THE ROMANCE OF A PLAIN MAN

 BY ELLEN GLASGOW

 AUTHOR OF "THE DELIVERANCE, " "THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE, " ETC. 

New YorkTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY1909

_All rights reserved_

Copyright, 1909, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1909. ReprintedMay, July, August, September, twice, October, 1909. 

Norwood PressJ. S. Cushing Co. --Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. 

CONTENTS

 I. IN WHICH I APPEAR WITH FEW PRETENSIONS

 II. THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

 III. A PAIR OF RED SHOES

 IV. IN WHICH I PLAY IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

 V. IN WHICH I START IN LIFE

 VI. CONCERNING CARROTS

 VII. IN WHICH I MOUNT THE FIRST RUNG OF THE LADDER

 VIII. IN WHICH MY EDUCATION BEGINS

 IX. I LEARN A LITTLE LATIN AND A GREAT DEAL OF LIFE

 X. IN WHICH I GROW UP

 XI. IN WHICH I ENTER SOCIETY AND GET A FALL

 XII. I WALK INTO THE COUNTRY AND MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE

 XIII. IN WHICH I RUN AGAINST TRADITIONS

 XIV. IN WHICH I TEST MY STRENGTH

 XV. A MEETING IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

 XVI. IN WHICH SALLY SPEAKS HER MIND

 XVII. IN WHICH MY FORTUNES RISE

 XVIII. THE PRINCIPLES OF MISS MATOACA

 XIX. SHOWS THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE

 XX. IN WHICH SOCIETY RECEIVES US

 XXI. I AM THE WONDER OF THE HOUR

 XXII. THE MAN AND THE CLASS

 XXIII. IN WHICH I WALK ON THIN ICE

 XXIV. IN WHICH I GO DOWN

 XXV. WE FACE THE FACTS AND EACH OTHER

 XXVI. THE RED FLAG AT THE GATE

 XXVII. WE CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND US

 XXVIII. IN WHICH SALLY STOOPS

 XXIX. IN WHICH WE RECEIVE VISITORS

 XXX. IN WHICH SALLY PLANS

 XXXI. THE DEEPEST SHADOW

 XXXII. I COME TO THE SURFACE

 XXXIII. THE GROWING DISTANCE

 XXXIV. THE BLOW THAT CLEARS

 XXXV. THE ULTIMATE CHOICE

THE ROMANCE OF A PLAIN MAN

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH I APPEAR WITH FEW PRETENSIONS

As the storm broke and a shower of hail rattled like a handful ofpebbles against our little window, I choked back a sob and edged mysmall green-painted stool a trifle nearer the hearth. On the oppositeside of the wire fender, my father kicked off his wet boots, stretchedhis feet, in grey yarn stockings, out on the rag carpet in front of thefire, and reached for his pipe which he had laid, still smoking, on thefloor under his chair. 

"It's as true as the Bible, Benjy, " he said, "that on the day you wereborn yo' brother President traded off my huntin' breeches for a yallerpup. "

My knuckles went to my eyes, while the smart of my mother's slap fadedfrom the cheek I had turned to the fire. 

"What's become o' th' p-p-up-p?" I demanded, as I stared up at him withmy mouth held half open in readiness to break out again. 

"Dead, " responded my father solemnly, and I wept aloud. 

It was an October evening in my childhood, and so vivid has my latermemory of it become that I can still see the sheets of water that rolledfrom the lead pipe on our roof, and can still hear the splash! splash!with which they fell into the gutter below. For three days the cloudshad hung in a grey curtain over the city, and at dawn a high wind, blowing up from the river, had driven the dead leaves from thechurchyard like flocks of startled swallows into our little street. Since morning I had watched them across my mother's "prize" red geraniumupon our window-sill--now whipped into deep swirls and eddies over thesunken brick pavement, now rising in sighing swarms against the closeddoors of the houses, now soaring aloft until they flew almost as high asthe living swallows in the belfry of old Saint John's. Then as the duskfell, and the street lamps glimmered like blurred stars through therain, I drew back into our little sitting-room, which glowed bright asan ember against the fierce weather outside. 

Half an hour earlier my father had come up from the marble yard, wherehe spent his days cutting lambs and doves and elaborate ivy wreaths instone, and the smell from his great rubber coat, which hung dryingbefore the kitchen stove, floated with the aroma of coffee through thehalf-open door. When I closed an eye and peeped through the crack, Icould see my mother's tall shadow, shifting, not flitting, on thewhitewashed wall of the kitchen, as she passed back and forth from thestove to the wooden cradle in which my little sister Jessy lay asleep, with the head of her rag doll in her mouth. 

Outside the splash! splash! of the rain still sounded on the brickpavement, and as I glanced through the window, I saw an old blind negrobeggar groping under the street lamp at the corner. The muffled beat ofhis stick in the drenched leaves passed our doorstep, and I heard itgrow gradually fainter as he turned in the direction of the negro hovelsthat bordered our end of the town. Across the street, and on either sideof us, there were rows of small boxlike frame houses built with narrowdoorways, which opened from the sidewalk into funny little kitchens, where women, in soiled calico dresses, appeared to iron all day long. Itwas the poorer quarter of what is known in Richmond as "Church Hill, " aportion of the city which had been left behind in the earlierfashionable progress westward. Between us and modern Richmond there wereseveral high hills, up which the poor dripping horses panted on summerdays, a railroad station, and a broad slum-like bottom vaguely describedas the "Old Market. " Our prosperity, with our traditions, had crumbledaround us, yet there were still left the ancient church, with its shadygraveyard, and an imposing mansion or two inherited from the forgottensplendour of former days. The other Richmond--that "up-town" I heardsometimes mentioned--I had never seen, for my early horizon was boundedby the green hill, by the crawling salmon-coloured James River at itsfoot, and by the quaint white belfry of the parish of old St. John's. Beneath that belfry I had made miniature graves on summer afternoons, and as I sat now opposite to my father, with the bright fire between us, the memory of those crumbling vaults made me hug myself in the warmth, while I edged nearer the great black kettle singing before the flames. 

"Pa, " I asked presently, with an effort to resume the conversation alongcheerful lines, "was it a he or a she pup?"

My father turned his bright blue eyes from the fire, while his handwandered, with an habitual gesture, to his coarse straw-coloured hairwhich stood, like mine, straight up from the forehead. 

"Wall, I'll be blessed if I can recollect, Benjy, " he replied, and addedafter a moment, in which I knew that his slow wits were working over afresh attempt at distraction, "but speaking of dawgs, it wouldn'tsurprise me if yo' ma was to let you have a b'iled egg for yo' supper. "

Again the storm was averted. He was so handsome, so soft, so eager tomake everybody happy, that although he did not deceive even my infantmind for a minute, I felt obliged by sheer force of sympathy to stepinto the amiable snare he laid. 

"Hard or soft?" I demanded. 

"Now that's a matter of ch'ice, ain't it?" he rejoined, wrinkling hisforehead as if awed by the gravity of the decision; "but bein' a plainman with a taste for solids, I'd say 'hard' every time. "

"Hard, ma, " I repeated gravely through the crack of the door to theshifting shape on the kitchen wall. Then, while he stooped over in thefirelight to prod fresh tobacco into his pipe, I began again myinsatiable quest for knowledge which had brought me punishment at thehand of my mother an hour before. 

"Pa, who named me?"

"Yo' ma. "

"Did ma name you, too?"

He shook his head, doubtfully, not negatively. Above his short growth ofbeard his cheeks had warmed to a clear pink, and his foolish blue eyeswere as soft as the eyes of a baby. 

"Wall, I can't say she did that--exactly. "

"Then who did name you?"

"I don't recollect. My ma, I reckon. "

"Did ma name me Ben Starr, or just Ben?"

"Just Ben. You were born Starr. "

"Was she born Starr, too?"

"Good Lord, no, she was born Savage. "

"Then why warn't I born Savage?"

"Because she married me an' I was born Starr. "

I gave it up with a sigh. "Who had the most to do with my comin' here, God or ma?" I asked after a minute. 

My father hesitated as if afraid of committing himself to an hereticalutterance. "I ain't so sure, " he replied at last, and added immediatelyin a louder tone, "Yo' ma, I s'pose. "

"Then why don't I say my prayers to ma instead of to God?"

"I wouldn't begin to worry over that at my age, if I were you, " repliedmy father, with angelic patience, "seein' as it's near supper time an'the kettle's a-bilin'. "

"But I want to know, pa, why it was that I came to be named just Ben?"

"To be named just Ben?" he repeated slowly, as if the fact had beenbrought for the first time to his attention. "Wall, I reckon 'twasbecause we'd had considerable trouble over the namin' of the first, which was yo' brother President. That bein' the turn of the man of thefamily, I calculated that as a plain American citizen, I couldn't dobetter than show I hadn't any ill feelin' agin the Government. I don'trecollect just what the name of the gentleman at the head of the Nationwas, seein' 'twas goin' on sixteen years ago, but I'd made up my mind tocall the infant in the cradle arter him, if he'd ever answered myletter--which he never did. It was then yo' ma an' I had words becauseshe didn't want a child of hers named arter such a bad-mannered, stuck-up, ornary sort, President or no President. She raised a terriblesquall, but I held out against her, " he went on, dropping his voice, "an' I stood up for it that as long as 'twas the office an' not the manI was complimentin', I'd name him arter the office, which I did on thespot. When 'twas over an' done the notion got into my head an' kind oftickled me, an' when you came at last, arter the four others in between, that died befo' they took breath, I was a'ready to name you 'Governor'if yo' ma had been agreeable. But 'twas her turn, so she called youarter her Uncle Benjamin--"

"What's become o' Uncle Benjamin?" I interrupted. 

"Dead, " responded my father, and for the third time I wept. 

"I declar' that child's been goin' on like that for the last hour, "remarked my mother, appearing upon the threshold. "Thar, thar, Benjyboy, stop cryin' an' I'll let you go to old Mr. Cudlip's burialto-morrow. "

"May I go, too, ma?" enquired President, who had come in with a lightedlamp in his hand. He was a big, heavy, overgrown boy, and his head wasalready on a level with his father's. 

"Not if I know it, " responded my mother tartly, for her temper wasrising and she looked tired and anxious. "I'll take Benjy along becausehe can crowd in an' nobody'll mind. "

She moved a step nearer while her shadow loomed to gigantic proportionson the whitewashed wall. Her thin brown hair, partially streaked withgrey, was brushed closely over her scalp, and this gave her profile anangularity that became positively grotesque in the shape behind her. Across her forehead there were three deep frowning wrinkles, which didnot disappear even when she smiled, and her sad, flint-coloured eyesheld a perplexed and anxious look, as if she were trying always toremember something which was very important and which she had halfforgotten. I had never seen her, except when she went to funerals, dressed otherwise than in a faded grey calico with a faded grey shawlcrossed tightly over her bosom and drawn to the back of her waist, whereit was secured by a safety pin of an enormous size. Beside her my fatherlooked so young and so amiable that I had a confused impression that hehad shrunk to my own age and importance. Then my mother retreated intothe kitchen and he resumed immediately his natural proportions. Afterthirty years, when I think now of that ugly little room, with itspainted pine furniture, with its coloured glass vases, filled with driedcat-tails, upon the mantelpiece, with its crude red and yellow print ofa miniature David attacking a colossal Goliath, with its narrowwindow-panes, where beyond the "prize" red geranium the wind drove thefallen leaves over the brick pavement, with its staring whitewashedwalls, and its hideous rag carpet--when I think of these vulgar detailsit is to find that they are softened in my memory by a sense of peace, of shelter, and of warm firelight shadows. 

My mother had just laid the supper table, over which I had watched hersmooth the clean red and white cloth with her twisted fingers; Presidentwas proudly holding aloft a savoury dish of broiled herrings, and myfather had pinned on my bib and drawn back the green-painted chair inwhich I sat for my meals--when a hurried knock at the door arrested eachone of us in his separate attitude as if he had been instantly petrifiedby the sound. 

There was a second's pause, and then before my father could reach it, the door opened and shut violently, and a woman, in a dripping cloak, holding a little girl by the hand, came from the storm outside, and ranstraight to the fire, where she stood shaking the child's wet clothesbefore the flames. As the light fell over them, I saw that the woman wasyoung and delicate and richly dressed, with a quantity of pale brownhair which the rain and wind had beaten flat against her smallfrightened face. At the time she was doubtless an unusually prettycreature to a grown-up pair of eyes, but my gaze, burning withcuriosity, passed quickly over her to rest upon the little girl, whopossessed for me the attraction of my own age and size. She wore redshoes, I saw at my first glance, and a white cloak, which I took to beof fur, though it was probably made of some soft, fuzzy cloth I hadnever seen. There was a white cap on her head, held by an elastic bandunder her square little chin, and about her shoulders her hair lay in aprofuse, drenched mass of brown, which reminded me in the firelight ofthe colour of wet November leaves. She was soaked through, and yet asshe stood there, with her teeth chattering in the warmth, I was struckby the courage, almost the defiance, with which she returned my gaze. Baby that she was, I felt that she would scorn to cry while my glancewas upon her, though there were fresh tear marks on her flushed cheeks, and around her solemn grey eyes that were made more luminous by herbroad, heavily arched black eyebrows, which gave her an intense andquestioning look. The memory of this look, which was strange in so younga child, remained with me after the colour of her hair and everycharming feature in her face were forgotten. Years afterwards I think Icould have recognised her in a crowded street by the mingling of lightwith darkness, of intense black with clear grey, in her sparklingglance. 

"I followed the wrong turn, " said the pale little woman, breathing hardwith a pitiable, frightened sound, while my mother took her drippingcloak from her shoulders, "and I could not keep on because of the rainwhich came up so heavily. If I could only reach the foot of the hill Imight find a carriage to take me up-town. "

My father had sprung forward as she entered, and was vigorously stirringthe fire, which blazed and crackled merrily in the open grate. Sheaccepted thankfully my mother's efforts to relieve her of her wet wraps, but the little girl drew back haughtily when she was approached, andrefused obstinately to slip out of her cloak, from which the water ranin streams to the floor. 

"I don't like it here, mamma, it is a common place, " she said, in aclear childish voice, and though I hardly grasped the meaning of herwords, her tone brought to me for the first time a feeling of shame formy humble surroundings. 

"Hush, Sally, " replied her mother, "you must dry yourself. These peopleare very kind. "

"But I thought we were going to grandmama's?"

"Grandmama lives up-town, and we are going as soon as the storm hasblown over. There, be a good girl and let the little boy take your wetcap. "

"I don't want him to take my cap. He is a common boy. "

In spite of the fact that she seemed to me to be the most disagreeablelittle girl I had ever met, the word she had used was lodged unalterablyin my memory. In that puzzled instant, I think, began my struggle torise out of the class in which I belonged by birth; and I remember thatI repeated the word "common" in a whisper to myself, while I resolvedthat I would learn its meaning in order that I might cease to be theunknown thing that it implied. 

My mother, who had gone into the kitchen with the dripping cloak in herarms, returned a moment later with a cup of steaming coffee in one handand a mug of hot milk in the other. 

"It's a mercy if you haven't caught your death with an inner chill, " sheobserved in a brisk, kindly tone. "'Twas the way old Mr. Cudlip, whosefuneral I'm going to to-morrow, came to his end, and he was as hale, red-faced a body as you ever laid eyes on. "

The woman received the cup gratefully, and I could see her poor thinhands tremble as she raised it to her lips. 

"Drink the warm milk, dear, " she said pleadingly to the disagreeablelittle girl, who shook her head and drew back with a stiff childishgesture. 

"I'm not hungry, thank you, " she replied to my mother in her sweet, clear treble. To all further entreaties she returned the same answer, standing there a haughty, though drenched and battered infant, in hersoiled white cloak and her red shoes, holding her mop of a muff tightlyin both hands. 

"I'm not hungry, thank you, " she repeated, adding presently in a mannerof chill politeness, "give it to the boy. "

But the boy was not hungry either, and when my mother, finally takingher at her word, turned, in exasperation, and offered the mug to me, Ideclined it, also, and stood nervously shifting from one foot to theother, while my hands caught and twisted the fringe of the table-clothat my back. The big grey eyes of the little girl looked straight intomine, but there was no hint in them that she was aware of my existence. Though her teeth were chattering, and she knew I heard them, she did notrelax for an instant from her scornful attitude. 

"We were just about to take a mouthful of supper, mum, an' we'd be proudif you an' the little gal would jine us, " remarked my father, with aneager hospitality. 

"I thank you, " replied the woman in her pretty, grateful manner, "butthe coffee has restored my strength, and if you will direct me to thehill, I shall be quite able to go on again. "

A step passed close to the door on the pavement outside, and I saw herstart and clutch the child to her bosom with trembling hands. As shestood there in her shaking terror, I remembered a white kitten I hadonce seen chased by boys into the area of a deserted house. 

"If--if anyone should come to enquire after me, will you be so good asto say nothing of my having been here?" she asked. 

"To be sure I will, with all the pleasure in life, " responded my father, who, it was evident even to me, had become a victim to her distressedloveliness. 

Emboldened by the effusive politeness of my parent, I went up to thelittle girl and shyly offered her a blossom from my mother's geraniumupon the window-sill. A scrap of a hand, as cold as ice when it touchedmine, closed over the stem of the flower, and without looking at me, shestood, very erect, with the scarlet geranium grasped stiffly between herfingers. 

"I'll take you to the bottom of the hill myself, " protested my father, "but I wish you could persuade yourself to try a bite of food befo' youset out in the rain. "

"It is important that I should lose no time, " answered the woman, drawing her breath quickly through her small white teeth, "but I fearthat I am taking you away from your supper?"

"Not at all, you will not deprive me in the least, " stammered my father, blushing up to his ears, while his straight flaxen hair appearedliterally to rise with embarrassment. "I--I--the fact is I'm not aneater, mum. "

For an instant, remembering the story of Ananias I had heard inSunday-school, I looked round in terror, half expecting to hear thedreadful feet of the young men on the pavement. But he passed scathlessfor the hour at least, and our visitor had turned to receive herhalf-dried cloak from my mother's hands, when her face changed suddenlyto a more deadly pallor, and seizing the little girl by the shoulder, she fled, like a small frightened animal, across the threshold into thekitchen. 

My father's hand had barely reached the knob of the street door, when itopened and a man in a rubber coat entered, and stopped short in thecentre of the room, where he stood blinking rapidly in the lamplight. Iheard the rain drip with a soft pattering sound from his coat to thefloor, and when he wheeled about, after an instant in which his glancesearched the room, I saw that his face was flushed and his eyes swimmingand bloodshot. There was in his look, as I remember it now, something ofthe inflamed yet bridled cruelty of a bird of prey. 

"Have you noticed a lady with a little girl go by?" he enquired. 

At his question my father fell back a step or two until he stoodsquarely planted before the door into the kitchen. Though he was a bigman, he was not so big as the other, who towered above the driedcat-tails in a china vase on the mantelpiece. 

"Are you sure they did not pass here?" asked the stranger, and as heturned his head the dried pollen was loosened from the cat-tails anddrifted in an ashen dust to the hearth. 

"No, I'll stake my word on that. They ain't passed here yet, " replied myfather. 

With an angry gesture the other shook his rubber coat over our brightlittle carpet, and passed out again, slamming the door violently behindhim. Running to the window, I lifted the green shade, and watched hisbig black figure splashing recklessly through the heavy puddles underthe faint yellowish glimmer of the street lamp at the comer. The lightflickered feebly on his rubber coat and appeared to go out in thestreams of water that fell from his shoulders. 

When I looked round I saw that the woman had come back into the room, still grasping the little girl by the hand. 

"No, no, I must go at once. It is necessary that I should go at once, "she repeated breathlessly, looking up in a dazed way into my mother'sface. 

"If you must you must, an' what ain't my business ain't, " replied mymother a trifle sharply, while she wrapped a grey woollen comforter ofher own closely over the head and shoulders of the little girl, "but ifyou'd take my advice, which you won't, you'd turn this minute an' walkstraight back home to yo' husband. "

But the woman only shook her head with its drenched mass of soft brownhair. 

"We must go, Sally, mustn't we?" she said to the child. 

"Yes, we must go, mamma, " answered the little girl, still grasping thestem of the red geranium between her fingers. 

"That bein' the case, I'll get into my coat with all the pleasure inlife an' see you safe, " remarked my father, with a manner that impressedme as little short of the magnificent. 

"But I hate to take you away from home on such a terrible night. "

"Oh, don't mention the weather, " responded my gallant parent, while hestruggled into his rubber shoes; and he added quite handsomely, after aflourish which appeared to set the elements at defiance, "arter all, weather is only weather, mum. "

As nobody, not even my mother, was found to challenge the truth of thisstatement, the child was warmly wrapped up in an old blanket shawl, andmy father lifted her in his arms, while the three set out under a bigcotton umbrella for the brow of the hill. President and I peered afterthem from the window, screening our eyes with our hollowed palms, andflattening our noses against the icy panes; but in spite of our effortswe could only discern dimly the shape of the umbrella rising like aminiature black mountain out of the white blur of the fog. The longempty street with the wind-drifts of dead leaves, the pale glimmer ofthe solitary light at the far corner, the steady splash! splash! of therain as it fell on the brick pavement, the bitter draught that blew inover the shivering geranium upon the sill--all these brought a lump tomy throat, and I turned back quickly into our cheerful little room, where my untasted supper awaited me. 

CHAPTER II

THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

The funeral was not until nine o'clock, but at seven my mother served usa cold breakfast in order, as she said, that she might get the disheswashed and the house tidied before we started. Gathering about the baretable, we ate our dismal meal in a depressed silence, while she bustledback and forth from the kitchen in her holiday attire, which consistedof a stiff black bombazine dress and the long rustling crape veil shehad first put on at the death of her uncle Benjamin, some twenty yearsbefore. As her only outings were those occasioned by the deaths of herneighbours, I suppose her costume was quite as appropriate as it seemedto my childish eyes. Certainly, as she appeared before me in her hard, shiny, very full bombazine skirt and attenuated bodice, I regarded herwith a reverence which her everyday calico had never inspired. 

"I ain't et a mouthful an' I doubt if I'll have time to befo' we start, "she was saying in an irritable voice, as I settled into my bib and mychair. "Anybody might have thought I'd be allowed to attend a funeral inpeace, but I shan't be, --no, not even when it comes to my own. "

"Thar's plenty of time yet, Susan, " returned my father cheerfully, whilehe sawed at the cold cornbread on the table. "You've got a good hour an'mo' befo' you. "

"An' the things to wash up an' the house to tidy in my veil and bonnet. Thar ain't many women, I reckon, that would wash up china in a crapeveil, but I've done it befo' an' I'm used to it. "

"Why don't you lay off yo' black things till you're through?"

His suggestion was made innocently enough, but it appeared, as heuttered it, to be the one thing needed to sharpen the edge of mymother's temper. The three frowning lines deepened across her forehead, and she stared straight before her with her perplexed and anxious lookunder her rustling crape. 

"Yes, I'll take 'em off an' lay 'em away an' git back to work, " sherejoined. "It did seem as if I might have taken a holiday at a time likethis--my next do' neighbour, too, an' I'd al'ays promised him I'd seehim laid safe in the earth. But, no, I can't do it. I'll go take off myveil an' bonnet an' stay at home. "

Before this attack my father grew so depressed that I half expected tosee tears fall into his cup of coffee, as they had into mine. Hishandsome gayety dropped from him, and he looked as downcast as waspossible for a face composed of so many flagrantly cheerful features. 

