THE CHRISTMAS PEACE

By Thomas Nelson Page

Charles Scribner's Sons New York, 1908

Copyright, 1891, 1904, 1906

I

They had lived within a mile of each other for fifty-odd years, oldJudge Hampden and old Colonel Drayton; that is, all their lives, forthey had been born on adjoining plantations within a month of eachother. But though they had thus lived and were accounted generally goodmen and good neighbors, to each other they had never been neighbors anymore than the Lévite was neighbor to him who went down to Jericho. 

Kindly to everyone else and ready to do their part by all other men, theDraytons and the Hampdens, whenever they met each other, always passedby on the other side. 

It was an old story--the feud between the families--and, perhaps, noone now knew just how the trouble started. They had certainly been onopposite sides ever since they established themselves in early Colonialdays on opposite hills in the old county from which the two mansionslooked at each other across the stream like hostile forts. The earliestrecords of the county were those of a dispute between one ColonelDrayton and one Captain Hampden, growing out of some claim to land; butin which the chief bitterness appeared to have been injected by CaptainHampden's having claimed precedence over Colonel Drayton on the groundthat his title of "Captain" was superior to Colonel Drayton's title, because he had held a real commission and had fought for it, whereasthe Colonel's title was simply honorary and "Ye sayd Collonel had neversmelled enough powder to kill a tom-cat. "

However this might be and there was nothing in the records to show howthis contention was adjudicated--in the time of Major Wil-mer Draytonand Judge Oliver Hampden, the breach between the two families had beentransmitted from father to son for several generations and showed nosigns of abatement. Other neighborhood families intermarried, but notthe Drayton-Hall and the Hampden-Hill families, and in time it came tobe an accepted tradition that a Drayton and a Hampden would not mingleany more than would fire and water. 

The Hampdens were dark and stout, hot-blooded, fierce, and impetuous. They were apparently vigorous; but many of them died young. TheDraytons, on the other hand, were slender and fair, and usually livedto a round old age; a fact of which they were wont to boast in contrastwith the briefer span of the Hampdens. 

"Their tempers burn them out, " the Major used to say of the Hampdens. 

Moreover, the Draytons were generally cool-headed, deliberate, andself-contained. Thus, the Draytons had mainly prospered throughout theyears. 

Even the winding creek which ran down through the strip of meadow was afruitful cause of dissension and litigation between the families. "It isas ungovernable as a Hampden's temper, sir, " once said Major Drayton, On the mere pretext of a thunder-storm, it would burst forth from itsbanks, tear the fences to pieces and even change its course, cutting anew channel, now to one side and now to the other through the soft andloamy soil. A lawsuit arose over the matter, in which the costs aloneamounted to far more than the value of the whole land involved; but noone doubted that old Major Drayton spoke the truth when he declared thathis father would rather have lost his entire estate with all its rollinghills and extensive forests than the acre or two which was finallyawarded to Judge Hampden. 

As neither owner would join the other even in keeping up a partitionfence, there were two fences run within three feet of each other alongthe entire boundary line between the two places. With these doublefences, there could hardly be peace between the two families; forneither owner ever saw the two lines running side by side without atonce being reminded of his neighbor's obstinacy and--of his own. 

Thus, in my time the quarrel between the Drayton-Hall people andthe Hampden-Hill folks was a factor in every neighborhood problem orproposition from a "church dressing" or a "sewing society meeting" to apolitical campaign. It had to be considered in every invitation and inevery discussion. 

It is not meant that there was no intercourse between the two families. Major Drayton and Judge Hampden regularly paid each other a visit everyyear--and oftener when there was serious illness in one house or theother--but even on such occasions their differences were liable to cropout. One of them held an opinion that when one gentleman was spendingthe night in another gentleman's house, it was the part of the hostto indicate when bedtime had arrived; whilst the other maintained withequal firmness the doctrine that no gentleman could inform his guestthat he was fatigued: that this duty devolved upon the guest himself. This difference of opinion worked comfortably enough on both sides untilan occasion when Judge Hampden, who held the former view, was spendingthe night at Colonel Drayton's. When bedtime arrived, the rest of thehousehold retired quietly, leaving the two gentlemen conversing, andwhen the servants appeared in the morning to open the blinds and lightthe fires, the two gentlemen were still found seated opposite each otherconversing together quite as if it were the ordinary thing to sit up andtalk all night long. 

On another occasion, it is said that Major Drayton, hearing of hisneighbor's serious illness, rode over to make inquiry about him, andowing to a slip of the tongue, asked in a voice of deepest sympathy, "Any hopes of the old gentleman dying!"

II

Yet, they had once been friends. 

Before Wilmer Drayton and Oliver Hampden were old enough to understandthat by all the laws of heredity and custom they should be enemies, theyhad learned to like each other. When they were only a few years old, thelittle creek winding between the two plantations afforded in its stripof meadow a delightful neutral territory where the two boys could enjoythemselves together, safe from the interference of their grave seniors;wading, sailing mimic fleets upon its uncertain currents, fishingtogether, or bathing in the deepest pools it offered in its windingcourse. 

