweep onward over theSeptember field. At the moment to have had his place in that charge beyondthe river, he would have cheerfully met his death when the day was over. 

Through the night he slept fitfully, awaking from time to time to askeagerly if it were not almost daybreak; then with the dawn the silence thathad fallen over the Potomac seemed to leave a greater blank to be filledwith the noises along the Virginia shore. The hurrying footsteps in thestreet outside kept up ceaselessly until the dark again; mingled with thecries of the wounded and the prayers of the frightened he heard always thateager, tireless passing of many feet. So familiar it became, so constant anaccompaniment to his restless thoughts, that when at last the day wore outand the streets grew empty, he found himself listening for the steps of apasser-by as intently as he had listened in the morning for the renewedclamour of the battle on the Maryland fields. 

The stir of the retreat did not reach the stable where he lay; all nightthe army was recrossing the Potomac, but to Dan, tossing on his bed ofstraw, it lighted the victor's watch-fires on the disputed ground. He hadnot seen the shattered line of battle as it faced disease, exhaustion, andan army stronger by double numbers, nor had he seen the gray soldiers lyingrow on row where they had kept the "sunken road. " Thick as the trampledcorn beneath them, with the dust covering them like powder, and thescattered fence rails lying across their faces, the dead men of his ownbrigade were stretched upon the hillside, but through the long night he laywakeful in the stable, watching with fevered eyes the tallow dips thatburned dimly on the wall. 

In the morning a nurse, coming with a bowl of soup, brought the news thatLee's army was again on Virginia soil. 

"McClellan has opened a battery, " she explained, "that's the meaning ofthis fearful noise--did you ever hear such sounds in your life? Yes, theshells are flying over the town, but they've done no harm as yet. "

She hastened off, and a little later a dishevelled straggler, with a clothabout his forehead, burst in at the open door. 

"They're shelling the town, " he cried, waving a dirty hand, "an' you'll beprisoners in an hour if you don't git up and move. The Yankees are comin', I seed 'em cross the river. Lee's cut up, I tell you, he's left half hisarmy dead in Maryland. Thar! they're shellin' the town, sho' 'nough!"

With a last wave he disappeared into the alley, and Dan struggled from hisbed and to the door. "Give me your arm, Big Abel, " he said, speaking in aloud voice that he might be heard above the clamour. "I can't stay here. Itisn't being killed I mind, but, by God, they'll never take me prisoner solong as I'm alive. Come here and give me your arm. You aren't afraid to goout, are you?"

"Lawd, Marse Dan, I'se mo' feared ter stay hyer, " responded Big Abel, withan ashen face. "Whar we gwine hide, anyhow?"

"We won't hide, we'll run, " returned Dan gravely, and with his arm on thenegro's shoulder, he passed through the alley out into the street. Therethe noise bewildered him an instant, and his eyes went blind while hegrasped Big Abel's sleeve. 

"Wait a minute, I can't see, " he said. "Now, that's right, go on. ByGeorge, it's bedlam turned loose, let's get out of it!"

"Dis away, Marse Dan, dis away, step right hyer, " urged Big Abel, as heslipped through the hurrying crowd of fugitives which packed the street. White and black, men and women, sick and well, they swarmed up and down inthe dim sunshine beneath the flying shells, which skimmed the town toexplode in the open fields beyond. The wounded were there--all who couldstand upon their feet or walk with the aid of crutches--stumbling on in amad panic to the meadows where the shells burst or the hot sun poured uponfestering cuts. Streaming in noisy groups, the slaves fled after them, praying, shrieking, calling out that the day of judgment was upon them, yetbearing upon their heads whatever they could readily lay hands on--bundles, baskets, babies, and even clucking fowls tied by the legs. Behind them wenta troop of dogs, piercing the tumult with excited barks. 

Dan, fevered, pallid, leaning heavily upon Big Abel, passed unnoticed amida throng which was, for the most part, worse off than himself. Men with oldwounds breaking out afresh, or new ones staining red the cloths they wore, pushed wildly by him, making, as all made, for the country roads that ledfrom war to peace. It was as if the hospitals of the world had disgorgedthemselves in the sunshine on the bright September fields. 

Once, as Dan moved slowly on, he came upon a soldier, with a bandage at histhroat sitting motionless upon a rock beside a clump of thistles, and movedby the expression of supreme terror on the man's face, he stopped and laida hand upon his shoulder. 

"What's the trouble, friend--given up?" he asked, and then drew backquickly for the man was dead. After this they went on more rapidly, flyingfrom the horrors along the road as from the screaming shells and the dreadof capture. 

At the hour of sunset, after many halts upon the way, they found themselvesalone and still facing the open road. Since midday they had stopped fordinner with a hospitable farmer, and, some hours later, Big Abel hadfeasted on wild grapes, which he had found hidden in the shelter of alittle wood. In the same wood a stream had tinkled over silver rocks, andDan, lying upon the bank of moss, had bathed his face and hands in theclear water. Now, while the shadows fell in spires across the road, theyturned into a quiet country lane, and stood watching the sun as it droppedbeyond the gray stone wall. In the grass a small insect broke into a lowhumming, and the silence, closing the next instant, struck upon Dan's earslike a profound and solemn melody. He took off his cap, and still leaningupon Big Abel, looked with rested eyes on the sloping meadow brushed withthe first gold of autumn. Something that was not unlike shame had fallenover him--as if the horrors of the morning were a mere vulgar affront whichman had put upon the face of nature. The very anguish of the day obtrudedawkwardly upon his thoughts, and the wild clamour he had left behind himshowed with a savage crudeness against a landscape in which the dignity ofearth--of the fruitful life of seasons and of crops--produced in a solitaryobserver a quiet that was not untouched by awe. Where nature was suggestiveof the long repose of ages, the brief passions of a single generationbecame as the flicker of a candle or the glow of a firefly in the night. 

"Dat's a steep road ahead er us, " remarked Big Abel suddenly, as he staredinto the shadows. 

Dan came back with a start. 

"Where shall we sleep?" he asked. "No, not in that field--the open skywould keep me awake, I think. Let's bivouac in the woods as usual. "

They moved on a little way and entered a young pine forest, where Big Abelgathered a handful of branches and kindled a light blaze. 

"You ain' never eat nigger food, is you, Marse Dan?" he inquired as he didso. 

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Dan, "ask a man who has lived two months oncorn-field peas if he's eaten hog food, and he'll be pretty sure to answer'yes. ' Do you know we must have crawled about six miles to-day. " He layback on the pine tags and stared straight above where the long greenneedles were illuminated on a background of purple space. A few firefliesmade golden points among the tree-tops. 

"Well, I'se got a hunk er middlin', " pursued Big Abel thoughtfully, "astrip er fat en a strip er lean des like hit oughter be--but a nigger'ooman she gun hit ter me, en I 'low Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit wid aten-foot pole. " He stuck the meat upon the end of Dan's bayonet and held itbefore the flames. "Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit, but den he ain' neverhad dese times. "

"You're right, " replied Dan idly, filling his pipe and lighting it with asmall red ember, "and all things considered, I don't think I'll raise anyracket about that middling, Big Abel. "

"Hit ain' all nigger food, no how, " added Big Abel reflectively, "caze de'ooman she done steal it f'om w'ite folks sho's you bo'n. "

"I only wish she had been tempted to steal some bread along with it, "rejoined Dan. 

Big Abel's answer was to draw a hoecake wrapped in an old newspaper fromhis pocket and place it on a short pine stump. Then he reached for hisjack-knife and carefully slit the hoecake down the centre, after which helaid the bacon in slices between the crusts. 

"Did she steal that, too?" inquired Dan laughing. 

"Naw, suh, I stole dis. "

"Well, I never! You'll be ashamed to look the Major in the face when thewar is over. "

Big Abel nodded gloomily as he passed the sandwich to Dan, who divided itinto two equal portions. "Dar's somebody got ter do de stealin' in dis yerworl', " he returned with rustic philosophy, "des es dar's somebody got terbe w'ite folks en somebody got ter be nigger, caze de same pusson cyarn bener en ter dat's sho'. Dar ain' 'oom fer all de yerth ter strut roun' widdey han's in dey pockets en dey nose tu'nt up des caze dey's hones'. Lawd, Lawd, ef I'd a-helt my han's back f'om pickin' en stealin' thoo dis yerwah, whar 'ould you be now--I ax you dat?"

Catching a dried branch the flame shot up suddenly, and he sat relievedagainst the glow, like a gigantic statue in black basalt. 

"Well, all's fair in love and war, " replied Dan, adjusting himself tochanged conditions. "If that wasn't as true as gospel, I should be deadto-morrow from this fat bacon. "

Big Abel started up. 

"Lis'en ter dat ole hoot owl, " he exclaimed excitedly, "he's a-settin'right over dar on dat dead limb a-hootin' us plum in de mouf. Ain' dat like'em, now? Is you ever seed sech airs as dey put on?"

He strode off into the darkness, and Dan, seized with a sudden homesicknessfor the army, lay down beside his musket and fell asleep. 

III

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS

At daybreak they took up the march again, Dan walking slowly, with hismusket striking the ground and his arm on Big Abel's shoulder. Where thelane curved in the hollow, they came upon a white cottage, with a womanmilking a spotted cow in the barnyard. As she caught sight of them, shewaved wildly with her linsey apron, holding the milk pail carefully betweenher feet as the spotted cow turned inquiringly. 

"Go 'way, I don't want no stragglers here, " she cried, as one havingauthority. 

Leaning upon the fence, Dan placidly regarded her. 

"My dear madam, you commit an error of judgment, " he replied, pausing toargue. 

With the cow's udder in her hand the woman looked up from the streamingmilk. 

"Well, ain't you stragglers?" she inquired. 

Dan shook his head reproachfully. 

"What air you, then?"

"Beggars, madam. "

"I might ha' knowed it!" returned the woman, with a snort. "Well, whateveryou air, you kin jest as eas'ly keep on along that thar road. I ain't gotnothing on this place for you. Some of you broke into my smokehouse nightbefo' last an' stole all the spar' ribs I'd been savin'. Was you the ones?"

"No, ma'am. "

"Oh, you're all alike, " protested the woman, scornfully, "an' a bigger seto' rascals I never seed. "

"Huh! Who's a rascal?" exclaimed Big Abel, angrily. 

"This is the reward of doing your duty, Big Abel, " remarked Dan, gravely. "Never do it again, remember. The next time Virginia is invaded we'll sitby the fire and warm our feet. Good morning, madam. "

"Why ain't you with the army?" inquired the woman sharply, slapping the cowupon the side as she rose from her seat and took up the milk pail. "Anofficer rode by this morning an' he told me part of the army was campin'ten miles across on the other road. "

"Did he say whose division?"

"Oh, I reckon you kin fight as well under one general as another, so longas you've got a mind to fight at all. You jest follow this lane about threemiles and then keep straight along the turnpike. If you do that I reckonyou'll git yo' deserts befo' sundown. " She came over to the fence and stoodfixing them with hard, bright eyes. "My! You do look used up, " she admittedafter a moment. "You'd better come in an' git a glass of this milk befo'you move on. Jest go roun' to the gate and I'll meet you at the po'ch. Thedog won't bite you if you don't touch nothin'. "

"All right, go ahead and hide the spoons, " called Dan, as he swung open thegate and went up a little path bordered by prince's feathers. 

The woman met them at the porch and led them into a clean kitchen, whereDan sat down at the table and Big Abel stationed himself behind his chair. 

"Drink a glass of that milk the first thing, " she said, bustling heavilyabout the room, and browbeating them into submissive silence, while shemixed the biscuits and broke the eggs into a frying-pan greased with bacongravy. Plump, hearty, with a full double chin and cheeks like winterapples, she moved briskly from the wooden safe to the slow fire, which shestirred with determined gestures. 

"It's time this war had stopped, anyhow, " she remarked as she slapped theeggs up into the air and back again into the pan. "An' if General Lee everrides along this way I mean to tell him that he ought to have one goodbattle an' be done with it. Thar's no use piddlin' along like this twilwe're all worn out and thar ain't a corn-field pea left in Virginny. Lookhere (to Big Abel), you set right down on that do' step an' I'll give yousomething along with yo' marster. It's a good thing I happened to lookunder the cow trough yestiddy or thar wouldn't have been an egg left inthis house. That's right, turn right in an' eat hearty--don't mince withme. " Big Abel, cowed by her energetic manner, seated himself upon the doorstep, and for a half-hour the woman ceaselessly plied them with hotbiscuits and coffee made from sweet potatoes. 

"You mustn't think I mind doing for the soldiers, " she said when they tooktheir leave a little later, "but I've a husban' with General Lee and Ican't bear to see able-bodied men stragglin' about the country. No, don'tgive me nothin'--it ain't worth it. Lord, don't I know that you don't gitenough to buy a bag of flour. " Then she pointed out the way again and theyset off with a well-filled paper of luncheon. 

"Beware of hasty judgments, Big Abel, " advised Dan, as they strolled alongthe road. "Now that woman there--she's the right sort, though she rathertook my breath away. "

"She 'uz downright ficy at fu'st, " replied Big Abel, "but I d'clar doseeggs des melted in my mouf like butter. Whew! don't I wish I had dat olespeckled hen f'om home. I could hev toted her unner my arm thoo dis wah deses well es not. "

The sun was well overhead, and across the landscape the heavy dew waslifted like a veil. Here and there the autumn foliage tinted the woods insplashes of red and yellow; and beyond the low stone wall an old sheeppasture was ablaze in goldenrod. From a pointed aspen beside the road awild grapevine let down a fringe of purple clusters, but Big Abel, with afull stomach, passed them by indifferently. A huge buzzard, rising suddenlyfrom the pasture, sailed slowly across the sky, its heavy shadow skimmingthe field beneath. As yet the flames of war had not blown over this quietspot; in the early morning dew it lay as fresh as the world in itsbeginning. 

At the end of the lane, when they came out upon the turnpike, they met anold farmer riding a mule home from the market. 

"Can you tell me if McClellan has crossed the Potomac?" asked Dan, as hecame up with him. "I was in the hospital at Shepherdstown, and I left itfor fear of capture. No news has reached me, but I am on my way to rejointhe army. "

"Naw, suh, you might as well have stayed whar you were, " responded the oldman, eying him with the suspicion which always met a soldier out of ranks. "McClellan didn't do no harm on this side of the river--he jest set up abattery on Douglas hill and scolded General Lee for leaving Maryland sosoon. You needn't worry no mo' 'bout the Yankees gittin' on this side--tharain't none of 'em left to come, they're all dead. Why, General Lee cut 'emall up into little pieces, that's what he did. Hooray! it was jest likeBible times come back agin. "

Then, as Dan moved on, the farmer raised himself in his stirrups and calledloudly after him. "Keep to the Scriptures, young man, and remember Joshua, Smite them hip an' thigh, as the Bible says. "

All day in the bright sunshine they crept slowly onward, halting at briefintervals to rest in the short grass by the roadside, and stopping to askinformation of the countrymen or stragglers whom they met. At last in thered glow of the sunset they entered a strip of thin woodland, and found anold negro gathering resinous knots from the bodies of fallen pines. 

"Bless de Lawd!" he exclaimed as he faced them. "Is you done come fer desick sodger at my cabin?"

"A sick soldier? Why, we are all sick soldiers, " answered Dan. "Where didhe come from?" The old man shook his head, as he placed his heavy splitbasket on the ground at his feet. 

"I dunno, marster, he ain' come, he des drapped. 'Twuz yestiddy en I 'uzout hyer pickin' up dis yer lightwood des like I is doin' dis minute, w'enI heah 'a-bookerty! bookerty! bookerty!' out dar in de road 'en a w'itehoss tu'n right inter de woods wid a sick sodger a-hangin' ter de saddle. Yes, suh, de hoss he come right in des like he knowed me, en w'en I heltout my han' he poke his nose spang inter it en w'innied like he moughtyglad ter see me--en he wuz, too, dat's sho'. Well, I ketch holt er hisbridle en lead 'im thoo de woods up ter my do' whar he tu'n right in enbegin ter nibble in de patch er kebbage. All dis time I 'uz 'lowin' dat desodger wuz stone dead, but w'en I took 'im down he opened his eyes en axedfur water. Den I gun 'im a drink outer de goa'd en laid 'im flat on my bed, en in a little w'ile a nigger come by dat sez he b'longed ter 'im, butbefo' day de nigger gone agin en de hoss he gone, too. "

"Well, we'll see about him, uncle, go ahead, " said Dan, and as the oldnegro went up the path among the trees, he followed closely on hisfootsteps. When they had gone a little way the woods opened suddenly andthey came upon a small log cabin, with a yellow dog lying before the door. The dog barked shrilly as they approached, and a voice from the dim roombeyond called out:--

"Hosea! Are you back so soon, Hosea?"

At the words Dan stopped as if struck by lightning, midway of the vegetablegarden; then breaking from Big Abel, he ran forward and into the littlecabin. 

"Is the hurt bad, Governor?" he asked in a trembling voice. 

The Governor smiled and held out a steady hand above the ragged patchworkquilt. His neat gray coat lay over him and as Dan caught the glitter andthe collar he remembered the promotion after Seven Pines. 

"Let me help you, General, " he implored. "What is it that we can do?"