"I declar, Susan, I wa'nt thinkin' of that, " he returned apologetically, "it just seemed to me that you'd be mo' comfortable without that sheetof crape floatin' down yo' back. "

"I've never been comfortable in my life, " retorted my mother, "an' Idon't expect to begin when I dress myself to go to a funeral. It's gotto be, I reckon, an' it's what I'm used to; but if thar's a man alivethat would stand over a stove with a crape veil on his head, I'd beobliged to him if he'd step up an' show his face. "

At this point; the half-grown girl who had promised to look after thebaby arrived, and with her assistance, my mother set about putting thehouse in order, while my father, as soon as his luncheon basket waspacked, wished us a pleasant drive, and started for old Timothy Ball'smarble yard, where he worked. At the sink in the kitchen my mother, withher crape veil pinned back, and her bombazine sleeves rolled up, stoodwith her arms deep in soapsuds. 

"Ma, " I asked, going up to her and turning my back while she unfastenedmy bib with one soapy hand, "did you ever hear anybody call you common?"

"Call me what?"

"Common. What does it mean when anybody calls you common?"

"It means generally that anybody is a fool. "

"Then am I, ma?"

"Air you what?"

"Am I common?"

"For the Lord's sake, Benjy, stop yo' pesterin'. What on earth has gonean' set that idee workin' inside yo' head?"

"Is pa common?"

She meditated an instant. "Wall, he wa'nt born a Savage, but I'd neverhave called him common--exactly, " she answered. 

"Then perhaps you are?"

"You talk like a fool! Haven't I told you that I wa'nt?" she snapped. 

"Then if you ain't an' pa ain't exactly, how can I be?" I concluded withtriumph. 

"Whoever said you were? Show me the person. "

"It wa'nt a person. It was a little girl. "

"A little girl? You mean the half-drowned brat I wrapped up in yo'grandma's old blanket shawl I set the muffin dough under? To think of mysendin' yo' po' tired pa splashin' out with 'em into the rain. So shecalled you common?"

But the sound of a carriage turning the corner fell on my ears, andrunning hastily into the sitting-room, I opened the door and looked outeagerly for signs of the approaching funeral. 

A bright morning had followed the storm, and the burnished leaves, sorestless the day before, lay now wet and still under the sunshine. I hadstepped joyously over the threshold, to the sunken brick pavement, whenmy mother, moved by a sudden anxiety for my health, called me back, andin spite of my protestations, wrapped me in a grey blanket shawl, whichshe fastened at my throat with the enormous safety-pin she had takenfrom her own waist. Much embarrassed by this garment, which draggedafter me as I walked, I followed her sullenly out of the house and asfar as our neighbour's doorstep, where I was ordered to sit down andwait until the service was over. As the stir of her crape passed intothe little hall, I seated myself obediently on the single step which ledstraight from the street, and made faces, during the long wait, at themerry driver of the hearse--a decrepit negro of ancient days, whogrinned provokingly at the figure I cut in my blanket shawl. 

"Hi! honey, is you got on swaddlin' close er a windin' sheet?" heenquired. "I'se a-gittin' near bline en I cyarn mek out. "

"You jest wait till I'm bigger an' I'll show you, " was my peaceablerejoinder. 

"Wat's dat you gwine sho' me, boy? I reckon I'se done seed mo' curusthings den you in my lifetime. "

I looked up defiantly. Between the aristocratic, if fallen, negro andmyself there was all the instinctive antagonism that existed in theVirginia of that period between the "quality" and the "poor whitetrash. "

"If you don't lemme alone you'll see mo'n you wanter. "

"Whew! I reckon you gwine tu'n out sump'im' moughty outlandish, boy. I'se a-lookin' wid all my eyes an I cyarn see nuttin' at all. "

"Wait till I'm bigger an' you'll see it, " I answered. 

"I'se sho'ly gwine ter wait, caze ef'n hits mo' curus den you is en datar windin' sheet, hit's a sight dat I'se erbleeged ter lay eyes on. Wat's yo' name, suh?" he enquired, with a mocking salute. 

"I am Ben Starr, " I replied promptly, "an' if you wait till I getbigger, I'll bus' you open. "

"Hi! hi! wat you wanter bus' me open fur, boy? Is you got a pa?"

"He's Thomas Starr, an' he cuts lambs and doves on tombstones. I've seen'em, an' I'm goin' to learn to cut 'em, too, when I grow up. I likelambs. "

The door behind me opened suddenly without warning, and as I scrambledfrom the doorstep, my enemy, the merry driver, backed his creakingvehicle to the sidewalk across which the slow procession of mournersfiled. A minute later I was caught up by my mother's hand, and borneinto a carriage, where I sat tightly wedged between two sombre females. 

"So you've brought yo' little boy along, Mrs. Starr, " remarked a thirdfrom the opposite seat, in an aggressive voice. 

"Yes, he had a cold an' I thought the air might do him good, " replied mymother with her society manner. 

"Wall, I've nine an' not one of 'em has ever been to a funeral, "returned the questioner. "I've al'ays been set dead against 'em forchildren, ain't you, Mrs. Boxley?"

Mrs. Boxley, a placid elderly woman, who had already begun to doze inher corner, opened her eyes and smiled on me in a pleasant and friendlyway. 

"To tell the truth I ain't never been able really to enjoy a child'sfuneral, " she replied. 

"I'm sure we're all mighty glad to have him along, Mrs. Starr, " observedthe fourth woman, who was soft and peaceable and very fat. "He's a fine, strong boy now, ain't he, ma'am?"

"Middlin' strong. I hope he ain't crowdin' you. Edge closer to me, Benjy. "

I edged closer until her harsh bombazine sleeve seemed to scratch theskin from my cheek. Mrs. Boxley had dozed again, and sinking lower onthe seat, I had just prepared myself to follow her example, when achange in the conversation brought my wandering wits instantly together, and I sat bolt upright while my eyes remained fixed on the small, straggling houses we were passing. 

"Yes, she would go, rain or no rain, " my mother was saying, and I knewthat in that second's snatch of sleep she had related the story of ourlast evening's adventure. "To be sure she may have been all she ought tobe, but I must say I can't help mistrustin' that little, palaverin' kindof a woman with eyes like a scared rabbit. "

"If it was Sarah Mickleborough, an' I think it was, she had reasonenough to look scared, po' thing, " observed Mrs. Kidd, the soft fatwoman, who sat on my left side. "They've only lived over here in the oldAdams house for three months, but the neighbours say he's almost killedher twice since they moved in. She came of mighty set up, high falutin'folks, you know, an' when they wouldn't hear of the marriage, she ranoff with him one night about ten years ago just after he came home outof the army. He looked fine, they say, in uniform, on his big blackhorse, but after the war ended he took to drink and then from drink, asis natchel, he took to beatin' her. It's strange--ain't it?--how easilya man's hand turns against a woman once he's gone out of his head?"

"Ah, I could see that she was the sort that's obliged to be beatensooner or later if thar was anybody handy around to do it, " remarked mymother. "Some women are made so that they're never happy except whenthey're hurt, an' she's one of 'em. Why, they can't so much as look at aman without invitin' him to ill-treat 'em. "

"Thar ain't many women that know how to deal with a husband as well asyou an' Mrs. Cudlip, " remarked Mrs. Kidd, with delicate flattery. 

"Po' Mrs. Cudlip. I hope she is bearin' up, " sighed my mother. "'Twasthe leg he lost at Seven Pines--wasn't it?--that supported her?"

"That an' the cheers he bottomed. The last work he did, po' man, was forMrs. Mickleborough of whom we were speakin'. I used to hear of her befo'the war when she was pretty Miss Sarah Bland, in a white poke bonnetwith pink roses. "

"An' now never a day, passes, they say, that Harry Mickleborough doesn'tthreaten to turn her an' the child out into the street. "

"Are her folks still livin'? Why doesn't she go back to them?"

"Her father died six months after the marriage, an' the rest of 'em liveup-town somewhar. The only thing that's stuck to her is her colouredmammy, Aunt Euphronasia, an' they tell me that that old woman has mo'influence over Harry Mickleborough than anybody livin'. When he getsdrunk an' goes into one of his tantrums she walks right up to him an'humours him like a child. "

As we drove on their voices grew gradually muffled and thin in my ears, and after a minute, in which I clung desperately to my eludingconsciousness, my head dropped with a soft thud upon Mrs. Kidd'sinviting bosom. The next instant I was jerked violently erect by mymother and ordered sternly to "keep my place an' not to make myself anuisance by spreadin' about. " With this admonition in my ears, I pinchedmy leg and sat staring with heavy eyes out upon the quiet street, wherethe rolling of the slow wheels over the fallen leaves was the only soundthat disturbed the silence. After ten bitter years the city was stillbound by the terrible lethargy which had immediately succeeded the war;and on Church Hill it seemed almost as if we had been forgotten like thebreastworks and the battle-fields in the march of progress. The grip ofpoverty, which was fiercer than the grip of armies, still held us, andthe few stately houses showed tenantless and abandoned in the midst oftheir ruined gardens. Sometimes I saw an old negress in a colouredturban come out upon one of the long porches and stare after us, herpipe in her mouth and her hollowed palm screening her eyes; and once anoisy group of young mulattoes emerged from an alley and followed uscuriously for a few blocks along the sidewalk. 

Withdrawing my gaze from the window, I looked enviously at Mrs. Boxley, who snored gently in her corner. Then for the second time sleepoverpowered me, and in spite of my struggles, I sank again on Mrs. Kidd's bosom. 

"Thar, now, don't think of disturbin' him, Mrs. Starr. He ain't theleast bit in my way. I can look right over his head, " I heard murmuredover me as I slid blissfully into unconsciousness. 

What happened after this I was never able to remember, for when I cameclearly awake again, we had reached our door, and my mother was shakingme in the effort to make me stand on my feet. 

"He's gone and slept through the whole thing, " she remarked irritably toPresident, while I stumbled after them across the pavement, with thefringed ends of my blanket shawl rustling the leaves. 

"He's too little. You might have let me go, ma, " replied President, ashe dragged me, sleepy eyes, ruffled flaxen hair, and trailing shawl overthe doorstep. 

"An' you're too big, " retorted my mother, removing the long black pinsfrom her veil, and holding them in her mouth while she carefullysmoothed and folded the lengths of crape. "You could never have squeezedin between us, an' as it was Mrs. Kidd almost overlaid Benjy. But youdidn't miss much, " she hastened to assure him, "I declar' I thought atone time we'd never get on it all went so slowly. "

Having placed her bonnet and veil in the tall white bandbox upon thetable, she hurried off to prepare our dinner, while President urged mein an undertone to "sham sick" that afternoon so that he wouldn't haveto take me out for an airing on the hill. 

"But I want to go, " I responded selfishly, wide awake at the prospect. "I want to see the old Adams house where the little girl lives. "

"If you go I can't play checkers, an' it's downright mean. What do youcare about little girls? They ain't any good. "

"But this little girl has got a drunken father. "

"Well, you won't see _him_ anyway, so what is the use?"

"She lives in a big house an' it's got a big garden--as big as that!" Istretched out my arms in a vain attempt to impress his imagination, buthe merely looked scornful and swore a mighty vow that he'd "be jiggeredif he'd keep on playin' nurse-girl to a muff. "

At the time he put my pleading sternly aside, but a couple of hourslater, when the afternoon was already waning, he relented sufficientlyto take me out on the ragged hill, which was covered thickly withpokeberry, yarrow, and stunted sumach. Before our feet the ground sankgradually to the sparkling river, and farther away I could see thesilhouette of an anchored vessel etched boldly against the rosy cloudsof the sunset. 

As I stood there, holding fast to his hand, in the high wind that blewup from the river, a stout gentleman, leaning heavily on a blackwalking-stick, with a big gold knob at the top, came panting up theslope and paused beside us, with his eyes on the western sky. He washale, handsome, and ruddy-faced, with a bunch of iron-grey whiskers oneither cheek, and a vivacious and merry eye which seemed to catch at atwinkle whenever it met mine. His rounded stomach was spanned by amassive gold watch-chain, from which dangled a bunch of seals thatdelighted my childish gaze. 

"It's a fine view, " he observed pleasantly, patting my shoulder as if Iwere in some way responsible for the river, the anchored vessel, and therosy sunset. "I moved up-town as soon as the war ended, but I stillmanage to crawl back once in a while to watch the afterglow. "

"Where does the sun go, " I asked, "when it slips way down there on theother side of the river?"

The gentleman smiled benignly, and I saw from his merry glance that hedid not share my mother's hostility to the enquiring mind. 

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised if it went to the wrong side of theworld for little boys and girls over there to get up by, " he replied. 

"May I go there, too, when I'm big?"

"To the wrong side of the world? You may, who knows?"

"Have you ever been there? What is it like?"

"Not yet, not yet, but there's no telling. I've been across the ocean, though, and that's pretty far. I went once in a ship that ran throughthe blockade and brought in a cargo of Bibles. "

"What did you want with so many Bibles? We've got one. It has giltclasps. "

"Want with the Bibles! Why, every one of these Bibles, my boy, may havesaved a soul. "

"Has our Bible saved a soul? An' whose soul was it? It stays on ourcentre table, an' my name's in it. I've seen it. "

"Indeed! and what may your name be?"

"Ben Starr. That's my name. What is yours? Is yo' name in the Bible?Does everybody's name have to be in the Bible if they're to be saved?Who put them in there? Was it God or the angels? If I blot my name outcan I still go to heaven? An' if yours isn't in there will you have tobe damned? Have you ever been damned an' what does it feel like?"

"Shut up, Benjy, or ma'll wallop you, " growled President, squeezing myhand so hard that I cried aloud. 

"Ah, he's a fine boy, a promising boy, a remarkable boy, " observed thegentleman, with one finger in his waistcoat pocket. "Wouldn't you liketo grow up and be President, my enquiring young friend?"

"No, sir, I'd rather be God, " I replied, shaking my head. 

All the gentleman's merry grey eyes seemed to run to sparkles. 

"Ah, there's nothing, after all, like the true American spirit, " hesaid, patting my shoulder. Then he laughed so heartily that hisgold-rimmed eye-glasses fell from his eyes and dangled in the air at theend of a silk cord. "I'm afraid your aspiration is too lofty for myhelp, " he said, "but if you should happen to grow less ambitious as yougrow older, then remember, please, that my name is General Bolingbroke. "

"Why, you're the president of the Great South Midland and AtlanticRailroad, sir!" exclaimed President, admiring and embarrassed. 

The General sighed, though even I could see that this simple tribute tohis fame had not left him unmoved. "Ten years ago I was the man whotried to save Johnston's army, and to-day I am only a railroadpresident, " he answered, half to himself; "times change and fames changealmost as quickly. When all is said, however, there may be more lastinghonour in building a country's trade than in winning a battle. I'll havea tombstone some day and I want written on it, 'He brought help to thesick land and made the cotton flower to bloom anew. ' My name is GeneralBolingbroke, " he added, with his genial and charming smile. "You willnot forget it?"

I assured him that I should not, and that if it could be done, I'd tryto have it written in our Bible with gilt clasps, at which he thanked megravely as he shook my hand. 

"An' I think now I'd rather be president of the Great South Midland andAtlantic Railroad, sir, " I concluded. 

"Young man, I fear you're with the wind, " he said, laughing, and added, "I've a nephew just about your age and at least a head shorter, what doyou think of that?"

"Has he a kite?" I enquired eagerly. "I have, an' a top an' ten checkersan' a big balloon. "

"Have you, indeed? Well, my poor boy is not so well off, I regret tosay. But don't you think your prosperity is excessive considering theimpoverished condition of the country?"

The big words left me gasping, and fearing that I had been too boastfulfor politeness, I hastened to inform him that "although the balloon wasvery big, it was also bu'sted, which made a difference. "

"Ah, it is, is it? Well, that does make a difference. "

"If your boy hasn't any checkers I'll give him half of mine, " I addedwith a gulp. 

With an elaborate flourish the General drew out a stiffly starchedpocket handkerchief and blew his nose. "That's a handsome offer and I'llrepeat it without fail, " he said. 

Then he shook hands again and marched down the hill with his gold-headedstick tapping the ground. 

"Now you'll come and trot home, I reckon, " said President, when he haddisappeared. 

But the spirit of revolt had lifted its head within me, for through acleft in the future, I saw myself already as the president of the GreatSouth Midland and Atlantic Railroad, with a jingling bunch of seals anda gold-headed stick. 

"I ain't goin' that way, " I said, "I'm goin' home by the old Adams housewhere the little girl lives. "

"No, you ain't either. I'll tell ma on you. "

"I don't care. If you don't take me home by the old Adams house, you'llhave to carry me every step of the way, an' I'll make myself heavy. "

For a long minute President wrinkled his brows and thought hard insilence. Then an idea appeared to penetrate his slow mind, and hegrasped me by the shoulder and shook me until I begged him to stop. 

"If I take you home that way will you promise to sham sick to-morrow, soI shan't have to bring you out?"

The price was high, but swallowing my disappointment I met it squarely. 

"I will if you'll lift me an' let me look over the wall. "

"Hope you may die?"

"Hope I may die. "

"Wall, it ain't anything to see but jest a house, " remarked President, as I held out my hand, "an' girls ain't worth the lookin' at. "

"She called me common, " I said, soberly. 

"Oh, shucks!" retorted President, with fine scorn, and we said no more. 

Clinging tightly to his hand I trudged the short blocks in silence. As Iwas little, and he was very large for his years, it was with difficultythat I kept pace with him; but by taking two quick steps to his singleslow one, I managed to cover the same distance in almost the same numberof minutes. He was a tall, overgrown boy, very fat for his age, with afoolish, large-featured face which continued to look sheepishly amiableeven when he got into a temper. 

"Is it far, President?" I enquired at last between panting breaths. 

"There 'tis, " he answered, pointing with his free hand to a fine oldmansion, with a broad and hospitable front, from which the curved ironrailing bent in a bright bow to the pavement. It was the one great houseon the hill, with its spreading wings, its stuccoed offices, its massivewhite columns at the rear, which presided solemnly over the terracedhill-side. A moment later he led me up to the high, spiked wall, andswung me from the ground to a secure perch on his shoulder. With myhands clinging to the iron nails that studded the wall, I looked over, and then caught my breath sharply at the thought that I was gazing uponan enchanted garden. Through the interlacing elm boughs the rosy lightof the afterglow fell on the magnolias and laburnums, on the rosesquares, and on the tall latticed arbours, where amid a glossy bower offoliage, a few pale microphylla roses bloomed out of season. Overheadthe wind stirred, and one by one the small yellow leaves drifted, likewounded butterflies, down on the box hedges and the terraced walks. 

"You've got to come down now--you're too heavy, " said President frombelow, breathing hard as he held me up. 

"Jest a minute--give me a minute longer an' I'll let you eat myblackberry jam at supper. "

"An' you've promised on yo' life to sham sick to-morrow?"

"I'll sham sick an' I'll let you eat my jam, too, if you'll hold me alittle longer. "

He lifted me still higher, and clutching desperately to the iron spikes, I hung there quivering, breathless, with a thumping heart. A glimmer ofwhite flitted between the box rows on a lower terrace, and I saw thatthe princess of the enchanted garden was none other than my little girlof the evening before. She was playing quietly by herself in a bower ofbox, building small houses of moss and stones, which she erected withinfinite patience. So engrossed was she in her play that she seemedperfectly oblivious of the fading light and of the birds and squirrelsthat ran past her to their homes in the latticed arbours. Higher andhigher rose her houses of moss and stones, while she knelt there, patient and silent, in the terrace walk with the small, yellow leavesfalling around her. 

"That's a square deal now, " said President, dropping me suddenly toearth. "You'd better come along and trot home or you'll get a lamming. "

My enchanted garden had vanished, the spiked wall rose over my head, andbefore me, as I turned homeward, spread all the familiar commonplacenessof Church Hill. 

"How long will it be befo' I can climb up by myself?" I asked. 

"When you grow up. You're nothin' but a kid. "

"An' when'll I grow up if I keep on fast?"

"Oh, in ten or fifteen years, I reckon. "

"Shan't I be big enough to climb up befo' then?"

"Look here, you shut up! I'm tired answerin' questions, " shouted myelder brother, and grasping his hand I trotted in a depressed silenceback to our little home. 

CHAPTER III

A PAIR OF RED SHOES

I awoke the next morning a changed creature from the one who had fallenasleep in my trundle-bed. In a single hour I had awakened to the sharpsense of contrast, to the knowledge that all ways of life were notconfined to the sordid circle in which I lived. Outside the poverty, theugliness, the narrow streets, rose the spiked wall of the enchantedgarden; and when I shut my eyes tight, I could see still the half-baredelms arching against the sunset, and the old house beyond, with itsstuccoed wings and its grave white columns, which looked down on themagnolias and laburnums just emerging from the twilight on the lowerterrace. In the midst of this garden I saw always the little girlpatiently building her houses of moss and stones, and it seemed to methat I could hardly live through the days until I grew strong enough toleap the barriers and play beside her in the bower of box. 

"Ma, " I asked, measuring myself against the red and white cloth on thetable, "does it look to you as if I were growin' up?"

The air was strong with the odour of frying bacon, and when my motherturned to answer me, she held a smoking skillet extended like a votiveoffering in her right hand. She was busy preparing breakfast for Mrs. Cudlip, whose husband's funeral we had attended the day before, and asusual when any charitable mission was under way, her manner to my fatherand myself had taken a biting edge. 

"Don't talk foolishness, Benjy, " she replied, stopping to push back aloosened wiry lock of hair; "it's time to think about growin' up whenyou ain't been but two years in breeches. Here, if you're throughbreakfast, I want you to step with this plate of muffins to Mrs. Cudlip. Tell her I sent 'em an' that I hope she is bearin' up. "

"That you sent 'em an' that you hope she is bearin' up, " I repeated. 

"That's it now. Don't forget what I told you befo' you're there. Thomas, have you buttered that batch of muffins?"

My father handed me the plate, which was neatly covered with ared-bordered napkin. 

"Did you tell me to lay a slice of middlin' along side of 'em, Susan?"he humbly enquired. 

Without replying to him in words, my mother seized the plate from me, and lifting the napkin, removed the offending piece of bacon, which shereplaced in the dish. 

"I thought even you, Thomas, would have had mo' feelin' than to sendmiddlin' to a widow the day arter she has buried her husband--even aone-legged one! Middlin' indeed! One egg an' that soft boiled, will beas near a solid as she'll touch for a week. Keep along, Benjy, an' besure to say just what I told you. "

I did my errand quickly, and returning, asked eagerly if I might go outall by myself an' play for an hour. "I'll stay close in the churchyardif you'll lemme go, " I entreated. 

"Run along then for a little while, but if you go out of the churchyard, you'll get a whippin', " replied my mother. 

With this threat ringing like a bell in my ears, I left the house andwalked quickly along the narrow pavement to where, across the widestreet, I discerned the white tower and belfry which had been added by alater century to the parish church of Saint John. Overhead there was abright blue sky, and the October sunshine, filtering through the bronzednetwork of sycamore and poplar, steeped the flat tombstones and thecrumbling brick vaults in a clear golden light. The church stood upon amoderate elevation above the street, and I entered it now by a shortflight of steps, which led to a grassy walk that did not end at theclosed door, but continued to the brow of the hill, where a fewscattered slabs stood erect as sentinels over the river banks. For amoment I stood among them, watching the blue haze of the opposite shore;then turning away I rolled over on my back and lay at full length in theperiwinkle that covered the ground. From beyond the church I could hearUncle Methusalah, the negro caretaker, raking the dead leaves from thegraves, and here and there among the dark boles of the trees thereappeared presently thin bluish spirals of smoke. The old negro's figurewas still hidden, but as his rake stirred the smouldering piles, I couldsmell the sharp sweet odour of the burning leaves. Sometimes a wren or asparrow fluttered in and out of the periwinkle, and once a small greenlizard glided like the shadow of a moving leaf over a tombstone. Onesleeper among them I came to regard, as I grew somewhat older, almostwith affection--not only because he was young and a soldier, but becausethe tall marble slab implored me to "tread lightly upon his ashes. " Notonce during the many hours when I played in the churchyard, did I forgetmyself and run over the sunken grave where he lay. 