It looked, indeed, for a time as if in the fellowship of these two ladsthe long-standing feud of the Hampdens and Draytons might be ended, at last. They went to school together at the academy, where their onlycontests were a generous rivalry. At college they were known as Damonand Pythias, and though a natural rivalry, which might in any eventhave existed between them, developed over the highest prize of theinstitution--the debater's medal--the generosity of youth saved them. Itwas even said that young Drayton, who for some time had apparently beencertain of winning, had generously retired in order to defeat a thirdcandidate and throw the prize to Oliver Hampden. 

They came home and both went to the Bar, but with different results. Young Drayton was learned and unpractical. Oliver Hampden was clever, able, and successful, and soon had a thriving practice; while hisneighbor's learning was hardly known outside the circle of the Bar. 

Disappointed in his ambition, Drayton shortly retired from the Bar andlived the life of a country gentleman, while his former friend rapidlyrose to be the head of the Bar. 

The old friendship might have disappeared in any event, but a new causearose which was certain to end it. 

Lucy Fielding was, perhaps, the prettiest girl in all that region. Oliver Hampden had always been in love with her. However, Fortune, evercapricious, favored Wilmer Drayton, who entered the lists when it lookedas if Miss Lucy were almost certain to marry her old lover. It appearedthat Mr. Drayton's indifference had counted for more than the other'sdevotion. He carried off the prize with a dash. 

If Oliver Hampden, however, was severely stricken by his disappointment, he masked it well; for he married not long afterward, and though somesaid it was from pique, there was no more happily married pair in allthe county. 

A year later a new Oliver came to keep up the name and tenets of theHampdens. Oliver Hampden, now the head of the Bar, would not have enviedany man on earth had not his wife died a few years later and left himalone with his boy in his big house. 

Lucy Drayton was born two years after young Oliver Hampden. 

The mammies of the two children, as the mammies of their parents haddone before them, used to talk them over on the edge of the shadedmeadow which divided the places, and thus young Oliver Hampden, a lustyboy of five, came to know little Lucy Drayton fully three years beforehis father ever laid eyes on her. 

Mr. Hampden was riding around his fences one summer afternoon, and wasmaking his way along the double division line with a cloud on his browas the double rows recalled the wide breach with his neighbor and formerfriend, and many memories came trooping at the recollection. Passingthrough a small grove which had been allowed to grow up to shut off apart of his view of the Drayton place, as he came out into the meadowhis eye fell on a scene which made him forget the present with all itswrongs. On the green turf before him where butter-cups speckled theground with golden blossoms, was a little group of four persons busilyengaged and wholly oblivious of the differences which divided themasters of the two estates. The two mammies were seated side by side ona bank, sewing and talking busily--their large aprons and caps making asplotch of white against the green willows beyond--and in front of themat a little distance a brown-haired boy of five and a yellow-ringletedgirl of three were at play on the turf, rolling over and over, shoutingand laughing in their glee. 

As the father rested his eyes on the group, the frown which had for asecond lowered on his brow passed away and he pulled in his horse so asnot to disturb them. He was about to turn back and leave them in theirhappiness when his black-eyed boy caught sight of him and ran towardhim, shouting for a ride and calling over his shoulder for "Luthy" to"come on too. " As there was no escape, Mr. Hampden went forward and, ignoring the confusion of the mammies at being caught together, tookthe boy up before him and gave him a ride up and down the meadow. Thennothing else would do for Master Oliver but he "must take Luthy up, too. "

"Perhaps 'Luthy' may be afraid of the horse!" suggested Mr. Hampden witha smile. 

But far from it. Led by the little boy who had run to fetch her, shecame to Mr. Hampden as readily as his own son had done, and, though shegave him one of those quick searching glances with which childhood readscharacter, having made sure that he was friendly, she was no more afraidof his horse than the boy was. 

Oliver tried to lift her, and as he tugged at her, the father sat andwatched with a smile, then leant down and picked her up while the twomammies gasped with mingled astonishment and fear. 

"I tell you, she's pretty heavy, " said the little boy. 

"Indeed, she is, " said the father, gaily. 

Mr. Hampden would have taken his son home with him, but the latterdeclined the invitation. He wished to "stay with Luthy. " So, Mr. Hampden, having first set the nurses' minds at ease by complimenting thelittle girl in warm terms to her mammy, rode home alone with his faceset in deep reflection. 

The breach between the Hampdens and the Draytons was nearer beingclosed that evening than it had been in three generations, for as OliverHampden rode up the bridle path across his fields, he heard behind himthe merry laughter of the two children in the quiet meadow below, andold memories of his childhood and college life softened his heart. Heforgot the double-line fences and determined to go on the morrow toDrayton Hall and make up the quarrel. He would offer the first overtureand a full declaration of regret, and this, he was quite sure, wouldmake it up. Once he actually turned his horse around to go straightacross the fields as he used to do in his boyhood, but there below himwere the double-line fences stretching brown and clear. No horse couldget over them, and around the road it was a good five miles, so heturned back again and rode home and the chance was lost. 

On his arrival he found a summons in a suit which had been institutedthat day by Wilmer Drayton for damages to his land by reason of histurning the water of the creek upon him. 

Mr. Hampden did not forbid old Lydia to take his boy down there again, but he went to the meadow no more himself, and when he and WilmerDrayton met next, which was not for some time, they barely spoke. 