"I have come to the end, my boy, " replied the Governor, his rich voiceunshaken. "I have seen men struck like this before and I have lived twelvehours longer than the strongest of them. When I could go no farther I sentHosea ahead to make things ready--and now I am keeping alive to hear fromhome. Give me water. "

Dan held the glass to his lips, and looking up, the Governor thanked himwith his old warm glance that was so like Betty's. "There are some thingsthat are worth fighting for, " said the older man as he fell back, "and thesight of home is one of them. It was a hard ride, but every stab of paincarried me nearer to Uplands--and there are poor fellows who endure worsethings and yet die in a strange land among strangers. " He was silent amoment and then spoke slowly, smiling a little sadly. 

"My memory has failed me, " he said, "and when I lay here last night andtried to recall the look of the lawn at home, I couldn't remember--Icouldn't remember. Are there elms or maples at the front, Dan?"

"Maples, sir, " replied Dan, with the deference of a boy. "The long walkbordered by lilacs goes up from the road to the portico with the Doriccolumns--you remember that?"

"Yes, yes, go on. "

"The maples have grown thick upon the lawn and close beside the house thereis the mimosa tree that your father set out on his twenty-first birthday. "

"The branches touch the library window. I had them trimmed last year thatthe shutters might swing back. What time is it, Dan?"

Dan turned to the door. 

"What time is it, Big Abel?" he called to the negro outside. 

"Hit's goin' on eight o'clock, suh, " replied Big Abel, staring at the west. "De little star he shoots up moughty near eight, en dar he is a-comin'. "

"Hosea is there by now, " said the Governor, turning his head on a pillow ofpine needles. "He started this morning, and I told him to change horsesupon the road and eat in the saddle. Yes, he is there by now and Julia ison the way. Am I growing weaker, do you think? There is a little brandy onthe chair, give me a few drops--we must make it last all night. "

After taking the brandy he slept a little, and awaking quietly, looked atDan with dazed eyes. 

"Who is it?" he asked, stretching out his hand. "Why, I thought Dick Wythewas dead. "

Dan bent over him, smoothing the hair from his brow with hands that weregentle as a woman's. 

"Surely you haven't forgotten me, " he said. 

"No--no, I remember, but it is dark, too dark. Why doesn't Shadrach bringthe candles? And we might as well have a blaze in the fireplace to-night. It has grown chilly; there'll be a white frost before morning. "

There was a basket of resinous pine beside the hearth, and Dan kindled afire from a handful of rich knots. As the flames shot up, the rough littlecabin grew more cheerful, and the Governor laughed softly lying on hispallet. 

"Why, I thought you were Dick Wythe, my boy, " he said. "The light was sodim I couldn't see, and, after all, it was no great harm, for there was nota handsomer man in the state than my friend Dick--the ladies used to callhim 'Apollo Unarmed, ' you know. Ah, I was jealous enough of Dick in my day, though he never knew it. He rather took Julia's fancy when I first begancourting her, and, for a time, he pretended to reform and refused to toucha drop even at the table. I've seen him sit for hours, too, in Julia'sBible class of little negroes, with his eyes positively glued on her facewhile she read the hymns aloud. Yes, he was over head and ears in love withher, there's no doubt of that--though she has always denied it--and, I daresay, he would have been a much better man if she had married him, and I amuch worse one. Somehow, I can't help feeling that it wasn't quite just, and that I ought to square up things with Dick at Judgment Day. I shouldn'tlike to reap any good from his mistakes, poor fellow. " He broke off for aninstant, lay gazing at the lightwood blaze, and then took up the thread. "He had his fall at last, and it's been on my conscience ever since that Ididn't toss that bowl of apple toddy through the window when I saw himgoing towards it. We were at Chericoke on Christmas Eve in a big snowstorm, and Dick couldn't resist his glass--he never could so long as there was adrop at the bottom of it--the more he drank, the thirstier he got, he usedto say. Well, he took a good deal, more than he could stand, and when theMajor began toasting the ladies and called them the prettiest things Godever made, Dick flew into a rage and tried to fight him. 'There are twoprettier sights than any woman that ever wore petticoats, ' he thundered;'and (here he ripped out an oath) I'll prove it to you at the sword's pointbefore sunrise. God made but one thing, sir, prettier than the cobwebs on abottle of wine, and that's the bottle of wine without the cobwebs!' Then hewent at the Major, and we had to hold him back and rub snow on his temples. That night I drove home with Julia, and she accepted me before we passedthe wild cherry tree on the way to Uplands. "

As he fell silent the old negro, treading softly, came into the room andmade the preparations for his simple supper, which he carried outsidebeneath the trees. In a little bared place amid charred wood, a fire wasstarted, and Dan watched through the open doorway the stooping figures ofthe two negroes as they bent beside the flames. In a little while Big Abelcame into the room and beckoned him, but he shook his head impatiently andturned away, sickened by the thought of food. 

"Go, my boy, " said the Governor, as if he had seen it through closed eyes. "I never saw a private yet that wasn't hungry--one told me last week thathis diet for a year had varied only three times--blackberries, chinquapins, and persimmons had kept him alive, he said. "

Then his mind wandered again, and he talked in a low voice of the wheatfields at Uplands and of the cradles swinging all day in the sunshine. Dan, moving to the door, stared, with aching eyes, at the rich twilight whichcrept like purple mist among the trees. The very quiet of the scene gratedas a discord upon his mood, and he would have welcomed with a feeling ofrelief any violent manifestation of the savagery of nature. A storm, anearthquake, even the thunder of battle he felt would be less tragic thanjust this pleasant evening with the serene moon rising above the hills. 

Turning back into the room, he drew a split-bottomed chair beside thehearth, and began his patient watch until the daybreak. Under the patchworkquilt the Governor lay motionless, dead from the waist down, only thedesire in his eyes struggling to keep the spirit to the clay. Big Abel andthe old negro made themselves a bed beneath the trees, and as they rakedthe dried leaves together the mournful rustling filled the little cabin. Then they lay down, the yellow dog beside them, and gradually the silenceof the night closed in. 

After midnight, Dan, who had dozed in his chair from weariness, wasawakened by the excited tones of the Governor's voice. The desire wasvanquished at last and the dying man had gone back in delirium to thebattle he had fought beyond the river. On the hearth the resinous pinestill blazed and from somewhere among the stones came the short chirp of acricket. 

"Oh, it's nothing--a mere scratch. Lay me beneath that tree, and tellBarnes to support D. H. Hill at the sunken road. Richardson is charging usacross the ploughed ground and we are fighting from behind the stackedfence rails. Ah, they advance well, those Federals--not a man out of line, and their fire has cut the corn down as with a sickle. If Richardson keepsthis up, he will sweep us from the wood and beyond the slope. No, don'ttake me to the hospital. Please God, I'll die upon the field and hear thecannon at the end. Look! they are charging again, but we still hold ourground. What, Longstreet giving way? They are forcing him from theridge--the enemy hold it now! Ah, well, there is A. P. Hill to give thecounter stroke. If he falls upon their flank, the day is--"

His voice ceased, and Dan, crossing the room, gave him brandy from theglass upon the chair. The silence had grown suddenly oppressive, and as theyoung man went back to his seat, he saw a little mouse gliding like ashadow across the floor. Startled by his footsteps, it hesitated an instantin the centre of the room, and then darted along the wall and disappearedbetween the loose logs in the corner. Often during the night it crept outfrom its hiding place, and at last Dan grew to look for it with a certainwistful comfort in its shy companionship. 

Gradually the stars went out above the dim woods, and the dawn whitenedalong the eastern sky. With the first light Dan went to the open door anddrew a deep breath of the refreshing air. A new day was coming, but he metit with dulled eyes and a crippled will. The tragedy of life seemed tooverhang the pleasant prospect upon which he looked, and, as he stoodthere, he saw in his vision of the future only an endless warfare and awasted land. With a start he turned, for the Governor was speaking in avoice that filled the cabin and rang out into the woods. 

"Skirmishers, forward! Second the battalion of direction! Battalions, forward!"

He had risen upon his pallet and was pointing straight at the open door, but when, with a single stride, Dan reached him, he was already dead. 

IV

IN THE SILENCE OF THE GUNS

At noon the next day, Dan, sitting beside the fireless hearth, with hishead resting on his clasped hands, saw a shadow fall suddenly upon thefloor, and, looking up, found Mrs. Ambler standing in the doorway. 

"I am too late?" she said quietly, and he bowed his head and motioned tothe pallet in the corner. 

Without seeing the arm he put out, she crossed the room like one bewilderedby a sudden blow, and went to where the Governor was lying beneath thepatchwork quilt. No sound came to her lips; she only stretched out her handwith a protecting gesture and drew the dead man to her arms. Then it wasthat Dan, turning to leave her alone with her grief, saw that Betty hadfollowed her mother and was coming toward him from the doorway. For aninstant their eyes met; then the girl went to her dead, and Dan passed outinto the sunlight with a new bitterness at his heart. 

A dozen yards from the cabin there was a golden beech spreading in widebranches against the sky, and seating himself on a fallen log beneath it, he looked over the soft hills that rose round and deep-bosomed from the dimblue valley. He was still there an hour later when, hearing a rustle in thegrass, he turned and saw Betty coming to him over the yellowed leaves. Hisfirst glance showed him that she had grown older and very pale; his secondthat her kind brown eyes were full of tears. 

"Betty, is it this way?" he asked, and opened his arms. 

With a cry that was half a sob she ran toward him, her black skirt sweepingthe leaves about her feet. Then, as she reached him, she swayed forward asif a strong wind blew over her, and as he caught her from the ground, hekissed her lips. Her tears broke out afresh, but as they stood there ineach other's arms, neither found words to speak nor voice to utter them. The silence between them had gone deeper than speech, for it had in it allthe dumb longing of the last two years--the unshaken trust, the bitternessof the long separation, the griefs that had come to them apart, and thesorrow that had brought them at last together. He held her so closely thathe felt the flutter of her breast with each rising sob, and an anguish thatwas but a vibration from her own swept over him like a wave from head tofoot. Since he had put her from him on that last night at Chericoke theirpassion had deepened by each throb of pain and broadened by each step thathad led them closer to the common world. Not one generous thought, not onetemptation overcome but had gone to the making of their love to-day--forwhat united them now was not the mere prompting of young impulse, but thestrength out of many struggles and the fulness out of experiences that hadripened the heart of each. 

"Let me look at you, " said Betty, lifting her wet face. "It has been solong, and I have wanted you so much--I have hungered sleeping and waking. "

"Don't look at me, Betty, I am a skeleton--a crippled skeleton, and I willnot be looked at by my love. "

"Your love can see you with shut eyes. Oh, my best and dearest, do youthink you could keep me from seeing you however hard you tried? Why, there's a lamp in my heart that lets me look at you even in the night. "

"Your lamp flatters, I am afraid to face it. Has it shown you this?"

He drew back and held up his maimed hand, his eyes fastened upon her face, where the old fervour had returned. 

With a sob that thrilled through him, she caught his hand to her lips andthen held it to her bosom, crooning over it little broken sounds of loveand pity. Through the spreading beech above a clear gold light filtereddown upon her, and a single yellow leaf was caught in her loosened hair. Hesaw her face, impassioned, glorified, amid a flood of sunshine. 

"And I did not know, " she said breathlessly. "You were wounded and therewas no one to tell me. Whenever there has been a battle I have sat verystill and shut my eyes, and tried to make myself go straight to you. I haveseen the smoke and heard the shots, and yet when it came I did not know it. I may even have laughed and talked and eaten a stupid dinner while you weresuffering. Now I shall never smile again until I have you safe. "

"But if I were dying I should want to see you smiling. Nobody ever smiledbefore you, Betty. "

"If you are wounded, you will send for me. Promise me; I beg you on myknees. You will send for me; say it or I shall be always wretched. Do youwant to kill me, Dan? Promise. "

"I shall send for you. There, will that do? It would be almost worth dyingto have you come to me. Would you kiss me then, I wonder?"

"Then and now, " she answered passionately. "Oh, I sometimes think that warsare fought to torture women! Hold me in your arms again or my heart willbreak. I have missed Virginia so--never a day passes that I do not see hercoming through the rooms and hear her laugh--such a baby laugh, do youremember it?"

"I remember everything that was near to you, beloved. "

"If you could have seen her on her wedding day, when she came down in herpink crepe shawl and white bonnet that I had trimmed, and looked back, smiling at us for the last time. I have almost died with wanting heragain--and now papa--papa! They loved life so, and yet both are dead, andlife goes on without them. "

"My poor love, poor Betty. "

"But not so poor as if I had lost you, too, " she answered; "and if you arewounded even a little remember that you have promised, and I shall come toyou. Prince Rupert and I will pass the lines together. Do you know that Ihave Prince Rupert, Dan?"

"Keep him, dear, don't let him get into the army. "

"He lives in the woods night and day, and when he comes to pasture I goafter him while Uncle Shadrach watches the turnpike. When the soldiers comeby, blue or gray, we hide him behind the willows in the brook. They maytake the chickens--and they do--but I should kill the man who touchedPrince Rupert's bridle. "

"You should have been a soldier, Betty. "

She shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't shoot any one in cold blood--as youdo--that's different. I'd have to hate him as much--as much as I love you. "

"How much is that?"

"A whole world full and brimming over; is that enough?"

"Only a little world?" he answered. "Is that all?"

"If I told you truly, you would not believe me, " she said earnestly. "Youwould shake your head and say: 'Poor silly Betty, has she gone moon mad?'"

Catching her in his arms again, he kissed her hair and mouth and hands andthe ruffle at her throat. "Poor silly Betty, " he repeated, "where is yourwisdom now?"

"You have turned it into folly, sad little wisdom that it was. "

"Well, I prefer your folly, " he said gravely. "It was folly that made youlove me at the first; it was pure folly that brought you out to me thatnight at Chericoke--but the greatest folly of all is just this, my dear. "

"But it will keep you safe. "

"Who knows? I may get shot to-morrow. There, there, I only said it to feelyour arms about me. "

Her hands clung to him and the tears, rising to her lashes, fell fast uponhis coat. 

"Oh, don't let me lose you, " she begged. "I have lost so much--don't let melose you, too. "

"Living or dead, I am yours, that I swear. "

"But I don't want you dead. I want the feel of you. I want your hands, yourface. I want _you_. "

"Betty, Betty, " he said softly. "Listen, for there is no word in the worldthat means so much as just your name. "

"Except yours. "

"No interruptions, this is martial law. Dear, dearest, darling, are allempty sounds; but when I say 'Betty, ' it is full of life. "

"Say it again, then. "

"Betty, do you love me?"

"Ask: 'Betty, is the sun shining?'"

"It always shines about you. "

"Because my hair is red?"

"Red? It is pure gold. Do you remember when I found that out on the hearthin free Levi's cabin? The colour went to my head, but when I put out myhand to touch a curl, you drew away and fastened them up again. Now I havepulled them all down and you dare not move. "

"Shall I tell you why I drew away?"

The tears were still on her lashes, but in the exaltation of a greatpassion, life, death, the grave, and things beyond had dwindled like starsbefore the rising sun. 

"You told me then--because I was 'a pampered poodle dog. ' Well, I'veoutgrown that objection certainly. Let us hope you have a fancy for leanhounds. "

She put up her hands in protest. 

"I drew away partly because I knew you did not love me, " she said, meetinghis eyes with her clear and ardent gaze, "but more because--I knew that Iloved you. "

"You loved me then? Oh, Betty, if I had only known!"

"If you had known!" She covered her face. "Oh, it was terrible enough as itwas. I wanted to beat myself for shame. "

"Shame? In loving me, my darling?"

"In loving you like that. "

"Nonsense. If you had only said to me: 'My good sir, I love you a littlebit, ' I should have come to my senses on the spot. Even pampered poodledogs are not all fat, Betty, and, as it was, I did come to the years ofdiscretion that very night. I didn't sleep a wink. "

"Nor I. "

"I walked the floor till daybreak. "

"And I sat by the window. "

"I hurled every hard name at myself that I could think of. 'Dolt and idiot'seemed to stick. By George, I can't get over it. To think that I might havegalloped down that turnpike and swept you off your feet. You wouldn't havewithstood me, Betty, you couldn't. "

"Yet I did, " she said, smiling sadly. 

"Oh, I didn't have a fair chance, you see. "

"Perhaps not, " she answered, "though sometimes I was afraid you would hearmy heart beating and know it all. Do you remember that morning in thegarden with the roses?--I wouldn't kiss you good-by, but if you had done itagainst my will I'd have broken down. After you had gone I kissed the grasswhere you had stood. "

"My God! I can't leave you, Betty. "

She met his passionate gaze with steady eyes. 

"If you were not to go I should never have told you, " she answered; "but ifyou die in battle you must remember it at the last. "

"It seems an awful waste of opportunities, " he said, "but I'll make it upon the day that I come back a Major-general. Then I shall say 'forward, madam, ' and you'll marry me on the spot. "

"Don't be too sure. I may grow coy again when the war is over. "

"When you do I'll find the remedy--for I'll be a Major-general, then, andyou a private. This war must make me, dear. I shan't stay in the ranks muchlonger. "

"I like you there--it is so brave, " she said. 

"But you'll like me anywhere, and I prefer the top--the very top. Oh, mylove, we'll wring our happiness from the world before we die!"