The sound of the moving rake passed the church door and drew nearer, andthe grey head of Uncle Methusalah appeared suddenly from behind an iviedtree trunk. Sitting up in the periwinkle, I watched him heap thecoloured leaves around me into a brilliant pile, and then bending overhold a small flame close to the curling ends. The leaves, still moistfrom the rain, caught slowly, and smouldered in a scented cloud underthe trees. 

"Dis yer trash ain' gwine ter bu'n twel hit's smoked out, " he remarkedin a querulous voice. 

"Uncle Methusalah, " I asked, springing up, "how old are you?"

With a leisurely movement, he dragged his rake over the walk, and thenbringing it to rest at his feet, leaned his clasped hands on the end ofit, and looked at me over the burning leaves. He wore an old, tightlyfitting army coat of Union blue, bearing tarnished gold epaulets uponthe shoulders, and around his throat a red bandanna handkerchief waswrapped closely to keep out the "chills. "

"Gaud-a-moughty, honey!" he replied, "I'se so ole dat I'se done cleanfurgit ter count. "

"I reckon you knew almost everybody that's buried here, didn't you?"

"Mos' un um, chile, but I ain't knowed near ez many ez my ole Marster. He done shuck hans w'en he wuz live wid um great en small. I'se donehyern 'im tell in my time how he shuck de han' er ole Marse Henry rightover dar in dat ar church. "

"Who was ole Marse Henry?" I enquired. 

"I dunno, honey, caze he died afo' my day, but he mus' hev done apowerful heap er talkin' while he wuz 'live. "

"Whom did he talk to, Uncle Methusalah?"

"Ter hisself mostly, I reckon, caze you know folks ain' got time al'ayster be lisen'in'. But hit wuz en dish yer church dat he stood up en ax'em please ter gin 'im liberty er ter gin 'im deaf. "

"An' which did they give him, Uncle?"

"Wall, honey, ez fur ez I recollect de story dey gun 'im bofe. "

Bending over in his old blue army coat with the tarnished epaulets, heprodded the pile of leaves, where the scented smoke hung low in a cloud. The wind stirred softly in the grass, and a small flame ran along a benttwig of maple to a single scarlet leaf at the end. 

"Did they give 'em to him because he talked too much?" I asked. 

"I ain' never hyern ner better reason, chile. Folks cyarn' stan' toomuch er de gab nohow, en' dey sez dat he 'ouldn't let up, but kep' upsech a racket dat dey couldn't git ner sleep. Den at las' ole KingGeorge over dar in England sent de hull army clear across de water jes'ter shet his mouf. "

"An' did he shut it?"

"Dat's all er hit dat I ever hyern tell, boy, but ef'n you don' quitaxin' folks questions day in en day out, he'll send all de way over yeragin' jes' ter shet yourn. "

He went off, gathering the leaves into another pile at a littledistance, and after a moment I followed him and stood with my backagainst a high brick vault. 

"Is there any way, Uncle Methusalah, that you can grow up befo' yo'time?" I asked. 

"Dar 'tis agin!" exclaimed the old negro, but he added kindly enough, "Dey tell me you kin do hit by stretchin', chile, but I ain' never seedhit wid my eyes, en w'at I ain' seed wid my eyes I ain' set much sto'by. "

His scepticism, however, honest as it was, did not prevent my seizingupon the faint hope he offered, and I had just begun to stretch myselfviolently against the vault, when a voice speaking at my back brought myheels suddenly to the safe earth again. 

"Boy, " said the voice, "do you want a dog?"

Turning quickly I found myself face to face with the princess of theenchanted garden. She wore a fresh white coat and a furry white cap anda pair of red shoes that danced up and down. In her hand she carried adirty twine string, the other end of which was tied about the neck of amiserable grey and white mongrel puppy. 

"Do you want a dog, boy?" she repeated, as proudly as if she offered acanine prize. 

The puppy was ugly, ill-bred, and dirty, but not an instant did Ihesitate in the response I made. 

"Yes, I want a dog, " I answered as gravely as she had spoken. 

She held out the string and my fist closed tightly over it. "I found himin the gutter, " she explained, "and I gave him a plate of bread and milkbecause he is so young. Grandmama wouldn't let me keep him, as I havethree others. I think it was very cruel of grandmama. "

"I may keep him, " I responded, "I ain't got any grandmama. I'll let himsleep in my bed. "

"You must give him a bath first, " she said, "and put him by the fire todry. They wouldn't let me bring him into our house, but yours is such alittle one that it will hardly matter. "

At this my pride dropped low. "You live in the great big house with thehigh wall around the garden, " I returned wistfully. 

She nodded, drawing back a step or two with a quaint little air ofdignity, and twisting a tassel on her coat in and out of her fingers, which were encased in white crocheted mittens. The only touch of colourabout her was made by her small red shoes. 

"I haven't lived there long, and I remember where we camefrom--way--away from here, over yonder across the river. " She lifted herhand and pointed across the brick vault to the distant blue on theopposite shore of the James. "I liked it over there because it was thecountry and we lived by ourselves, mamma and I. She taught me to knitand I knitted a whole shawl--as big as that--for grandmama. Then papacame and took us away, but now he has gone and left us again, and I amglad. I hope he will never come back because he is so very bad and Idon't like him. Mamma likes him, but I don't. "

"May I play with you in your garden?" I asked when she had finished;"I'd like to play with you an' I know ever so many nice ways to playthat I made up out of my head. "

She looked at me gravely and, I thought, regretfully. 

"You can't because you're common, " she answered. "It's a great pity. Idon't really mind it myself, " she added gently, seeing my downcast face, "I'd just every bit as lief play with you as not--a little bit--butgrandmama wouldn't--"

"But I don't want to play with your grandmama, " I returned, on the pointof tears. 

"Well, you might come sometimes--not very often, " she said at last, witha sympathetic touch on my sleeve, "an' you must come to the side gatewhere grandmama won't see you. I'll let you in an' mamma will not mind. But you mustn't come often, " she concluded in a sterner tone, "only onceor twice, so that there won't be any danger of my growin' like you. Itwould hurt grandmama dreadfully if I were ever to grow like you. "

She paused a moment, and then began dancing up and down in her red shoesover the coloured leaves. "I'd like to play--play--play all the time!"she sang, whirling, a vivid little figure, around, the crumbling vault. 

The next minute she caught up the puppy in her arms and hugged himpassionately before she turned away. 

"His name is Samuel!" she called back over her shoulder as she ran outof the churchyard. 

When she had gone down the short flight of steps and into the widestreet, I tucked Samuel under my arm, and lugged him, not without inwardmisgivings, into the kitchen, where my mother stood at theironing-board, with one foot on the rocker of Jessy's cradle. 

"Ma, " I began in a faltering and yet stubborn voice, "I've got a pup. "

My mother's foot left the rocker, and she turned squarely on me, with asmoking iron half poised above the garment she had just sprinkled on theboard. 

"Whar did he come from?" she demanded, and moistened the iron with thethumb of her free hand. 

"I got him in the churchyard. His name is Samuel. "

For a moment she stared at the two of us in a stony silence. Then herface twitched as if with pain, the perplexed and anxious look appearedin her eyes, and her mouth relaxed. 

"Wall, he's ugly enough to be named Satan, " she said, "but I reckon ifyou want to you may put him in a box in the back yard. Give him thatcold sheep's liver in the safe and then you come straight in and combyo' head. It looks for all the world like a tousled straw stack. "

All the afternoon I sat in our little sitting-room, and faithful to mypromise, shammed sickness, while Samuel lay in his box in the back yardand howled. 

"I'll have that dog taken up the first thing in the mornin', " declaredmy mother furiously, as she cleared the supper table. 

"I reckon he's lonely out thar, Susan, " urged my father, observing mytrembling mouth, and eager, as usual, to put a pacific face on themoment. 

"Lonely, indeed! I'm lonely in here, but I don't set up a howlin'. Thar're mighty few folks, be they dogs or humans, that get all thecompany they want in life. "

Once I crept out into the darkness, and hugging Samuel around his dirtystomach besought him, with tears, to endure his lot in silence; butthough he licked my face rapturously at the time, I had no soonerentered the house than his voice was lifted anew. 

"To think of po' Mrs. Cudlip havin' to mourn in all that noise, "commented my mother, as I undressed and got into my trundle-bed. 

My pillow was quite moist before I went to sleep, while my mother's loudthreats against Samuel sounded from the other side of the room with eachseparate garment that she laid on the chair at the foot of her bed. Insheer desperation at last I pulled the cover over my ears in an effortto shut out her thin, querulous tones. At the instant I felt that I waswicked enough to wish that I had been born without any mother, and Iasked myself how _she_ would like it if I raised as great a fuss aboutbaby Jessy's crying as she did about Samuel's--who didn't make one-halfthe noise. 

Here the light went out, and I fell asleep, to awaken an hour or twolater because of the candle flash in my eyes. In the centre of the roommy mother was standing in her grey dressing-gown, with a shawl over herhead and the rapturously wriggling body of Samuel in her arms. Tooamazed to utter an exclamation, I watched her silently while she made abed with an old flannel petticoat before the waning fire. Then I saw herbend over and pat the head of the puppy with her knotted hand before shecrept noiselessly back to bed. 

At this day I see her figure as distinctly as I saw it that instant bythe candle flame--her soiled grey wrapper clutched over her flat bosom;her sallow, sharp-featured face, with bluish hollows in the temples overwhich her sparse hair strayed in locks; her thin, stooping shouldersunder the knitted shawl; her sad, flint-coloured eyes, holding alwaysthat anxious look as if she were trying to remember some important thingwhich she had half forgotten. 

So she appeared to my startled gaze for a single minute. Then the lightwent out, she faded into the darkness, and I fell asleep. 

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH I PLAY IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

For the next two years, when my mother sent me on errands to McKenney'sgrocery store, or for a pitcher of milk to old Mrs. Triffit's, who kepta fascinating green parrot hanging under an arbour of musk clusterroses, it was my habit to run five or six blocks out of my way, andmeasure my growing height against the wall of the enchanted garden. Onthe worn bricks, unless they have crumbled away, there may still be seenthe scratches from my penknife, by which I tried to persuade myself thateach rapidly passing week marked a visible increase in my stature. Though I was a big boy for my age, the top of my straw-coloured hairreached barely halfway up the spiked wall; and standing on my tiptoes myhands still came far below the grim iron teeth at the top. Yet Icontinued to measure myself, week by week, against the barrier, until atlast the zigzag scratches from my knife began to cover the bricks. 

It was on a warm morning in spring during my ninth year, that, while Istood vigorously scraping the wall over my head, I heard a voicespeaking in indignant tones at my back. 

"You bad boy, what are you doing?" it said. 

Wheeling about, I stood again face to face with the little girl of thered shoes and the dancing feet. Except for her shoes she was dressed allin white just as I had last seen her, and this time, I saw with disgust, she held a whining and sickly kitten clasped to her breast. 

"I know you are doing something you ought not to, " she repeated, "whatis it?"

"Nothink, " I responded, and stared at her red shoes like one possessed. 

"Then why were you crawling so close along the wall to keep me fromseeing you?"

"I wa'nt. "

"You wa'nt what?"

"I wa'nt crawlin' along the wall; I was just tryin' to look in, " Ianswered defiantly. 

An old negro "mammy, " in a snowy kerchief and apron, appeared suddenlyaround the corner near which we stood, and made a grab at the child'sshoulder. 

"You jes let 'im alont, honey, en he ain' gwine hu't you, " she said. 

"He won't hurt me anyway, " replied the little girl, as if I were asuspicious strange dog, "I'm not afraid of him. "

Then she made a step forward and held the whining grey kitten toward me. 

"Don't you want a cat, boy?" she asked, in a coaxing tone. 

My hands flew to my back, and the only reason I did not retreat beforeher determined advance was that I could hardly retreat into a brickwall. 

"I've just found it in the alley a minute ago, " she explained. "It'svery little. I'd like to keep it, only I've got six already. "

"I don't like cats, " I replied stubbornly, shaking my head. "I saw PeterFinn's dog kill one. He shook it by the neck till it was dead. I'm goin'to train my dog to kill 'em, too. "

Raising herself on the toes of her red shoes, she bent upon me a look soscorching that it might have burned a passage straight through me intothe bricks. 

"I knew you were a horrid bad boy. You looked it!" she cried. 

At this I saw in my imagination the closed gate of the enchanted garden, and my budding sportsman's proclivities withered in the white blaze ofher wrath. 

"I don't reckon I'll train him to catch 'em by the back of thar necks, "I hastened to add. 

At this she turned toward me again, her whole vivid little face with itsred mouth and arched black eyebrows inspired by a solemn purpose. 

"If you'll promise never, never to kill a cat, I'll let you come intothe garden--for a minute, " she said. 

I hesitated for an instant, dazzled by the prospect and yet bargainingfor better terms. "Will you let me walk under the arbours and down allthe box-bordered paths?"

She nodded. "Just once, " she responded gravely. 

"An' may I play under the trees on the terrace where you built yo'houses of moss and stones?"

"For a little while. But I can't play with you because--because youdon't look clean. "

My heart sank like lead to my waist line, and I looked down ashamed atmy dirty hands. 

"I--I'd rather play with you, " I faltered. 

"Fur de Lawd's sake, honey, come in en let dat ar gutter limb alont, "exclaimed the old negress, wagging her turbaned head. 

"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, " said her charge, after a deepmoment; "I'll let you play with me for a little while if you'll take thecat. "

"But I ain't got any use for it, " I stammered. 

"Take it home for a pet. Grandmama won't let any more come on the place. She's very cruel is grandmama, isn't she, mammy?"

"Go way, chile, dar ain' nobody dat 'ould want all dem ar critters, "rejoined the old negress. 

"_I_ do, " said the little girl, and sighed softly. 

"I'll take it home with me, " I began desperately at last, "if you'll letme play with you the whole evening. "

"And take you into the house?"

"An' take me into the house, " I repeated doggedly. 

Her glance brushed me from head to foot, while I writhed under it, "Iwonder why you don't wash your face, " she observed in her cool, impersonal manner. 

I fell back a step and stared defiantly at the ground. 

"I ain't got any water, " I answered, driven to bay. 

"I think if you'd wash it ever so hard and brush your hair flat on yourhead, you'd look very nice--for a boy, " she remarked. "I like your eyesbecause they're blue, and I have a dog with blue eyes exactly likeyours. Did you ever see a blue-eyed dog? He's a collie. But your hairstands always on end and it's the colour of straw. "

"It growed that way, " I returned. "You can't get it to be flat. Ma hastried. "

"I bet I could, " she rejoined, and caught at the old woman's hand. "Thisis my mammy an' her name is Euphronasia, an' she's got blue eyes an'golden hair, " she cried, beginning to dance up and down in her redshoes. 

"Gawd erlive, lamb, I'se ez black ez a crow's foot, " protested the oldwoman, at which the dance of the red shoes changed into a stamp ofanger. 

"You aren't!--You aren't! You've got blue eyes an' golden hair!"screamed the child. "I won't let you say you haven't, --I won't letanybody say you haven't!"

It took a few minutes to pacify her, during which the old negressperjured herself to the extent of declaring on her word of honour thatshe _had_ blue eyes and golden hair; and when the temper of her "lamb"was appeased, we turned the corner, approached the front of the house, and ascended the bright bow of steps. As we entered the wide hall, myheart thumped so violently that I hurriedly buttoned my coat lest thelittle girl should hear the sound and turn indignantly to accuse, me ofdisturbing the peace. Then as the front door closed softly behind us, Istood blinking nervously in the dim green light which entered throughthe row of columns at the rear, beyond which I saw the curving stairwayand the two miniature yew trees at its foot. There was a strange mustysmell about the house--a smell that brings to me now, when I find it inold and unlighted buildings, the memory of the high ceiling, the shiningfloor over which I moved so cautiously, and the long melancholy rows ofmoth-eaten stags' heads upon the wall. 

A door at the far end was half open, and inside the room there were twoladies--one of them very little and old and shrivelled, and the other apretty, brown-haired, pliant creature, whom I recognised instantly asour visitor of that stormy October evening more than two years ago. Shewas reading aloud when we entered, in a voice which sounded so soft andpious that I wondered if I ought to fold my hands and bow my head as Ihad been taught to do in the infant Sunday-school. 

"Be careful not to mush your words, Sarah; the habit is growing uponyou, " remarked the elder lady in a sharp, imperative tone. 

"Shall I read it over, mother? I will try to speak more distinctly, "returned the other submissively, and she began again a long paragraphwhich, I gathered vaguely, related to that outward humility which is thebecoming and appropriate garment for a race of miserable sinners. 

"That is better, " commented the old lady, in an utterly ungratefulmanner, "though you have never succeeded in properly rolling your r's. There, that will do for to-day, we will continue the sermon uponHumility to-morrow. "

She was so little and thin and wrinkled that it was a mystery to me, asI looked at her, how she managed to express so much authority through sosmall a medium. The chair in which she sat seemed almost to swallow herin its high arms of faded green leather; and out of her wide, gatheredskirt of brocade, her body rose very erect, like one of my mother'sblack-headed bonnet pins out of her draped pincushion. On her head therewas a cap of lace trimmed gayly with purple ribbons, and beneath thisfestive adornment, a fringe of false curls, still brown and lustrous, lent a ghastly coquetry to her mummied features. In the square ofsunshine, between the gauze curtains at the window, a green parrot, in awire cage, was scolding viciously while it pecked at a bit ofsponge-cake from its mistress's hand. At the time I was too badlyfrightened to notice the wonderful space and richness of the room, withits carved rosewood bookcases, and its dim portraits of beruffledcavaliers and gravely smiling ladies. 

"Sally, " said the old lady, turning upon me a piercing glance which waslike the flash of steel in the sunlight, "is that a boy?"

Going over to the armchair, the little girl stood holding the kittenbehind her, while she kissed her grandmother's cheek. 

"What is it, Sally, dear?" asked the younger woman, closing her bookwith a sigh. 

"It's a boy, mamma, " answered the child. 

At this the old lady stiffened on her velvet cushions. "I thought I hadtold you, Sally, " she remarked icily, "that there is nothing that Iobject to so much as a boy. Dogs and cats I have tolerated in silence, but since I have been in this house no boy has set foot inside thedoors. "

"I am sure, dear mamma, that Sally did not mean to disobey you, "murmured the younger woman, almost in tears. 

"Yes, I did, mamma, " answered the child, gravely, "I meant to disobeyher. But he has such nice blue eyes, " she went on eagerly, her lipsglowing as she talked until they matched the bright red of her dancingshoes; "an' he's goin' to take a kitten home for a pet, an' he says thereason he doesn't wash his face is because he hasn't any water. "

"Is it possible, " enquired the old lady in the manner of her peckingparrot, "that he does not wash his face?"

My pride could bear it no longer, and opening my mouth I spoke in aloud, high voice. 

"If you please, ma'am, I wash my face every day, " I said, "and all overevery Saturday night. "

She was still feeding the parrot with a bit of cake, and as I spoke, sheturned toward me and waved one of her wiry little hands, which remindedme of a bird's claw, under its ruffle of yellowed lace. 

"Bring him here, Sally, and let me see him, " she directed, as if I hadbeen some newly entrapped savage beast. 

Catching me by the arm, Sally obediently led me to the armchair, where Istood awkward and trembling, with my hands clutching the flaps of mybreeches' pockets, and my eyes on the ground. 

For a long pause the old lady surveyed me critically with her mercilesseyes. Then, "Give him a piece of cake, Sally, " she remarked, when theexamination was over. 

Sally's mother had come up softly behind me while I writhed under thepiercing gaze, and bending over she encircled my shoulders with herprotecting arms. 

"He's a dear little fellow, with such pretty blue eyes, " she said. 

As she spoke I looked up for the first time, and my glance met myreflection in a long, gold-framed mirror hanging between the windows. The "pretty blue eyes" I saw, but I saw also the straw-coloured hair, the broad nose sprinkled with freckles, and the sturdy legs disguised bythe shapeless breeches, which my mother had cut out of a discardeddolman she had once worn to funerals. It was a figure which might haveraised a laugh in the ill-disposed, but the women before me carried kindhearts in their bosoms, and even grandmama's chilling scrutiny ended innothing worse than a present of cake. 

"May I play with him just a little while, grandmama?" begged Sally, andwhen the old lady nodded permission, we joined hands and went throughthe open window out upon the sunny porch. 

On that spring morning the colours of the garden were all clear whiteand purple, for at the foot of the curving stairway, and on the upperterrace, bunches of lilacs bloomed high above the small spring flowersthat bordered the walk. Beneath the fluted columns a single greatsnowball bush appeared to float like a cloud in the warm wind. As wewent together down the winding path to the box maze which was sprinkledwith tender green, a squirrel, darting out of one of the latticedarbours, stopped motionless in the walk and sat looking up at us with apair of bright, suspicious eyes. 

"I reckon I could make him skeet, if I wanted to, " I remarked, embarrassed rather than malevolent. 

Her glance dwelt on me thoughtfully for a moment, while she stood there, kicking a pebble with the toe of a red shoe. 

"An' I reckon I could make _you_ skeet, if I wanted to, " she repliedwith composure. 

Since the parade of mere masculinity had failed to impress her, Iresorted to subtler measures, and kneeling among the small springflowers which powdered the lower terrace, I began laboriously erecting apalace of moss and stones. 

"I make one every evening, but when the ghosts come out and walk up an'down, they scatter them, " observed Sally, hanging attentively upon thework. 

"Are there ghosts here really an' have you seen 'em?" I asked. 

Stretching out her hand, she swept it in a circle over the growingpalace. "They are all around here--everywhere, " she answered. "I sawthem one night when I was running away from my father. Mamma and I hidin that big box bush down there, an' the ghosts came and walked allabout us. Do you have to run away from your father, too?"

For an instant I hesitated; then my pride triumphed magnificently overmy truthfulness. "I ran clear out to the hill an' all the way down it, "I rejoined. 

"Is his face red and awful?"

"As red as--as an apple. "

"An apple ain't awful. "

"But he is. I wish you could see him. "

"Would he kill you if he caught you?"

"He--he'd eat me, " I panted. 

She sighed gravely. "I wonder if all fathers are like that?" she said. "Anyway, I don't believe yours is as bad as mine. "

"I'd like to know why he ain't?" I protested indignantly. 

Her lips quivered and went upward at the corners with a trick ofexpression which I found irresistible even then. 

"It's a pity that it's time for you to go home, " she observed politely. 

"I reckon I can stay a little while longer, " I returned. 

She shook her head, but I had already gone back to the unfinishedpalace, and as the work progressed, she forgot her hint of dismissal inwatching the fairy towers. We were still absorbed in the building whenher mother came down the curving stairway and into the maze of box. 

"It's time for you to run home now, pretty blue eyes, " she said in hersoft girlish way. Then catching our hands in hers, she turned with amerry laugh, and ran with us up the terraced walk. 

"Is your mamma as beautiful as mine?" asked Sally, when we came to abreathless stop. 

"She's as beautiful as--as a wax doll, " I replied stoutly. 

"That's right, " laughed the lady, stooping to kiss me. "You're a dearboy. Tell your mother I said so. "

She went slowly up the steps as she spoke, and when I looked back amoment later, I saw her smiling down on me between two great columns, with the snowball bush floating in the warm wind beneath her and theswallows flying low in the sunshine over her head. 

I had opened the side gate, when I felt a soft, furry touch on my hand, and Sally thrust the forgotten kitten into my arms. 