III

Young Oliver Hampden grew up clear eyed, strong, and good to look at, and became shy where girls were concerned, and most of all appeared tobe shy with Lucy Drayton. He went to college and as he got his broadshoulders and manly stride he got over his shyness with most girls, butnot with Lucy Drayton. With her, he appeared to have become yet morereserved. She had inherited her mother's eyes and beauty, with thefairness of a lily; a slim, willowy figure; a straight back and a smallhead set on her shoulders in a way that showed both blood and pride. Moreover, she had character enough, as her friends knew: those gray eyesthat smiled could grow haughty with disdain or flash with indignation, and she had taught many an uppish young man to feel her keen irony. 

"She gets only her intellect from the Dray-tons; her beauty and hersweetness come from her mother, " said a lady of the neighborhood toJudge Hampden, thinking to please him. 

"She gets both her brains and beauty from her mother and only her namefrom her father, " snapped the Judge, who had often seen her at church, and never without recalling Lucy Fielding as he knew her. 

That she and young Oliver Hampden fought goes without saying. But noone knew why she was cruelly bitter to a young man who once spokeslightingly of Oliver, or why Oliver, who rarely saw her except atchurch, took up a quarrel of hers so furiously. 

*****

The outbreak of the war, or rather the conditions preceding thatoutbreak, finally fixed forever the gulf between the two families. JudgeHampden was an ardent follower of Calhoun and "stumped" the State inbehalf of Secession, whereas Major Drayton, as the cloud that had beengathering so long rolled nearer, emerged from his seclusion and becameone of the sternest opponents of a step which he declared was not merelyrevolution, but actual rebellion. So earnest was he, that believing thatslavery was the ultimate bone of contention, he emancipated his slaveson a system which he thought would secure their welfare. Nothing couldhave more deeply stirred Judge Hampden's wrath. He declared that such ameasure at such a crisis was a blow at every Southern man. He denouncedMajor Drayton as "worse than Garrison, Phillips, and Greeley all puttogether. "

They at last met in debate at the Court House. Major Drayton exasperatedthe Judge by his coolness, until the latter lost his temper and thecrowd laughed. 

"I do not get as hot as you do, " said the Major, blandly. He looked ascool as a cucumber, but his voice betrayed him. 

"Oh, yes, you do, " snorted the Judge. "A mule gets as hot as a horse, but he does not sweat. "

This saved him. 

There came near being a duel. Everyone expected it. Only theinterposition of friends prevented their meeting on the field. Only thisand one other thing. 

Though no one in the neighborhood knew it until long afterward--and thenonly in a conjectural way by piecing together fragments of rumors thatfloated about--young Oliver Hampden really prevented the duel. He toldhis father that he loved Lucy Drayton. There was a fierce outbreak onthe Judge's part. 

"Marry that girl!--the daughter of Wilmer Drayton! I will disinherit youif you but so much as----"

"Stop!" The younger man faced him and held up his hand with an imperiousgesture. "Stop! Do not say a word against her or I may never forget it. "

The father paused with his sentence unfinished, for his son stood beforehim suddenly revealed in a strength for which the Judge had never givenhim credit, and he recognized in his level eyes, tense features, and thesudden set of the square jaw, the Hampden firmness at its best or worst. 

"I have nothing to say against her, " said the Judge, with a sudden rushof recollection of Lucy Fielding. "I have no doubt she is in one way allyou think her; but she is Wilmer Drayton 's daughter. You will never winher. "

"I will win her, " said the young man. 

That night Judge Hampden thought deeply over the matter, and beforedaylight he had despatched a note to Major Drayton making an apology forthe words he had used. 

Both Judge Hampden and his son went into the army immediately onthe outbreak of hostilities. Major Drayton, who to the last opposedSecession bitterly, did not volunteer until after the State had seceded;but then he, also, went in, and later was desperately wounded. 

A few nights before they went off to the war, Judge Hampden and his sonrode over together to Major Drayton's to offer the olive-branch of peacein shape of young Oliver and all that he possessed. 

Judge Hampden did not go all the way, for he had sworn never to put footagain in Major Drayton's house so long as he lived, and, moreover, hefelt that his son would be the better ambassador alone. Accordingly, hewaited in the darkness at the front gate while his son presented himselfand laid at Lucy Drayton's feet what the Judge truly believed was morethan had ever been offered to any other woman. He, however, sent themost conciliatory messages to Major Drayton. 

"Tell him, " he said, "that I will take down my fence and he shall runthe line to suit himself. " He could not have gone further. 

The time that passed appeared unending to the Judge waiting in thedarkness; but in truth it was not long, for the interview was brief. Itwas with Major Drayton and not with his daughter. 

Major Drayton declined, both on his daughter's part and on his own, thehonor which had been proposed. 

At this moment the door opened and Lucy herself appeared. She was avision of loveliness. Her face was white, but her eyes were steady. Ifshe knew what had occurred, she gave no sign of it in words. She walkedstraight to her father's side and took his hand. 

"Lucy, " he said, "Mr. Hampden has done us the honor to ask your hand andI have declined it. "

"Yes, papa. " Her eyelids fluttered and her bosom heaved, but she did notmove, and Lucy was too much a Drayton to unsay what her father had said, or to undo what he had done. 