With a shiver she came back to the earth. 

"I had almost forgotten him, " she said in keen self-reproach, and wentquickly over the rustling leaves to the cabin door. As Dan followed her theday seemed to grow suddenly darker to his eyes. 

On the threshold he met Mrs. Ambler, composed and tearless, wearing hergrief as a veil that hid her from the outside world. Before her calm grayeyes he fell back with an emotion not unmixed with awe. 

"I did the best I could, " he said bluntly, "but it was nothing. "

She thanked him quietly, asking a few questions in her grave and gentlevoice. Was he conscious to the end? Did he talk of home? Had he expressedany wishes of which she was not aware?

"They are bringing him to the wagon now, " she finished steadily. "No, donot go in--you are very weak and your strength must be saved to hold yourmusket. Shadrach and Big Abel will carry him, I prefer it to be so. We leftthe wagon at the end of the path; it is a long ride home, but we havearranged to change horses, and we shall reach Uplands, I hope, by sunrise. "

"I wish to God I could go with you!" he exclaimed. 

"Your place is with the army, " she answered. "I have no son to send, so youmust go in his stead. He would have it this way if he could choose. "

For a moment she was silent, and he looked at her placid face and thesmooth folds of her black silk with a wonder that checked his words. 

"Some one said of him once, " she added presently, "that he was a man whoalways took his duty as if it were a pleasure; and it was true--so true. Ialone saw how hard this was for him, for he hated war as heartily as hedreaded death. Yet when both came he met them squarely and without lookingback. "

"He died as he had lived, the truest gentleman I have ever known, " he said. 

A pleased smile hovered for an instant on her lips. 

"He fought hard against secession until it came, " she pursued quietly, "forhe loved the Union, and he had given it the best years of his life--hisstrong years, he used to say. I think if he ever felt any bitterness towardany one, it was for the man or men who brought us into this; and at last heused to leave the room because he could not speak of them without anger. Hethrew all his strength against the tide, yet, when it rushed on in spite ofhim, he knew where his duty guided him, and he followed it, as always, likea pleasure. You thought him sanguine, I suppose, but he never was so--inhis heart, though the rest of us think differently, he always felt that hewas fighting for a hopeless cause, and he loved it the more for very pityof its weakness. 'It is the spirit and not the bayonet that makes history, 'he used to say. "

Heavy steps crossed the cabin floor, and Uncle Shadrach and Big Abel cameout bringing the dead man between them. With her hand on the gray coat, Mrs. Ambler walked steadily as she leaned on Betty's shoulder. Once ortwice she noticed rocks in the way, and cautioned the negroes to gocarefully down the descending grade. The bright leaves drifted upon them, and through the thin woods, along the falling path, over the lacework oflights and shadows, they went slowly out into the road where Hosea waswaiting with the open wagon. 

The Governor was laid upon the straw that filled the bottom, Mrs. Amblersat down beside him, and as Betty followed, Uncle Shadrach climbed upon theseat above the wheel. 

"Good-by, my boy, " said Mrs. Ambler, giving him her hand. 

"Good-by, my soldier, " said Betty, taking both of his. Then Hosea crackedthe whip and the wagon rolled out into the road, scattering the gray dusthigh into the sunlight. 

Dan, standing alone against the pines, looked after it with a gnawinghunger at his heart, seeing first Betty's eyes, next the gleam of her hair, then the dim figures fading into the straw, and at last the wagon caught upin a cloud of dust. Down the curving road, round a green knoll, across alittle stream, and into the blue valley it passed as a speck upon thelandscape. Then the distance closed over it, the sand settled in the road, and the blank purple hills crowded against the sky. 

V

"THE PLACE THEREOF"

In the full beams of the sun the wagon turned into the drive between thelilacs and drew up before the Doric columns. Mr. Bill and the two oldladies came out upon the portico, and the Governor was lifted down by UncleShadrach and Hosea and laid upon the high tester bed in the room behind theparlour. 

As Betty entered the hall, the familiar sights of every day struck her eyeswith the smart of a physical blow. The excitement of the shock had passedfrom her; there was no longer need to tighten the nervous strain, andhenceforth she must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest--inthe place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories. Whilethere was something for her hands to do--or the danger of delay in the longwatch upon the road--it had not been so hard to brace her strength againstnecessity, but here--what was there left that she must bring herself toendure? The torturing round of daily things, the quiet house in which tocherish new regrets, and outside the autumn sunshine on the long whiteturnpike. The old waiting grown sadder, was begun again; she must put outher hands to take up life where it had stopped, go up and down the shiningstaircase and through the unchanged rooms, while her ears were alwaysstraining for the sound of the cannon, or the beat of a horse's hoofs uponthe road. 

The brick wall around the little graveyard was torn down in one corner, and, while the afternoon sun slanted between the aspens, the Governor waslaid away in the open grave beneath rank periwinkle. There was no ministerto read the service, but as the clods of earth fell on the coffin, Mrs. Ambler opened her prayer book and Betty, kneeling upon the ground, heardthe low words with her eyes on the distant mountains. Overhead the aspensstirred beneath a passing breeze, and a few withered leaves drifted slowlydown. Aunt Lydia wept softly, and the servants broke into a subduedwailing, but Mrs. Ambler's gentle voice did not falter. 

"He, cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were ashadow, and never continueth in one stay. "

She read on quietly in the midst of the weeping slaves, who had closedabout her. Then, at the last words, her hands dropped to her sides, and shedrew back while Uncle Shadrach shovelled in the clay. 

"It is but a span, " she repeated, looking out into the sunshine, with alight that was almost unearthly upon her face. 

"Come away, mamma, " said Betty, holding out her arms; and when the lastspray of life-everlasting was placed upon the finished mound, they went outby the hollow in the wall, turning from time to time to look back at thegray aspens. Down the little hill, through the orchard, and across themeadows filled with waving golden-rod, the procession of white and blackfiled slowly homeward. When the lawn was reached each went to hisaccustomed task, and Aunt Lydia to her garden. 

An hour later the Major rode over in response to a message which had justreached him. 

"I was in town all the morning, " he explained in a trembling voice, "and Ididn't get the news until a half hour ago. The saddest day of my life, madam, is the one upon which I learn that I have outlived him. "

"He loved you, Major, " said Mrs. Ambler, meeting his swimming eyes. 

"Loved me!" repeated the old man, quivering in his chair, "I tell you, madam, I would rather have been Peyton Ambler's friend than President ofthe Confederacy! Do you remember the time he gave me his last keg of brandyand went without for a month?"

She nodded, smiling, and the Major, with red eyes and shaking hands, wandered into endless reminiscences of the long friendship. To Betty thesetrivial anecdotes were only a fresh torture, but Mrs. Ambler followed themeagerly, comparing her recollections with the Major's, and repeating in alow voice to herself characteristic stories which she had not heard before. 

"I remember that--we had been married six months then, " she would say, withthe unearthly light upon her face. "It is almost like living again to hearyou, Major. "

"Well, madam, life is a sad affair, but it is the best we've got, "responded the old gentleman, gravely. 

"He loved it, " returned Mrs. Ambler, and as the Major rose to go, shefollowed him into the hall and inquired if Mrs. Lightfoot had beensuccessful with her weaving. "She told me that she intended to have her oldlooms set up again, " she added, "and I think that I shall follow herexample. Between us we might clothe a regiment of soldiers. "

"She has had the servants brushing off the cobwebs for a week, " replied theMajor, "and to-day I actually found Car'line at a spinning wheel on theback flagstones. There's not the faintest doubt in my mind that if Mollyhad been placed in the Commissary department our soldiers would be livingto-day on the fat of the land. She has knitted thirty pairs of socks sincespring. Good-by, my dear lady, good-by, and may God sustain you in yourdouble affliction. "

He crossed the portico, bowed as he descended the steps, and, mounting inthe drive, rode slowly away upon his dappled mare. When he reached theturnpike he lifted his hat again and passed on at an amble. 

During the next few months it seemed to Betty that she aged a year eachday. The lines closed and opened round them; troops of blue and graycavalrymen swept up and down the turnpike; the pastures were invaded byeach army in its turn, and the hen-house became the spoil of a regiment ofstragglers. Uncle Shadrach had buried the silver beneath the floor of hiscabin, and Aunt Floretta set her dough to rise each morning under a loosepile of kindling wood. Once a deserter penetrated into Betty's chamber, andthe girl drove him out at the point of an old army pistol, which she keptupon her bureau. 

"If you think I am afraid of you come a step nearer, " she had said coolly, and the man had turned to run into the arms of a Federal officer, who wassweeping up the stragglers. He was a blue-eyed young Northerner, and forthree days after that he had set a guard upon the portico at Uplands. Thememory of the small white-faced girl, with her big army pistol and theblazing eyes haunted him from that hour until Appomattox, when he heaved asigh of relief and dismissed it from his thoughts. "She would have shot therascal in another second, " he said afterward, "and, by George, I wish shehad. "

The Governor's wine cellar was emptied long ago, the rare old wine flowingfrom broken casks across the hall. 

"What does it matter?" Mrs. Ambler had asked wearily, watching the redstream drip upon the portico. "What is wine when our soldiers are starvingfor bread? And besides, war lives off the soil, as your father used tosay. "

Betty lifted her skirts and stepped over the bright puddles, glancingdisdainfully after the Hessian stragglers, who went singing down the drive. 

"I hope their officers will get them, " she remarked vindictively, "and thenext time they offer us a guard, I shall accept him for good and all, if hehappens to have been born on American soil. I don't mind Yankees somuch--you can usually quiet them with the molasses jug--but theseforeigners are awful. From a Hessian or a renegade Virginian, good Lorddeliver us. "

"Some of them have kind hearts, " remarked Mrs. Ambler, wonderingly. "Idon't see how they can bear to come down to fight us. The Major met GeneralMcClellan, you know, and he admitted afterwards that he shouldn't haveknown from his manner that he was not a Southern gentleman. "

"Well, I hope he has left us a shoulder of bacon in the smokehouse, "replied Betty, laughing. "You haven't eaten a mouthful for two days, mamma. "

"I don't feel that I have a right to eat, my dear, " said Mrs. Ambler. "Itseems a useless extravagance when every little bit helps the army. "

"Well, I can't support the army, but I mean to feed you, " returned Bettydecisively, and she went out to ask Hosea if he had found a new hidingplace for the cattle. Except upon the rare mornings when Mr. Bill left hisfishing, the direction of the farm had fallen entirely upon Betty'sshoulders. Wilson, the overseer, was in the army, and Hosea had graduallyrisen to take his place. "We must keep things up, " the girl had insisted, "don't let us go to rack and ruin--papa would have hated it so, " and, withthe negro's aid, she had struggled to keep up the common tenor of the oldcountry life. 

Rising at daybreak, she went each morning to overlook the milking of thecows, hidden in their retreat among the hills; and as the sun rose higher, she came back to start the field hands to the ploughing and the women tothe looms in one of the detached wings. Then there was the big storehouseto go into, the rations of the servants to be drawn from their secretcorners, the meal to be measured, and the bacon to be sliced with the carewhich fretted her lavish hands. After this there came the shucking of thecorn, a negro frolic even in war years, so long as there was any corn toshuck, and lastly the counting of the full bags of grain before the heavywagon was sent to the little mill beside the river. From sunrise to sunsetthe girl's hands were not idle for an instant, and in the long evenings, bythe light of the home-made tallow dips, which served for candles, she woulddraw out a gray yarn stocking and knit busily for the army, while shetried, with an aching heart, to cheer her mother. Her sunny humour had madeplay of a man's work as of a woman's anxiety. 

Sometimes, on bright mornings, Mr. Bill would stroll over with his rod uponhis shoulder and a string of silver perch in his hand. He had grown old andvery feeble, and his angling had become a passion mightier than an armywith bayonets. He took small interest in the war--at times he seemed almostunconscious of the suffering around him--but he enjoyed his chats withUnion officers upon the road, who occasionally capped his stories of bigsport with tales of mountain trout which they had drawn from Northernstreams. He would sit for hours motionless under the willows by the river, and once when his house was fired, during a raid up the valley, he washeard to remark regretfully that the messenger had "scared away his firstbite in an hour. " Placid, wide-girthed, dull-faced, innocent as a child, hesat in the midst of war dangling his line above the silver perch. 

VI

THE PEACEFUL SIDE OF WAR

On a sparkling January morning, when Lee's army had gone into winterquarters beside the Rappahannock, Dan stood in the doorway of his log hutsmoking the pipe of peace, while he watched a messmate putting up a chimneyof notched sticks across the little roadway through the pines. 

"You'd better get Pinetop to daub your chinks for you, " he suggested. "Hecan make a mixture of wet clay and sandstone that you couldn't tell frommortar. "

"You jest wait till I git through these shoes an' I'll show you, " remarkedPinetop, from the woodpile, where he was making moccasins of untanned beefhide laced with strips of willow. "I ain't goin' to set my bar' feet onthis frozen groun' agin, if I can help it. 'Tain't so bad in summer, but, Id'clar it takes all the spirit out of a fight when you have to runbar-footed over the icy stubble. "

"Jack Powell lost his shoes in the battle of Fredericksburg, " said Baker, as he carefully fitted his notched sticks together. "That's why he gotpromoted, I reckon. He stepped into a mud puddle, and his feet came out buthis shoes didn't. "

"Well, I dare say, it was cheaper for the Government to give him a titlethan a pair of shoes, " observed Dan, cynically. "Why, you are going in forluxury! Is that pile of oak shingles for your roof? We made ours of railscovered with pine tags. "

"And the first storm that comes along sweeps them off--yes, I know. By theway, can anybody tell me if there's a farmer with a haystack in theseparts?"

"Pinetop got a load about three miles up, " replied Dan, emptying his pipeagainst the door sill. "I say, who is that cavalry peacock over yonder? ByGeorge, it's Champe!"

"Perhaps it's General Stuart, " suggested Baker witheringly, as Champe camecomposedly between the rows of huts, pursued by the frantic jeers of theassembled infantry. 

"Take them earrings off yo' heels--take 'em off! Take 'em off!" yelled thechorus, as his spurs rang on the stones. "My gal she wants 'em--take 'emoff!"

"Take those tatters off your backs--take 'em off!" responded Champe, genialand undismayed, swinging easily along in his worn gray uniform, his blackplume curling over his soft felt hat. 

As Dan watched him, standing in the doorway, he felt, with a suddenmelancholy, that a mental gulf had yawned between them. The last grimmonths which had aged him with experiences as with years, had left Champeapparently unchanged. All the deeper knowledge, which he had bought withhis youth for the price, had passed over his cousin like the clouds, leaving him merely gay and kind as he had been of old. 

"Hello, Beau!" called Champe, stretching out his hand as he drew near. "Ijust heard you were over here, so I thought I'd take a look. How goes thewar?"

Dan refilled his pipe and borrowed a light from Pinetop. 

"To tell the truth, " he replied, "I have come to the conclusion that thefun and frolic of war consist in picket duty and guarding mule teams. "

"Well, these excessive dissipations have taken up so much of your time thatI've hardly laid eyes on you since you got routed by malaria. Any news fromhome?"

"Grandma sent me a Christmas box, which she smuggled through, heaven knowshow. We had a jolly dinner that day, and Pinetop and I put on our firstclean clothes for three months. Big Abel got a linsey suit made atChericoke--I hope he'll come along in it. "

"Oh, Beau, Beau!" lamented Champe. "How have the mighty fallen? You aren'tso particular now about wearing only white or black ties, I reckon. "

"Well, shoestrings are usually black, I believe, " returned Dan, with alaugh, raising his hand to his throat. 

Champe seated himself upon the end of an oak log, and taking off his hat, ran his hand through his curling hair. "I was at home last summer on afurlough, " he remarked, "and I declare, I hardly knew the valley. If weever come out of this war it will take an army with ploughshares to bringthe soil up again. As for the woods--well, well, we'll never have them backin our day. "

"Did you see Uplands?" asked Dan eagerly. 

"For a moment. It was hardly safe, you know, so I was at home only a day. Grandpa told me that the place had lain under a shadow ever sinceVirginia's death. She was buried in Hollywood--it was impossible to bringher through the lines they said--and Betty and Mrs. Ambler have taken thisvery hardly. "

"And the Governor, " said Dan, with a tremor in his voice as he thought ofBetty. 

"And Jack Morson, " added Champe, "he fell at Brandy Station when I was withhim. At first he was wounded only slightly, and we tried to get him to therear, but he laughed and went straight in again. It was a sabre cut thatfinished him at the last. "

"He was a first-rate chap, " commented Dan, "but I never knew exactly whyVirginia fell in love with him. "

"The other fellow never does. To be quite candid, it is beyond mycomprehension how a certain lady can prefer the infantry to thecavalry--yet she does emphatically. "

Dan coloured. 

"Was grandpa well?" he inquired lamely. 

With a laugh Champe flung one leg over the other, and clasped his knee. 

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, " he responded. "Grandpa'sthoughts are so much given to the Yankees that he has become actuallyangelic to the rest of us. By the way, do you know that Mr. Blake is in thearmy?"

"What?" cried Dan, aghast. 

"Oh, I don't mean that he really carries a rifle--though he swears he wouldif he only had twenty years off his shoulders--but he has become ourchaplain in young Chrysty's place, and the boys say there is more gunpowder in his prayers than in our biggest battery. "

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Dan. 