"Be good to her, " she said pleadingly. "Her name's Florabella. "

Resisting a dastardly impulse to forswear my bargain, I tucked themewing kitten under my coat, where it clawed me unobserved by anyjeering boy in the street. Passing Mrs. Cudlip's house on my way home, Inoticed at once that the window stood invitingly open, and yielding witha quaking heart to temptation, I leaned inside the vacant room, anddropped Florabella in the centre of the old lady's easy chair. Then, fearful of capture, I darted along the pavement and flung myselfbreathlessly across our doorstep. 

A group of neighbours was gathered in the centre of our littlesitting-room, and among them I recognised the flushed, perspiring faceof Mrs. Cudlip herself. As I entered, the women fell slightly apart, andI saw that they regarded me with startled, compassionate glances. Aqueer, strong smell of drugs was in the air, and near the kitchen doormy father was standing with a frightened and sheepish look on his face, as if he had been thrust suddenly into a prominence from which he shrankback abashed. 

"Where's ma?" I asked, and my voice sounded loud and unnatural in my ownears. 

One of the women--a large, motherly person, whom I remembered withoutrecognising, crossed the room with a heavy step and took me into herarms. At this day I can feel the deep yielding expanse of her bosom, when pushing her from me, I looked round and repeated my question in alouder tone. 

"Where's ma?"

"She was took of a sudden, dear, " replied the woman, still straining meto her. "It came over her while she was standin' at the stove, an' befo'anybody could reach her, she dropped right down an' was gone. "

She released me as she finished, and walking straight through thekitchen and the consoling neighbours, I opened the back door, andclosing it after me, sat down on the single step. I can't remember thatI shed a tear or that I suffered, but I can still see as plainly as ifit were yesterday, the clothes-line stretching across the little yardand the fluttering, half-dried garments along it. There was a stripedshirt of my father's, a faded blue one of mine, a pink slip of babyJessy's, and a patched blue and white gingham apron I had seen only thatmorning tied at my mother's waist. Between the high board fence, abovethe sunken bricks of the yard, they danced as gayly as if she who hadhung them there was not lying dead in the house. Samuel, trotting from asunny corner, crept close to my side, with his warm tongue licking myhand, and so I sat for an hour watching the flutter of the blue, thepink, and the striped shirts on the clothes-line. 

"There ain't nobody to iron 'em now, " I said suddenly to Samuel, andthen I wept. 

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH I START IN LIFE

With my mother's death all that was homelike and comfortable passed fromour little house. For three days after the funeral the neglected clothesstill hung on the line in the back yard, but on the fourth morning aslatternly girl, with red hair and arms, came from the grocery store atthe corner, and gathered them in. My little sister was put to nurse withMrs. Cudlip next door, and when, at the end of the week, President wentoff to work somewhere in a mining town in West Virginia, my father and Iwere left alone, except for the spasmodic appearances of the red-hairedslattern. Gradually the dust began to settle and thicken on the driedcat-tails in the china vases upon the mantel; the "prize" red geraniumdropped its blossoms and withered upon the sill; the soaking dish-clothslay in a sloppy pile on the kitchen floor; and the vegetable rinds wereleft carelessly to rot in the bucket beside the sink. The old neatnessand order had departed before the garments my mother had washed werereturned again to the tub, and day after day I saw my father shake hishead dismally over the soggy bread and the underdone beef. Whether ornot he ever realised that it was my mother's hand that had kept himabove the surface of life, I shall never know; but when that stronggrasp was relaxed, he went hopelessly, irretrievably, and unresistinglyunder. In the beginning there was merely a general wildness and disorderin his appearance, --first one button, then two, then three dropped fromhis coat. After that his linen was changed less often, his hair allowedto spread more stiffly above his forehead, and the old ashes from hispipe dislodged less frequently from the creases in his striped shirt. Atthe end of three months I noticed a new fact about him--a penetratingodour of alcohol which belonged to the very air he breathed. His mindgrew slower and seemed at last almost to stop; his blue eyes becameheavier and glazed at times; and presently he fell into the habit ofgoing out in the evenings, and not returning until I had cried myself tosleep, under my tattered quilt, with Samuel hugged close in my arms. Sometimes the red-haired girl would stop after her work for a fewfriendly words, proving that a slovenly exterior is by no meansincompatible with a kindly heart; but as a usual thing I was left alone, after the boys had gone home from their play in the street, to amusemyself and Samuel as I could through the long evening hours. Sometimes Ibrought in an apple or a handful of chestnuts given me by one of theneighbours and roasted them before the remnants of fire in the stove. Once or twice I opened my mother's closet and took down her clothes--herbest bombazine dress, her black cashmere mantle trimmed with bugles, herlong rustling crape veil, folded neatly beneath her bonnet in the tallbandbox--and half in grief, half in curiosity, I invaded those sacredprecincts where my hands had never dared penetrate while she was alive. My great loss, from which probably in more cheerful surroundings Ishould have recovered in a few weeks, was renewed in me every evening bymy loneliness and by the dumb sympathy of Samuel, who would standwagging his tail for an hour at the sight of the cloak or the bonnetthat she had worn. Like my father I grew more unkempt and ragged everyday I lived. I ceased to wash myself, because there was nobody to makeme. My buttons dropped off one by one and nobody scolded. I dared nolonger go near the gate of the enchanted garden, fearing that if thelittle girl were to catch sight of me, she would call me "dirty, " andrun away in disgust. Occasionally my father would clap me upon theshoulder at breakfast, enquire how I was getting along, and give me arusty copper to spend. But for the greater part of the time, I believe, he was hardly aware of my existence; the vacant, flushed look was almostalways in his face when we met, and he stayed out so late in the eveningthat it was not often his stumbling footsteps aroused me when he cameupstairs to bed. 

So accustomed had I become to my lonely hours by the kitchen stove, withSamuel curled up at my feet, that when one night, about six months aftermy mother's death, I heard the unexpected sound of my father's tread onthe pavement outside, I turned almost with a feeling of terror, andwaited breathlessly for his unsteady hand on the door. It came after aminute, followed immediately by his entrance into the kitchen, and to myamazement I saw presently that he was accompanied by a strange woman, whom I recognised at a glance as one of those examples of her sex thatmy mother had been used to classify sweepingly as "females. " She wasplump and jaunty, with yellow hair that hung in tight ringlets down toher neck, and pink cheeks that looked as if they might "come off" ifthey were thoroughly scrubbed. There was about her a spring, a bounce, an animation that impressed me, in spite of my inherited moral sense, asdecidedly elegant. 

My father's eyes looked more vacant and his face fuller than ever. "Benjy, " he began at once in a husky voice, while his companion releasedhis arm in order to put her ringlets to rights, "I've brought you a newmother. "

At this the female's hands fell from her hair, and she looked round inhorror. "What boy is that, Thomas?" she demanded, poised there in allher flashing brightness like a figure of polished brass. 

"That boy, " replied my father, as if at a loss exactly how to accountfor me, "that boy is Ben Starr--otherwise Benjy--otherwise--"

He would have gone on forever, I think, in his eagerness to explain meaway, if the woman had not jerked him up with a peremptory question:"How did he come here?" she enquired. 

Since nothing but the naked truth would avail him now, he uttered it atlast in an eloquent monosyllable--"Born. "

"But you told me there was not a chick or a child, " she exclaimed in arage. 

For a moment he hesitated; then opening his mouth slowly, he gave voiceto the single witticism of his life. 

"That was befo' I married you, dearie, " he said. 

"Well, how am I to know, " demanded the female, "that you haven't got aparcel of others hidden away?"

"Thar's one, the littlest, put out to nurse next do', an' another, thebiggest, gone to work in the West, " he returned in his amiable, childishmanner. 

After my unfortunate introduction, however, the addition of a greaterand a lesser appeared to impress her but little. She looked scornfullyabout the disorderly room, took off her big, florid bonnet, and beganarranging her hair before the three-cornered mottled mirror on the wall. Then wheeling round in a temper, her eyes fell on Samuel, sittingdejectedly on his tail by my mother's old blue and white gingham apron. 

"What is that?" she fired straight into my father's face. 

"That, " he responded, offering his unnecessary information as if it werea piece of flattery, "air the dawg, Sukey. "

"Whose dawg?"

Goaded into defiance by this attack on my only friend, I spoke in ashrill voice from the corner into which I had retreated. "Mine, " I said. 

"Wall, I'll tell you what!" exclaimed the female, charging suddenly uponme, "if I've got to put up with a chance o' kids, I don't reckon I'vegot to be plagued with critters, too. Shoo, suh! get out!"

Seizing my mother's broom, she advanced resolutely to the attack, and aninstant later, to my loud distress and to Samuel's unspeakable horror, she had whisked him across the kitchen and through the back door outinto the yard. 

"Steady, Sukey, steady, " remarked my father caressingly, much as hemight have spoken to a favourite but unruly heifer. For an instant helooked a little crestfallen, I saw with pleasure, but as soon as Samuelwas outside and the door had closed, he resumed immediately his usualexpression of foolish good humour. It was impossible, I think, for himto retain an idea in his mind after the object of it had been removedfrom his sight. While I was still drying my eyes on my frayed coatsleeve, I watched him with resentment begin a series of playful lungesat the neck of the female, which she received with a sulky andforbidding air. Stealing away the next minute, I softly opened the backdoor and joined the outcast Samuel, where he sat whining upon the step. 

The night was very dark, but beyond the looming chimneys a lonely starwinked at me through the thick covering of clouds. I was a sturdy boyfor my age, sound in body, and inwardly not given to sentiment orsoftness of any kind; but as I sat there on the doorstep, I felt a lumprise in my throat at the thought that Samuel and I were two smalloutcast animals in the midst of a shivering world. I remembered thatwhen my mother was alive I had never let her kiss me except when shepaid me by a copper or a slice of bread laid thickly with blackberryjam; and I told myself desperately that if she could only come back now, I would let her do it for nothing! She might even whip me because I'dtorn my trousers on the back fence, and I thought I should hardly feelit. I recalled her last birthday, when I had gone down to the marketwith five cents of my own to buy her some green gage plums, of which shewas very fond, and how on the way up the hill, being tempted, I hadeaten them all myself. At the time I had stifled my remorse with theassurance that she would far rather I should have the plums than eatthem herself, but this was cold comfort to me to-night while I regrettedmy selfishness. If I had only saved her half, as I had meant to do ifthe hill had not been quite so long and so steep. 

Samuel snuggled closer to me and we both shivered, for the night wasfresh. The house had grown quiet inside; my father and his new wife hadevidently left the kitchen and gone upstairs. As I sat there I realisedsuddenly, with a pang, that I could never go inside the door again; andrising to my feet, I struck a match and fumbled for a piece of chalk inmy pocket. Then standing before the door I wrote in large letters acrossthe panel:--

 "DEAR PA. I have gone to work. Your Aff. Son, BEN STARR. "

The blue flame of the match flickered an instant along the words; thenit went out, and with Samuel at my heels, I crept through the back gateand down the alley to the next street, which led to the ragged brow ofthe hill. Ahead of me, as I turned off into Main Street, the scatteredlights of the city showed like blurred patches upon the darkness. Gradually, while I went rapidly downhill, I saw the patches change intoa nebulous cloud, and the cloud resolve itself presently into straightrows of lamps. Few people were in the streets at that hour, and when Ireached the dim building of the Old Market, I found it cold anddeserted, except for a stray cur or two that snarled at Samuel from aheap of trodden straw under a covered wagon. Despite the fact that I wasfor all immediate purposes as homeless as the snarling curs, I was notwithout the quickened pulses which attend any situation that a boy mayturn to an adventure. A high heart for desperate circumstances has neverfailed me, and it bore me company that night when I came back again withaching feet to the Old Market, and lay down, holding Samuel tight, on apile of straw. 

In a little while I awoke because Samuel was barking, and sitting up inthe straw I saw a dim shape huddled beside me, which I made out, after afew startled blinks, to be the bent figure of a woman wrapped in a blackshawl with fringed ends, which were pulled over her head and knottedunder her chin. From the penetrating odour I had learned to associatewith my father, I judged that she had been lately drinking, and thetumbled state of my coat convinced me that she had been frustrated bySamuel in a base design to rifle my pockets. Yet she appeared somiserable as she sat there rocking from side to side and crying toherself, that I began all at once to feel very sorry. It seemed to hurther to cry and yet I saw that the more it hurt her the more she cried. 

"If I were you, " I suggested politely, "I'd go home right away. "

"Home?" repeated the woman, with a hiccough, "what's home?"

"The place you live in. "

"Lor, honey, I don't live in no place. I jest walks. "

"But what do you do when you get tired?"

"I walks some mo'. "

"An' don't you ever leave off?"

"Only when it's dark like this an' thar's no folks about. "

"But what do folks say to you when they see you walkin'?"

"Say to me, " she threw back her head and broke into a drunken laugh, "why, they say to me: 'Step lively!'"

She crawled closer, peering at me greedily under the pale glimmer of thestreet lamp. 

"Why, you're a darlin' of a boy, " she said, "an' such pretty blue eyes!"Then she rose to her feet and stood swaying unsteadily above me, whileSamuel broke out into angry barks. "Shall I tell you a secret because ofyo' blue eyes?" she asked. "It's this--whatever you do in this world, you step lively about it. I've done a heap of lookin' an' I've seen theones who get on are the ones who step the liveliest. It ain't no matterwhere you're goin', it ain't no matter who's befo' you, if you want toget there first, step lively!"

She went out, taking her awful secret with her, and turning over I fellasleep again on my pile of straw. "If ever I have a dollar I'll give itto her so she may stop walkin', " was my last conscious thought. 

My next awakening was a very different one, for the light was streaminginto the market, and a cheerful red face was shining down, like a risingsun, over a wheelbarrow of vegetables. 

"Don't you think it's about time all honest folk were out of bed, sonny?" enquired a voice. 

"I ain't been here mo'n an hour, " I retorted, resenting the imputationof slothfulness with a spirit that was not unworthy of my mother. 

The open length of the market, I saw now, was beginning to present abusy, almost a festive, air. Stalls were already laden with fruit andvegetables, and farmers' wagons covered with canvas, and driven bysunburnt countrymen, had drawn up to the sidewalk. Rising hurriedly tomy feet, I began rubbing my eyes, for I had been dreaming of thefragrance of bacon in our little kitchen. 

"Now I'd be up an' off to home, if I were you, sonny, " observed themarketman, planting his wheelbarrow of vegetables on the brick floor, and beginning to wipe off the stall. "The sooner you take yo' whippin', the sooner you'll set easy again. "

"There ain't anybody to whip me, " I replied dolefully, staring at thesign over his head, on which was painted in large letters--"JohnChitling. Fish, Oysters (in season). Vegetables. Fruits. "

Stopping midway in his preparations, he turned on me his great beamingface, so like the rising sun that looked over his shoulder, while Iwatched his big jean apron swell with the panting breaths that drew fromhis stomach. 

"Here's a boy that says he ain't got nobody to whip him!" he exclaimedto his neighbours in the surrounding stalls, --a poultryman, covered withfeathers, a fish vender, bearing a string of mackerel in either hand, and a butcher, with his sleeves rolled up and a blood-stained apronabout his waist. 

"I al'ays knew you were thick-headed, John Chitling, " remarked the fishdealer, with contempt, "but I never believed you were such a plum foolas not to know a tramp when you seed him. "

"You ain't got but eleven of yo' own, " observed the butcher, with asnicker; "I reckon you'd better take him along to round out the fulldozen. "

"If I've got eleven there ain't one of 'em that wa'nt welcome, "responded John, his slow temper rising, "an' I reckon what the Lordsends he's willing to provide for. "

"Oh, I reckon he is, " sneered the fish dealer, who appeared to be of anunpleasant disposition, "so long as you ain't over-particular about thequality of the provision. "

"Well, he don't provide us with yo' fish, anyway, " retorted John; and Iwas watching excitedly for the coming blows when the butcher, who hadbeen looking over me as reflectively as if I had been a spring lambbrought to slaughter, intervened with a peaceable suggestion that heshould take me into his service. 

"I'm on the lookout for a bright boy in my business, " he observed. 

But the sight of blood on his rolled-up shirt sleeves produced in methat strange sickness I had inherited from my mother, who used to pay anold coloured market man to come up and wring the necks of her chickens;and when the question was put to me if I'd like to be trained up for abutcher, I drew back and stood ready for instant flight in case theyshould attempt' to decide my future by present force. 

"I'd rather work for you, " I said, looking straight at John Chitling, for it occurred to me that if I were made to murder anything I'd ratherit would be oysters. 

"Ha! ha! he knows by the look of you, you're needin' one to make up thedozen, " exclaimed the butcher. 

"Well, I declar he does seem to have taken a regular fancy, "acknowledged John, flattered by my decision. "I don't want any realhands now, sonny, but if you'd like to tote the marketing around withSolomon, I reckon I can let you have a square meal or so along with theothers. "

"What'll yo' old woman say to it, John?" enquired the poultryman, with aloud guffaw, "when you send her a new one of yo' own providin'?"

John Chitling was busily arranging a pile of turnips with what hedoubtless thought was an artistic eye for colour, and the facetiousnessof the poultryman reacted harmlessly from his thick head. 

"You needn't worry about my wife, for she ain't worryin', " he rejoined, and the shine seemed to gather like moisture on his round red face underhis shock of curling red hair. "She takes what comes an' leaves the Lordto do the tendin'. "

At this a shout went up which I did not understand, until I came to knowlater that an impression existed in the neighbourhood that the Chitlingshad left entirely too much of the bringing up of their eleven childrenin the hands of Providence, who in turn had left them quite ascomplacently to the care of the gutter. 

"I don't know but what too much trust in the Lord don't work as badly astoo little, " observed the fish dealer, while John went on placidlyarranging his turnips and carrots. "What appears to me to be bestreligion for a working-man is to hold a kind of middle strip betweenfaith and downright disbelievin'. Let yo' soul trust to the Lord'slookin' arter you, but never let yo' hands get so much as an inklin'that you're a-trustin'. Yes, the safest way is to believe in the Lord onSunday, an' on Monday to go to work as if you wa'nt quite sosartain-sure. "

A long finger of sunshine stretched from beyond the chimneys across thestreet, and pointed straight to the vegetables on John Chitling'scounter, until the onions glistened like silver balls, and the turnipsand carrots sent out flashes of dull red and bright orange. 

"I'll let you overhaul a barrel of apples, sonny, " said the big man tome; "have you got a sharp eye for specks?"

When I replied that I thought I had, he pointed to a barrel from whichthe top had been recently knocked. "They're to be sorted in piles, according to size, " he explained, and added, "For such is thecontrariness of human nature that there are some folks as can't see theapple for the speck, an' others that would a long ways rather have thespeck than the apple. I've one old gentleman for a customer who can'tenjoy eatin' a pippin unless he can find one with a spot that won't keeptill to-morrow. "

Kneeling down on the bricks, as he directed, I sorted the yellow applesuntil, growing presently faint from hunger, I began to gaze longingly, Isuppose, at the string of fish hanging above my head. 

"Maybe you'd like to run across an' get a bite of somethin' befo' you goon, " suggested John, reading my glances. 

But I only shook my head, in spite of my gnawing stomach, and went ondoggedly with my sorting, impelled by an inherent determination to dowith the best of me whatever I undertook to do at all. To the possessionof this trait, I can see now in looking back, I have owed any success orachievement that has been mine--neither to brains nor to chance, butsimply to that instinct to hold fast which was bred in my bone andstructure. For the lack of this quality I have seen men with greaterintellects, with far quicker wits than mine, go down in the struggle. Brilliancy I have not, nor any particular outward advantage, except thatof size and muscle; but when I was once in the race, I could never seeto right or to left of me, only straight ahead to the goal. 

Overhead the sun had risen slowly higher, until the open spaces and thebrick arches were flooded with light. If I had turned I should have seenthe gay vegetable stalls blooming like garden beds down the dim lengthof the building. The voices of the market men floated toward me, nowquarrelling, now laughing, now raised to shout at a careless negro or aprowling dog. I heard the sounds, and I smelt the strong smell of fishfrom the gleaming strings of perch and mackerel hanging across the way. But through it all I did not look up and I did not turn. My first pieceof work was done with the high determination to do it well, and it hasbeen my conviction from that morning that if I had slighted that barrelof apples, I should have failed inevitably in my career. 

CHAPTER VI

CONCERNING CARROTS

When I had finished my work, I rose from my knees and stood waiting forJohn Chitling's directions. 

"Run along to the next street, " he said kindly, "an' you can tell myhouse, I reckon, by the number of children in the gutter. It's the housewith the most children befo' it. You'll find my wife cookin', likelyenough, in the kitchen, an' all you've got to say is that I told you totell her that you were hungry. She won't ax you many questions, --thatain't her way, --but she'll jest set to work an' feed you. "

Reassured by this description, I whistled to Samuel, and crossed thenarrow street, crowded with farmers' wagons and empty wheelbarrows, to arow of dingy houses, with darkened basements, which began at the corner. By the number of ragged and unwashed children playing among the old tincans in the gutter before the second doorway, I concluded that this wasthe home of John Chitling; and I was about to enter the close, dimlylighted passage, when a chorus of piercing screams from the smallChitlings outside, brought before me a large, slovenly woman, withslipshod shoes, and a row of curl papers above her forehead. When shereached the doorway, a small crowd had already gathered upon thepavement, and I beheld a half-naked urchin of a year or thereabouts, dangled, head downwards, by the hand of a passing milkman. 

"The baby's gone an' swallowed a cent, ma, " shrieked a half-dozen treblevoices. 

"Well, the Lord be praised that it wa'nt a quarter!" exclaimed Mrs. Chitling, with a cheerful piety, which impressed me hardly less than didthe placid face with which she gazed upon the howling baby. "There, there, it ain't near so bad as it might have been. Don't scream so, Tommy, a cent won't choke him an' a quarter might have. "

"But it was _my cent_, an' I ain't got a quarter!" roared Tommy, stillunconsoled. 

"Well, I'll give you a quarter when my ship comes in, " responded hismother, at which the grief of the small financier began gradually tosubside. 

"I had it right in my hand, " he sniffled, with his knuckles at his eyes, "an' I jest put it into the baby's mouth for keepin'. "

By this time Mrs. Chitling had received the baby into her arms, andturning with an unruffled manner, she bore him into the house, where shestopped his mouth with a spoonful of blackberry jam. As she replaced thejar on the shelf she looked down, and for the first time became aware ofmy presence. 

"He ain't swallowed anything of yours, has he?" she enquired. "If he hasyou'll have to put the complaint in writing because the neighbours areal'ays comin' to me for the things that are inside of him. I've neverbeen able to shake anything out of him, " she added placidly, "except oneof Mrs. Haskin's bugle beads. "

She delivered this with such perfect amiability that I was emboldened tosay in my politest manner, "If you please, ma'am, Mr. Chitling told me Iwas to say that he said that I was hungry. "

"So the baby really ain't took anything of yours?" she asked, relieved. "Well, I al'ays said he didn't do half the damage they accused him of. "

As I possessed nothing except the clothes in which I stood, and eventhat elastic urchin could hardly have accommodated these, I hastened toassure her that I was the bearer of no complaint. This appeared to winher entirely, and her large motherly face beamed upon me beneath theaureole of curl papers that radiated from her forehead. With a singlemovement she cleared a space on the disorderly kitchen table and slappeddown a plate, with a piece missing, as if the baby had taken a bite outof it. 