Oliver Hampden's eyes did not leave her face. For him the Major haddisappeared, and he saw only the girl who stood before him with a faceas white as the dress she wore. 

"Lucy, I love you. Will you ever care for me? I am going--going awayto-morrow, and I shall not see you any more; but I would like to know ifthere is any hope. " The young man's voice was strangely calm. 

The girl held out her hand to him. 

"I will never marry anyone else. "

"I will wait for you all my life, " said the young man. 

Bending low, he kissed her hand in the palm, and with a bow to herfather, strode from the room. 

The Judge, waiting at the gate in the darkness, heard the far-off, monotonous galloping of Oliver's horse on the hard plantation road. Herode forward to meet him. 

"Well!"

It was only a word. 

"They declined. "

The father scarcely knew his son's voice, it was so wretched. 

"What! Who declined? Did you see--"

"Both!"

Out in the darkness Judge Hampden broke forth into such a torrent ofrage that his son was afraid for his life and had to devote all hisattention to soothing him. He threatened to ride straight to Drayton'shouse and horsewhip him on the spot. This, however, the young manprevented, and the two rode home together in a silence which wasunbroken until they had dismounted at their own gate and given theirhorses to the waiting servants. As they entered the house, Judge Hampdenspoke. 

"I hope you are satisfied, " he said, sternly. "I make but one requestof you--that from this time forth, you will never mention the name ofDrayton to me again as long as you live. "

"I suppose I should hate her, " said the son, bitterly, "but I do not. Ilove her and I believe she cares for me. "

His father turned in the door-way and faced him. 

"Cares for you! Not so much as she cares for the smallest negro on thatplace. If you ever marry her, I will disinherit you. "

"Disinherit me!" burst from the young man. "Do you think I care for thisplace? What has it ever brought to us but unhappiness? I have seen yourlife embittered by a feud with your nearest neighbor, and now it wrecksmy happiness and robs me of what I would give all the rest of the worldfor. "

Judge Hampden looked at him curiously. He started to say, "Before Iwould let her enter this house, I would burn it with my own hands"; butas he met his son's steadfast gaze there was that in it which made himpause. The Hampden look was in his eyes. The father knew that anotherword might sever them forever. 

*****

If ever a man tried to court death, young Oliver Hampden did. But Death, that struck many a happier man, passed him by, and he secured insteadonly a reputation for reckless courage and was promoted on the field. 

His father rose to the command of a brigade, and Oliver himself became acaptain. 

At last the bullet Oliver had sought found him; but it spared his lifeand only incapacitated him for service. 

There were no trained nurses during the war, and Lucy Drayton, like somany girls, when the war grew fiercer, went into the hospitals, and bydevotion supplied their place. 

Believing that life was ended for her, she had devoted herself wholly tothe cause, and self-repression had given to her face the gentleness andconsecration of a nun. 

It was said that once as she bent over a wounded common soldier, hereturned to consciousness, and after gazing up at her a moment, askedvaguely, "Who are you, Miss?"

"I am one of the sisters whom our Father has sent to nurse you and helpyou to get well. But you must not talk. "

The wounded man closed his eyes and then opened them with a faint smile. 

"All right; just one word. Will you please ask your pa if I may be hisson-in-law?"

Into the hospital was brought one day a soldier so broken and bandagedthat no one but Lucy Drayton might have recognized Oliver Hampden. 

For a long time his life was despaired of; but he survived. 

When consciousness returned to him, the first sound he heard was avoice which had often haunted him in his dreams, but which he had neverexpected to hear again. 

"Who is that!" he asked, feebly. 

"It is I, Oliver--it is Lucy. "

The wounded man moved slightly and the girl bending over him caught thewords, whispered brokenly to himself:

"I am dreaming. "

But he was not dreaming. 

Lucy Drayton's devotion probably brought him back from death and savedhis life. 

In the hell of that hospital one man at least found the balm for hiswounds. When he knew how broken he was he offered Lucy her release. Herreply was in the words of the English girl to the wounded Napier, "Ifthere is enough of you left to hold your soul, I will marry you. "

As soon as he was sufficiently convalescent, they were married. 

Lucy insisted that General Hampden should be informed, but the youngman knew his father's bitterness, and refused. He relied on securinghis consent later, and Lucy, fearing for her patient's life, and havingsecured her own father's consent, yielded. 

It was a mistake. 

Oliver Hampden misjudged the depth of his father's feeling, and GeneralHampden was mortally offended by his having married without informinghim. 

Oliver adored his father and he sent him a present in token of hisdesire for forgiveness; but the General had been struck deeply. Thepresent was returned. He wrote: "I want obedience; not sacrifice. "

Confident of his wife's ability to overcome any obstacle, the youngman bided his time. His wounds, however, and his breach with his fatheraffected his health so much that he went with his wife to the far South, where Major Drayton, now a colonel, had a remnant of what had once beena fine property. Here, for a time, amid the live-oaks and magnolias heappeared to improve. But his father's obdurate refusal to forgive hisdisobedience preyed on his health, and just after the war closed, hedied a few months before his son was born. 

In his last days he dwelt much on his father. He made excuses for him, over which his wife simply tightened her lips, while her gray eyesburned with deep resentment. 