"You ought to hear him--it's better than fighting on your own account. LastSunday he gave us a prayer in which he said: 'O Lord, thou knowest that weare the greatest army thou hast ever seen; put forth thy hand then but avery little and we will whip the earth. ' By Jove, you look cosey here, " headded, glancing into the hut where Dan and Pinetop slept in bunks of straw. "I hope the roads won't dry before you've warmed your house. " He shookhands again, and swung off amid the renewed jeers that issued from the opendoorways. 

Dan watched him until he vanished among the distant pines, and then, turning, went into the little hut where he found Pinetop sitting before arude chimney, which he had constructed with much labour. A small book wasopen on his knee, over which his yellow head drooped like a child's, andDan saw his calm face reddened by the glow of the great log fire. 

"Hello! What's that?" he inquired lightly. 

The mountaineer started from his abstraction, and the blood swept to hisforehead as he rose from the half of a flour barrel upon which he had beensitting. 

"'Tain't nothin', " he responded, and as he towered to his great height hisfair curls brushed the ceiling of crossed rails. In his awkwardness thebook fell to the floor, and before he could reach it, Dan had stooped, witha laugh, and picked it up. 

"I say, there are no secrets in this shebang, " he said smiling. Then thesmile went out, and his face grew suddenly grave, for, as the book fellopen in his hand, he saw that it was the first primer of a child, and onthe thumbed and tattered page the word "RAT" stared at him in capitalletters. 

"By George, man!" he exclaimed beneath his breath, as he turned fromPinetop to the blazing logs. 

For the first time in his life he was brought face to face with the tragedyof hopeless ignorance for an inquiring mind, and the shock stunned him, atthe moment, past the power of speech. Until knowing Pinetop he had, in thelofty isolation of his class, regarded the plebeian in the light of analien to the soil, not as a victim to the kindly society in which hehimself had moved--a society produced by that free labour which haddegraded the white workman to the level of the serf. At the instant thetruth pierced home to him, and he recognized it in all the grimness of itspathos. Beside that genial plantation life which he had known he saw risingthe wistful figure of the poor man doomed to conditions which he could notchange--born, it may be, like Pinetop, self-poised, yet with an untaughtintellect, grasping, like him, after the primitive knowledge which shouldbe the birthright of every child. Even the spectre of slavery, which hadshadowed his thoughts, as it had those of many a generous mind around him, faded abruptly before the very majesty of the problem that faced him now. In his sympathy for the slave, whose bondage he and his race had striven tomake easy, he had overlooked the white sharer of the negro's wrong. To menlike Pinetop, slavery, stern or mild, could be but an equal menace, and yetthese were the men who, when Virginia called, came from their little cabinsin the mountains, who tied the flint-locks upon their muskets and foughtuncomplainingly until the end. Not the need to protect a decayinginstitution, but the instinct in every free man to defend the soil, hadbrought Pinetop, as it had brought Dan, into the army of the South. 

"Look here, old man, you haven't been quite fair to me, " said Dan, afterthe long silence. "Why didn't you ask me to help you with this stuff?"

"Wall, I thought you'd joke, " replied Pinetop blushing, "and I knew yo'nigger would. "

"Joke? Good Lord!" exclaimed Dan. "Do you think I was born with so short amemory, you scamp? Where are those nights on the way to Romney when youcovered me with your overcoat to keep me from freezing in the snow? Where, for that matter, is that march in Maryland when Big Abel and you carried methree miles in your arms after I had dropped delirious by the roadside? Ifyou thought I'd joke you about this, Pinetop, all I can say is that you'veturned into a confounded fool. "

Pinetop came back to the fire and seated himself upon the flour barrel inthe corner. "'Twas this way, you see, " he said, breaking, for the firsttime, through his strong mountain reserve. "I al'ays thought I'd like toread a bit, 'specially on winter evenings at home, when the nights are longand you don't have to git up so powerful early in the mornings, but when Iwas leetle thar warn't nobody to teach me how to begin; maw she didn't knownothin' an' paw he was dead, though he never got beyond the first readerwhen he was 'live. "

He looked up and Dan nodded gravely over his pipe. 

"Then when I got bigger I had to work mighty hard to keep things goin'--an'it seemed to me every time I took out that thar leetle book at night I gotso dead sleepy I couldn't tell one letter from another; A looked jest likeZ. "

"I see, " said Dan quietly. "Well, there's time enough here anyhow. It willbe a good way to pass the evenings. " He opened the primer and laid it onhis knee, running his fingers carelessly through its dog-eared pages. "Doyou know your letters?" he inquired in a professional tone. 

"Lordy, yes, " responded Pinetop. "I've got about as fur as this hereplace. " He crossed to where Dan sat and pointed with a long forefinger tothe printed words, his mild blue eyes beaming with excitement. 

"I reckon I kin read that by myself, " he added with an embarrassed laugh. "T-h-e c-a-t c-a-u-g-h-t t-h-e r-a-t. Ain't that right?"

"Perfectly. We'll pass on to the next. " And they did so, sitting on thehalves of a divided flour barrel before the blazing chimney. 

From this time there were regular lessons in the little hut, Pinetopdrawling over the soiled primer, or crouching, with his long legs twistedunder him and his elbows awkwardly extended, while he filled a sheet ofpaper with sprawling letters. 

"I'll be able to write to the old woman soon, " he chuckled jubilantly, "an'she'll have to walk all the way down the mounting to git it read. "

"You'll be a scholar yet if this keeps up, " replied Dan, slapping him uponthe shoulder, as the mountaineer glanced up with a pleased and shiningface. "Why, you mastered that first reader there in no time. "

"A powerful heap of larnin' has to pass through yo' head to git a leetle tostick thar, " commented Pinetop, wrinkling his brows. "Air we goin' to havethe big book agin to-night?"

"The big book" was a garbled version of "Les Miserables, " which, afterrunning the blockade with a daring English sailor, had passed from regimentto regiment in the resting army. At first Dan had begun to read with onlyPinetop for a listener, but gradually, as the tale unfolded, a group ofeager privates filled the little hut and even hung breathlessly about thedoorway in the winter nights. They were mostly gaunt, unwashed volunteersfrom the hills or the low countries, to whom literature was only a vastsilence and life a courageous struggle against greater odds. To Dan thepicturesqueness of the scene lent itself with all the force of its stronglights and shadows, and with the glow of the pine torches on the open page, his eyes would sometimes wander from the words to rest upon the kindlingfaces in the shaggy circle by the fire. Dirty, hollow-eyed, unshaven, itsat spellbound by the magic of the tale it could not read. 

"By Gosh! that's a blamed good bishop, " remarked an unkempt smoker oneevening from the threshold, where his beef-hide shoes were covered withfine snow. "I don't reckon Marse Robert could ha' beat that. "

"Marse Robert ain't never tried, " put in a companion by the fire. 

"Wall, I ain't sayin' he had, " corrected the first speaker, through a cloudof smoke. "Lord, I hope when my time comes I kin slip into heaven on MarseRobert's coat-tails. "

"If you don't, you won't never git thar!" jeered the second. Then theysettled themselves again, and listened with sombre faces and twitchinglips. 

It was during this winter that Dan learned how one man's influence may fuseindividual and opposing wills into a single supreme endeavour. The Army ofNorthern Virginia, as he saw it then, was moulded, sustained, and madeeffective less by the authority of the Commander than by the simple powerof Lee over the hearts of the men who bore his muskets. For a time Dan hadsought to trace the groundspring of this impassioned loyalty, seeking areason that could not be found in generals less beloved. Surely it was notthe illuminated figure of the conqueror, for when had the Commander heldcloser the affection of his troops than in that ill-starred campaign intoMaryland, which left the moral victory of a superb fight in McClellan'shands? No, the charm lay deeper still, beyond all the fictitious aids offortune--somewhere in that serene and noble presence he had met one eveningas the gray dusk closed, riding alone on an old road between level fields. After this it was always as a high figure against a low horizon that he hadseen the man who made his army. 

As the long winter passed away, he learned, not only much of the spirit ofhis own side, but something that became almost a sunny tolerance, of thegreat blue army across the Rappahannock. He had exchanged Virginian tobaccofor Northern coffee at the outposts, and when on picket duty along the coldbanks of the river he would sometimes shout questions and replies acrossthe stream. In these meetings there was only a wide curiosity with littlebitterness; and once a friendly New England picket had delivered areligious homily from the opposite shore, as he leaned upon his rifle. 

"I didn't think much of you Rebs before I came down here, " he had concludedin a precise and energetic shout, "but I guess, after all, you've got soulsin your bodies like the rest of us. "

"I reckon we have. Any coffee over your side?"

"Plenty. The war's interfered considerably with the tobacco crop, ain'tit?"

"Well, rather; we've enough for ourselves, but none to offer our visitors. "

"Look here, are all these things about you in the papers gospel truth?"

"Can't say. What things?"

"Do you always carry bowie knives into battle?"

"No, we use scissors--they're more convenient. "

"When you catch a runaway nigger do you chop him up in little pieces andthrow him to the hogs?"

"Not exactly. We boil him down and grease our cartridges. "

"After Bull Run did you set up all the live Zouaves you got hold of astargets for rifle practice?"

"Can't remember about the Zouaves. Rather think we made them into flags. "

"Well, you Rebels take the breath out of me, " commented the picket acrossthe river; and then, as the relief came, Dan hurried back to look for themail bag and a letter from Betty. For Betty wrote often these days--letterssometimes practical, sometimes impassioned, always filled with cheer, andoften with bright gossip. Of her own struggle at Uplands and the long dayscrowded with work, she wrote no word; all her sympathy, all her largepassion, and all her wise advice in little matters were for Dan from thebeginning to the end. She made him promise to keep warm if it werepossible, to read his Bible when he had the time, and to think of her atall hours in every season. In a neat little package there came one day agray knitted waistcoat which he was to wear when on picket duty beside theriver, "and be very sure to fasten it, " she had written. "I have sewed thebuttons on so tight they can't come off. Oh, if I had only papa andVirginia and you back again I could be happy in a hovel. Dear mamma saysso, too. "

And after much calm advice there would come whole pages that warmed himfrom head to foot. "Your kisses are still on my lips, " she wrote one day. "The Major said to me, 'Your mouth is very warm, my dear, ' and I almostanswered, 'you feel Dan's kisses, sir. ' What would he have said, do youthink? As it was I only smiled and turned away, and longed to run straightto you to be caught up in your arms and held there forever. O my beloved, when you need me only stretch out your hands and I will come. "

VII

THE SILENT BATTLE

Despite the cheerfulness of Betty's letters, there were times during thenext dark years when it seemed to her that starvation must be the only end. The negroes had been freed by the Governor's will, but the girl could notturn them from their homes, and, with the exception of the few field handswho had followed the Union army, they still lived in their little cabinsand drew their daily rations from the storehouse. Betty herself sharedtheir rations of cornmeal and bacon, jealously guarding her small suppliesof milk and eggs for Mrs. Ambler and the two old ladies. "It makes nodifference what I eat, " she would assure protesting Mammy Riah. "I am sostrong, you see, and besides I really like Aunt Floretta's ashcakes. "

Spring and summer passed, with the ripened vegetables which Hosea hadplanted in the garden, and the long winter brought with it the old dailystruggle to make the slim barrels of meal last until the next harvesting. It was in this year that the four women at Uplands followed the Major'slead and invested their united fortune in Confederate bonds. "We will riseor fall with the government, " Mrs. Ambler had said with her gentleauthority. "Since we have given it our best, let it take all freely. "

"Surely money is of no matter, " Betty had answered, lavishly disregardfulof worldly goods. "Do you think we might give our jewels, too? I havegrandma's pearls hidden beneath the floor, you know. "

"If need be--let us wait, dear, " replied her mother, who, grave and pallidas a ghost, would eat nothing that, by any chance, could be made to reachthe army. 

"I do not want it, my child, there are so many hungrier than I, " she wouldsay when Betty brought her dainty little trays from the pantry. 

"But I am hungry for you, mamma--take it for my sake, " the girl would beg, on the point of tears. "You are starving, that is it--and yet it does notfeed the army. "

In these days it seemed to her that all the anguish of her life had centredin the single fear of losing her mother. At times she almost reproachedherself with loving Dan too much, and for months she would resolutely keepher thoughts from following him, while she laid her impassioned service ather mother's feet. Day or night there was hardly a moment when she was notbeside her, trying, by very force of love, to hold her back from the deathto which she went with her slow and stately tread. 

For Mrs. Ambler, who had kept her strength for a year after the Governor'sdeath, seemed at last to be gently withdrawing from a place in which shefound herself a stranger. There was nothing to detain her now; she was tooheartsick to adapt herself to many changes; loss and approaching povertymight be borne by one for whom the chief thing yet remained, but she hadseen this go, and so she waited, with her pensive smile, for the momentwhen she too might follow. If Betty were not looking she would put heruntasted food aside; but the girl soon found this out, and watched herevery mouthful with imploring eyes. 

"Oh, mamma, do it to please me, " she entreated. 

"Well, give it back, my dear, " Mrs. Ambler answered, complaisant as always, and when Betty triumphantly declared, "You feel better now--you know youdo, you dearest, " she responded readily:--

"Much better, darling; give me some straw to plait--I have grown to like tohave my hands busy. Your old bonnet is almost gone, so I shall plait youone of this and trim it with a piece of ribbon Aunt Lydia found yesterdayin the attic. "

"I don't mind going bareheaded, if you will only eat. "

"I was never a hearty eater. Your father used to say that I ate less than arobin. It was the custom for ladies to have delicate appetites in my day, you see; and I remember your grandma's amazement when Miss PokeyMickleborough was asked at our table what piece of chicken she preferred, and answered quite aloud, 'Leg, if you please. ' She was considered veryindelicate by your grandma, who had never so much as tasted any part exceptthe wing. "

She sat, gentle and upright, in her rosewood chair, her worn silk dressrustling as she crossed her feet, her beautiful hands moving rapidly withthe straw plaiting. "I was brought up very carefully, my dear, " she added, turning her head with its shining bands of hair a little silvered since thebeginning of the war. "'A girl is like a flower, ' your grandpa always said. 'If a rough wind blows near her, her bloom is faded. ' Things are differentnow--very different. "

"But this is war, " said Betty. 

Mrs. Ambler nodded over the slender braid. 

"Yes, this is war, " she added with her wistful smile, and a momentafterward looked up again to ask in a dazed way:--

"What was the last battle, dear? I can't remember. "

Betty's glance sought the lawn outside where the warm May sunshine fell inshafts of light upon the purple lilacs. 

"They are fighting now in the Wilderness, " she answered, her thoughtsrushing to the famished army closed in the death grapple with its enemy. "Dan got a letter to me and he says it is like fighting in a jungle, thevines are so thick they can't see the other side. He has to aim by earinstead of sight. "

Mrs. Ambler's fingers moved quickly. 

"He has become a very fine man, " she said. "Your father always likedhim--and so did I--but at one time we were afraid that he was going to betoo much his father's son--he looked so like him on his wild days, especially when he had taken wine and his colour went high. "

"But he has the Lightfoot eyes. The Major, Champe, even their Great-auntEmmeline have those same gray eyes that are always laughing. "

"Jane Lightfoot had them, too, " added Mrs. Ambler. "She used to say that tolove hard went with them. 'The Lightfoot eyes are never disillusioned, ' sheonce told me. I wonder if she remembered that afterwards, poor girl. "

Betty was silent for a moment. 

"It sounds cruel, " she confessed, "but you know, I have sometimes thoughtthat it may have been just a little bit her fault, mamma. "

Mrs. Ambler smiled. "Your grandpa used to say 'get a woman to judge a womanand there comes a hanging. '"

"Oh, I don't mean that, " responded Betty, blushing. "Jack Montjoy was ascoundrel, I suppose--but I think that even if Dan had been a scoundrel, instead of so big and noble--I could have made his life so much better justbecause I loved him; if love is only large enough it seems to me that allsuch things as being good and bad are swallowed up. "

"I don't know--your father was very good, and I loved him because of it. Hewas of the salt of the earth, as Mr. Blake wrote to me last year. "

"There has never been anybody like papa, " said Betty, her eyes filling. "Not even Dan--for I can't imagine papa being anything but what he was--andyet I know even if Dan were as wild as the Major once believed him to be, Icould have gone with him not the least bit afraid. I was so sure of myselfthat if he had beaten me he could not have broken my spirit. I shouldalways have known that some day he would need me and be sorry. "

Tender, pensive, bred in the ancient ways, Mrs. Ambler looked up at her andshook her head. 

"You are very strong, my child, " she answered, "and I think it makes us alllean too much upon you. "

Taking her hand, Betty kissed each slender finger. "I lean on you for thebest in life, mamma, " she answered, and then turned to the window. "It'smy working time, " she said, "and there is poor Hosea trying to ploughwithout horses. I wonder how he'll manage it. "

"Are all the horses gone, dear?"

"All except Prince Rupert and papa's mare. Peter keeps them hidden in themountains, and I carried them the last two apples yesterday. Prince Rupertknew me in the distance and whinnied before Peter saw me. Now I'll sendAunt Lydia to you, dearest, while I see about the weaving. Mammy Riah hasalmost finished my linsey dress. " She kissed her again and went out towhere the looms were working in one of the detached wings. 