"To think of yo' goin' hungry at yo' age an' without a mother, " shesaid, opening a safe, and whipping several slices of bacon and a coupleof eggs into a skillet. "Why, it would make me turn in my grave if Ithought of one of my eleven wantin' a bite of meat an' not havin' it. "

As she switched about in her cheerful, slovenly way, I saw that herskirt had sagged at the back into what appeared to be an habitual gap, and from beneath it there showed a black calico petticoat of a dingyshade. But when a little later she sat me at the table, with Samuel'sbreakfast on the floor beside me, I forgot her slatternly dress, herhalo of curl papers, and her slipshod shoes, while I plied my fork andmy fingers under the motherly effulgence of her smile. Tied into a highchair in one corner, the baby sat bolt upright, with his thumb in hismouth, deriving apparently the greatest enjoyment from watching myappetite; and before I had finished, the ten cheerful children troopedin and gathered about me. "Give him another cake, ma!" "It's my turn tohelp him next, ma!" "I'll pour out his coffee for him!" "Oh, ma, let mefeed the dog, " rose in a jubilant chorus of shrieks. 

"An' he ain't got any mother!" roared Tommy suddenly, and burst intotears. 

A sob lodged in my throat, but before the choking sound of it reached myears, I felt myself enfolded in Mrs. Chitling's embrace. As I looked upat her from this haven of refuge, it seemed to me that her curl paperswere transfigured into a halo, and that her face shone with a heavenlybeauty. 

I was given a bed in the attic, with the six younger Chitlings, and twodays later, when my father tracked me to my hiding-place, I hid underthe dark staircase in the hall, and heard my protector deliver aneloquent invective on the subject of stepmothers. It was the oneoccasion in my long acquaintance with her when I saw her fairly rousedout of her amiable inertia. Albemarle, the baby, had spilled bacon gravyover her dress that very morning, and I had heard her console himimmediately with the assurance that there was "a plenty more in thedish. " But possessed though she was with that peculiar insight whichdiscerns in every misfortune a hidden blessing, in stepmothers, I found, and in stepmothers alone, she could discern nothing except sermons. 

"To think of yo' havin' the brazen impudence to come here arter the harmyou've done that po' defenceless darling boy, " she said, with a nobledignity which obscured somehow her slovenly figure and her dirtykitchen. Peering out from under the staircase, I could see that myfather stood quite humbly before her, twirling his hatbrim nervously inhis hands. 

"I ax you to believe, mum, what is the gospel truth, " he replied, "thatI wa'nt meanin' any harm to Benjy. "

"Not meanin' any harm an' you brought him a stepmother befo' six monthswas up?" she cried. "Well, that ain't _my_ way of lookin' at it, forI've a mother's heart and it takes a mother's heart to stand the tricksof children, " she added, glancing down at the gravy stains on her bosom, "an' it ain't to be supposed--is it?--that a stepmother should have amother's heart? It ain't natur--is it?--I put it to you, that any man orwoman should be born with a natchel taste for screamin' an' kickin' an'bein' splashed with gravy, an' the only thing that's goin' to cultivatethem tastes in anybody is bringin' ten or eleven of 'em into the world. Lord, suh, I wa'nt born with the love of dirt an' fussin' any mo' thanyou. It just comes along o' motherhood like so much else. Now it standsto reason that you ain't goin' to enjoy the trouble a child makes unlessthat child is your own. Why, what did my baby do this mornin' when hewas learnin' to walk, but catch holt of the dish an' bring all the gravydown over me. Is thar any livin' soul, I ax you plainly, expected to seethe cuteness in a thing like that except a mother? An' what I say isthat unless you can see the cuteness in a child instead of the badness, you ain't got no business to bring 'em up--no, not even if you are thePresident himself!--"

Just here I distinctly heard my father murmur in his humble voicesomething about having named an infant after the office and not the man. But so brief was the pause in Mrs. Chitling's flow of remonstrance thathis interjection was overwhelmed almost before it was uttered. Her veryslovenliness, expressing as it did what she had given up rather thanwhat she was, served in a measure to increase the solemn majesty withwhich she spoke; and I gathered easily that my father's small wits werevanquished by the first charge of her impassioned rhetoric. 

"I thank you kindly, mum, it is all jest as you say, " he replied, withthe submissiveness of utter defeat, "but, you see, a man has got to givea thought to his washin'. It stands to reason--don't it?"--he concludedwith a flash of direct inspiration, "that thar ain't any way to get awoman to wash free for you except to marry her. "

The logic of this appeared to impress even Mrs. Chitling, for shehesitated an instant before replying, and when she finally spoke, Ithought her tone had lost something of its decision. 

"An' to make it worse you took a yaller-headed one an' they're the kindthat gad, " she retorted feebly. 

My father shook his head, while a stubborn expression settled on hissheepish features. 

"Thar's the cookin' an' the washin' for her to think of, " he said. "Iain't got any use for a woman that ain't satisfied with the pleasures ofhome. "

"The moral kind are, Mr. Starr, " rejoined Mrs. Chitling, who hadrelapsed into a condition of placid indolence. "An' as far as I amconcerned since the first of my eleven came, I've never wanted to put onmy bonnet an' set foot outside that do'. My kitchen is my kingdom, " sheadded, with dignity, "an' for my part, I ain't got any use for thosewomen who are everlastingly standin' up for thar rights. What does awoman want with rights, I say, when she can enjoy all the virtues? Whatdoes she want to be standin' up for anyway as long as she can set?"

"Thar's no doubt that it is true, mum, " rejoined my father; and when hetook his leave a few minutes afterwards, their relations appeared tohave become extremely friendly, --not to say confidential. For an instantI trembled in my hiding-place, half expecting to be delivered into hishands. But he departed at last without discovering me, and I emergedfrom the darkness and stood before Mrs. Chitling, who had begunabsent-mindedly to take down her curl papers. 

"Most likely it ain't his fault arter all, " she observed, for herjudgment of him had already become a part of the general softness andpliability of her criticism of life; "he seems to be a nice sensiblebody with proper ideas about women. I like a man that knows a woman'splace, an' I like a woman that knows it, too. Yo' ma was a decent, sober, hard-workin' person, wa'nt she, Benjy?"

I replied that she was always in her kitchen and generally in herwashtub, except when she went to funerals. 

"Well, I ain't any moral objection to a funeral now an' then, or someother sober kind of entertainment, " returned Mrs. Chitling, removing hercurl papers in order to put on fresh ones, "but what I say is that thewoman who wants pleasure outside her do' ain't the woman that she oughtto be, that's all. What can she have, I ax, any mo' than she's got?Ain't she got everything already that the men don't want? Ain'tsweetness an' virtue, an' patience an' long suffering an' childbearin'enough for her without her impudently standin' up in the face of men an'axin' for mo'? Had she rather have a vote than the respect of men, an'ain't the respect of men enough to fill any honest female's life?"

In the beginning of her discourse, she had turned aside to slap aportion of cornmeal into a cracked yellow bowl, and after pouring alittle water out of a broken dipper, she began whipping the dough with along, irregular stroke that scattered a shower of fine drops at everyrevolution of her hand. Two of the children had got into a fight over abasin of apple parings, and she left her yellow bowl and separated themwith a hand that bestowed a patch of wet meal on the hair of one and onthe face of another. Not once did she hasten her preparations orrelinquish the cheerful serenity which endowed her large, loose figurewith a kind of majesty. 

The next day I started in as general assistant and market boy to JohnChitling, and when I was not sorting over ripe vegetables or barrels ofapples fresh from the orchard, I was toiling up the long hill, with asplit basket, containing somebody's marketing, on my arm. By degrees Ilearned the names of John Chitling's patrons, the separate ways to theirhouses, which always seemed divided by absurd distances, and the facesof the negro cooks who met me at the kitchen steps and relieved me of myburden. In the beginning I was accompanied on my rounds by a fat, smudge-nosed youth some six or eight years my senior, who smoked viletobacco and enlivened the way by villainous abuses of John Chitling andthe universe. For the first months, I fear, my outlook upon thecustomers I served was largely coloured by his narratives, but when atlast he dropped off and went on a new job at the butcher's, I arrivedgradually at a more correct, and certainly a more charitable, point ofview. By the end of the winter I had ceased to believe that JohnChitling was a skinflint and his customers all vipers. 

In the bright soft weather of that spring the city opened into a bloomof faint pink and white, which comes back to me like a delicatefragrance. The old gardens are gone now, with their honeysuckle arbours, their cleanly swept walks, bordered by rows of miniature box, theirdeep, odorous bowers of microphylla and musk cluster roses. Yet I canlook back still through the gauzy shadows of elms and sycamores; I canhear still the rich, singing call of the negro drivers, as the coveredwagons from country farms passed sleepily through the hot sunshine whichfell between the arching trees; and I can smell again the air steeped ina fragrance that is less that of flowers than of the subtle atmosphereof an unforgettable youth. To-day the city is the same city no longer, nor is the man who writes this the market boy who toiled up the longhill in the blossoming spring, with the seeds of the future quickeningin brain and heart. 

The morning that I remember best is the one on which I carried the day'smarketing to an old grey house, with beds of wallflowers growing closeagainst the stuccoed bricks, and a shrub that flowered bright yellowglancing through the tall gate at the rear. I had passed the wallflowersas was my custom, and entering the gate at the back, had delivered mybasket at the kitchen door, when, as I turned to retrace my steps, I wasdetained by the scolding voice of the pink-turbaned negro cook. 

"Hi! if you ain' clean furgit de car'ots!" she cried. 

Now the carrots had been placed in the basket, as I had seen with my owneyes, by the hands of John Chitling himself, and I had been cautioned atthe time not to drop them out in my ascent of the steep hill. There wasa lady in the grey house, he had informed me, who was supposed tosubsist upon carrots alone, and who was in consequence extremelyparticular as to their size and flavour. 

"Are you sure they ain't among the vegetables?" I asked. "I saw them putin myself. "

"Huh! en you seed 'em fall out, too, I lay!" rejoined the negress, protruding her thick red lips as she turned the basket upside down withan indignant blow. 

"If they're lost, I'll go back and bring others, " I said, thinkingdisconsolately of the hill. 

"En you 'ould be back hyer agin in time fur supper, " retorted theoutraged divinity. "Wat you reckon Miss Mitty wants wid car'ots fur 'ersupper? Dey is hern, dey ain' mine, but ef'n dey 'us mine I'd lamn youtwel you couldn't see ter set. Hit's bad enough ter hev ter live erlongin de same worl' wid de slue-footed po' white trash widout hevin' dema-snatchin' de car'ots outer yo' ve'y mouf. "

My temper, never of the mildest, was stung quickly to a retort, and Iwas about to order her to hold her tongue and return me my basket, whenthe door into the house opened and shut, and the little girl of theenchanted garden appeared in the flesh before me. 

"I want the plum cake you promised me, Aunt Mirabella, " she cried; "andoh! I hope you've stuffed it full of plums!" Then her glance fell uponme and I saw her thick black eyebrows arch merrily over her sparklinggrey eyes. "It's my boy! My dear common boy!" she exclaimed, with a rushtoward me. For the first time I noticed then that she was dressed inmourning, and that her black clothes intensified the dark brightness ofher look. "Oh, I _am_ glad to see you, " she added, seizing my hand. 

I gazed up at her, wounded rather than pleased. "I shan't be a commonboy always, " I answered. 

"Do you mind my calling you one? If you do, I won't, " she said, andwithout waiting a minute, "What are you doing here? I thought you livedover on Church Hill. "

"I don't now. Ma died and I ran away. "

"My mother died, too, " she returned softly, "and then grandmama. "

For a moment there was a pause. Then I said with a kind of stubbornpride, "I ran away. "

The sadness passed from her and she turned on me in a glow of animation. "Oh, I should just love dearly to run away!" she exclaimed. 

"You couldn't. You're a girl. "

"I could, too, if I chose. "

"Then why don't you choose?"

"Because of Aunt Mitty and Aunt Matoaca. They haven't anybody but me. "

"I left my father, " I replied proudly, "and I didn't care one singlebit. That's the trouble with girls. They're always caring. "

"Well, I'm not caring for you, " she retorted with crushing effect, shaking back the soft cloud of hair on her shoulders. 

"Boys don't care, " I rejoined with indifference, taking up my marketbasket. 

She detained me with a glance. "There's one thing they careabout--dreadfully, " she said. 

"No, there ain't. "

Without replying in words she went over to the stove, and standing ontiptoe, gingerly removed a hot plum cake, small and round and shapedlike a muffin, from the smoking oven. 

"I reckon they care about plum cake, " she remarked tauntingly, and asshe held it toward me it smelt divinely. 

But my pride was in arms, for I remembered the cup of milk she hadrefused disdainfully more than three years ago in our little kitchen. 

"No, they don't, " I replied with a stoicism that might have added lustreto a nobler cause. 

In my heart I was hoping that she would drop the cake into my basket inspite of my protest, not only sparing my pride by an act of magnanimity, but allowing me at the same time the felicity of munching the plums onmy way back to the Old Market. But the next moment, to my surprise andindignation, she took a generous bite of the very dainty she had offeredme, making, while she ate it, provoking faces of a rapturous enjoyment. 

I was lingering in the doorway with a scornful yet fascinated gaze onthe diminishing cake, when the pink-turbaned cook, who had gone out toempty a basin of pea shells, entered and resumed her querulous abuse. 

"De bes' thing you kin do is ter clear out, " she said, "you en yo'car'ots. He ain' fit'n fur you ter tu'n yo' eyes on, honey, " she addedto the child, "en I don' reckon yo' ma would let yo' wipe yo' foot on'im ef'n she 'uz alive. Yes'm, Miss Mitty, I'se a-comin'!"

Her voice rose high in response to a call from the house, but before shecould leave the kitchen, the door behind the little girl opened, and alady said reprovingly:--

"Sally, Sally, haven't I told you to keep away from the kitchen?"

"Oh, Aunt Mitty, I had to come for my plum cake, " pleaded Sally, "andAunt Matoaca said that I might. "

An elderly lady, all soft black and old yellow lace, stood in thedoorway. Then before she could answer a second one appeared at her side, and I had a vision of two slender maidenly figures, who reminded me, meek heads, drooping faces, and creamy lace caps, of the wallflowers inthe border outside blooming in a patch of sunshine close against the oldgrey house. At first there seemed to me to be no visible differencebetween them, but after a minute, I saw that the second one was gentlerand smaller, with a softer smile and a more shrinking manner. 

"It was my fault, Sister Mitty, " she said, "I told Sally that she mightcome after her plum cake. "

Her voice was so low and mild that I was amazed the next instant to hearthe taller lady respond. 

"Of course, Sister Matoaca, you were at liberty to do as you thoughtright, but I cannot conceal from you that I consider a person of yourdangerous views an unsafe guardian for a young girl. "

She advanced a step into the kitchen, and as Miss Matoaca followed hershe replied in an abashed and faltering voice:--

"I am sorry, Sister Mitty, that we do not agree in our principles. Thereis nothing else that I will not sacrifice to you, but when a question ofprinciple is concerned, however painful it is to me, I must be firm. "

At this, while I was wondering what terrible thing a principle couldpossibly turn out to be, I saw Miss Mitty draw herself up until shefairly towered like a marble column about the shrinking figure in frontof her. 

"But such principles, Sister Matoaca!" she exclaimed. 

A flush rose to the clear brown surface of the little lady's cheek, andmore than ever, I thought, she resembled one of the wallflowers in theborder outside. Her head, with its shiny parting of soft chestnut hair, was lifted with a mild, yet spirited gesture, and I saw the delicatelace at her throat and wrists tremble as if a faint wind had passed. 

"Remember, sister, that my ancestors as well as yours fought againstoppression in three wars, " she said in her sweet low voice that had, tomy ears, the sound of a silver bell, "and it has become my painful duty, after long deliberation with my conscience, to inform you--I considerthat taxation without representation is tyranny. "

"Sally, go into the house, " commanded Miss Mitty, "I cannot permit youto hear such dangerous sentiments expressed. "

"Let me go, Sister Mitty, " said Miss Matoaca, for the flash of spirithad left her as wan and drooping as a blighted flower; "I will gomyself, " and turning meekly, she left the kitchen, while Sally took asecond cake from the oven and came over to where I stood. 

"I'll just put this into your basket anyway, " she remarked, "even if youdon't care about it. "

"Come, child, " urged Miss Mitty, waiting, "but give the boy his cakefirst. "

The cake was put into my hands, not into the basket, and I took a large, delicious mouthful of it while I went by the meek wallflowers standingin a row, like prim maiden ladies, against the old grey house. 

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH I MOUNT THE FIRST RUNG OF THE LADDER

As I passed through the gate and turned down Franklin Street under agreat sycamore that grew midway of the pavement, I vowed passionately inmy heart that I would remain "a common boy" no longer. With the plumcake in my hand, and the delicious taste of it in my mouth, I placed mybasket on the ground and leaned against the silvery body of the tree, with my eyes on Samuel, sitting very erect, with his paws held up, histail wagging, and his expectant gaze on my face. 

"What can we do about it, Samuel? How can we begin? Are we common to thebone, I wonder? and how are we going to change?"

But Samuel's thoughts were on the last bit of cake, and when I gave itto him, he stopped begging like a wise dog that has what he wanted, andlay down on the sidewalk with his eyes closed and his nose between hisoutstretched paws. 

A gentle wind stirred overhead, and I smelt the sharp sweet fragrance ofthe sycamore, which cast a delicate lace-work of shadows on the crookedbrick pavement. Not only the great sycamore and myself and Samuel, butthe whole blossoming city appeared to me in a dream; and as I glanceddown the quiet street, over which the large, slow shadows moved to andfro, I saw through a mist the blurred grey-green foliage in the CapitolSquare. In the ground the seeds of the new South, which was in truth butthe resurrected spirit of the old, still germinated in darkness. But theair, though I did not know it, was already full of the promise of theindustrial awakening, the constructive impulse, the recovered energy, that was yet to be, and in which I, leaning there a barefooted marketboy, was to have my part. 

An aged negress, in a red bandanna turban, with a pipe in her mouth, stopped to rest in the shadow of the sycamore, placing her basket, fullof onions and tomatoes, on the pavement beside my empty one. 

"Do you know who lives in that grey house, Mammy?" I asked. 

Twisting the stem of her pipe to the corner of her mouth, she satnodding at me, while the wind fluttered the wisps of grizzled hairescaping from beneath her red and yellow head-dress. 

"Go 'way, chile, whar you done come f'om?" she demanded suspiciously. "Ain't you ever hyern er Marse Bland? He riz me. "

I shook my head, sufficiently humbled by my plebeian ignorance. 

"Are the two old ladies his daughters?"

"Wat you call Miss Mitty en Miss Matoaca ole fur? Dey ain' ole, " sheresponded indignantly. "I use'n ter b'long ter Marse Bland befo' de war, en I kin recollect de day dat e'vy one er dem wuz born. Dey's all daidnow cep'n Miss Mitty en Miss Matoaca, en Marse Bland he's daid, too. "

"Then who is the little girl? Where did she come from?"

There was a dandelion blooming in a tuft of grass between the loosenedbricks of the pavement, and I imprisoned it in my bare toes while Iwaited impatiently for her answer. 

"Dat's Miss Sary's chile. She ran away wid Marse Harry Mickleborough, inMarse Bland's lifetime, en he 'ouldn't lay eyes on her f'om dat day terhis deaf. Miss Mitty en Miss Matoaca dey ain' ole, but Miss Sary shewant nuttin' mo'n a chile w'en she went off. "

"But why did her father never see her again?"

"Dat was 'long er Marse Mickleborough, boy, but I ain' gwine inter deens en de outs er dat. Hit mought er been becaze er MarseMickleborough's fiddle, but I ain' sayin' dat hit wuz er dat hit wuzn't. Dar's some folks dat cyarn' stan' de squeak er a fiddle, en he sutneydid fiddle a mont'ous lot. He usen ter beat Miss Sary, too, I hyerntell, jes es you mought hev prognosticate er a fiddlin' man; but sheain' never come home twel atter her pa wuz daid en buried over yonder inHollywood. Den w'en de will wuz read Marse Bland had lef ev'y las' centclean away f'om her en de chile. Atter Miss Mitty en Miss Matoaca die dehull pa'cel er hit's er gwine ter some no 'count hospital whar dey takelive folks ter pieces en den put 'em tergedder agin. "

"You mean the little girl won't get a blessed cent?" I asked, and mytoes pinched the head of the dandelion until it dropped from its stem. 

"Ain't I done tole you how 'tis?" demanded the negress in exasperation, rising from her seat on the curbing, "en wat mek you keep on axin' overwat I done tole you?"

She went off muttering to herself, while she clenched the stem of hercorncob pipe between her toothless gums; and picking up my basket andwhistling to Samuel, I walked slowly downhill, with the problem of thefuture working excitedly in my brain. 

"A market boy is obliged to be a common boy, " I thought, andimmediately: "Then I will not be a market boy any longer. "

So hopeless the next instant did my present condition of abjectignorance appear to me, that I found myself regretting that I had notasked advice of the aged negress who had rested beside me in the shadowof the sycamore. I wondered if she would consider the selling ofnewspapers a less degrading employment than the hawking of vegetables, and with the thought, I saw stretching before me, in all its alluringbrightness, that royal road of success which leads from the castle ofdreams. One instant I resolved to start life as a fruit vender on thetrain, and the next I was wildly imagining myself the president of theGreat South Midland and Atlantic Railroad, with a jingling bunch ofseals and a gold-headed stick. When at last I reached the Old Market Ifound that the gayety had departed from it, and it appeared slovenly anddisgusting to my awakened eyes. The fruit and vegetables, so fresh andinviting in the early morning, were now stale and wilted; a swarm offlies hung like a black cloud around the joint suspended before thestall of Perkins, the butcher; and as I passed the stand of the fishdealer, the odour of decaying fish entered my nostrils. Was it the sameplace I had left only a few hours before, or what sudden change inmyself had revealed to me the grim ugliness of its aspect? "He's acommon boy, " the little girl had said of me almost four years ago, and Ifelt now, as I had felt then, the sting of a whip on my bare flesh ather words. Come what might I would cease to be "a common boy" from thathour. 

In the afternoon I bought an armful of "The Evening Planet, " andwandered up Franklin Street on a venture, crying the papers aloud withan agreeable assurance that I had deserted huckstering to enterjournalism. As I passed the garden of the old grey house my voice rangout shrilly, yet with a quavering note in it, "Eve-ning Pla-net!" andalmost before the sound had passed under the sycamores, the gate in thewall opened cautiously and one of the ladies called to me timidly withher face pressed to the crack. The two sisters were so much alike thatit was a minute before I discovered the one who spoke to be MissMatoaca. 

"Will you please let me have a paper, " she said apologetically, "we donot take it. There is no gentleman in the house. I--I am interested inthe marriages and deaths, " she added, in a louder tone as if some onewere standing close to her beyond the garden gate. 

As I gave her the paper she stretched out her hand, under its yellowedlace ruffle, and dropped the money into my palm. 

"I shall be obliged to you if you will call out every day when you passhere, " she remarked, after a minute; "I am almost always in the gardenat this hour. "

I promised her that I should certainly remember, and she was about todraw inside the garden with a gentle, flower-like motion of her head, when a gentleman, with a gold-headed walking-stick in his hand, lungedsuddenly round the smaller sycamore at the corner, and entrapped herbetween the wall and the gate before she had time to retreat. 

"So I've caught you at it, eh, Miss Matoaca!" he exclaimed, shaking apudgy forefinger into her face, with an air of playful gallantry. "Buying newspapers!"

Poor Miss Matoaca, fluttering like a leaf before this onslaught ofchivalry, could only drop her bright brown eyes to the ground and flusha delicate pink, which the General must have admired. 

"They--they are excellent to keep away moths!" she stammered. 

The sly and merry look, which I discovered afterwards to be hisinvincible weapon with the ladies, appeared instantly in his watery greyeyes. 