"He was brought up that way. He cannot help it. He never had anyone togainsay him. Do not be hard on him. And if he ever sues for pardon, bemerciful to him for my sake. "

His end came too suddenly for his wife to notify his father in advance, even if she would have done so; for he had been fading gradually and atthe last the flame had flared up a little. 

Lucy Hampden was too upright a woman not to do what she believed herduty, however contrary to her feelings it might be. So, although it wasa bitter thing to her, she wrote to inform General Hampden of his son'sdeath. 

It happened by one of the malign chances of fortune that this letternever reached its destination, General Hampden did not learn of Oliver'sdeath until some weeks later, when he heard of it by accident. It was aterrible blow to him, for time was softening the asperity of his temper, and he had just made up his mind to make friends with his son. Heattributed the failure to inform him of Oliver's illness and death tothe malignity of his wife. 

Thus it happened that when her son was born, Lucy Hampden made noannouncement of his birth to the General, and he remained in ignoranceof it. 

IV

The war closed, and about the only thing that appeared to remainunchanged was the relation between General Hampden and Colonel Drayton. Everything else underwent a change, for war eats up a land. 

General Hampden, soured and embittered by his domestic troubles, butstern in his resolve and vigorous in his intellect, was driven byhis loneliness to adapt himself to the new conditions. He applied hisunabated energies to building up a new fortune. His decision, his force, and his ability soon placed him at the head of one of the earliest newenterprises in the State--a broken-down railway--which he re-organizedand brought to a full measure of success. 

Colonel Drayton, on the other hand, broken in body and in fortunes, found it impossible to adapt himself to the new conditions. He possessednone of the practical qualities of General Hampden. With a mind richlystored with the wisdom of others, he had the temperament of a dreamerand poet and was unable to apply it to any practical end. As shy andreserved as his neighbor was bold and aggressive, he lived in his booksand had never been what is known as a successful man. Even before thewar he had not been able to hold his own. The exactions of hospitalityand of what he deemed his obligations to others had consumed aconsiderable part of the handsome estate he had inherited, and hisplantation was mortgaged. What had been thus begun, the war hadcompleted. 

When his plantation was sold, his old neighbor and enemy bought it, andthe Colonel had the mortification of knowing that Drayton Hall was atlast in the hands of a Hampden. What he did not know was that GeneralHampden, true to his vow, never put his foot on the plantation exceptto ride down the road and see that all his orders for its propercultivation were carried out. 

Colonel Drayton tried teaching school, but it appeared that everyoneelse was teaching at that time, and after attempting it for a yearor two, he gave it up and confined himself to writing philosophicaltreatises for the press, which were as much out of date as the Latin andGreek names which he signed to them. As these contributions were usuallyreturned, he finally devoted himself to writing agricultural essays foran agricultural paper, in which he met with more success than he haddone when he was applying his principles himself. 

"If farms were made of paper he 'd beat Cincinnatus, " said the General. 

Lucy Hampden, thrown on her own resources, in the town in the South inwhich her husband had died, had for some time been supporting herselfand her child by teaching. She had long urged her father to come tothem, but he had always declined, maintaining that a man was himselfonly in the country, and in town was merely a unit. When, however, theplantation was sold and his daughter wrote for him, he went to her, andthe first time that the little boy was put in his arms, both he andshe knew that he would never go away again. That evening as they sattogether in the fading light on the veranda of the little house whichLucy had taken, amid the clambering roses and jasmine, the old fellowsaid, "I used to think that I ought to have been killed in battle at thehead of my men when I was shot, but perhaps, I may have been saved tobring up this young man. "

His daughter's smile, as she leant over and kissed him, showed veryclearly what she thought of it, and before a week was out, the Colonelfelt that he was not only still of use, but was, perhaps, the mostnecessary, and, with one exception, the most important member of thefamily. 

Nevertheless, there were hard times before them. The Colonel was tooold-fashioned; too slow for the new movement of life, and just enoughbehind the times to be always expecting to succeed and always failing. 

But where the father failed the daughter succeeded. She soon came to beknown as one of the efficient women of the community, as her father, whowas now spoken of as "the old Colonel, " came to be recognized as oneof the picturesque figures of that period. He was always thought of inconnection with the boy. The two were hardly ever apart, and they weresoon known throughout the town--the tall, thin old gentleman who lookedout on the world with his mild blue eyes and kindly face, and thechubby, red-cheeked, black-eyed boy, whose tongue was always prattling, and who looked out with his bright eyes on all the curious things which, common-place to the world, are so wonderful to a boy. 

The friendship between an old man and a little child is always touching;they grow nearer together day by day, and the old Colonel and littleOliver soon appeared to understand each other, and to be as dependent oneach other as if they had both been of the same age. The child, somewhatreserved with others, was bold enough with his grandfather. They heldlong discussions together over things that interested the boy; wentsight-seeing in company to where the water ran over an old mill-wheel, or where a hen and her chickens lived in a neighbor's yard, or a litterof puppies gamboled under an outhouse, or a bird had her nest and littleones in a jasmine in an old garden, and Colonel Drayton told the boywonderful stories of the world which was as unknown to him as thepresent world was to the Colonel. 

So matters went, until the Christmas when the boy was seven years old. 