The summer went by slowly. The famished army fell back inch by inch, and atUplands the battle grew more desperate with the days. Without horses it wasimpossible to plant the crops and on the open turnpike swept by bands ofraiders as by armies, it was no less impossible to keep the little that wasplanted. Betty, standing at her window in the early mornings, would glancedespairingly over the wasted fields and the quiet little cabins, where thenegroes were stirring about their work. Those little cabins, forming acrescent against the green hill, caused her an anxiety before which her owndaily suffering was of less account. When the time came that was fastapproaching, and the secret places were emptied of their last supplies, where could those faithful people turn in their distress? The questionstabbed her like a sword each morning before she put on her bonnet ofplaited straw and ran out to make her first round of the farm. Behind hercheerful smile there was always the grim fear growing sharper every hour. 

Then on a golden summer afternoon, when the larder had been swept by a bandof raiders, she became suddenly aware that there was nothing in the housefor her mother's supper, and, with the army pistol in her hand, set outacross the fields for Chericoke. As she walked over the sunny meadows, theshadow that was always lifted in Mrs. Ambler's presence fell heavily uponher face and she choked back a rising sob. What would the end be? she askedherself in sudden anguish, or was this the end?

Reaching Chericoke she found Mrs. Lightfoot and Aunt Rhody drying slicedsweet potatoes on boards along the garden fence, where the sunflowers andhollyhocks flaunted in the face of want. 

"I've just gotten a new recipe for coffee, child, " the old lady began inmild excitement. "Last year I made it entirely of sweet potatoes, but Mrs. Blake tells me that she mixes rye and a few roasted chestnuts. Mr. Lightfoot took supper with her a week ago, and he actually congratulatedher upon still keeping her real old Mocha. Be sure to try it. "

"Indeed I shall--the very next time Hosea gets any sweet potatoes. Someraiders have just dug up the last with their sabres and eaten them raw. "

"Well, they'll certainly have colic, " remarked Mrs. Lightfoot, withprofessional interest. 

"I hope so, " said Betty, "but I've come over to beg something for mamma'ssupper--eggs, chickens, anything except bacon. She can't touch that, she'dstarve first. "

Looking anxious, Mrs. Lightfoot appealed to Aunt Rhody, who was busilyspreading little squares of sweet potatoes on the clean boards. "Rhody, can't you possibly find us some eggs?" she inquired. 

Aunt Rhody stopped her work and turned upon them all the dignity of twohundred pounds of flesh. 

"How de hens gwine lay w'en dey's done been eaten up?" she demanded. 

"Isn't there a single chicken left?" hopelessly persisted the old lady. 

"Who gwine lef' 'em? Ain' dose low-lifeted sodgers dat rid by yestiddy donestole de las' one un 'um off de nes'?"

Mrs. Lightfoot sternly remonstrated. 

"They were our own soldiers, Rhody, and they don't steal--they merelytake. "

"I don' see de diffunce, " sniffed Aunt Rhody. "All I know is dat dey pulledde black hen plum off de nes' whar she wuz a-settin'. Den des now deYankees come a-prancin' up en de ducks tuck ter de water en de Yankees deywent a-wadin' atter dem. Yes, Lawd, dey went a-wadin' wid dey shoes on. "

The old lady sighed. 

"I'm afraid there's nothing, Betty, " she said, "though Congo has gone totown to see if he can find any fowls, and I'll send some over if he bringsthem. We had a Sherman pudding for dinner ourselves, and I know the sorghumin it will give the Major gout for a month. Well, well, this is war, Ireckon, and I must say, for my part, I never expected it to be conductedlike a flirtation behind a fan. "

"I nuver seed no use a-fittin' unless you is gwine ter fit in de yutherpusson's yawd, " interpolated Aunt Rhody. "De way ter fit is ter keepa-sidlin' furder f'om yo' own hen roos' en nigher ter de hen roos' er desomebody dat's a-fittin' you. "

"Hold your tongue, Rhody, " retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, and then drew Betty alittle to one side. "I have some port wine, my dear, " she whispered, "whichCupid buried under the old asparagus bed, and I'll tell him to dig upseveral bottles and take them to you. The other servants don't know of it, so I can't get it out till after dark. Poor Julia! how does she stand theseterrible days?"

Betty's lips quivered. "I have to force her to eat, " she replied, "and itseems almost cruel--she is so tired of life. "

"I know, my dear, " responded the old lady, wiping her eyes; "and we haveour troubles, too. Champe is in prison now, and Mr. Lightfoot is very muchupset. He says this General Grant is not like the others, that he knowshim--and he's the kind to hang on as long as he's alive. "

"But we must win in the end, " said Betty, desperately; "we have sacrificedso much, how can it all be lost?"

"That's what Mr. Lightfoot says--we'll win in the end, but the end's a longway off. By the way, did you know that Car'line had run off after theYankees? When I think how that girl had been spoiled!"

"Oh, I wish they'd all go, " returned Betty. "All except Mammy and UncleShadrach and Hosea--and even they make starvation that much nearer. "

"Well, we shan't starve yet awhile, dear; I'm in hopes that Congo willransack the town. If you would only stay. "

But Betty shook her head and went back across the meadows, walking rapidlythrough the lush grass of the deserted pastures. Her mind was so filledwith Mrs. Lightfoot's forebodings, that when, in climbing the low stonewall, she saw the free negro, Levi, coming toward her, she turned to himwith a gesture that was almost an appeal for sympathy. 

"Uncle Levi, these are sad times now, " she said. "I am looking forsomething for mamma's supper and I can find nothing. "

The old negro, shabbier, lonelier, poorer than ever, shambled up to thewall where she was standing and uncovered a split basket full of eggs. 

"I'se got a pa'cel er hens hid in de woods over yonder, " he explained, "enI keep de eggs behin' de j'ists in my cabin. Sis Floretty she tole me datde w'ite folks wuz wuss off den de niggers now, so I brung you dese. "

"Oh, Uncle Levi!" cried Betty, seizing his gnarled old hands. As she lookedat his stricken figure a compassion as acute as pain brought the quicktears to her eyes. She remembered the isolation of his life, the scornfulsuspicion he had met from white and black, and the injustice that had sethim free and sold Sarindy up the river. 

"You wuz moughty good ter me, " muttered free Levi, shuffling his bare feetin the long grass, "en Marse Dan, he wuz moughty good ter me, too, 'fo' hewent away on dat black night. I 'members de time w'en dat ole Rainy-dayJones up de big road (we all call him Rainy-day caze he looked so sour) hadme right by de collar wid de hick'ry branch a sizzlin' in de a'r, en I des'lowed de een had mos' come. Yes, Lawd, I did, but I warn' countin' onMarse Dan. He warn' mo'n wais' high ter ole Rainy-day, but de furs' thing Iknow dar wuz ole Rainy-day on de yerth wid Marse Dan a-lashin' 'im wid debranch er hick'ry. "

"We shall never forget you--Dan and I, " answered Betty, as she took thebasket, "and when the time comes we will repay you. "

The old negro smiled and turned from her, and Betty, quickening her pace, ran on to Uplands, reaching the house a little breathless from the longwalk. 

In the chamber upstairs she found Mrs. Ambler sitting before the windowwith her open Bible on the sill, where a spray of musk roses entered fromthe outside wall. 

"All well, mamma?" she asked in a cheerful voice. 

Mrs. Ambler started and turned slowly from the window. 

"I see a great light on the road, " she murmured wonderingly. 

Crossing to where she sat, Betty leaned out above the climbing roses andglanced to the mountains huddled against the sky. 

"It is General Sheridan going up the valley, " she said. 

VIII

THE LAST STAND

In the face of a damp April wind a remnant of Lee's army pushed forwardalong an old road skirted by thin pine woods. As the column moved onslowly, it threw out skirmishers on either flank, where the Federal cavalryhovered in the distance. Once in an open clearing it formed into a hollowsquare and marched in battle line to avoid capture. While the regimentskept in motion the men walked steadily in the ranks, with their hollowedeyes staring straight ahead from their gaunt, tanned faces; but at thefirst halt they fell like logs upon the roadside, sleeping amid the soundof shots and the stinging cavalry. With the cry of "Forward!" theystruggled to their feet again, and went stumbling on into the vastuncertainty and the approaching night. Breathless, starving, with theirrags pinned together, and their mouths bleeding from three days' rations ofparched corn, they still kept onward, marching with determined eyes towhatever and wherever the end might be. Petersburg had fallen, Richmond wasin flames behind them, the Confederacy was, perhaps, buried in the ruins ofits Capitol, but Lee was still somewhere to the front, so his armyfollowed. 

"How long have we been marching, boys? I can't remember, " asked Dan, when, after a short rest, they formed again and started forward over the oldroad. In the tatters of his gray uniform, with his broken shoes tied on hisfeet and his black hair hanging across his eyes, he might have been one ofthe beggars who warm themselves in the sun of Southern countries. 

"Oh, I reckon we left the Garden of Eden about six thousand years ago, "responded a wag from somewhere--he was too tired to recognize the voice. "There! the skirmishers have struck that blamed cavalry again. Plague them!They're as bad as wasps!"

"Has anybody some parched corn?" inquired Bland, plaintively. "I'll trade awhole raw ear for it. It makes my gums bleed so, I can't chew it. "

Dan plunged his hand into his pocket, and drew out the corn which he hadshelled and parched at the last halt. As he exchanged it for the "whole rawear, " he fell to wondering vaguely what had become of Big Abel since thatdim point in eternity when they had left the trenches that surroundedPetersburg. Then time was divided into periods of nights and days, nownight and day alike were made up in breathless marching, in throwing outskirmishers against those "wasps" of cavalrymen, and in trying to forceaching teeth to grind parched corn. Panting and sick with hunger, hestruggled on like a driven beast that sees the place ahead, where he mustturn and grapple for the end with the relentless hunter on his track. 

As the day ended the moist wind gathered strength and sang in his ears ashe crept forward--now sleeping, now waking, for a time filled with warmmemories of his college life, and again fighting over the last hopelesscampaign from the Wilderness to the trenches where Petersburg had fallen. They had yielded step by step, but the great hunter had pressed on, and nowthe thin brigades were gathering for the last stand together. 

Overhead he heard the soughing of the pines, and around him the steadytramp of feet too tired to lift themselves from out the heavy mud. Straightabove in the muffled sky a star shone dimly, and for a time he watched itin his effort to keep awake. Then he began on the raw corn in his pocket, shelling it from the cob as he walked along; but when the taste of bloodrose to his lips, he put the ear away again, and stooped to rub his eyeswith a handful of damp earth. Then, at last, in sheer desperation, heloosened the grip upon his thoughts, and stumbled on, between waking andsleeping, into the darkness that lay ahead. 

In the road before him the door at Chericoke opened wide as on the oldChristmas Eves, and he saw the Major and the Governor draining theirglasses under the garlands of mistletoe and holly, while Betty andVirginia, in dresses of white tarleton, stood against the ruddy glow thatfilled the panelled parlour. The cheerful Christmas smell was in theair--the smell of apple toddy, of roasted turkey, of plum pudding in ablaze of alcohol. As he entered after his long ride from college, Bettycame up to him and slipped a warm white hand into his cold one, while hemet the hazel beams from beneath her lashes. 

"I hope you have brought Jack Morson, " she said. "Virginia is waiting. Seehow lovely she looks in her white flounces, with the string of coral abouther neck. "

"But the war, Betty?" he asked, with blinking eyes, and as he put out hishand to touch the pearls upon her bosom, he saw that it was whole again--nowound was there, only the snowflakes that fell from his sleeve upon herbreast. "What of the war, dear? I must go back to the army. "

Betty laughed long and merrily. 

"Why, you're dreaming, Dan, " she said. "It all comes of those wickedstories of the Major's. In a moment you will believe that this is really1812, and you've gone without your rations. "

"Thank God!" he cried aloud, and the sound of his own voice woke him, as heslipped and went down in a mudhole upon the road. The Christmas smell fadedfrom his nostrils; in its place came the smoke from Pinetop's pipe--afaithful friend until the last. Overhead the star was still shining, and tothe front he heard a single shot from the hovering cavalry, withdrawing forthe night. 

"God damn this mud!" called a man behind him, as he lurched sideways fromthe ranks. Farther away three hoarse voices, the remnant of a once famousglee club, were singing in the endeavour to scare off sleep:--

 "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again!"

And suddenly he was fighting in the tangles of the Wilderness, crouchingbehind a charred oak stump, while he loaded and fired at the little puffsof smoke that rose from the undergrowth beyond. He saw the low marshland, the stunted oaks and pines, and the heavy creepers that were pushed asideand trampled underfoot, and at his feet he saw a company officer with abullet hole through his forehead and a covering of pine needles upon hisface. About him the small twigs fell, as if a storm swept the forest, andas he dodged, like a sharpshooter from tree to tree, he saw a rush of flameand smoke in the distance where the woods were burning. Above the noise ofthe battle, he heard the shrieks of the wounded men in the track of thefire; and once he met a Union and a Confederate soldier, each shot throughthe leg, drawing each other back from the approaching flames. Then, as hepassed on, tearing at the cartridges with his teeth, he came upon asergeant in Union clothes, sitting against a pine stump with his cockedrifle in his hand, and his eyes on the wind-blown smoke. A moment beforethe man may have gone down at his shot, he knew--and yet, as he looked, aninstinct stronger than the instinct to kill was alive within him, and herushed on, dragging his enemy with him from the terrible woods. "I hope youare not much hurt, " he said, as he placed him on the ground and ran back towhere the line was charging. "One life has been paid for, " he thought, ashe rushed on to kill--and fell face downward on the wheel-ruts of the oldroad. 

 "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, "

sang the three hoarse voices, straining against the wind. 

Dan struggled to his feet, and the scene shifted. 

He was back in his childhood, and the Major had just brought in a slave hehad purchased from Rainy-day Jones--"the plague spot in the county, " as theangry old gentleman declared. 

Dan sat on the pile of kindling wood upon the kitchen hearth and stared atthe poor black creature shivering in the warmth, his face distorted withthe toothache, and a dirty rag about his jaw. He heard Aunt Rhody snortingindignantly as she basted the turkeys, and he watched his grandmotherbustling back and forth with whiskey and hot plasters. 

"Who made slavery, sir?" asked the boy suddenly, his hands in his breechespockets and his head bent sideways. 

The Major started. 

"God, sir, " he promptly replied. 

"Then I think it very strange of God, " said the boy, "and when I grow up, Ishall set them all free, grandpa--I shall set them free even if I have tofight to do it, sir. "

"What! like poor free Levi?" stormed the Major. 

"Wake up, confound you!" bawled somebody in his ear. "You've lurchedagainst my side until my ribs are sore. I say, are you going on forever, anyhow? We've halted for the night. "

"I can't stop!" cried Dan, groping in the darkness, then he fell heavilyupon the damp ground, while a voice down the road began shouting, "Detailfor guard!" Half asleep and cursing, the men responded to their names andhurried off, and as the silence closed in, the army slept like a child uponthe roadside. 

With the first glimmer of dawn they were on the march again, passing allday through the desolate flat country, where the women ran weeping to thedoorways, and waved empty hands as they went by. Once a girl in a homespundress, with a spray of apple blossoms in her black hair, brought out awooden bucket filled with buttermilk and passed it along the line. 

"Fight to the end, boys, " she cried defiantly, "and when the end comes, keep on fighting. If you go back on Lee there's not a woman in Virginiawill touch your hand. "

"That's right, little gal!" shrieked a husky private. "Three cheers forMarse Robert! an' we'll whip the earth in our bar' feet befo' breakfast. "

"All the same I wish old Stonewall was along, " muttered Pinetop. "If Icould jest see old Stonewall or his ghost ahead, I'd know thar was an openroad somewhere that Sheridan ain't got his eye on. "

As the sun rose high, refugees from Richmond flocked after them to shoutthat the town had been fired by the citizens, who had moved, with theirfamilies, to the Capitol Square as the flames spread from the great tobaccowarehouses. Men who had wives and children in the city groaned as theymarched farther from the ashes of their homes, and more than one staggeredback into the ranks and went onward under a heavier burden. 

"Wall, I reckon things are fur the best--or they ain't. " remarked Pinetop, in a cheerful tone. "Thar's no goin' agin that, you bet. What's the rowback thar, I wonder?"

The hovering enemy, grown bolder, had fallen upon the flank, and thestragglers and the rear guard were beating off the cavalry, when a regimentwas sent back to relieve the pressure. Returning, Pinetop, who was of theattacking party, fell gravely to moralizing upon the scarcity of food. 

"I've tasted every plagued thing that grows in this country except dirt, "he observed, "an' I'm goin' to kneel down presently and take a good squaremouthful of that. "

"That's one thing we shan't run short of, " replied Dan, stepping round amud hole. "By George, we've got to march in a square again across thisopen. I believe when I set out for heaven, I'll find some of thoseconfounded Yankee troopers watching the road. "

Forming in battle line they advanced cautiously across the clearing, whilethe skirmishing grew brisker at the front. That night they halted but onceupon the way, standing to meet attack against a strip of pines, watchingwith drawn breath while the enemy crept closer. They heard him in thewoods, felt him in the air, saw him in the darkness--like a gigantic coilhe approached inch by inch for the last struggle. Now and then a shot rangout, and the little band thrilled to a soldier, and waited breathlessly forthe last charge that might end it all. 