"And you don't even glance at the political headlines? Ah, confess, MissMatoaca. "

He was very stout, very red in the face, very round in the stomach, veryroguish in the eyes, yet I realised even then that some twenty yearsbefore--when the results of his sportive masculinity had not becomevisible in his appearance--he must have been handsome enough to havemelted even Miss Matoaca's heart. Like a faint lingering beam of autumnsunshine, this comeliness, this blithe and unforgettable charm of youth, still hovered about his heavy and plethoric figure. Across his expansivefront there stretched a massive gold chain of a unique pattern, and fromthis chain, I saw now, there hung a jingling and fascinating bunch ofseals. The gentleman I might have forgotten, but that bunch of seals hadoccupied for three long years a particular corner of my memory; and inthe instant that my eyes fell upon it, I saw again the ragged hillcovered with pokeberry, yarrow, and stunted sumach, the anchored vesseloutlined against the rosy sunset, and the panting stranger, who hadstopped to rest with his hand on my shoulder. I remembered suddenly thatI wanted to become the president of the Great South Midland and AtlanticRailroad. 

He stood there now in all his redundant flesh before me, his largemottled cheeks inflated with laughter, his full red lips pursed into agay and mocking expression. To me he personified success, happiness, achievement--the other shining extreme from my own obscurity andcommonness; but the effect upon poor little Miss Matoaca was quite theopposite, I judged the next minute, from the one that he had intended. Iwatched her fragile shoulders straighten and a glow rather than a flashof spirit pass into her uplifted face. 

"With your record, General Bolingbroke, " she said, in a quavering yetcourageous voice, "you may refuse your approval, but not your respect, to a matter of principle. "

The roguish twinkle, which was still so charming, appealed like the lostspirit of youth in the General's eyes. 

"Ah, Miss Matoaca, " he rejoined, in his most gallant manner, "principlesdo not apply to ladies!"

At this Miss Matoaca drew herself up almost haughtily, and I felt as Ilooked at her that only her sex had kept her from becoming a generalherself. 

"It is very painful to me to disagree with the gentlemen I know, " shesaid, "but when it is a matter of conviction I feel that even therespect of gentlemen should be sacrificed. My sister Mitty considers mequite indelicate, but I cannot conceal from you that--" her voice brokeand dropped, but rose again instantly with a clear, silvery sound, "Iconsider that taxation without representation is tyranny. "

A virgin martyr refusing to sacrifice a dove to Venus might have utteredher costly heresy in such a voice and with such a look; but the Generalmet it suavely with a flourish of his wide-brimmed hat and a blandishingsmile. He was one of those gentlemen of the old school, I came to knowlater, to whom it was an inherent impossibility to appear withoutaffectation in the presence of a member of the opposite sex. A highliver, and a good fellow every inch of him, he could be natural, racy, charming, and without vanity, when in the midst of men; but let so muchas the rustle of a petticoat sound on the pavement, and he would beginto strut and plume himself as instinctively as the cock in the barnyard. 

"But what would you do with a vote, my dear Miss Matoaca, " he protestedairily. "Put it into a pie?"

His witticism, which he hardly seemed aware of until it was uttered, afforded him the next instant an enjoyment so hilarious that I saw hiswaist shake like a bowl of jelly between the flapping folds of hisalpaca coat. While he stood there with his large white cravat twistedawry by the swelling of his crimson neck, and his legs, in a pair ofduck trousers, planted very far apart on the sidewalk, he presented theaspect of a man who felt himself to be a graduate in the experimentalscience of what he probably would have called "the sex. " When I heardhim frequently alluded to afterwards as "a gay old bird, " I wonderedthat I had not fitted the phrase to him as he fixed his swimming, parrot-like eyes on the flushed face of Miss Matoaca. 

"If that's all the use you'd make of it, I think we might safely trustit to you, " he observed with a flattering glance. "A woman who can makeyour mince pies, dear lady, need not worry about her rights. "

"How is George, General?" asked Miss Matoaca, with an air of gentle, offended dignity. "I heard he had come to live with you since hismother's death. "

"So he has, the rascal, " responded the General, "and a nephew undertwelve years of age is a severe strain on the habits of an elderlybachelor. "

The corners of Miss Matoaca's mouth grew suddenly prim. 

"I suppose you could hardly close the door on your sister's orphan son, "she observed, in a severer tone than I had yet heard her use. 

He sighed, and the sigh appeared to pass in the form of a tremor throughhis white-trousered legs. 

"Ah, that's it, " he rejoined. "You ladies ought to be thankful that youhaven't our responsibilities. No, no, thank you, I won't come in. Myrespects to Miss Mitty and to yourself. "

The gate closed softly as if after a love tryst, Miss Matoacadisappeared into the garden, and the General's expression changed fromits jocose and smiling flattery to a look of genuine annoyance. 

"No, I don't want a paper, boy!" he exclaimed. 

With a wave of his gold-headed cane in my direction, he would havepassed on his way, but at his first step, happily for me, his toe struckagainst a loosened brick, and the pain of the shock caused him to bendover and begin rubbing his gouty foot, with an exclamation that soundedsuspiciously like an oath. Where was the roguish humour now in the smallwatery grey eyes? The gout, not "the sex, " had him ignominiously by theheel. 

"If you please, General, do you remember me?" I enquired timidly. 

Still clasping his foot, he turned a crimson glare upon me. "Damnation!--I mean Good Lord, have mercy on my toe, why should Iremember you?"

"It was on Church Hill almost four years ago, you promised, " I suggestedas a gentle spur to his memory. 

"And you expect me to remember what I promised four years ago?" herejoined with a sly twinkle. "Why, bless my soul, you're worse than awoman. "

"You asked me, sir, if I wanted to grow up and be President, " Ireturned, not without resentment. 

Releasing his ankle abruptly, he stood up and slapped his thigh. 

"Great Jehosaphat! If you ain't the little chap who was content to benothing less than God Almighty!" he exclaimed. "I've told that story ahundred times if I've told it once. "

"Then perhaps you'll help me a little, sir, " I suggested. 

"Help you to become God Almighty?" he chuckled. 

"No, sir, help me to be the president of the Great South Midland andAtlantic Railroad. "

"Then you'll be satisfied with the lesser office, eh?"

"I shall, sir, if--if there isn't anything better. "

Again he slapped his thigh and again he chuckled. "But I've got one boyalready. I don't want another, " he protested. "Good Lord, one is badenough when he's not your own. "

Whether or not he really supposed that I was a serious applicant foradoption, I cannot say, but his face put on immediately an harassed andsuffering look. 

"Have you ever had a twinge of gout, boy?" he enquired. 

"No, sir. "

"Then you're lucky--damned lucky. When you go to bed to-night you getdown on your knees and thank the Lord that you've never had a twinge ofgout. You can even eat a strawberry without feeling it, I reckon?"

I replied humbly that I certainly could if I ever got the chance. 

"And yet you ain't satisfied--you're asking to be president of a damnedrailroad--a boy who can eat a strawberry without feeling it!"

He moved on, limping slightly, and like a small persistent devil oftemptation, I kept at his elbow. 

"Isn't there anything that you can do for me, sir?" I asked, at thepoint of tears. 

"Do for you? Bless my soul, boy, if I had your joints I shouldn't wantanything that anybody could do for me. Can't you walk, hop, skip, jump, all you want to?"

This was so manifestly unfair that I retorted stubbornly, "But I don'twant to. "

He glanced down on me with a flicker of his still charming smile. 

"Well, you would if you were president of the Great South Midland andAtlantic and had looked into the evening paper, " he said. 

"Are you president of it still, sir?"

"Eh? eh? You'll be wanting to push me out of my job next, I suppose?"

"I'd like to have it when you are dead, sir, " I replied. 

But this instead of gratifying the General appeared plainly to annoyhim. "There now, you'd better run along and sell your papers, " heremarked irritably. "If I give you a dime, will you quit bothering me?"

"I'd rather you'd give me a start, sir, as you promised. "

"Good Lord! There you are again! Do you know the meaning ofn-u-i-s-a-n-c-e, boy?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, ask your teacher the next time you go to school. "

"I don't go to school. I work. "

"You work, eh? Well, look here, let's see. What do you want of me?"

"I thought you might tell me how to begin. I don't want to stay common. "

For a moment his attention seemed fixed on a gold pencil which he hadtaken from his waistcoat pocket. Then opening his card-case he scribbleda line on a card and handed it to me. "If you choose you may take thatto Bob Brackett at the Old Dominion Tobacco Works, on Twenty-fifthStreet, near the river, " he said, not unkindly. "If he happens to want aboy, he may give you a job; but remember, I don't promise you that hewill want one, --and if he does, it isn't likely he'd make you presidenton the spot, " he concluded, with a chuckle. 

Waving a gesture of dismissal he started off at a hobble; then catchingthe eye of a lady in a passing carriage, he straightened himself, bowedwith a gallant flourish of his wide-brimmed hat, and went on with a lookof agony but a jaunty pace. As I turned, a minute later, to discover whocould have wrought this startling change in the behaviour of theGeneral, an open surrey, the bottom filled with a pink cloud of wildazaleas, stopped at the curbing before the grey house, and the faces ofMiss Mitty and Sally shone upon me over the blossoms. The child wascoloured like a flower from the sun and wind, and there was a soft dewylook about her flushed cheeks, and her very full red lips. At the cornerof her mouth, near her square little chin, a tiny white scar showed likea dimple, giving to her lower lip when she laughed an expression ofcharming archness. I remember these things now--at the moment there wasno room for them in my whirling thoughts. 

"Oh!" cried the little girl in a burst of happiness, "there's my boy!"

The next minute she had leaped out of the carriage and was boundingacross the pavement. Her arms were filled with azalea, and loosenedpetals fluttered like a swarm of pink and white moths around her. 

"What are you doing, boy?" she asked. "Where is your basket?"

"It's at the market. I'm selling papers. "

"Come, Sally, " commanded Miss Mitty, stepping out of the surrey with therest of the flowers. "You must not stop in the street to talk to peopleyou don't know. "

"But I do know him, Aunt Mitty, he brings our marketing. "

"Well, come in anyway. You are breaking the flowers. "

The strong, heady perfume filled my nostrils, though when I remember itnow it changes to the scent of wallflowers, which clings always about mymemory of the old grey house, with its delicate lace curtains drapedback from the small square window-panes as if a face looked out on thecrooked pavement. 

"Please, Aunt Mitty, let me buy a paper, " begged the child. 

"A paper, Sally! What on earth would you do with a paper?"

"Couldn't I roll up my hair in it, Auntie?"

"You don't roll up your hair in newspapers. Here, come in. I can't waitany longer. "

Lingering an instant, Sally leaned toward me over the pink cloud ofazalea. "I'd just love to play with you and Samuel, " she said with thesparkling animation I remembered from our first meeting, "but dear AuntMitty has so much pride, you know. "

She bent still lower, gave Samuel an impassioned hug with her free arm, and then turning quickly away ran up the short flight of steps anddisappeared into the house. The next instant the door closed sharplyafter her, and only the small rosy petals fluttering in the wind wereleft to prove to me that I was really awake and it was not a dream. 

CHAPTER VIII

IN WHICH MY EDUCATION BEGINS

There was no lingering at kitchen doorways with scolding white-turbanedcooks next morning, for as soon as I had delivered the marketing, Ireturned the basket to John Chitling, and set out down Twenty-fifthStreet in the direction of the river. As I went on, a dry, pungent odourseemed to escape from the pavement beneath and invade the air. The earthwas drenched with it, the crumbling bricks, the negro hovels, the fewsickly ailantus trees, exuded the sharp scent, and even the wind broughtstray wafts, as from a giant's pipe, when it blew in gusts up from theriver-bottom. Overhead the sky appeared to hang flat and low as if seenthrough a thin brown veil, and the ancient warehouses, sloping towardthe river, rose like sombre prisons out of the murky air. It was stillbefore the introduction of modern machinery into the factories, and as Iapproached the rotting wooden steps which led into the largest building, loose leaves of tobacco, scattered in the unloading, rustled with asharp, crackling noise under my feet. 

Inside, a clerk on a high stool, with a massive ledger before him, looked up at my entrance, and stuck his pen behind his ear with a sighof relief. 

"A gentleman told me you might want a boy, sir, " I began. 

He got down from his stool, and sauntering across the room, took a longdrink from a bucket of water that stood by the door. 

"What gentleman?" he enquired, as he flirted a few drops on the stepsoutside, and returned the tin dipper to the rusty nail over the bucket. 

I drew out the card, which I had kept carefully wrapped in a piece ofbrown paper in my trousers' pocket. When I handed it to him, he lookedat it with a low whistle and stood twirling it in his fingers. 

"The gentleman owns about nine-tenths of the business, " he remarked formy information. Then turning his head he called over his shoulder tosome one hidden behind the massive ledgers on the desk. "I say, Bob, here's a boy the General's sent along. What'll you do with him?"

Bob, a big, blowzy man, who appeared to be upon terms of intimacy withevery clerk in the office, came leisurely out into the room, and lookedme over with what I felt to be a shrewd and yet not unkindly glance. "It's the second he's sent down in two weeks, " he observed, "but thisone seems sprightly enough. What's your name, boy?"

"Ben Starr. "

"Well, Ben, what're you good for?"

"'Most anything, sir. "

"'Most anything, eh? Well, come along, and I'll put you at 'mostanything. "

He spoke in a pleasant, jovial tone, which made me adore him on thespot; and as he led me across a dark hall and up a sagging flight ofsteps, he enquired good-humouredly how I had met General Bolingbroke andwhy he had given me his card. 

"He's a great man, is the General!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Whenyou met him, my boy, you met the biggest man in the South to-day. "

Immediately the crimson face, the white-trousered legs, the roundstomach, and even the gouty toe, were surrounded in my imagination witha romantic halo. "What's he done to make him so big?" I asked. 

"Done? Why, he's done everything. He's opened the South, he's restoredtrade, he's made an honest fortune out of the carpet-baggers. It'ssomething to own nine-tenths of the Old Dominion Tobacco Works, and tobe vice-president of the Bonfield Trust Company, but it's a long sightbetter to be president of the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad. If you happen to know of a bigger job than that, I wish you'd point itout. "

I couldn't point it out, and so I told him, at which he gave a friendlyguffaw and led the way in silence up the sagging staircase. At thatmoment all that had been mere formless ambition in my mind wasconcentrated into a single burning desire; and I swore to myself, as Ifollowed Bob, the manager, up the dark staircase to the leaf department, that I, too, would become before I died the biggest man in the South andthe president of the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad. The ideawhich was to possess me utterly for thirty years dropped into my brainand took root on that morning in the heavy atmosphere of the OldDominion Tobacco Works. From that hour I walked not aimlessly, buttoward a definite end. I might start in life, I told myself, with amarket basket, but I would start also with the resolution that out ofthe market basket the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad shouldarise. The vow was still on my lips when the large sliding door on thelanding swung open, and we entered an immense barnlike room, in whichthree or four hundred negroes were at work stemming tobacco. 

At first the stagnant fumes of the dry leaf mingling with the odours ofso many tightly packed bodies, caused me to turn suddenly dizzy, and therows of shining black faces swam before my eyes in a blur with thebrilliantly dyed turbans of the women. Then I gritted my teeth fiercely, the mist cleared, and I listened undisturbed to the melancholy chantwhich accompanied the rhythmic movements of the lithe brown fingers. 

At either end of the room, which covered the entire length and breadthof the building, the windows were shut fast, and on the outside, closeagainst the greenish panes, innumerable flies swarmed like a blackcurtain. Before the long troughs stretching waist high from wall towall, hundreds of negroes stood ceaselessly stripping the dry leavesfrom the stems; and above the soft golden brown piles of tobacco, theblur of colour separated into distinct and vivid splashes of red, blue, and orange. Back and forth in the obscurity these brilliantly colouredturbans nodded like savage flowers amid a crowd of black faces, in whichthe eyes alone, very large, wide open, and with gleaming white circlesaround the pupils, appeared to me to be really alive and human. Theywere singing as we entered, and the sound did not stop while the managercrossed the floor and paused for an instant beside the nearest worker, abrawny, coal-black negro, with a red shirt open at his throat, on whichI saw a strange, jagged scar, running from ear to chest, like theenigmatical symbol of some savage rite I could not understand. Withoutturning his head at the manager's approach, he picked up a great leafand stripped it from the stem at a single stroke, while his tremendousbass voice rolled like the music of an organ over the deep piles oftobacco before which he stood. Above this rich volume of sound flutedthe piercing thin sopranos of the women, piping higher, higher, untilthe ancient hymn resolved itself into something that was neither humannor animal, but so elemental, so primeval, that it was like a voiceimprisoned in the soil--a dumb and inarticulate music, rooted deep, andwithout consciousness, in the passionate earth. Over the mass of darkfaces, as they rocked back and forth, I saw light shadows tremble, asfaint and swift as the shadows of passing clouds, while here and there abright red or yellow head-dress rose slightly higher than itsneighbours, and floated above the rippling mass like a flower on astream. And it seemed to me as I stood there, half terrified by theclose, hot smells and the savage colours, that something within mestirred and awakened like a secret that I had carried shut up in myselfsince birth. The music grew louder in my ears, as if I, too, were a partof it, and for the first time I heard clearly the words:--

 "Christ totes de young lambs in his bosom, bosom, Christ totes de young lambs in his bosom, bosom, Christ totes de young lambs in his bosom, bosom, Fa-ther, de ye-ar-ur Ju-bi-le-e!"

Bob, the manager, picked up a leaf from the nearest trough, examined itcarefully, and tossed it aside. The great black negro turned his headslowly toward him, the jagged scar standing out like a cord above theopen collar of his red shirt. 

 "Christ leads de ole sheep by still watah, watah, Christ leads de ole sheep by still watah, watah, Christ leads de ole sheep by still watah, watah, Fa-ther, de ye-ar-ur Ju-bi-le-e!"

"If I were to leave you here an hour what would you do, Ben?" asked themanager suddenly, speaking close to my ear. 

I thought for a moment. "Learn to stem tobacco quick'en they do, " Ireplied at last. 

"What have you found out since you came in?"

"That you must strip the leaf off clean and throw it into the big troughthat slides it downstairs somewhere. "

A smile crossed his face. "If I give you a job it won't be much morethan running up and down stairs with messages, " he said; "that's what anigger can't do. " He hesitated an instant; "but that's the way I began, "he added kindly, "under General Bolingbroke. "

I looked up quickly, "And was it the way _he_ began?"

"Oh, well, hardly. He belongs to one of the old families, you know. Hisfather was a great planter and he started on top. "

My crestfallen look must have moved his pity, I think, for he said as heturned away and we walked down the long room, "It ain't the start thatmakes the man, youngster, but the man that makes the start. "

The doors swung together behind us, and we descended the dark staircase, with the piercing soprano voices fluting in our ears. 

 "Christ leads de ole sheep by still watah, watah, Christ leads de ole sheep by still watah, watah. "

 * * * * *

That afternoon I went home, full of hope, to my attic in the Old Marketquarter. Then as the weeks went on, and I took my place gradually as asmall laborious worker in the buzzing hive of human industry, whateverromance had attached itself to the tobacco factory, scattered andvanished in the hard, dry atmosphere of the reality. My part was to runerrands up and down the dark staircase for the manager of the leafdepartment, or to stand for hours on hot days in the stagnant air, amidthe reeking smells of the big room, where the army of "stemmers" rockedceaselessly back and forth to the sound of their savage music. In allthose weary weeks I had passed General Bolingbroke but once, and by theblank look on his great perspiring face, I saw that my hero hadforgotten utterly the incident of my existence. Yet as I turned on thecurbing and looked after him, while he ploughed, wiping his forehead, upthe long hill, under the leaves of mulberry and catalpa trees, I feltinstinctively that my future triumphs would be in a measure theoverthrow of the things for which he and his generation had stood. Themanager's casual phrase "the old families, " had bred in me a secretresentment, for I knew in my heart that the genial aristocracy, represented by the president of the Great South Midland and AtlanticRailroad, was in reality the enemy, and not the friend, of such as I. 

The long, hot summer unfolded slowly while I trudged to the factory inthe blinding mornings and back again to the Old Market at thesuffocating hour of sunset. Over the doors of the negro hovels luxuriantgourd vines hung in festoons of large fan-shaped leaves, and above thehigh plank fences at the back, gaudy sunflowers nodded their heads to meas I went wearily by. The richer quarter of the city had blossomed intoa fragrant bower, but I saw only the squalid surroundings of the OldMarket, with its covered wagons, its overripe melons, its prowling dogshunting in refuse heaps, and beyond this the crooked street, which ledto the tobacco factory and then sagged slowly down to the river-bottom. Sometimes I would lean from my little window at night into the stiflingatmosphere, where the humming of a mosquito, or the whirring of a moth, made the only noise, and think of the enchanted garden lying desolateand lovely under the soft shining of the stars. Were the ghosts movingup and down the terraces in the mazes of scented box, I wondered? Thenthe garden would fade far away from me into a cool, still distance, while I knelt with my head in my hands, panting for breath in themotionless air. Outside the shadow of the Old Market lay over all, stretching sombre and black to where I crouched, a lonely, half-nakedchild at my attic window. And so at last, bathed in sweat, I would fallasleep, to awaken at dawn when the covered wagons passed through thestreets below, and the cry of "Wa-ter-mil-lion! Wa-ter-mil-lion!" rangin the silence. Then the sun would rise slowly, the day begin, and Mrs. Chitling's cheerful bustle would start anew. Tired, sleepless, despairing, I would set off to work at last, while the Great SouthMidland Railroad receded farther and farther into the dim province ofinaccessible things. 

After a long August day, when the factory had shut down while it was yetafternoon, I crept up to Church Hill, and looked again over the spikedwall into the enchanted garden. It was deserted and seemed very sad, Ithought, for its only tenants appeared to be the swallows that flew, with short cries, in and out of the white columns. On the front door alarge sign hung, reading "For Sale"; and turning away with a sinkingheart, I went on to Mrs. Cudlip's in the hope of catching a glimpse ofbaby Jessy, whom I had not seen since I ran away. She was playing on thesidewalk, a pretty, golden-haired little girl, with the melting blueeyes of my father; and when she caught sight of me, she gave a gurglingcry and ran straight to me out of the arms of President, who, I saw tomy surprise, was standing in the doorway of our old home. He was tallerthan my father now, with the same kind, sheepish face, and the awkwardmovements as of an overgrown boy. 

"Wall, if it ain't Benjy!" he exclaimed, his slow wits paralysed by myunexpected appearance. "If it ain't Benjy!"

Turning aside he spat a wad of tobacco into the gutter, and then comingtoward me, seized both my hands and wrung them in his big fists with agrip that hurt. 

"You're comin' along now, ain't you, Benjy?" he inquired proudly. 

"Tith my Pethedent, " lisped baby Jessy at his knees, and he stooped fromhis great height and lifted her in his arms with the gentleness of awoman. 

"What about an eddication, Benjy boy?" he asked over the golden curls. 

"I can't get an education and work, too, " I answered, "and I've got towork. How's pa?"

"He's taken an awful fondness to the bottle, " replied President, with asly wink, "an' if thar's a thing on earth that can fill a man's thoughtstill it crowds out everything else in it, it's the bottle. But speakin'of an eddication, you see I never had one either, an' I tell you, whenyou don't have it, you miss it every blessed minute of yo' life. Whenever I see a man step on ahead of me in the race, I say to myself, 'Thar goes an eddication. It's the eddication in him that's a-movin' an'not the man. ' You mark my words, Benjy, I've stood stock still an' seen'em stridin' on that didn't have one bloomin' thing inside of 'em exceptan eddication. "

"But how am I to get it, President?" I asked dolefully. "I've got towork. "

"Get it out of books, Benjy. It's in 'em if you only have the patienceto stick at 'em till you get it out. I never had on o'count of my eyesand my slowness, but you're young an' peart an' you don't get confusedby the printed letters. "

Diving into his bulging pockets, he took out a big leather purse, fromwhich he extracted a dollar and handed it to me. "Let that go toward aneddication, " he said, adding: "If you can get it out of books I'll sendyou a dollar toward it every week I live. That's a kind of starter, anyway, ain't it?"