V

Meantime, General Hampden was facing a new foe. His health had suddenlygiven way, and he was in danger of becoming blind. His doctor had givenhim his orders--orders which possibly he might not have taken had notthe spectre of a lonely old man in total darkness begun to haunt him. Hehad been "working too hard, " the doctor told him. 

"Working hard! Of course, I have been working hard!" snapped theGeneral, fiercely, with his black eyes glowering. "What else have I todo but work? I shall always work hard. "

The doctor knew something of the General 's trouble. He had been asurgeon in the hospital where young Oliver Hampden had been when LucyDrayton found him. 

"You must stop, " he said, quietly. "You will not last long unless youdo. "

"How long!" demanded the General, quite calmly. 

"Oh! I cannot say that. Perhaps, a year--perhaps, less. You have burnedyour candle too fast. " He glanced at the other's unmoved face. "You needchange. You ought to go South this winter. "

"I should only change my skies and not my thoughts, " said the General, his memory swinging back to the past. 

The doctor gazed at him curiously. "What is the use of putting out youreyes and working yourself to death when you have everything that moneycan give?"

"I have nothing! I work to forget that, " snarled the General, fiercely. 

The doctor remained silent. 

The General thought over the doctor's advice and finally followed it, though not for the reason the physician supposed. 

Something led him to select the place where his son had gone and wherehis body lay amid the magnolias. If he was going to die, he would carryout a plan which he had formed in the lonely hours when he lay awakebetween the strokes of the clock. He would go and see that his son'sgrave was cared for, and if he could, would bring him back home at last. Doubtless, "that woman's" consent could be bought. She had possiblymarried again. He hoped she had. 

VI

Christmas is always the saddest of seasons to a lonely man, and GeneralHampden, when he landed in that old Southern town on the afternoon ofChristmas Eve, would not have been lonelier in a desert. The signs ofChristmas preparation and the sounds of Christmas cheer but made himlonelier. For years, flying from the Furies, he had immersed himselfin work and so, in part, had forgotten his troubles; but the removal ofthis prop let him fall flat to the earth. 

As soon as the old fellow had gotten settled in his room at the hotel hepaid a visit to his son's grave, piloted to the cemetery by a friendlyand garrulous old negro hackman, who talked much about Christmas and"the holidays. "

"Yes, suh, dat he had known Cap'n Ham'n. He used to drive him out longas he could drive out. He had been at his funeral. He knew Mrs. Ham'n, too. She sutney is a fine lady, " he wound up in sincere eulogy. 

The General gave a grunt. 

He was nearer to his son than he had ever been since the day he last sawhim in all the pride and beauty of a gallant young soldier. 

The grave, at least, was not neglected. It was marked by a modest cross, on which was the Hampden coat-of-arms and the motto, "_Loyal_, " and itwas banked in fresh evergreens, and some flowers had been placed on itonly that afternoon. It set the General to thinking. 

When he returned to his hotel, he found the loneliness unbearable. Hisvisit to his son's grave had opened the old wound and awakened allhis memories. He knew now that he had ruined his life. The sooner thedoctor's forecast came true, the better. He had no care to live longer. He would return to work and die in harness. 

He sent his servant to the office and arranged for his car to be put onthe first train next morning. 

Then, to escape from his thoughts, he strolled out in the street wherethe shopping crowds streamed along, old and young, poor and well-to-do, their arms full of bundles, their faces eager, and their eyes alight. 

General Hampden seemed to himself to be walking among ghosts. 

As he stalked on, bitter and lonely, he was suddenly run into by avery little boy, in whose small arms was so big a bundle that he couldscarcely see over it. The shock of the collision knocked the littlefellow down, sitting flat on the pavement, still clutching his bundle. But his face after the first shadow of surprise lit up again. 

"I beg your pardon, sir--that was my fault, " he said, with so quaint animitation of an old person that the General could not help smiling. Witha cheery laugh, he tried to rise to his feet, but the bundle was tooheavy, and he would not let it go. 

The General bent over him and, with an apology, set him on his feet. 

"I beg _your_ pardon, sir. That was _my_ fault. That is a pretty bigbundle you have. "

"Yes, sir; and I tell you, it is pretty heavy, too, " the manikin said, proudly. "It 's a Christmas gift. " He started on, and the General turnedwith him. 

"A Christmas gift! It must be a fine one. Who gave it to you?" demandedthe General, with a smile at the little fellow's confidence. 

"It is a fine one! Did n't anybody give it to me. We 're giving it tosomebody. "

"Oh! You are? To whom?"

"I 'll tell you; but you must promise not to tell. "

"I promise I will not tell a soul. I cross my heart. "

He made a sign as he remembered he used to do in his boyhood. 

The boy looked up at him doubtfully with a shade of disapproval. 

"My grandfather says that you must not cross your heart--'t agentleman's word is enough, " he said, quaintly. 

"Oh, he does? Well, I give my word. "

"Well--" He glanced around to see that no one was listening, andsidling a little nearer, lowered his voice: "It 's a great-coat forgrandfather!"

"A great-coat! That's famous!" exclaimed the General. 

"Yes, is n't it? You see--he 's mighty old and he 's got a bad cough--hecaught it in the army, and I have to take care of him. Don't you thinkthat's right?"