"There's only one thing worse than starvation, and it's defeat!" cried Danaloud; then the column swung on and the cry of "Close up, there! close up!"mingled in his ears with the steady tramp upon the road. 

In the early morning the shots grew faster, and as the column stopped inthe cover of a wood, the bullets came singing among the tree-tops, from theleft flank where the skirmishers had struck the enemy. During the shortrest Dan slept leaning against a twisted aspen, and when Pinetop shook him, he awoke with a dizziness in his head that sent the flat earth slammingagainst the sky. 

"I believe I'm starving, Pinetop, " he said, and his voice rang like a bellin his ears. "I can't see where to put my feet, the ground slips about so. "

For answer Pinetop felt in his pocket and brought out a slice of fat bacon, which he gave to him uncooked. 

"Wait till I git a light, " he commanded. "A woman up the road gave me ahunk, and I've had my share. "

"You've had your share, " repeated Dan, greedily, his eyes on the meat, though he knew that Pinetop was lying. 

The mountaineer struck a match and lighted a bit of pine, holding the baconto the flame until it scorched. 

"You'd better git it all in yo' mouth quick, " he advised, "for if the smellonce starts on the breeze the whole brigade will be on the scent in aminute. "

Dan ate it to the last morsel and licked the warm juice from his fingers. 

"You lied, Pinetop, " he said, "but, by God, you saved my life. What placeis this, I wonder. Isn't there any hope of our cutting through Grant'slines to-day?"

Pinetop glanced about him. 

"Somebody said we were comin' on to Sailor's Creek, " he answered, "and it'sabout as God-forsaken country as I care to see. Hello! what's that?"

In the road there was an abandoned battery, cut down and left to rot intothe earth, and as they swept past it at "double quick, " they heard thesound of rapid firing across the little stream. 

"It's a fight, thank God!" yelled Pinetop, and at the words a tumultuousjoy urged Dan through the water and over the sharp stones. After all thehunger and the intolerable waiting, a chance was come for him to use hismusket once again. 

As they passed through an open meadow, a rabbit, starting suddenly from aclump of sumach, went bounding through the long grass before the thin grayline. With ears erect and short white tail bobbing among the broom-sedge, the little quivering creature darted straight toward the low brow of ahill, where a squadron of cavalry made a blue patch on the green. 

"Geriminy! thar goes a good dinner, " Pinetop gasped, smacking his lips. "An' I've got to save this here load for a Yankee I can't eat. "

With a long flying leap the rabbit led the charge straight into the enemy'sranks, and as the squirrel rifles rang out behind it, a blue horseman wasswept from every saddle upon the hill. 

"By God, I'm glad I didn't eat that rabbit!" yelled Pinetop, as he reloadedand raised his musket to his shoulder. 

Back and forth before the line, the general of the brigade was ridingbareheaded and frantic with delight. As he passed he made sweeping gestureswith his left hand, and his long gray hair floated like a banner upon thewind. 

"They're coming, men!" he cried. "Get behind that fence and have yourmuskets ready to pick your man. When you see the whites of his eyes fire, and give the bayonet. They're coming! Here they are!"

The old "worm" fence went down, and as Dan piled up some loose rails beforehim, a creeping brier tore his fingers until the blood spurted upon hissleeve. Then, kneeling on the ground, he raised his musket and fired at oneof the skirmishers advancing briskly through the broom-sedge. In an instantthe meadow and the hill beyond were blue with swarming infantry, and thelittle gray band fell back, step by step, loading and firing as it wentacross the field. As the road behind it closed, Dan turned to battle on hisown account, and entering a thinned growth of pines, he dodged from tree totree and aimed above the brushwood. Near him the colour bearer of theregiment was fighting with his flagstaff for a weapon, and out in themeadow a member of the glee club, crouching behind a clump of sassafras ashe loaded, was singing in a cracked voice:--

 "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again!"

Then a bullet went with a soft thud into the singer's breast, and thecracked voice was choked out beneath the bushes. 

Gripped by a sudden pity for the helpless flag he had loved and followedfor four years, Dan made an impetuous dash from out the pines, and tearingthe colours from the pole, tossed them over his arm as he retreated rapidlyto cover. At the instant he held his life as nothing beside the faded stripof silk that wrapped about his body. The cause for which he had fought, thegreat captain he had followed, the devotion to a single end which had kepthim struggling in the ranks, the daily sacrifice, the very poverty and coldand hunger, all these were bound up and made one with the tattered flagupon his arm. Through the belt of pines, down the muddy road, across thecreek and up the long hill, he fell back breathlessly, loading and firingas he went, with his face turned toward the enemy. At the end he becamelike a fox before the hunters, dashing madly over the rough ground, withthe colours blown out behind him, and the quick shots ringing in his ears. 

Then, as if by a single stroke, Lee's army vanished from the trampledbroom-sedge and the strip of pines. The blue brigades closed upon thelandscape and when they opened there were only a group of sullen prisonersand the sound of stray shots from the scattered soldiers who had foughttheir way beyond the stream. 

IX

IN THE HOUR OF DEFEAT

As the dusk fell Dan found himself on the road with a little company ofstragglers, flying from the pursuing cavalry that drew off slowly as thedarkness gathered. He had lost his regiment, and, as he went on, he begancalling out familiar names, listening with strained ears for an answer thatwould tell of a friend's escape. At last he caught the outlines of agigantic figure relieved on a hillock against the pale green west, and, with a shout, he hurried through the swarm of fugitives, and overtookPinetop, who had stooped to tie his shoe on with a leather strap. 

"Thank God, old man!" he cried. "Where are the others?"

Pinetop, panting yet imperturbable, held out a steady hand. 

"The Lord knows, " he replied. "Some of 'em air here an' some ain't. I wasgoin' back agin to git the flag, when I saw you chased like a fox acrossthe creek with it hangin' on yo' back. Then I kinder thought it wouldn't dofor none of the regiment to answer when Marse Robert called, so I camealong right fast and kep' hopin' you would follow. "

"Here I am, " responded Dan, "and here are the colours. " He twined the silkmore closely about his arm, gloating over his treasure in the twilight. 

Pinetop stretched out his great rough hand and touched the flag as gentlyas if it were a woman. 

"I've fought under this here thing goin' on four years now, " he said, "andI reckon when they take it prisoner, they take me along with it. "

"And me, " added Dan; "poor Granger went down, you know, just as I took itfrom him. He fell fighting with the pole. "

"Wall, it's a better way than most, " Pinetop replied, "an' when the angelbegins to foot up my account on Jedgment Day, I shouldn't mind his cappin'the whole list with 'he lost his life, but he didn't lose his flag. ' Tomake a blamed good fight is what the Lord wants of us, I reckon, or hewouldn't have made our hands itch so when they touch a musket. "

Then they trudged on silently, weak from hunger, sickened by defeat. When, at last, the disorganized column halted, and the men fell to the groundupon their rifles, Dan kindled a fire and parched his corn above the coals. After it was eaten they lay down side by side and slept peacefully on theedge of an old field. 

For three days they marched steadily onward, securing meagre rations in alittle town where they rested for a while, and pausing from time to time, to beat off a feigned attack. Pinetop, cheerful, strong, undaunted by anyhardship, set his face unflinchingly toward the battle that must clear aroad for them through Grant's lines. Had he met alone a squadron of cavalryin the field, he would, probably, have taken his stand against a pine, andaimed his musket as coolly as if a squirrel were the mark. With his sunnytemper, and his gloomy gospel of predestination, his heart could swell withhope even while he fought single-handed in the face of big battalions. Whatconcerned him, after all, was not so much the chance of an ultimate victoryfor the cause, as the determination in his own mind to fight it out as longas he had a cartridge remaining in his box. As his fathers had kept thefrontier, so he meant, on his own account, to keep Virginia. 

On the afternoon of the third day, as the little company drew near toAppomattox Court House, it found the road blocked with abandoned guns, andlined by exhausted stragglers, who had gone down at the last halting place. As it filed into an open field beyond a wooded level, where a few campfiresglimmered, a group of Federal horsemen clattered across the front, and, asif by instinct, the column formed into battle line, and the hand of everyman was on the trigger of his musket. 

"Don't fire, you fools!" called an officer behind them, in a voice sharpwith irritation. "The army has surrendered!"

"What! Grant surrendered?" thundered the line, with muskets at a trail asit rushed into the open. 

"No, you blasted fools--we've surrendered, " shouted the voice, risinghoarsely in a gasping indignation. 

"Surrendered, the deuce!" scoffed the men, as they fell back into ranks. "I'd like to know what General Lee will think of your surrender?"

A little Colonel, with his hand at his sword hilt, strutted up and downbefore a tangle of dead thistles. 

"I don't know what he thinks of it, he did it, " he shrieked, withoutpausing in his walk. 

"It's a damn lie!" cried Dan, in a white heat. Then he threw his musket onthe ground, and fell to sobbing the dry tearless sobs of a man who feelshis heart crushed by a sudden blow. 

There were tears on all the faces round him, and Pinetop was digging hisgreat fists into his eyes, as a child does who has been punished before hisplaymates. Beside him a man with an untrimmed shaggy beard hid hisdistorted features in shaking hands. 

"I ain't blubberin' fur myself, " he said defiantly, "but--O Lord, boys--I'mcryin' fur Marse Robert. "

Over the field the beaten soldiers, in ragged gray uniforms, were lyingbeneath little bushes of sassafras and sumach, and to the right a fewcampfires were burning in a shady thicket. The struggle was over, and eachman had fallen where he stood, hopeless for the first time in four longyears. Up and down the road groups of Federal horsemen trotted withcheerful unconcern, and now and then a private paused to make a remark infriendly tones; but the men beneath the bushes only stared with hollow eyesin answer--the blank stare of the defeated who have put their wholestrength into the fight. 

Taking out his jack-knife, Dan unfastened the flag from the hickory pole onwhich he had placed it, and began cutting it into little pieces, which hepassed to each man who had fought beneath its folds. The last bit he putinto his own pocket, and trembling like one gone suddenly palsied, passedfrom the midst of his silent comrades to a pine stump on the border of thewoods. Here he sat down and looked hopelessly upon the scene beforehim--upon the littered roads and the great blue lines encircling thehorizon. 

So this was the end, he told himself, with a bitterness that choked himlike a grip upon the throat, this the end of his boyish ardour, his dreamof fame upon the battle-field, his four years of daily sacrifice andsuffering. This was the end of the flag for which he was ready to give hislife three days ago. With his youth, his strength, his very bread throwninto the scale, he sat now with wrecked body and blighted mind, and saw hisfuture turn to decay before his manhood was well begun. Where was the oldbuoyant spirit he had brought with him into the fight? Gone forever, and inits place he found his maimed and trembling hands, and limbs weakened bystarvation as by long fever. His virile youth was wasted in the slowstruggle, his energy was sapped drop by drop; and at the last he sawhimself burned out like the battle-fields, where the armies had closed andopened, leaving an impoverished and ruined soil. He had given himself forfour years, and yet when the end came he had not earned so much as an emptytitle to take home for his reward. The consciousness of a hard-fought fightwas but the common portion of them all, from the greatest to the humbleston either side. As for him he had but done his duty like his comrades inthe ranks, and by what right of merit should he have raised himself abovetheir heads? Yes, this was the end, and he meant to face it standing withhis back against the wall. 

Down the road a line of Federal privates came driving an ox before them, and he eyed them gravely, wondering in a dazed way if the taste of victoryhad gone to their heads. Then he turned slowly, for a voice was speaking athis side, and a tall man in a long blue coat was building a little firehard by. 

"Your stomach's pretty empty, ain't it, Johnny?" he inquired, as he laidthe sticks crosswise with precise movements, as if he had measured thelength of each separate piece of wood. He was lean and rawboned, with ashaggy red moustache and a wart on his left cheek. When he spoke he showedan even row of strong white teeth. 

Dan looked at him with a kind of exhausted indignation. 

"Well, it's been emptier, " he returned shortly. 

The man in blue struck a match and held it carefully to a dried pinebranch, watching, with a serious face, as the flame licked the rosin fromthe crossed sticks. Then he placed a quart pot full of water on the coals, and turned to meet Dan's eyes, which had grown ravenous as he caught thescent of beef. 

"You see we somehow thought you Johnnies would be hard up, " he said in anoffhand manner, "so we made up our minds we'd ask you to dinner and cut ourrations square. Some of us are driving over an ox from camp, but as I washanging round and saw you all by yourself on this old stump, I had afeeling that you were in need of a cup of coffee. You haven't tasted realcoffee for some time, I guess. "

The water was bubbling over and he measured out the coffee and poured itslowly into the quart cup. As the aroma filled the air, he opened hishaversack and drew out a generous supply of raw beef which he broiled onlittle sticks, and laid on a spread of army biscuits. The larger share heoffered to Dan with the steaming pot of coffee. 

"I declare it'll do me downright good to see you eat, " he said, with ahospitable gesture. 

Dan sat down beside the bread and beef, and, for the next ten minutes, atelike a famished wolf, while the man in blue placidly regarded him. When hehad finished he took out a little bag of Virginian tobacco and they smokedtogether beside the waning fire. A natural light returned gradually toDan's eyes, and while the clouds of smoke rose high above the bushes, theytalked of the last great battles as quietly as of the Punic Wars. It wasall dead now, as dead as history, and the men who fought had left thebitterness to the camp followers or to the ones who stayed at home. 

"You have fine tobacco down this way, " observed the Union soldier, as herefilled his pipe, and lighted it with an ember. Then his gaze followedDan's, which was resting on the long blue lines that stretched across thelandscape. 

"You're feeling right bad about us now, " he pursued, as he crossed his legsand leaned back against a pine, "and I guess it's natural, but the timewill come when you'll know that we weren't the worst you had to face. "

Dan held out his hand with something of a smile. 

"It was a fair fight and I can shake hands, " he responded. 

"Well, I don't mean that, " said the other thoughtfully. "What I mean isjust this, you mark my words--after the battle comes the vultures. Afterthe army of fighters comes the army of those who haven't smelled thepowder. And in time you'll learn that it isn't the man with the rifle thatdoes the most of the mischief. The damned coffee boilers will get theirhands in now--I know 'em. "

"Well, there's nothing left, I suppose, but to swallow it down without anyfuss, " said Dan wearily, looking over the field where the slaughtered oxwas roasting on a hundred bayonets at a hundred fires. 

"You're right, that's the only thing, " agreed the man in blue; then hiskeen gray eyes were on Dan's face. 

"Have you got a wife?" he asked bluntly. 

Dan shook his head as he stared gravely at the embers. 

"A sweetheart, I guess? I never met a Johnnie who didn't have asweetheart. "

"Yes, I've a sweetheart--God bless her!"

"Well, you take my advice and go home and tell her to cure you, now she'sgot the chance. I like your face, young man, but if I ever saw ahalf-starved and sickly one, it is yours. Why, I shouldn't have thought youhad the strength to raise your rifle. "

"Oh, it doesn't take much strength for that; and besides the coffee did megood, I was only hungry. "

"Hungry, hump!" grunted the Union soldier. "It takes more than hunger togive a man that blue look about the lips; it takes downright starvation. "He dived into his haversack and drew out a quinine pill and a little bottleof whiskey. 

"If you'll just chuck this down it won't do you any harm, " he went on, "andif I were you, I'd find a shelter before I went to sleep to-night; youcan't trust April weather. Get into that cow shed over there or under awagon. "

Dan swallowed the quinine and the whiskey, and as the strong spirit firedhis veins, the utter hopelessness of his outlook muffled him into silence. Dropping his head into his open palms, he sat dully staring at thewhitening ashes. 

After a moment the man in blue rose to his feet and fastened his haversack. 

"I live up by Bethlehem, New Hampshire, " he remarked, "and if you ever comethat way, I hope you'll look me up; my name's Moriarty. "

"Your name's Moriarty, I shall remember, " repeated Dan, trying, with aterrible effort, to steady his quivering limbs. 

"Jim Moriarty, don't you forget it. Anybody at Bethlehem can tell you aboutme; I keep the biggest store around there. " He went off a few steps andthen came back to hold out an awkward hand in which there was a little heapof silver. 

"You'd just better take this to start you on your way, " he said, "it ain'tbut ninety-five cents--I couldn't make out the dollar--and when you get itin again you can send it to Jim Moriarty at Bethlehem, New Hampshire. Good-by, and good luck to you this time. "

He strode off across the field, and Dan, with the silver held close in hispalm, flung himself back upon the ground and slept until Pinetop woke himwith a grasp upon his shoulder. 

"Marse Robert's passin' along the road, " he said. "You'd better hurry. "

Struggling to his feet Dan rushed from the woods across the deserted field, to the lines of conquered soldiers standing in battle ranks upon theroadside. Between them the Commander had passed slowly on his dapple grayhorse, and when Dan joined the ranks it was only in time to see him rideonward at a walk, with the bearded soldiers clinging like children to hisstirrups. A group of Federal cavalrymen, drawn up beneath a persimmon tree, uncovered as he went by, and he returned the salute with a simple gesture. Lonely, patient, confirmed in courtesy, he passed on his way, and hislittle army returned to camp in the strip of pines. 