I replied that I thought it was, and carefully twisted the money intothe torn lining of my pocket. 

"I'm goin' back to West Virginy to-night, " he resumed. "Arter I've seenyou an' the little sister thar ain't any use my hangin' on out of work. "

"Have you got a good place, President?"

"As good as can be expected for a plain man without an eddication, " heresponded sadly, and a half hour later, when I said good-by to him, witha sob, he came to the brow of the hill, with little Jessy clinging tohis hand, and called after me solemnly, "Remember, Benjy boy, what youwant is an eddication!"

So impressed was I by the earnestness of this advice, that as I wentback down the dreary hill, with its musty second-hand clothes' shops, its noisy barrooms, and its general aspect of decay and poverty, I feltthat my surroundings smothered me because I lacked the peculiar virtuewhich enabled a man to overcome the adverse circumstances in which hewas born. The hot August day was drawing to its end, and the stagnantair in which I moved seemed burdened with sweat until it had become atangible thing. The gourd vines were hanging limp now over the negrohovels, as if the weight of the yellow globes dragged them to the earth;and in the small square yards at the back, the wilted sunflowers seemedtrying to hide their scorched faces from the last gaze of a too ardentlover. Whole families had swarmed out into the streets, and from time totime I stepped over a negro urchin, who lay flat on his stomach, drinking the juice of an overripe watermelon out of the rind. Above thedirt and squalor the street cries still rang out from covered wagonswhich crawled ceaslessly back and forth from the country to the OldMarket. "Wa-ter-mil-lion. Wa-ter-mil-l-i-o-n! Hyer's yo' Wa-ter-mil-lionfresh f'om de vi-ne!" And as I shut my eyes against the dirt, and mynostrils against the odours, I saw always in my imagination theenchanted garden, with its cool sweet magnolias and laburnums, and itsgreat white columns from which the swallows flew, with short cries, toward the sunset. 

A white shopkeeper and a mulatto woman had got into a quarrel on thepavement, and turning away to avoid them, I stumbled by accident intothe open door of a second-hand shop, where the proprietor sat on an oldcooking-stove drinking a glass of beer. As I started back my frightenedglance lit on a heap of dusty volumes in one corner, and in reply to aquestion, which I put the next instant in a trembling voice, I wasinformed that I might have the whole pile for fifty cents, provided I'dclear them out on the spot. The bargain was no sooner clinched than Igathered the books in my arms and staggered under their weight in thedirection of Mrs. Chitling's. Even for a grown man they would have madea big armful, and when at last I toiled up to my attic, and dropped onmy knees by the open window, I was shaking from head to foot withexhaustion. The dust was thick on my hands and arms, and as I turnedthem over eagerly by the red light of the sunset, the worm-eatenbindings left queer greenish stains on my fingers. Among a number ofloose magazines called _The Farmer's Friend_, I found an illustrated, rather handsome copy of "Pilgrim's Progress, " presented, as aninscription on the flyleaf testified, to one Jeremiah Wakefield as areward for deportment; the entire eight volumes of "Sir CharlesGrandison"; a complete Johnson's Dictionary, with the binding missing;and Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy" in faded crimson morocco. When Ihad dusted them carefully on an old shirt, and arranged them on thethree-cornered shelf at the head of my cot, I felt, with a glow ofsatisfaction, that the foundations of that education to which Presidenthad contributed were already laid in my brain. If the secret of thefuture had been imprisoned in those mouldy books, I could hardly haveattacked them with greater earnestness; and there was probably noaccident in my life which directed so powerfully my fortunes as the onethat sent me stumbling into that second-hand shop on that afternoon inmid-August. I can imagine what I should have been if I had never had thehelp of a friend in my career, but when I try to think of myself asunaided by Johnson's Dictionary, or by "Sir Charles Grandison, " whoseprosiest speeches I committed joyfully to memory, my fancy stumbles invain in the attempt. For five drudging years those books were myconstant companions, my one resource, and to conceive of myself withoutthem is to conceive of another and an entirely different man. If therewas harm in any of them, which I doubt, it was clothed to appeal to anolder and a less ignorant imagination than mine; and from the elaboratetreatises on love melancholy in Burton's "Anatomy, " I extracted merelythe fine aromatic flavour of his quotations. 

CHAPTER IX

I LEARN A LITTLE LATIN AND A GREAT DEAL OF LIFE

My opportunity came at last when Bob Brackett, the manager of the leafdepartment, discovered me one afternoon tucked away with the half ofJohnson's Dictionary in a corner of the stemming room, where the negroeswere singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. "

"I say, Ben, why ain't you out on the floor?" he asked. 

I laid the book face downwards on the window-sill, and came out, embarrassed and secretive, to where he stood. "I just dropped down therea minute ago to rest, " I replied. 

"You weren't resting, you were reading. Show me the book. "

Without a word I handed him the great dictionary, and he fingered thedog-eared pages with a critical and reflective air. 

"Holy Moses! it ain't a blessed thing except words!" he exclaimed, aftera minute. "Do you mean to tell me you can sit down and read a dictionaryfor the pure pleasure of reading?"

"I wasn't reading, I was learning, " I answered. 

"Learning how?"

"Learning by heart. I've already got as far as the _d_'s. "

"You mean you can say every last word of them _a_'s, _b_'s, and _c_'sstraight off?"

I nodded gravely, my hands behind my back, my eyes on the beams in theceiling. "As far as the _d_'s. "

"And you're doing all this learning just to get an education, ain'tyou?"

My eyes dropped from the beams and I shook my head, "I don't believeit's there, sir. "

"What? Where?"

"I don't believe an education is in them. I did once. "

For a moment he stood turning over the discoloured leaves withoutreplying. "I reckon you can tell me the meaning of 'most any word, eh, Ben?" he demanded. 

"Not unless it begins with _a_, _b_, or _c_, sir. "

"Well, any word beginning with an _a_, then, that's something. There'rea precious lot of 'em. How about allelujah, how's that for a mouthful?"

Instinctively my eyes closed, and I began my reply in a tone that seemedto chime in with the negro's melody. 

'Falsely written for Hallelujah, a word of spiritual exultation, used inhymns; signifies, _Praise God. He will set his tongue, to those piousdivine strains; which may be a proper præludium to those allelujahs, hehopes eternally to sing. _

"'_Government of the Tongue. _'"

"Hooray! That's a whopper!" he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. "What's apræ-lu-di-um?"

"I told you I hadn't got to _p_'s yet, " I returned, not withoutresentment. 

The hymn changed suddenly; the negro in the red shirt, with the scar onhis neck, turned his great oxlike eyes upon me, and the next instant hissuperb voice rolled, rich and deep, as the sound of an organ, from hisbared black chest. 

 "A-settin' in de kingdom, Y-e-s, m-y-L-a-w-d!"

"Well, you've got gumption, " said Bob, the manager. "That's what Ialways lacked--just plain gumption, and when you ain't got it, there'snothing to take its place. I was talking to General Bolingbroke aboutyou yesterday, Ben, and that's what I said. 'There's but one word forthat boy, General, and it's gumption. '"

I accepted the tribute with a swelling heart. "What good will it do meif I can't get an education?" I demanded. 

"It's that will give it to you, Ben. Why, don't you know every blessedword in the English language that begins with an _a_? That's more than Iknow--that's more, I reckon, " he burst out, "than the General himselfknows!"

In this there was comfort, if a feeble one. "But there're so many otherthings besides the _a_'s that you've got to learn, " I responded. 

"Yes, but if you learn the _a_'s, you'll learn the other things, --nowain't that logic? The trouble with me, you see, is that I learned theother things without knowing a blamed sight of an _a_. I tell you whatI'll do, Ben, my boy, I'll speak to the General about it the Very nexttime he comes to the factory. "

He gave me back the dictionary, and I applied myself to its pages with aterrible earnestness while I awaited the great man's attention. 

It was a week before it came, for the General, having gone North onaffairs of the railroad, did not condescend to concern himself with mydestiny until the more important business was arranged and despatched. Being in a bland mood, however, upon his return, it appeared that he hadlistened and expressed himself to some purpose at last. 

"Tell him to go to Theophilus Pry and let me have his report, " was whathe had said. 

"But who is Theophilus Pry?" I enquired, when this was repeated to me byBob Brackett. 

"Dr. Theophilus Pry, an old friend of the General's, who takes hisnephew to coach in the evenings. The doctor's very poor, I believe, because they say of him that he never refuses a patient and never sendsa bill. He swears there isn't enough knowledge in his profession to makeit worth anybody's money. "

"And where does he live?"

"In that little old house with the office in the yard on FranklinStreet. The General says you're to go to him this evening at eighto'clock. "

The sound of my beating heart was so loud in my ears that I hurriedlybuttoned my jacket across it. Then as if I were to be examined onJohnson's Dictionary, my lips began to move silently while I spelledover the biggest words. If I could only confine my future conversationsto the use of the _a_'s and _b_'s, I felt that I might safely passthrough life without desperate disaster in the matter of speech. 

It was a mild October evening, with a smoky blue haze, through which asingle star shone over the clipped box in Dr. Theophilus Pry's garden, when I opened the iron gate and went softly along the pebbled walk tothe square little office standing detached from the house. A blackservant, carrying a plate of waffles from the outside kitchen, informedme in a querulous voice that the doctor was still at supper, but I mightgo in and wait; and accepting the suggestion with more amiability thanaccompanied it, I entered the small, cheerful room, where a lamp, with alowered wick, burned under a green shade. Around the walls there weremany ancient volumes in bindings of stout English calf, and on themantelpiece, above which hung one of the original engravings of Latane's"Burial, " two enormous glass jars, marked "Calomel" and "Quinine, "presided over the apartment with an air of medicinal solemnity. Theywere the only visible and positive evidence of the doctor's calling inlife, and when I knew him better in after years, I discovered that theywere the only drugs he admitted to a place in the profession of healing. To the day of his death, he administered these alternatives with a highfinality and an imposing presence. It was told of him that he consideredbut one symptom, and this he discovered with his hand on the patient'spulse and his eyes on a big loud-ticking watch in a hunting case. If thepulse was quick, he prescribed quinine, if sluggish, he ordered calomel. To dally with minor ailments was as much beneath him as to temporisewith modern medicine. In his last years he was still suspicious ofvaccination, and entertained a profound contempt for the knife. Beyondhis faith in calomel and quinine, there were but two articles in hiscreed; he believed first in cleanliness, secondly in God. "Madam, " he isreported to have remarked irreverently to a mother whom he found prayingfor her child's recovery in the midst of a dirty house, "when Goddoesn't respond to prayer, He sometimes answers a broom and a bucket ofsoapsuds. " Honest, affable, adored, he presented the singular spectacleof a physician who scorned medicine, and yet who, it was said, had fewerdeaths and more recoveries to his credit than any other practitioner ofhis generation. This belief arose probably in the legendary glamourwhich resulted from his boundless, though mysterious, charities; fordespite the fact that he had until his death a large and devotedfollowing, he lived all his life in a condition of genteel poverty. Hissingle weakness was, I believe, an utter inability to appreciate theexchange value of dollars and cents; and this failing grew upon him sorapidly in his declining years that Mrs. Clay, his widowed sister, whokept his house, was at last obliged to "put up pickles" for the marketin order to keep a roof over her brother's distinguished head. 

I was sitting in one of the worn leather chairs under the green lamp, when the door opened and shut quickly, and Dr. Theophilus Pry came inand held out his hand. 

"So you're the lad George was telling me about, " he began at once, witha charming, straightforward courtesy. "I hope I haven't kept youwaiting many minutes, sir. "

He was spare and tall, with stooping shoulders, a hooked nose, bearing afew red veins, and a smile that lit up his face like the flash of alantern. Everything about his clothes that could be coloured was of abright, strong red; his cravat, his big silk handkerchief, and the polkadots in his black stockings. "Yes, I like any colour as long as it'sred, " he was fond of saying with his genial chuckle. 

Bending over the green baize cloth on the table, he pushed away a pileof examination papers, and raised the wick of the lamp. 

"So you've started out to learn Dr. Johnson's Dictionary by heart, " heobserved. "Now by a fair calculation how long do you suppose it willtake you?"

I replied with diffidence that it appeared to me now as if it would verylikely take me till the Day of Judgment. 

"Well, 'tis as good an occupation as most, and a long ways better thansome, " commented the doctor. "You've come to me, haven't you, becauseyou think you'd like to learn a little Latin?"

"I'd like to learn anything, sir, that will help me to get on. "

"What's the business?"

"Tobacco. "

"I don't know that Latin will help you much there, unless it aids you toname a blend. "

"It--it isn't only that, sir, I--I want an education--not just a commonone. "

A smile broke suddenly like a beam of light on his face, and Iunderstood all at once why his calomel and his quinine so often cured. At that moment I should have swallowed tar water on faith if he hadprescribed it. 

"I don't know much about you, my lad, " he remarked with a grave, old-fashioned courtesy, which lifted me several feet above the spot ofcarpet on which I stood, "but a gentleman who starts out to learn oldSamuel Johnson's Dictionary by heart, is a gentleman I'll give my handto. "

With my pulses throbbing hard, I watched him take down a dog-eared LatinGrammar, and begin turning the pages; and when, after a minute, he put afew simple questions to me, I answered as well as I could for the lumpin my throat. "It's the fashion now to neglect the classics, " he saidsadly, "and a man had the impertinence to tell me yesterday that theonly use for a dead language was to write prescriptions for sick peoplein it. But I maintain, and I will repeat it, that you never find agentleman of cultured and elevated tastes who has not at least a bowingacquaintance with the Latin language. The common man may deride--"

I looked up quickly. "If you please, sir, I'd like to learn it, " I brokein with determination. 

He glanced at me kindly, secretly flattered, I suspect, by myspontaneous tribute to his eloquence, and the leaves of the LatinGrammar had fluttered open, when the door swung wide with a cheerfulbang, and a boy of about my own age, though considerably under my heightand size, entered the room. 

"I didn't get in from the ball game till an hour ago, doctor, " heexclaimed. "Uncle George says please don't slam me if I am late. "

Some surface resemblance to my hero of the railroad made me aware, evenbefore Dr. Pry introduced us, that the newcomer was the "young George"of whom I had heard. He was a fresh, high-coloured boy, whose featuresshowed even now a slight forecast of General Bolingbroke's awfulredness. Before I looked: at him I got a vague impression that he washandsome; after I looked at him I began to wonder curiously why he wasnot? His hair was of a bright chestnut colour, very curly, and clippedunusually close, in order to hide the natural wave of which, Idiscovered later, he was ashamed. He had pleasant brown eyes, and amerry smile, which lent a singular charm to his face when it hoveredabout his mouth. 

"I say, doctor, I wish you'd let me off to-night. I'll do doubleto-morrow, " he begged, and then turned to me with his pleasant, intimatemanner: "Don't you hate Latin? I do. Before Dr. Theophilus begancoaching me I went to a woman, and that was worse--she made it so silly. I hate women, don't you?"

"Young George, " observed Dr. Theophilus, with sternness, "for everydisrespectful allusion to the ladies, I shall give you an extra page ofgrammar. "

"I'm no worse than uncle, doctor. Uncle says--"

"I forbid you to repeat any flippant remarks of General Bolingbroke's, George, and you may tell him so, with my compliments, at breakfast. "

Opening his book, he glanced at me gravely over its pages, and the nextinstant my education in the ancient languages and the finer graces ofsociety commenced. 

On that first evening I won a place in the doctor's affections, which, Ilike to think, I never really lost in the many changes the futurebrought me. My obsequious respect for dead tongues redeemed, to a greatmeasure, the appalling ignorance I immediately displayed of the merestrudiments of geography and history; and when the time came, I believe iteven reconciled him to my bodily stature, which always appeared to himto be too large to conform to the smaller requirements of society. In myfourteenth year I began to grow rapidly, and his chief complaint of meafter this was that I never learned to manage my hands and feet as ifthey really belonged to me--a failing that I am perfectly aware I wasnever able entirely to overcome. It would doubtless take the breeding ofall the Bolingbrokes, he once informed me, with a sigh, to enable a manto carry a stature such as mine with the careless dignity which mightpossibly have been attained by a moderate birth and a smaller body. 

"Nature has intended you for a prize-fighter, but God has made of you agentleman, " he added, with his fine, characteristic philosophy, whichescaped me at the moment; "it is a blessing, I suppose, to be endowedwith a healthy body, but if I were you, I should endeavour to keep mymembers constantly in my mind. It is the next best thing to behaving asif they did not exist. "

This was said so regretfully that I hadn't the heart to inform him thatmy mind, being of limited dimensions, found difficulty in accommodatingat one and the same time my bodily members and the Latin language. Evenmy "Cæsar" caused me less misery at this period than did the problem ofthe proper disposal of my hands and feet. Do what I would they werehopelessly (by some singular freak of nature) in my way. The breeding ofall the Bolingbrokes would have been taxed to its utmost, I believe, tobehave for a single instant as if they did not exist. 

Except for the embarrassment of my increasing stature, the years thatfollowed my introduction to Dr. Theophilus, as he was called, stand outin my memory as ones of almost unruffled happiness. The two great jarsof calomel and quinine on the mantelpiece became like faces of familiar, beneficent friends; and the dusty bookcases, with their shining rows ofold English bindings, formed an appropriate background for the flight ofmy wildest dreams. To this day those adolescent fancies have neverdetached themselves from the little office, the scattered bricks ofwhich are now lying in the ruined garden between the blighted yew treeand the uprooted box. I can see them still circling like vague facesaround the green lamp, under which Dr. Theophilus sits, with his brownand white pointer, Robin, asleep at his feet. Sometimes there was asaucer of fresh raspberry jam brought in by Mrs. Clay, the widowedsister; sometimes a basket of winesap apples; and once a year, on thenight before Christmas, a large slice of fruit cake and a very smalltumbler of egg-nog. Always there were the cheery smile, the pleasanttalk, racy with anecdotes, and the wagging tail of Robin, the pointer. 

"A good dog, Ben, this little mongrel of yours, " the doctor would say, as he stooped to pat Samuel's head; "but then, all dogs are good dogs. You remember your Plutarch? Now, here's this Robin of mine. I wouldn'ttake five hundred dollars in my hand for him to-night. " At this Robin, the pointer, would lift his big brown eyes, and slip his soft nose intohis master's hand. "I wouldn't take five hundred dollars down for him, "Dr. Theophilus would repeat with emphasis. 

On the nights when our teacher was called out to a patient, as he oftenwas, George Bolingbroke and I would push back the chairs for a game ofcheckers, or step outside into the garden for a wrestling match, inwhich I was always the victor. The physical proportions which the doctorlamented, were, I believe, the strongest hold I had upon the admirationof young George. Latin he treated with the same half-playful, half-contemptuous courtesy that I had observed in General Bolingbroke'smanner to "the ladies, " and even the doctor he regarded as a mixture ofa scholar and a mollycoddle. It was perfectly characteristic that onething, and one thing only, should command his unqualified respect, andthis was the possession of the potential power to knock him down. 

CHAPTER X

IN WHICH I GROW UP

In my eighteenth year, when I had achieved a position and a salary inthe tobacco factory, I left the Old Market forever, and moved into aroom, which Mrs. Clay had offered to rent to me, in the house of Dr. Theophilus. During the next twelve months my intimacy with young George, who was about to enter the University, led to an acquaintance, though aslight one, with that great man, the General. As the years passed mydream of the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad, instead ofevaporating, had become fixed in my mind as the fruition of all my toil, the end of all my ambition. I saw in it still, as I had seen in it thatafternoon against the rosy sunset and the anchored vessel, the oneglorious possibility, the great adventure. The General's plethoricfigure, with his big paunch and his gouty toe, had never lost in my eyesthe legendary light in which I had enveloped it; and when Georgesuggested to me carelessly one spring afternoon that I should stop byhis house and have a look at his uncle's classical library, I felt mycheeks burn, while my heart beat an excited tattoo against my ribs. Thehouse I knew by sight, a grave, low-browed mansion, with a fringe ofpurple wistaria draping the long porch; and it was under a pendulousshower of blossoms that we found the General seated with the eveningnewspaper in his hand and his bandaged foot on a wicker stool. As weentered the gate he was making a face over a glass of water, while hecomplained fretfully to Dr. Theophilus, who sat in a rocking-chair, withRobin, the pointer, stretched on a rug at his feet. 

"I'll never get used to the taste of water, if I live to be a hundred, "the great man was saying peevishly. "To save my soul I can't understandwhy the Lord made anything so darn flat!"

A single lock of hair, growing just above the bald spot on his head, stirred in the soft wind like a tuft of bleached grass, while his lower, slightly protruding lip pursed itself into an angry and childishexpression. He was paying the inevitable price, I gathered, for hiscareer as "a gay old bird"; but even in the rebuking glance which Dr. Theophilus now bent upon him, I read the recognition that the presidentof the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad must be dosed moresparingly than other men. Under his loose, puffy chin he wore a loose, puffy tie of a magenta shade, in the midst of which a single black pearlreposed; and when he turned his head, the creases in his neck lookedlike white cords sunk deep in the scarlet flesh. 

"There's no use, Theophilus, I can't stand it, " he protested. "Delilah, bring me a sip of whiskey to put a taste in my mouth. "

"No whiskey, Delilah, not a drop, " commanded the doctor sternly. "It'sthe result of your own imprudence, George, and you've got to pay for it. You've been eating strawberries, and I told you not to touch one with aten-foot pole. "

"You didn't say a word about strawberry shortcake, " rejoined theGeneral, like a guilty child, "and this attack is due to an entirelydifferent cause. I dined at the Blands' on Sunday, and Miss Mitty gaveme mint sauce on my lamb. I never could abide mint sauce. "

Taking out his prescription book the doctor wrote down a prescription ina single word, which looked ominously like "calomel" from a distance. 

"How did Miss Matoaca seem?" he asked, while Robin, the old pointer, came and sniffed at my ankles, and I thought of Samuel, sleeping under aflower bed in the doctor's garden. "She has a touch of malaria, and Iordered her three grains of quinine every morning. "

A purple flush mounted to the General's face, which, if I could haveread it by the light of history, would have explained the scornfulflattery in his attitude toward "the sex. " It was easy to catch thepersonal note in his piquant allusions to "the ladies, " though aninstinct, which he would probably have called a principle, kept themalways within the bounds of politeness. Later I was to learn that MissMatoaca had been the most ardent, if by no means the only, romance ofhis youth; and that because of some headstrong and indelicate opinionsof hers on the subject of masculine morals, she had, when confrontedwith tangible proofs of the General's airy wanderings, hopelesslysevered the engagement within a few weeks of the marriage. To a gayyoung bird the prospect of a storm in a nest had been far fromattractive; and after a fierce quarrel, he had started dizzily down thedescent of his bachelorhood, while she had folded her trembling wingsand retired into the shadow. That Miss Matoaca possessed "headstrongopinions, " even the doctor, with all his gallantry, would have been thelast to deny. "She seems to think men are made just like women, " heremarked now, wonderingly, "but, oh, Lord, they ain't!"