"Of course, I do, " said the General, envying one grandfather. 

"That's what I tell him. So mamma and I have bought this for him. "

"He must be a proud grandfather, " said the General, with envy bitingdeeper at his heart. 

"I have another grandfather; but I don't like _him_, " continued thelittle fellow. 

"I am sorry for that, " said the General, sincerely. "Why is that?"

"He was mean to my father, and he is mean to my mother. " His voiceconveyed a sudden bitterness. 

"Oh!"

"Mamma says I must like him; but I do not. I just can't. You would notlike a man who was mean to your mother, would you!"

"I would not, " declared the General, truthfully. 

"And I am not going to like him, " asserted the boy, with firmness. 

The General suddenly pitied one grandfather. 

They had come to a well-lighted corner, and as the boy lifted his face, the light fell on it. Something about the bright, sturdy countenancewith its frank, dark eyes and brown hair suddenly sent the General backthirty years to a strip of meadow on which two children were playing:one a dark-eyed boy as sturdy as this one. It was like an arrow in hisheart. "With a gasp he came back to the present. His thoughts pursuedhim even here. 

"What is your name?" he asked as he was feeling in his pocket for acoin. 

"Oliver Drayton Hampden, sir. "

The words were perfectly clear. 

The General's heart stopped beating and then gave a bound. The skiessuddenly opened for him and then shut up again. 

His exclamation brought the child to a stop and he glanced up at him invague wonder. The General stooped and gazed at him searchingly, almostfiercely. The next second he had pounced upon him and lifted him in hisarms while the bundle fell to the pavement. 

"My boy! I am your grandfather, " he cried, kissing him violently. "I amyour grandfather Hampden. "

The child was lost in amazement for a moment, and then, putting hishands against the General's face, he pushed him slowly away. 

"Put me down, please, " he said, with that gravity which in a child meansso much. 

General Hampden set him down on the pavement. The boy looked at himsearchingly for a second, and then turned in silence and lifted hisbundle. The General's face wore a puzzled look--he had solved manyproblems, but he had never had one more difficult than this. His heartyearned toward the child, and he knew that on his own wisdom at thatmoment might depend his future happiness. On his next words might hangfor him life or death. The expression on the boy's face, and the veryset of his little back as he sturdily tugged at his burden, recalled hisfather, and with it the General recognized the obstinacy which he knewlurked in the Hampden blood, which had once been his pride. 

"Oliver, " he said, gravely, leaning down over the boy and putting hishand on him gently, "there has been a great mistake. I am going homewith you to your mother and tell her so. I want to see her and yourgrandfather, and I think I can explain everything. "

The child turned and gazed at him seriously, and then his face relaxed. He recognized his deep sincerity. 

"All right. " He turned and walked down the street, bending under hisburden. The General offered to carry it for him, but he declined. 

"I can carry it, " was the only answer he made except once when, as theGeneral rather insisted, he said firmly, "I want to carry it myself, "and tottered on. 

A silence fell on them for a moment. A young man passing them spoke tothe child cheerily. 

"Hullo, Oliver! A Christmas present?--That 's a great boy, " he said, insheer friendliness to the General, and passed on. The boy was evidentlywell known. 

Oliver nodded; then feeling that some civility was due on his part tohis companion, he said briefly, "That 's a friend of mine. "

"Evidently. "

The General, even in his perplexity, smiled at the quaint way the childimitated the manners of older men. 

Just then they came to a little gate and the boy's manner changed. 

"If you will wait, I will run around and put my bundle down. I am afraidmy grandfather might see it. " He lowered his voice for the first timesince the General had introduced himself. Then he disappeared around thehouse. 

Oliver, having slipped in at the back door and carefully reconnoitredthe premises, tripped up stairs with his bundle to his mother's room. Hewas so excited over his present that he failed to observe her confusionat his sudden entrance, or her hasty hiding away of something onwhich she was working. Colonel Drayton was not the only member of thathousehold that Christmas who was to receive a great-coat. 

When Oliver had untied his bundle, nothing would serve but he must puton the coat to show his mother how his grandfather would look in it. Aseven with the sleeves rolled up and with his arms held out to keep itfrom falling off him, the tails dragged for some distance on thefloor and only the top of his head was visible above the collar, theresemblance was possibly not wholly exact. But it appeared to satisfythe boy. He was showing how his grandfather walked, when he suddenlyrecalled his new acquaintance. 

"I met my other grandfather, on the street, mamma, and he came home withme. " He spoke quite naturally. 

"Met your other grandfather!" Mrs. Hampden looked mystified. 

"He says he is my grandfather, and he looks like papa. I reckon he 's myother grandfather. He ran against me in the street and knocked me down, and then came home with me. "

"Came home with you!" repeated Mrs. Hampden, still in a maze, and with avague trouble dawning in her face. 

"Yes 'm. "

Oliver went over the meeting again. 

His mother's face meantime showed the tumult of emotion that wassweeping over her. Why had General Hampden come? What had he come for?To try and take her boy from her?

At the thought her face and form took on something of the lioness thatguards her whelp. Then as the little boy repeated what his grandfatherhad said of his reason for coming home with him, her face softenedagain. She heard a voice saying, "If he ever sues for pardon, bemerciful to him for my sake. " She remembered what day it was: the Eveof the day of Peace and Good-will toward all men. He must have come forPeace, and Peace it should be. She would not bring up her boy under theshadow of that feud which had blighted both sides of his race so long. 