"'I've done my best for you, ' that's what he said, " sobbed Pinetop. "'I'vedone my best for you, '--and I kissed old Traveller's mane. "

Without replying, Dan went back into the woods and flung himself down onthe spread of tags. Now that the fight was over all the exhaustion of thelast four years, the weakness after many battles, the weariness after thelong marches, had gathered with accumulated strength for the finaloverthrow. 

For three days he remained in camp in the pine woods, and on the third, after waiting six hours in a hard rain outside his General's tent, hesecured the little printed slip which signified to all whom it mightconcern that he had become a prisoner upon his parole. Then, after asympathetic word to the rest of the division, shivering beneath thesassafras bushes before the tent, he shook hands with his comrades underarms, and started with Pinetop down the muddy road. The war was over, andfootsore, in rags and with aching limbs, he was returning to the littlevalley where he had hoped to trail his glory. 

Down the long road the gray rain fell straight as a curtain, and on eitherside tramped the lines of beaten soldiers who were marching, on their wordof honour, to their distant homes. The abandoned guns sunk deep in the mud, the shivering men lying in rags beneath the bushes, and the charred remainsof campfires among the trees were the last memories Dan carried from thefour years' war. 

Some miles farther on, when the pickets had been passed, a man on a blackhorse rode suddenly from a little thicket and stopped across their path. 

"You fellows haven't been such darn fools as to give your parole, haveyou?" he asked in an angry voice, his hand on his horse's neck. "The fightisn't over yet and we want your muskets on our side. I belong to thepartisan rangers, and we'll cut through to Johnston's army before daylight. If not, we'll take to the mountains and keep up the war forever. Thecountry is ours, what's to hinder us?"

He spoke passionately, and at each sharp exclamation the black horse roseon his haunches and pawed the air. 

Dan shook his head. 

"I'm out on parole, " he replied, "but as soon as I'm exchanged, I'll fightif Virginia wants me. How about you, Pinetop?"

The mountaineer shuffled his feet in the mud and stood solemnly surveyingthe landscape. 

"Wall, I don't understand much about this here parole business, " hereplied. "It seems to me that a slip of paper with printed words on it thatI have to spell out as I go, is a mighty poor way to keep a man fromfightin' if he can find a musket. I ain't steddyin' about this parole, butMarse Robert told me to go home to plant my crop, and I am goin' home toplant it. "

"It is all over, I think, " said Dan with a quivering lip, as he stared atthe ruined meadows. The smart was still fresh, and it was too soon for himto add, with the knowledge that would come to him from years, --"it isbetter so. " Despite the grim struggle and the wasted strength, despite theimpoverished land and the nameless graves that filled it, despite even hisown wrecked youth and the hard-fought fields where he had laid itdown--despite all these a shadow was lifted from his people and it wasworth the price. 

They passed on, while the black horse pawed the dust, and the rider hurledoaths at their retreating figures. At a little house a few yards down theroad they stopped to ask for food, and found a woman weeping at the kitchentable, with three small children clinging to her skirts. Her husband hadfallen at Five Forks, she said, the safe was empty, and the children werecrying for bread. Then Dan slipped into her hand the silver he had borrowedfrom the Union soldier, and the two returned penniless to the road. 

"At least we are men, " he said almost apologetically to Pinetop, and thenext instant turned squarely in the mud, for a voice from the other sidehad called out shrilly:--

"Hi, Marse Dan, whar you gwine now?"

"Bless my soul, it's Big Abel, " he exclaimed. 

Black as a spade and beaming with delight, the negro emerged from the swarmupon the roadside and grasped Dan's outstretched hands. 

"Whar you gwine dis away, Marse Dan?" he inquired again. 

"I'm going home, Big Abel, " responded Dan, as they walked on in a row ofthree. "No, don't shout, you scamp; I'd rather lie down and die upon theroadside than go home like this. "

"Well, you ain' much to look at, dat's sho', " replied Big Abel, his faceshining like polished ebony, "en I ain' much to look at needer, but dey'llhave ter recollect de way we all wuz befo' we runned away; dey'll have terrecollect you in yo' fine shuts en fancy waistcoats, en dey'll have terrecollect me in yo' ole uns. Sakes alive! I kin see dat one er yourn wid delittle bit er flow'rs all over hit des es plain es ef 'twuz yestiddy. "

"The waistcoats are all gone now, " said Dan gravely, "and so are theshirts. The war is over and you are your own master, Big Abel. You don'tbelong to me from this time on. "

Big Abel shook his head grinning. 

"I reckon hit's all de same, " he remarked cheerfully, "en I reckon we'd eswell be gwine on home, Marse Dan. "

"I reckon we would, " said Dan, and they pushed on in silence. 

X

ON THE MARCH AGAIN

That night they slept on the blood-stained floor of an old field hospital, and the next morning Pinetop parted from them and joined an engineer whohad promised him a "lift" toward his mountains. 

As Dan stood in the sunny road holding his friend's rough hand, it seemedto him that such a parting was the sharpest wrench the end had brought. 

"Whenever you need me, old fellow, remember that I am always ready, " hesaid in a husky voice. 

Pinetop looked past him to the distant woods, and his calm blue eyes weredim. 

"I reckon you'll go yo' way an' I'll go mine, " he replied, "for thar's onething sartain an' that is our ways don't run together. It'll never be thesame agin--that's natur--but if you ever want a good stout hand for anyuphill ploughing or shoot yo' man an' the police git on yo' track, jestremember that I'm up thar in my little cabin. Why, if every officer in thecounty was at yo' heels, I'd stand guard with my old squirrel gun and mawwould with her kettle. "

Then he shook hands with Big Abel and strode on across a field to a littlerailway station, while Dan went slowly down the road with the negro at hisside. 

In the afternoon when they had trudged all the morning through the heavymud, they reached a small frame house set back from the road, with somestraggling ailanthus shoots at the front and a pile of newly cut hickorylogs near the kitchen steps. A woman, with a bucket of soapsuds at herfeet, was wringing out a homespun shirt in the yard, and as they enteredthe little gate, she looked at them with a defiance which was evidently theresult of a late domestic wrangle. 

"I've got one man on my hands, " she began in a shrill voice, "an' he's asmuch as I can 'tend to, an' a long sight mo' than I care to 'tend to. Henever had the spunk to fight anythin' except his wife, but I reckon he'sbetter off now than them that had; it's the coward that gets the best ofthings in these days. "

"Shut up thar, you hussy!" growled a voice from the kitchen, and a fat manwith bleared eyes slouched to the doorway. "I reckon if you want a supperyou can work for it, " he remarked, taking a wad of tobacco from his mouthand aiming it deliberately at one of the ailanthus shoots. "You split upthat thar pile of logs back thar an' Sally'll cook yo' supper. Thar ain'tanother house inside of a good ten miles, so you'd better take your chance, I reckon. "

"That's jest like you, Tom Bates, " retorted the woman passionately. "Befo'you'd do a lick of honest work you'd let the roof topple plum down upon ourheads. "

For an instant Dan's glance cut the man like a whip, then crossing to thewoodpile, he lifted the axe and sent it with a clean stroke into a hickorylog. 

"We can't starve, Big Abel, " he said coolly, "but we are not beggars yet bya long way. "

"Go 'way, Marse Dan, " protested the negro in disgust. "Gimme dat ar axe enset right down and wait twel supper. You're des es white es a sheet disminute. "

"I've got to begin some day, " returned Dan, as the axe swung back acrosshis shoulder. "I'll pay for my supper and you'll pay for yours, that'sfair, isn't it?--for you're a free man now. "

Then he went feverishly to work, while Big Abel sat grumbling on thedoorstep, and the farmer, leaning against the lintel behind him, watchedthe lessening pile with sluggish eyes. 

"You be real careful of this wood, Sally, an' it ought to last twelsummer, " he observed, as he glanced to where his wife stood wringing outthe clothes. "If you warn't so wasteful that last pile would ha' held outtwice as long. "

Dan chopped steadily for an hour, and then giving the axe to Big Abel, wentinto the little kitchen to eat his supper. The woman served him sullenly, placing some sobby biscuits and a piece of cold bacon on his plate, andpouring out a glass of buttermilk with a vicious thrust of the pitcher. When he asked if there was a shelter close at hand where he might sleep, she replied sourly that she reckoned the barn was good enough if he choseto spend the night there. Then as Big Abel finished his job and took hissupper in his hand, they left the house and went across the darkeningcattle pen, to a rotting structure which they took to be the barn. Insidethe straw was warm and dry, and as Dan flung himself down upon it, hegasped out something like a prayer of thanks. His first day's labour withhis hands had left him trembling like a nervous woman. An hour longer, hetold himself, and he should have gone down upon the roadside. 

For a time he slept profoundly, and then awaking in the night, he lay untildawn listening to Big Abel's snores, and staring straight above where asolitary star shone through a crack in the shingled roof. From the otherside of a thin partition came the soft breathing and the fresh smell ofcows, and, now and then, he heard the low bleating of a new-born calf. 

He had been dreaming of a battle, and the impression was so vivid that, ashe opened his eyes, he half imagined he still heard the sound of shots. Inhis sleep he had saved the flag and won promotion after victory, and for amoment the trampled straw seemed to him to be the battle-field, and thethin boards against which he beat the enemy's resisting line. As he cameslowly to himself a sudden yearning for the army awoke within him. Hewanted the red campfires and his comrades smoking against the dim pines;the peaceful bivouac where the long shadows crept among the trees and twomen lay wrapped together beneath every blanket; above all, he wanted to seethe Southern Cross wave in the sunlight, and to hear the charging yell asthe brigade dashed into the open. He was homesick for it all to-night, andyet it was dead forever--dead as his own youth which he had given to thecause. 

Sharp pains racked him from head to foot, and his pulses burned as if fromfever. It was like the weariness of old age, he thought, this utterhopelessness, these strained and quivering muscles. As a boy he had beenhardy as an Indian and as fearless of fatigue. Now the long midnightgallops on Prince Rupert over frozen roads returned to him like the dimmemories from some old romance. They belonged to the place ofhalf-forgotten stories, with the gay waistcoats and the Christmasgatherings in the hall at Chericoke. For a country that was not he hadgiven himself as surely as the men who were buried where they fought, andhis future would be but one long struggle to adjust himself to conditionsin which he had no part. His proper nature was compacted of the old lifewhich was gone forever--of its ease, of its gayety, of its lavishpleasures. For the sake of this life he had fought for four years in theranks, and now that it was swept away, he found himself like a man whostumbles on over the graves of his familiar friends. He remembered thewords of the soldier in the long blue coat, and spoke them half aloud inthe darkness: "There'll come a time when you'll find out that the armywasn't the worst you had to face. " The army was not the worst, he knew thisnow--the grapple with a courageous foe had served to quicken his pulses andnerve his hand--the worst was what came afterward, this sense of utterfailure and the attempt to shape one's self to brutal necessity. In thefuture that opened before him he saw only a terrible patience which wouldperhaps grow into a second nature as the years went on. In place of the oldgenerous existence, he must from this day forth wring the daily bread ofthose he loved, with maimed hands, from a wasted soil. 

The thought of Betty came to him, but it brought no consolation. Forhimself he could meet the shipwreck standing, but Betty must be saved fromit if there was salvation to be found. She had loved him in the days of hisyouth--in his strong days, as the Governor said--now that he was worn out, suffering, gray before his time, there was mere madness in his thought ofher buoyant strength. "You may take ten--you may take twenty years torebuild yourself, " a surgeon had said to him at parting; and he askedhimself bitterly, by what right of love dared he make her strong youth aprop for his feeble life? She loved him he knew--in his blackest hour henever doubted this--but because she loved him, did it follow that she mustbe sacrificed?

Then gradually the dark mood passed, and with his eyes on the star, hismouth settled into the lines of smiling patience which suffering brings tothe brave. He had never been a coward and he was not one now. The years hadtaught him nothing if they had not taught him the wisdom most needed by hisimpulsive youth--that so long as there comes good to the meanest creaturefrom fate's hardest blow, it is the part of a man to stand up and take itbetween the eyes. In the midst of his own despair, of the haunting memoriesof that bland period which was over for his race, there arose suddenly thefigure of the slave the Major had rescued, in Dan's boyhood, from the powerof old Rainy-day Jones. He saw again the poor black wretch shivering in thewarmth, with the dirty rag about his jaw, and with the sight he drew abreath that was almost of relief. That one memory had troubled his ownjovial ease; now in his approaching poverty he might put it away from himforever. 

In the first light of a misty April sunrise they went out on the roadagain, and when they had walked a mile or so, Big Abel found some youngpokeberry shoots, which he boiled in his old quart cup with a slice ofbacon he had saved from supper. At noon they came upon a little farm andploughed a strip of land in payment for a dinner that was lavishly pressedupon them. The people were plain, poor, and kindly, and the farmer followedDan into the field with entreaties that he should leave the furrows andcome in to meet his family. "Let yo' darky do a bit of work if he wantsto, " he urged, "but it makes me downright sick to see one of General Lee'ssoldiers driving my plough. The gals are afraid it'll bring bad luck. "

With a laugh, Dan tossed the ropes to Big Abel, who had been breaking clodsof earth, and returned to the house, where he was placed in the seat ofhonour and waited on by a troop of enthusiastic red-cheeked maidens, eachof whom cut one of the remaining buttons from his coat. Here he was askedto stay the night, but with the memory of the blue valley before his eyes, he shook his head and pushed on again in the early afternoon. The vision ofChericoke hung like a star above his road, and he struggled a little nearerday by day. 

Sometimes ploughing, sometimes chopping a pile of logs, and again lying forhours in the warm grass by the way, they travelled slowly toward the valleythat held Dan's desire. The chill April dawns broke over them, and thegenial April sunshine warmed them through after a drenching in a pearlyshower. They watched the buds swell and the leaves open in the wood, thewild violets bloom in sheltered places, and the dandelions troop in ranksamong the grasses by the road. Dan, halting to rest in the mild weather, would fall often into a revery long and patient, like those of extreme oldage. With the sun shining upon his relaxed body and his eyes on the brightdust that floated in the slanting beams, he would lie for hours speechless, absorbed, filled with visions. One day he found a mountain laurel floweringin the woods, and gathering a spray he sat with it in his hands and dreamedof Betty. When Big Abel touched him on the arm he turned with a laugh andstruggled to his feet. "I was resting, " he explained, as they walked on. "It is good to rest like that in mind and body; to keep out thoughts andlet the dreams come as they will. "

"De bes' place ter res' is on yo' own do' step, " Big Abel responded, andquickening their pace, they went more rapidly over the rough clay roads. 

It was at the end of this day that they came, in the purple twilight, to abig brick house and found there a woman who lived alone with the memoriesof a son she had lost at Gettysburg. At their knock she came herself, witha few old servants, prompt, tearful, and very sad; and when she saw Dan'scoat by the light of the lamp behind her, she put out her hands with a cryof welcome and drew him in, weeping softly as her white head touched hissleeve. 

"My mother is dead, thank God, " he murmured, and at his words she looked upat him a little startled. 

"Others have come, " she said, "but they were not like you; they did nothave your voice. Have you been always poor like this?"

He met her eyes smiling. 

"I have not always been a soldier, " was his answer. 

For a moment she looked at him as if bewildered; then taking a lamp from anold servant, she led the way upstairs to her son's room, and laid out thedead man's clothes upon his bed. 

"We keep house for the soldiers now, " she said, and went out to make thingsready. 

As he plunged into the warm water and dried himself upon the fresh linenshe had left, he heard the sound of passing feet in the broad hall, andfrom the outside kitchen there floated a savoury smell that reminded him ofChericoke at the supper hour. With the bath and the clean clothes his oldinstincts revived within him, and as he looked into the glass he caughtsomething of the likeness of his college days. Beau Montjoy was not starvedout after all, he thought with a laugh, he was only plastered over withmalaria and dirt. 

For three days he remained in the big brick house lying at ease upon a sofain the library, or listening to the tragic voice of the mother who talkedof her only son. When she questioned him about Pickett's charge, he raisedhimself on his pillows and talked excitedly, his face flushing as if fromfever. 

"Your son was with Armistead, " he said, "and they all went down likeheroes. I can see old Armistead now with his hat on his sword's point as hewaved to us through the smoke. 'Who will follow me, boys?' he cried, andthe next instant dashed straight on the defences. When he got to the secondline there were only six men with him, beside Colonel Martin, and your sonwas one of them. My God! it was worth living to die like that. "

"And it is worth living to have a son die like that, " she added, and weptsoftly in the stillness. 

The next morning he went on again despite her prayers. The rest was all toopleasant, but the memory of his valley was before him, and he thirsted forthe pure winds that blew down the long white turnpike. 

"There is no peace for me until I see it again, " he said at parting, andwith a lighter step went out upon the April roads once more. 

The way was easier now for his limbs were stronger, and he wore the deadman's shoes upon his feet. For a time it almost seemed that the strength ofthat other soldier, who lay in a strange soil, had entered into his veinsand made him hardier to endure. And so through the clear days theytravelled with few pauses, munching as they walked from the food Big Abelcarried in a basket on his arm. 

"We've been coming for three weeks, and we are getting nearer, " said Danone evening, as he climbed the spur of a mountain range at the hour ofsunset. Then his glance swept the wide horizon, and the stick in his handfell suddenly to the ground; for faint and blue and bathed in the sunsetlight he saw his own hills crowding against the sky. As he looked his heartswelled with tears, and turning away he covered his quivering face. 

XI

THE RETURN

As they passed from the shadow of the tavern road, the afternoon sunlightwas slanting across the turnpike from the friendly hills, which alone ofall the landscape remained unchanged. Loyal, smiling, guarding the ruinedvalley like peaceful sentinels, they had suffered not so much as an addedwrinkle upon their brows. As Dan had left them five long years ago, so hefound them now, and his heart leaped as he stood at last face to face. Hewas like a man who, having hungered for many days, finds himself suddenlysatisfied again. 

Amid a blur of young foliage they saw first the smoking chimneys ofUplands, and then the Doric columns beyond a lane of flowering lilacs. Thestone wall had crumbled in places, and strange weeds were springing upamong the high blue-grass; but here and there beneath the maples he caughta glimpse of small darkies uprooting the intruders, and beyond the garden, in the distant meadows, ploughmen were plodding back and forth in thepurple furrows. Peace had descended here at least, and, with a smile, hedetected Betty's abounding energy in the moving spirit of the place. He sawher in the freshly swept walks, in the small negroes weeding the blue-grasslawn, in the distant ploughs that made blots upon the meadows. For a momenthe hesitated, and laid his hand upon the iron gate; then, stifling thetemptation, he turned back into the white sand of the road. Before he metBetty's eyes, he meant that his peace should be made with the old man atChericoke. 

Big Abel, tramping at his side, opened his mouth from time to time to letout a rapturous exclamation. 

"Dar 'tis! des look at it!" he chuckled, when Uplands had been left farbehind them. "Dat's de ve'y same clump er cedars, en dat's de wil' cher'ylyin' right flat on hit's back--dey's done cut it down ter git decher'ies. "

"And the locust! Look, the big locust tree is still there, and in fullbloom!"

"Lawd, de 'simmons! Dar's de 'simmon tree way down yonder in the meadow, whar we all use ter set ouah ole hyar traps. You ain' furgot dose ole hyartraps, Marse Dan?"

"Forgotten them! good Lord!" said Dan; "why I remember we caught five oneChristmas morning, and Betty fed them and set them free again. "

"Dat she did, suh, dat she did! Hit's de gospel trufe!"

"We never could hide our traps from Betty, " pursued Dan, in delight. "Shewas a regular fox for scenting them out--I never saw such a nose for trapsas hers, and she always set the things loose and smashed the doors. "

"We hid 'em one time way way in de thicket by de ice pond, " returned BigAbel, "but she spied 'em out. Yes, Lawd, she spied 'em out fo' ouah backswuz turnt. "

He talked on rapidly while Dan listened with a faint smile about his mouth. Since they had left the tavern road, Big Abel's onward march had beenaccompanied by ceaseless ejaculations. His joy was childlike, unrestrained, full of whimsical surprises--the flight of a bluebird or the recognition ofa shrub beside the way sent him with shining eyes and quickened steps alongthe turnpike. 

From free Levi's cabin, which was still standing, though a battle had ragedin the fallen woods beyond it, and men had fought and been buried within astone's throw of the doorstep, they heard the steady falling of a hammerand caught the red glow from the rude forge at which the old negro worked. With the half-forgotten sound, Dan returned as if in a vision to his lastnight at Chericoke, when he had run off in his boyish folly, with freeLevi's hammer beating in his ears. Then he had dreamed of coming backagain, but not like this. He had meant to ride proudly up the turnpike, with his easily won honours on his head, and in his hands his magnanimousforgiveness for all who had done him wrong. On that day he had pictured theGovernor hurrying to the turnpike as he passed, and he had seen hisgrandfather, shy of apologies, eager to make amends. 

That was his dream, and to-day he came back footsore, penniless, and in adead man's clothes--a beggar as he had been at his first home-coming, whenhe had stood panting on the threshold and clutched his little bundle in hisarms. 

Yet his pulses stirred, and he turned cheerfully to the negro at his side. 

"Do you see it, Big Abel? Tell me when you see it. "

"Dar's de cattle pastur', " cried Big Abel, "en dey's been a-fittin'dar--des look. "

"It must have been a skirmish, " replied Dan, glancing down the slope. "Thewall is all down, and see here, " his foot struck on something hard and hestooped and picked up a horse's skull. "I dare say a squad of cavalry metMosby's rangers, " he added. "It looks as if they'd had a little frolic. "

He threw the skull into the pasture, and followed Big Abel, who washurrying along the road. 

"We're moughty near dar, " cried the negro, breaking into a run. "Des waittwel we pass de aspens, Marse Dan, des wait twel we pass de aspens, denwe'll be right dar, suh. "

Then, as Dan reached him, the aspens were passed, and where Chericoke hadstood they found a heap of ashes. 

At their feet lay the relics of a hot skirmish, and the old elms wereperforated with rifle balls, but for these things Dan had neither eyes northoughts. He was standing before the place that he called home, and wherethe hospitable doors had opened he found only a cold mound of charred andcrumbled bricks. 

For an instant the scene went black before his eyes, and as he staggeredforward, Big Abel caught his arm. 

"I'se hyer, Marse Dan, I'se hyer, " groaned the negro in his ear. 

"But the others? Where are the others?" asked Dan, coming to himself. "Holdme, Big Abel, I'm an utter fool. O Congo! Is that Congo?"

A negro, coming with his hoe from the corn field, ran over the desolatedlawn, and began shouting hoarsely to the hands behind him:--

"Hi! Hit's Marse Dan, hit's Marse Dan come back agin!" he yelled, and atthe cry there flocked round him a little troop of faithful servants, weeping, shouting, holding out eager arms. 

"Hi! hit's Marse Dan!" they shrieked in chorus. "Hit's Marse Dan en BrerAbel! Brer Abel en Marse Dan is done come agin!"

Dan wept with them--tears of weakness, of anguish, of faint hope amid thedark. As their hands closed over his, he grasped them as if his eyes hadgone suddenly blind. 

"Where are the others? Congo, for God's sake, tell me where are theothers?"

"We all's hyer, Marse Dan. We all's hyer, " they protested, sobbing. "En OleMarster en Ole Miss dey's in de house er de overseer--dey's right over darbehine de orchard whar you use ter projick wid de ploughs, en Brer Cupidand Sis Rhody dey's a-gittin' dem dey supper. "

"Then let me go, " cried Dan. "Let me go!" and he started at a run past thegray ruins and the standing kitchen, past the flower garden and the bigwoodpile, to the orchard and the small frame house of Harris the overseer. 

Big Abel kept at his heels, panting, grunting, calling upon his master tohalt and upon Congo to hurry after. 

"You'll skeer dem ter deaf--you'll skeer Ole Miss ter deaf, " cried Congofrom the rear, and drawing a trembling breath, Dan slackened his pace andwent on at a walk. At last, when he reached the small frame house and puthis foot upon the step, he hesitated so long that Congo slipped ahead ofhim and softly opened the door. Then his young master followed and stoodlooking with blurred eyes into the room. 

Before a light blaze which burned on the hearth, the Major was sitting inan arm chair of oak splits, his eyes on the blossoming apple trees outside, and above his head, the radiant image of Aunt Emmeline, painted as Venus ina gown of amber brocade. All else was plain and clean--the well-sweptfloor, the burnished andirons, the cupboard filled with rows of blue andwhite china--but that one glowing figure lent a festive air to the poorlyfurnished room, and enriched with a certain pomp the tired old man, dozing, with bowed white head, in the rude arm chair. It was the one thing savedfrom the ashes--the one vestige of a former greatness that still remained. 

As Dan stood there, a clock on the mantel struck the hour, and the Majorturned slowly toward him. 

"Bring the lamps, Cupid, " he said, though the daylight was still shining. "I don't like the long shadows--bring the lamps. "

Choking back a sob, Dan crossed the floor and knelt down by the chair. 

"We have come back, grandpa, " he said. "We beg your pardon, and we havecome back--Big Abel and I. "

For a moment the Major stared at him in silence; then he reached out andfelt him with shaking hands as if he mistrusted the vision of his eyes. 

"So you're back, Champe, my boy, " he muttered. "My eyes are bad--I thoughtat first that it was Dan--that it was Dan. "

"It is I, grandpa, " said Dan, slowly. "It is I--and Big Abel, too. We aresorry for it all--for everything, and we have come back poorer than we wentaway. "

A light broke over the old man's face, and he stretched out his arms with agreat cry that filled the room as his head fell forward on his grandson'sbreast. Then, when Mrs. Lightfoot appeared in the doorway, he controlledhimself with a gasp and struggled to his feet. 

"Welcome home, my son, " he said ceremoniously, as he put out his quiveringhands, "and welcome home, Big Abel. "

The old lady went into Dan's arms as he turned, and looking over her head, he saw Betty coming toward him with a lamp shining in her hand. 

"My child, here is one of our soldiers, " cried the Major, in joyful tones, and as the girl placed the lamp upon the table, she turned and met Dan'seyes. 

"It is the second time I've come home like this, Betty, " he said, "only I'ma worse beggar now than I was at first. "

Betty shook his hand warmly and smiled into his serious face. 

"I dare say you're hungrier, " she responded cheerfully, "but we'll soonmend that, Mrs. Lightfoot and I. We are of one mind with Uncle Bill, who, when Mr. Blake asked him the other day what we ought to do for our returnedsoldiers, replied as quick as that, 'Feed 'em, sir. '"

The Major laughed with misty eyes. 

"You can't get Betty to look on the dark side, my boy, " he declared, thoughDan, watching the girl, saw that her face in repose had grown very sad. Only the old beaming smile brought the brightness now. 

"Well, I hope she will turn up the cheerful part of this outlook, " he said, surrendering himself to the noisy welcome of Cupid and Aunt Rhody. 

"We may trust her--we may trust her, " replied the old man as he settledhimself back into his chair. "If there isn't any sunshine, Betty will makeit for us herself. "

Dan met the girl's glance for an instant, and then looked at the oldnegroes hanging upon his hands. 

"Yes, the prodigal is back, " he admitted, laughing, "and I hope the fattedcalf is on the crane. "

"Dar's a roas' pig fur ter-morrow, sho's you bo'n, " returned Aunt Rhody. "En I'se gwine to stuff 'im full. " Then she hurried away to her fire, andDan threw himself down upon the rug at the Major's feet. 

"Yes, we may trust Betty for the sunshine, " repeated the Major, as ifstriving to recall his wandering thoughts. "She's my overseer now, youknow, and she actually looks after both places in less time than poorHarris took to worry along with one. Why, there's not a better farmer inthe county. "

"Oh, Major, don't, " begged the girl, laughing and blushing beneath Dan'seyes. "You mustn't believe him, Dan, he wears rose-coloured glasses when helooks at me. "

"Well, my sight is dim enough for everything else, my dear, " confessed theold man sadly. "That's why I have the lamps lighted before the sun goesdown--eh, Molly?"

Mrs. Lightfoot unwrapped her knitting and the ivory kneedles clicked in thefirelight. 

"I like to keep the shadows away myself, " she responded. "The twilight usedto be my favourite hour, but I dread it now, and so does Mr. Lightfoot. "

"Well, the war's given us that in common, " chuckled the Major, stretchingout his feet. "If I remember rightly you once complained that our tasteswere never alike, Molly. " Then he glanced round with hospitable eyes. "Drawup, my boy, draw up to the fire and tell your story, " he added invitingly. "By the time Champe comes home we'll have rich treats in store for thesummer evenings. "

Betty was looking at him as he bent over the thin flames, and Dan saw herwarm gaze cloud suddenly with tears. He put out his hand and touched hersas it lay on the Major's chair, and when she turned to him she was smilingbrightly. 

"Here's Cupid with our supper, " she said, going to the table, "and dearAunt Rhody has actually gotten out her brandied peaches that she keptbehind her 'jists. ' If you ever doubted your welcome, Dan, this must banishit forever. " Then as they gathered about the fruits of Aunt Rhody'slabours, she talked on rapidly in her cheerful voice. "The silver has justbeen drawn up from the bottom of the well, " she laughed, "so you mustn'twonder if it looks a little tarnished. There wasn't a piece missing, whichis something to be thankful for already, and the port--how many bottles ofport did you dig up from the asparagus bed, Uncle Cupid?"

"I'se done hoed up 'mos' a dozen, " answered Cupid, as he plied Dan withwaffles, "en dey ain' all un um up yit. "

"Well, well, we'll have a bottle after supper, " remarked the Major, heartily. 

"If there's anything that's been improved by this war it should be thatport, I reckon, " said Mrs. Lightfoot, her muslin cap nodding over the highold urns. 

"And Dan's appetite, " finished Betty, merrily. 

When they rose from the table, the girl tied on her bonnet of plaited strawand kissed Mrs. Lightfoot and the Major. 

"It is almost mamma's supper time, " she said, "and I must hurry back. Why, I've been away from her at least two hours. " Then she looked at Dan andshook her head. "Don't come, " she added, "it is too far for you, and Congowill see me safely home. "

"Well, I'm sorry for Congo, but his day is over, " Dan returned, as he tookup his hat and followed her out into the orchard. With a last wave to theMajor, who watched them from the window, they passed under the blossomingfruit trees and went slowly down the little path, while Betty talkedpleasantly of trivial things, cheerful, friendly, and composed. When shehad exhausted the spring ploughing, the crops still to be planted and thebright May weather, Dan stopped beside the ashes of Chericoke, and lookedat her with sombre eyes. 

"Betty, we must have it out, " he said abruptly. "I have thought over ituntil I'm almost mad, and I see but one sensible thing for you to do--youmust give me up--my dearest. "

A smile flickered about Betty's mouth. "It has taken you a long time tocome to that conclusion, " she responded. 

"I hoped until the end--even after I knew that hope was folly and that Iwas a fool to cling to it. I always meant to come back to you when I gotthe chance, but not like this--not like this. "

At the pain in his eyes the girl caught her breath with a sob that shookher from head to foot. Pity moved her with a passion stronger than merelove, and she put out her protecting arms with a gesture that would havesaved him from the world--or from himself. 

"No, like this, Dan, " she answered, with her lips upon his coat. 

He kissed her once and drew back. 

"I never meant to come home this way, Betty, " he said, in a voice thattrembled from its new humility. 

"My dear, my dear, I have grown to think that any way is a good way, " shemurmured, her eyes on the blackened pile that had once been Chericoke. 

"It is not right, " he went on; "it is not fair. You cannot marry me--youmust not. "

Again the humour quivered on the girl's lips. 

"I don't like to seem too urgent, " she returned, "but will you tell mewhy?"

"Why?" he repeated bitterly. "There are a hundred why's if you want them, and each one sufficient in itself. I am a beggar, a failure, a wreck, abroken-down soldier from the ranks. Do you think if it were anything lessthan pure madness on your part that I should stand here a moment and talklike this?--but because I am in love with you, Betty, it doesn't followthat I'm an utter ass. "

"That's flattering, " responded Betty, "but it doesn't explain just what Iwant to know. Look me straight in the eyes--no evading now--and answer whatI ask. Do you mean that we are to be neighbours and nothing more? Do youmean that we are to shake hands when we meet and drop them afterward? Doyou mean that we are to stand alone together as we are standing now--thatyou are never to take me in your arms again? Do you mean this, my dear?"

"I mean--just that, " he answered between his teeth. 

For a moment Betty looked at him with a laugh of disbelief. Then, bitingthe smile upon her lips, she held out her hand with a friendly gesture. 

"I am quite content that it should be so, " she said in a cordial voice. "Weshall be very good neighbours, I fancy, and if you have any trouble withyour crops, don't hesitate to ask for my advice. I've become an excellentfarmer, the Major says, you know. " She caught up her long black skirt andwalked on, but when he would have followed, she motioned him back with adecisive little wave. "You really mustn't--I can't think of allowing it, "she insisted. "It is putting my neighbours to unheard-of trouble to makethem see me home. Why, if I once begin the custom, I shall soon have oldRainy-day Jones walking back with me when I go to buy his cows. " Stillsmiling she passed under the battle-scarred elms and stepped over theruined gate into the road. 

Leaning against a twisted tree in the old drive, Dan watched her until herblack dress fluttered beyond the crumbled wall. Then he gave a cry thatchecked her hastening feet. 

"Betty!" he called, and at his voice she turned. 

"What is it, dear friend?" she asked, and, standing amid the scatteredstones, looked back at him with pleading eyes. 

"Betty!" he cried again, stretching out his arms; and as she ran towardhim, he went down beside the ashes of Chericoke, and lay with his face halfhidden against a broken urn. 

"I am coming, " called Betty, softly, running over the fallen gate and alongthe drive. Then, as she reached him, she knelt down and drew him to herbosom, soothing him as a mother soothes a tired child. 

"It shall be as you wish--I shall be as you wish, " she promised as she heldhim close. 

But his strength had come back to him at her touch, and springing to hisfeet, he caught her from the ground as he had done that day beside thecabin in the woods, kissing her eyelids and her faithful hands. 

"I can't do it, Betty, it's no use. There's still some fight left in me--Iam not utterly beaten so long as I have you on my side. "

With a smile she lifted her face and he caught the strong courage of herlook. 

"We will begin again, " she said, "and this time, my dear, we will begintogether. "