"Oliver, " she said, "you must go down and let him in. Say I will comedown. "

"I will not like him, " said the child, his eyes on her face. 

"Oh, yes, you must; he is your grandfather. "

"You do not love him, and I will not. " The sturdy little figure andthe serious face with the chin already firm for such a child, the dark, grave eyes and the determined speech, were so like his father that thewidow gave half a cry. 

"You must, my son, and I will try. Your father would wish it. "

The little boy pondered for a second. 

"Very well, mamma; but he must be good to you. "

As the little fellow left the room, the widow threw herself on herknees. 

VII

As General Hampden stood and waited in the dusk, he felt that hiswhole life and future depended on the issue of the next few moments. He determined to take matters in his own hand. Every moment might tellagainst him and might decide his fate. So, without waiting longer, herang the bell. A minute later he heard steps within, and the door wasopened by one who he knew must be Colonel Drayton, though had he methim elsewhere he should not have recognized the white hair and thethin, bent form as that of his old friend and enemy. Colonel Drayton hadevidently not seen his grandson yet, for he spoke as to a stranger. 

"Will you not walk in, sir!" he said cordially. "I was expecting mylittle grandson who went out a short while ago. " He peered up thestreet. "Did you wish to see my daughter? You will find us in a littleconfusion--Christinas time is always a busy season with us on account ofour young man: my grandson. " He lingered with pride over the words. 

The General stepped into the light. 

"Wilmer Drayton! Don't you know me? I am Oliver Hampden, and I have cometo apologize to you for all I have done which has offended you, and toask you to be friends with me. " He held out his hand. 

The old Colonel stepped back, and under the shock of surprise paused fora moment. 

"Oliver Hampden!" The next moment he stepped forward and took his hand. 

"Come in, Oliver, " he said, gently, and putting his other arm around theGeneral's shoulder, he handed him into the little cosey, fire-lightedroom as though nothing had happened since he had done the same the lasttime fifty years before. 

At this moment the door opened and the little boy entered with mingledmysteriousness and importance. Seeing the two gentlemen standingtogether, he paused with a mystified look in his wide-open eyes, tryingto comprehend the situation. 

"Oliver, come here, " said the Colonel, quietly. "This is your othergrandfather. "

The boy came forward, and, wheeling, stood close beside the Colonel, facing General Hampden, like a soldier dressing by his file-closer. 

"_You_ are my grandfather, " he said, glancing up at the Colonel. 

The Colonel's eyes glowed with a soft light. 

"Yes, my boy; and so is he. We are friends again, and you must lovehim--just as you do me. "

"I will not love him as much, " was the sturdy answer. 

It was the General who spoke next. 

"That is right, my boy. All I ask is that you will love me some. " He waspleading with this young commissioner. 

"I will, if you are good to my mother. " His eyes were fastened on himwithout a tremor, and the General's deep-set eyes began to glow withhope. 

"That 's a bargain, " he said holding out his hand. The boy took itgravely. 

Just then the door opened and Lucy Hampden entered. Her face was calmand her form was straight. Her eyes, deep and burning, showed that shewas prepared either for peace or war. It was well for the General thathe had chosen peace. Better otherwise had he charged once more thedeadliest battle line he had ever faced. For a moment the General sawonly Lucy Fielding. 

With a woman's instinct the young widow comprehended at the first glancewhat had taken place, and although her face was white, her eyes softenedas she advanced. The General had turned and faced her. He could notutter a word, but the boy sprang towards her and, wheeling, stood by herside. 

Taking his hand, she led him forward. 

"Oliver, " she said, gently, "this is your father's father. " Then to theGeneral, in a dead silence--"Father, this is your son's son. "

The General clasped them both in his arms. 

"Forgive me. Forgive me. I have prayed for _his_ forgiveness, for I cannever forgive myself. "

"He forgave you, " said the widow, simply. 

VIII

No young king was ever put to bed with more ceremony or more devotionthan was that little boy that night. Two old gentlemen were his groomsof the bedchamber and saw him to bed together. 

The talk was all of Christmas, and the General envied the ease withwhich the other grandfather carried on the conversation. But when theboy, having kissed his grandfather, said of his own accord, "Now, I mustkiss my _other_ grandfather, " he envied no man on earth. 

The next morning when Oliver Hampden, before the first peep of light, waked in his little bed, which stood at the foot of his grandfather'sbed in the tiny room which they occupied together, and standing up, peeped over the footboard to catch his grandfather's "Christmas gift, "he was surprised to find that the bed was empty and undisturbed. Thenhaving tiptoed in and caught his mother, he stole down the stairs andsoftly opened the sitting-room door where he heard the murmur of voices. The fire was burning dim, and on either side sat the two old gentlemenin their easy chairs, talking amicably and earnestly as they had beentalking when he kissed them "good-night. " Neither one had made thesuggestion that it was bedtime; but when at the first break of daythe rosy boy in his night-clothes burst in upon them with his shout of"Christmas gift, " and his ringing laughter, they both knew that the longfeud was at last ended, and peace was established forever.