"I tell you it's those outlandish heathen notions of hers that aredriving us all crazy!" exclaimed the General, making a face as he haddone over his glass of water. "Talks about taxes without representationexactly as if she were a man and had rights! What rights does a womanwant, anyway, I'd like to know, except the right to a husband? They allought to have husbands--God knows I'm not denying them that!--the stateought to see to it. But rights! Pshaw! They'll get so presently theywon't know how to bear their wrongs with dignity. And I tell you, doctor, if there's a more edifying sight than a woman bearing her wrongsbeautifully, I've never seen it. Why, I remember my Cousin JennyTyler--you know she married that scamp who used to drink and throw hisboots at her. 'What do you do, Jenny?' I asked, in a boiling rage, whenshe told me, and I never saw a woman look more like an angel than shedid when she answered, 'I pick them up. ' Why, she made me cry, sir;that's the sort of woman that makes a man want to marry. "

"I dare say you're right, " sighed the doctor, "but Miss Matoaca is made, of a different stuff. I can't imagine her picking up any man's boots, George. "

"No more can I, " retorted the General, "it serves her right that shenever got a husband. No gentleman wants to throw his boots at his wife, but, by Jove, he likes to feel that if he were ever to do such a thing, she'd be the kind that would pick them up. He doesn't want to thinkeverlastingly that he's got to walk a chalk-line or catch a flea in hisear. Now, what do you suppose Miss Matoaca said to me on Sunday? We weretalking of Tom Frost's running for governor, and she said she hoped hewouldn't be elected because he led an impure life. An impure life! Willyou tell me what business it is of an unmarried lady's whether a manleads an impure life or not? It isn't ladylike--I'll be damned if it is!I could see that Miss Mitty blushed for her. What's the world coming to, I ask, when a maiden lady isn't ashamed to know that a man leads animpure life?"

He raged softly, and I could see that Dr. Theophilus was growing sternerover his flippancy. 

"Well, you're a gay old bird, George, " he remarked, "and I dare say youthink me something of a prude. "

Tearing off a leaf from his prescription book, he laid it on the table, and held out his hand. Then he stood for a minute with his eyes onRobin, who was marching stiffly round a bed of red geraniums near thegate. "It's time to go, " he added; "that old dog of mine is gettingready to root up your geraniums. "

"You'd better keep a cat, " observed the General, "they do less damage. "

Young George and I, who had stood in the shadow of the wistaria awaitingthe doctor's departure, came forward now, and I made my awkward bow tothe General's bandaged foot. 

"Any relative of Jack Starr?" he enquired affably as he shook my hand. 

I towered so conspicuously above him, while I stood there with my hat inmy hand, that I was for a moment embarrassed by my mere physicaladvantages. 

"No, sir, not that I ever heard of, " I answered. 

"Then you ought to be thankful, " he returned peevishly, "for the firsttime I ever met the fellow he deliberately trod on my toe--deliberately, sir. And now they're wanting to nominate him for governor--but I saythey shan't do it. I've no idea of allowing it. It's utterly out of thequestion. "

"Uncle George, I've brought Ben to see your library, " interrupted youngGeorge at my elbow. 

"Library, eh? Are you going to be a lawyer?" demanded the General. 

I shook my head. 

"A preacher?" in a more reverent voice. 

"No, sir, I'm in the Old Dominion Tobacco Works. You got me my firstjob. "

"I got you your job--did I? Then you're the young chap that discoveredthat blend for smoking. I told Bob you ought to have a royalty on that. Did he give it to you?"

"I'm to have ten per cent of the sales, sir. They've just begun. "

"Well, hold on to it--it's a good blend. I tried it. And when you getyour ten per cent, put it into the Old South Chemical Company, if youwant to grow rich. It isn't everybody I'd give that tip to, but I likethe looks of you. How tall are you?"

"Six feet one in my stockings. "

"Well, I wouldn't grow any more. You're all right, if you can onlymanage to keep your hands and feet down. You've got good eyes and a goodjaw, and it's the jaw that tells the man. Now, that's the trouble withthat Jack Starr they want to nominate for governor. He lacks jaw. 'Youcan't make a governor out of a fellow who hasn't jaw, ' that's what Isaid. And besides, he deliberately trod on my toe the first time I evermet him. Didn't know it was gouty, eh? What right has he got, I asked, to suppose that any gentleman's toe isn't gouty?"

His lower lip protruded angrily, and he sat staring into his glass ofwater with an enquiring and sulky look. It is no small tribute to mycapacity for hero-worship to say that it survived even this nearerapproach to the gouty presence of my divinity. But the glamour ofsuccess--the only glamour that shines without borrowed light in thehard, dry atmosphere of the workaday world--still hung around him; andhis very dissipations--yes, even his fleshly frailties--reflected, forthe moment at least, a romantic interest. I began to wonder if certainmoral weaknesses were, indeed, the inevitable attributes of the greatman, and there shot into my mind, with a youthful folly of regret, thememory of a drink I had declined that morning, and of a pretty maiden atthe Old Market whom I might have kissed and did not. Was the doctor'steaching wrong, after all, and had his virtues made him a failure inlife, while the General's vices had but helped him to his success? I wasvery young, and I had not yet reached the age when I could perceive theexpediency of the path of virtue unless in the end it bordered onpleasant places. "The General is a bigger man than the doctor, " Ithought, half angrily, "and yet the General will be a gay old bird aslong as the gout permits him to hobble. " And it seemed to me suddenlythat the moral order, on which the doctor loved to dilate, had gonetopsy-turvy while I stood on the General's porch. As if reading mythoughts the great man looked up at me, with his roguish twinkle. 

"Now there's Theophilus!" he observed. "Whatever you are, sir, don't bea damned mollycoddle. "

Young George, plucking persistently at my sleeve, drew me at last out ofthe presence and into the house, where I smelt the fragrance ofstrawberries, freshly gathered. 

"Here're the books, " said George, leading me to the door of a long room, filled with rosewood bookcases and family portraits of departedBolingbrokes. Then as I was about to cross the threshold, the sound of abright voice speaking to the General on the porch caused me to stopshort, and stand holding my breath in the hall. 

"Good afternoon, General! You look as if you needed exercise. "

"Exercise, indeed! Do you take me for your age, you minx?"

"Oh, come, General! You aren't old--you're lazy. "

By this time George and I had edged nearer the porch, and even before hebreathed her name in a whisper, I knew in the instant that her sparklingglance ran over me, that she was my little girl of the red shoes justbudding into womanhood. She was standing in a square patch of sunlight, midway between the steps and a bed of red geraniums near the gate, andher dress of some thin white material was blown closely against thecurves of her bosom and her rounded hips. Over her broad white forehead, with its heavily arched black eyebrows, the mass of her pale brown hairspread in the strong breeze and stood out like the wings of a bird inflight, and this gave her whole, finely poised figure a swift andexpectant look, as of one who is swept forward by some radiant impulse. Her face, too, had this same ardent expression; I saw it in her eyes, which fixed me the next moment with her starry and friendly gaze; in hervery full red lips that broke the pure outline of her features; and inher strong, square chin held always a little upward with a proud andimpatient carriage. So vivid was my first glimpse of her, that for asingle instant I wondered if the radiance in her figure was not producedby some fleeting accident of light and shadow. When I knew her better Ilearned that this quality of brightness belonged neither to the mind norto an edge of light, but to the face itself--to some peculiar minglingof clear grey with intense darkness in her brow and eyes. 

As she stood there chatting gayly with the General, young George eyedher from the darkened hall with a glance in which I read, when I turnedto him, a touch of his uncle's playful masculine superiority. 

"She'll be a stunner, if she doesn't get too big, " he observed. "I don'tlike big girls--do you?"

Then as I made no rejoinder, he added after a moment, "Do you think hermouth spoils her? Aunt Hatty calls her mouth coarse. "

"Coarse?" I echoed angrily. "What does she mean by coarse?"

"Oh, too red and too full. She says a lady's mouth ought to be adelicate bow. "

"I never saw a delicate bow--"

"No more did I--but I'd call Sally a regular stunner now, mouth and all. Sally!" he broke out suddenly, and stepped out on the porch. "I'll goriding with you some day, " he said, "if you want me. "

She laughed up at him. "But I don't want you. "

"You wanted me bad enough a year ago. "

"That was a year ago. "

Running hurriedly down the steps, he stood talking to her beside the bedof scarlet geraniums, while I felt a burning embarrassment pervade mybody to the very palms of my hands. 

"Where's the other fellow, George?" called the General, suddenly. "What's become of him?"

As he turned his head in my direction, I left the hall, and came outupon the porch, acutely conscious, all the time, that there was too muchof me, that my hands and feet got in my way, that I ought to have put ona different shirt in the afternoon. 

Sally was stooping over to snip off the head of a geranium, and when shelooked up the next instant, with her hair blown back from her forehead, her starry, expectant gaze rested full on my own. 

"Why, it's the boy I used to know, " she exclaimed, moving toward me. "Boy, how do you do?" She put out her hand, and as I took it in mine, Isaw for the first time that she was a large girl for her age, and wouldbe a large woman. Her figure was already ripening under her thin whitegown, but her hands and feet were still those of a child, and moulded, Isaw, with that peculiar delicacy, which, I had learned from the doctor, was the distinguishing characteristic of the Virginian aristocracy. 

"It is a long time since--since I saw you, " she remarked in a cordialvoice. 

"It's been eight years, " I answered. "I wonder that you remember me. "

"Oh, I never forget. And besides, if I didn't see you for eight yearsmore, I should still recognise you by your eyes. There aren't manyboys, " she said merrily, "who have eyes like a blue-eyed collie's. "

With this she turned from me to George, and after a word or two to theGeneral, and a nod in my direction, they passed through the gate, andwent slowly along the street, her pale brown hair still blown like abird's wing behind her. 

The General's sister, young George's Aunt Hatty, a severe little lady, with a very flat figure, had come out on the porch, and was offering herbrother a dose of medicine. 

"A good girl, Hatty, " remarked the great man, in an affable mood. "Alittle too much of her Aunt Matoaca's spirit for a wife, but a very goodgirl, as long as you ain't married to her. "

"She would be handsome, George, except for her mouth. It's a pity hermouth spoils her. "

"What's the matter with her mouth? I haven't got your eyesight, Hatty, but it appears a perfectly good mouth to me. "

"That's because you have naturally coarse tastes, George. A lady's mouthshould be a delicate bow. "

A delicate bow, indeed! Those full, sensitive lips that showed like asplash of carmine in the clear pallor of her face! As I walked homeunder the broad, green leaves of the sycamores, I remembered thefeatures of the pretty maiden at the Old Market, and they appeared to mesuddenly divested of all beauty. It was as if a bright beam of sunshinehad fallen on a blaze of artificial light, and extinguished it forever. Henceforth I should move straight toward a single love, as I had alreadybegun to move straight toward a single ambition. 

CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH I ENTER SOCIETY AND GET A FALL

My first successful speculation was made in my twenty-first year withfive hundred dollars paid to me by Bob Brackett when the Nectar blendhad been six months on the market. By the General's advice I put themoney in the Old South Chemical Company, and selling out a little laterat high profits, I immediately reinvested. As the years went by, thatsmoking mixture, discovered almost by accident in an idle moment, beganto yield me considerably larger checks twice a year; and twice a year, with the General's enthusiastic assistance, I went in for a modestspeculation from which I hoped sometime to reap a fortune. When I wastwenty-five, a temporary depression in the market gave me theopportunity which, as Dr. Theophilus had informed me almost daily forten years, "waits always around the corner for the man who walksquickly. " I put everything I owned into copper mining stock, thenselling very low, and a year later when the copper trade recoveredquickly and grew active, I rushed to the General and enquiredbreathlessly if I must sell out. 

"Hold on and await developments, " he replied from his wicker chair overhis bandaged foot, "and remember that the successful speculator is theman who always runs in the other direction from the crowd. When you seepeople sitting still, you'd better get up, and when you see them beginto get up, you'd better sit still. Fortune's a woman, you know; don'ttry to flirt with her, but at the same time don't throw your boots ather head. "

Five years before I had left the tobacco factory to go into theGeneral's office, and my days were spent now, absorbed and alert, besidethe chair in which he sat, coolly playing his big game of chess, andcontrolling a railroad. He was in his day the strongest financier in theSouth, and he taught me my lesson. Tireless, sleepless, throbbing with afever that was like the fever of love, I studied at his side everymovement of the market, I weighed every word he uttered, I watched everystroke of his stout cork-handled pen. An infallible judge of men, myintimate knowledge soon taught me that it was by judging men, notthings, he had won his success. "Learn men, learn men, learn men, " hewould repeat in one of his frequent losses of temper. "Everything restson a man, and the way to know the thing is to know the man. "

"That's why I'm learning you, General, " I once replied, as he hobbledout of his office on my arm. 

"Oh, I know, I know, " he retorted with his sly chuckle. "You are lettingme lean on you now because you think the time will come when you canthrow me aside and stand up by yourself. It's age and youth, my boy, ageand youth. "

He sighed wearily, and looking at him I saw for the first time that hewas growing old. 

"Well, you've stood straight enough in your day, sir, " I answered. 

"Oh, I've had my youth, and I shan't begin to put on a long face becauseI've lost it. I didn't have your stature, Ben, but I had a pretty fairmiddling-size one of my own. They used to say of me that I had an eyefor the big chance, and that's a thing a man's got to be born with. Tosee big you've got to be big, and that's what I like about you--youain't busy looking for specks. "

"If I can only become as big a man as you, General, I shall be content. "

"No, you won't, no, you won't, don't stop at me. Already they arebeginning to call you my 'wonderful boy, ' you know. 'I like thatwonderful boy of yours, George, ' Jessoms said to me only last night atthe club. You know Jessoms--don't you? He's president of the UnionBank. "

"Yes, I talked to him for two solid hours yesterday. "

"He told me so, and I said to him: 'By Jove, you're right, Jessoms, andthat boy's got a future ahead of him if he doesn't swell. ' Now that'sthe Gospel truth, Ben, and all the body you've got ain't going to saveyou if you don't keep your head. If you ever feel it beginning to swell, you step outside and put it under a pump, that's the best thing I knowof. How old are you?"

"Twenty-six. "

"And you've got fifty thousand dollars already?"

"Thanks to you, sir. "

"So you ain't swelled yet. Well, I've given you six years of hardtraining, and I made it all the blamed harder because I liked you. You've got the look of success about you, I've seen enough of it to knowit. They used to say of me in Washington that I could sit in my officechair and overlook a line of men and spot every last one of them thatwas going to get on. I never went wrong but once, and that was becausethe poor devil began to swell and thought he was as big as his ownshadow. But if the look's there, I see it--it's something in the eye andthe jaw, and the grip of the hands that nobody can give you except GodAlmighty--and by George, it turns me into a downright heathen and makesme believe in fate. When a man has that something in the eye and in thejaw and in the grip of the hand, there ain't enough devils in theuniverse to keep him from coming out on top at the last. He may gounder, but he won't stay under--no, sir, not if they pile all thebu'sted stocks in the market on top his shoulders. "

"Anyway, you've started me rolling, General, whether I spin on or cometo a dead stop. "

"Then remember, " he retorted slyly, as we parted, ' "that my earnestadvice to a young man starting in business is--don't begin to swell!"

There was small danger of that, I thought, as I went on alone with myvision of the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad. From mychildhood I had seen the big road, as I saw it to-day, sweeping in abright track over the entire South, lengthening, branching, winding awaytoward the distant horizon, girdling the cotton fields, the rice fields, and the coal fields, like a protecting arm. One by one, I saw now, thesmall adjunct lines, absorbed by the main system, until in the wholeSouth only the Great South Midland and Atlantic would be left. Todominate that living organism, to control, in my turn, that splendidliberator of a people's resources, this was still the inaccessible hopeupon which I had fixed my heart. 

In my room I found young George Bolingbroke, who had been waiting, as heat once informed me, "a good half an hour. "

"I say, Ben, " he broke out the next minute, "why don't you get thehousemaid to tie your cravats? She'd do it a long sight better. Are yourfingers all thumbs?"

"They must be, " I replied with a humility I had never assumed before theGeneral, "I can't do the thing properly to save my life. "

"I wonder it doesn't give you a common look, " he remarkeddispassionately, while I winced at the word, "but somehow it only makesyou appear superior to such trifles, like a giant gazing over molehillsat a mountain. It's your size, I reckon, but you're the kind of chap whocan put on a turned-down collar with your evening clothes, or a tiethat's been twisted through a wringer, and not look ridiculous. It's therest of us that seem fops because we're properly dressed. "

"I'd prefer to wear the right thing, you know, " I returned, crestfallen. 

"You never will. Anybody might as well expect a mountain to put forthrose-bushes instead of pine. It suits you, somehow, like your hair, which would make the rest of us look a regular guy. But I'm forgettingmy mission. I've brought you an invitation to a party. "

"What on earth should I do at a party?"

"Look pleasant. Did I take you to Miss Lessie Bell's dancing class fornothing? and were you put through the steps of the Highland Fling invain?"

"I wasn't put through, I never learned. "

"Well, you kicked at it anyway. I say, is all your pirouetting to bedone with stocks? Are you going to pass away in ignorance of politesociety and the manners of the ladies?"

"When I make a fortune, perhaps--"

"Perhaps is always too late. To-morrow is better. "

"Where is the party?"

"The Blands are giving it. Uncle George was puffing and blowing aboutyou when we dined there last Sunday, and Sally Mickleborough told me tobring you to her party on Wednesday night. "

Rising hurriedly I walked away from young George to the fireplace. Amist was before my eyes, I smelt again the scent of wallflowers, and Isaw in a dream the old grey house, with its delicate lace curtainsparted from the small square window-panes as if a face looked out on thecrooked pavement. 

"I'll go, George, " I said, wheeling about, "if you'll pledge yourselfthat I go properly dressed. "

"Done, " he responded, with his unfailing amiability. "I'll tie yourcravat myself; and thank your stars, Ben, that whatever you are, youcan't be little, for that's the unforgivable sin in Sally's eyes. "

On Wednesday night he proved as good as his promise, and when nineo'clock struck, it found me, in irreproachable evening clothes, following him down Franklin Street, to the old house, where a softlycoloured light streamed through the windows and lay in a rosy pool underthe sycamores. All day I had been very nervous. At the moment when I wasreading telegrams for the General, I had suddenly remembered that Ipossessed no gloves suitable to be worn at my first party, and I hadcommitted so many blunders that the great man had roared the word"Swelled!" in a furious tone. Now, however, when the sound of a waltz, played softly on stringed instruments, fell on my ears, my nervousnessdeparted as quickly as it had come. The big mahogany doors swung openbefore us, and as I passed with George, into the brilliantly lightedhall, where the perfume of roses filled the air, I managed to move, ifnot with grace, at least with the necessary dignity of an invited guest. The lamps, placed here and there amid feathery palm branches, glowedunder pink shades like enormous roses in full bloom, and up and down thewide staircase, carpeted in white, a number of pretty girls trippedunder trailing garlands of Southern smilax. As we entered the door onthe right, I saw Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca, standing very erect intheir black brocades and old lace, with outstretched hands andconstantly smiling lips. 

George presented me, with the slightly formal manner which seemedappropriate to the occasion. I had held the little hand of each lady fora minute in my own, and had looked once into each pair of brightlyshining eyes, when my glance, dropping from theirs, flew straight as abird to Sally Mickleborough, who stood talking animatedly to an elderlygentleman with grey side-whiskers and a pleasant laugh. She was dressedall in white, and her pale brown hair, which I had last seen flying likethe wing of a bird, was now braided and wound in a wreath about herhead. As the elderly gentleman bowed and passed on, she lifted her eyes, and her starry, expectant gaze rested full on my face. 

Between us there stretched an expanse of polished floor, in which thepink-shaded lamps and the nodding roses were mirrored as in a pool. Around us there was the music of stringed instruments, playing a waltzsoftly; the sound, too, of many voices, now laughing, now whispering; ofMiss Mitty's repeated "It was so good of you to come"; of Miss Matoaca'sgently murmured "We are _so_ glad to have you with us"; of Dr. Theophilus's "You grow younger every day, ladies. Will you danceto-night?"; of General Bolingbroke's "I never missed an opportunity ofcoming to you in my life, ma'am"; of a confused chorus of girlishmurmurs, of youthful merriment. 

For one delirious instant it seemed to me that if I stepped on theshining floor, I should go down as on a frozen pool. Then her looksummoned me, and as I drew nearer she held out her hand and stoodwaiting. There was a white rose in her wreath of plaits, and when I bentto speak to her the fragrance floated about me. 

"Do you still remember me because of the blue-eyed collie?" I asked, forit was all I could think of. 

Her firm square chin was tilted a little upward, and as she smiled atme, her thick black eyebrows were raised in the old childish expressionof charming archness. It was the face of an idea rather than the face ofa woman, and the power, the humour, the radiant energy in her look, appeared to divide her, as by an immeasurable distance, from the prettygirls of her own age among whom she stood. She seemed at once older andyounger than her companions--older by some deeper and sadder knowledgeof life, younger because of the peculiar buoyancy with which she movedand spoke. As I looked at her mouth, very full, of an almost violentred, and tremulous with expression, I remembered Miss Hatty's "delicatebow" with an odd feeling of anger. 

"It has been a long time, but I haven't forgotten you, Ben Starr, " shesaid. 

"Do you remember the night of the storm and the cup of milk you wouldn'tdrink?"

"How horrid I was! And the geranium you gave me?"

"And the churchyard and the red shoes and Samuel?"

"Poor Samuel. I can't have any dogs now. Aunt Mitty doesn't like them--"

Some one came up to speak to her, and while I bowed awkwardly and turnedaway, I saw her gaze looking back at me from the roses and thepink-shaded lamps. A touch on my arm brought the face of young Georgebetween me and my ecstatic visions. 

"I say, Ben, there's an awfully pretty girl over there I want you towaltz with--Bessy Dandridge. "

In spite of my protest he led me the next instant to a slim figure inpink tarlatan, with a crown of azaleas, who sat in one corner betweentwo very stout ladies. As I approached, the stout ladies smiled at mebenignly, hiding suppressed yawns behind feather fans. Miss Dandridgewas, as George said, "awfully pretty, " with large shallow eyes of paleblue, an insipid mouth, and a shy little smile that looked as if she hadput it on with her crown of azaleas and would take it off again and layit away in her bureau drawer when the party was over. 

"Get up and dance, dear, " urged one of the stout ladies sleepily, "weought to have come earlier. "

"The girls look very well, " remarked the other, suddenly alert andinterested, "but I don't like this new fashion of wearing the hair. Sally Mickleborough is handsome, though it's a pity she takes so muchafter her father. "

My arm was already around the pink tarlatan waist of my partner, thecrown of azaleas had brushed my shoulder like a gentle caress, and I hadwhirled halfway down the room in triumphant agony, when a floatingphrase uttered in a girlish voice entered my ears and carried confusioninto my brain. 

"Get out of the way. Doesn't Bessy look for all the world like arose-bush uprooted by a whirlwind?"

I caught the words as I went, and they proved too much for the tremblingbalance of my self-confidence. My strained gaze, fixed on the glassysurface beneath my feet, plunged suddenly downward amid the reflectedroses and lamps. The music went wild and out of tune on the air. Myblood beat violently in my pulses, I made a single false step, trippedover a flounce of pink tarlatan, which seemed to shriek as I went down, and the next instant my partner and I were flat on the polished floor, clutching desperately for support at the mirrored roses beneath. 

The wreck lasted only a minute. A single suppressed titter fell on myears, and was instantly checked. I looked up in time to see a smilefreeze on Miss Mitty's face, and melt immediately into an expression ofsympathy. The pretty girl, with the crown of azalea hanging awry on herflaxen tresses, and her flounce of pink tarlatan held disconsolately inher hand, looked for one dreadful instant as if she were about to burstinto tears. A few dancers had stopped and gathered sympatheticallyaround us, but the rest were happily whirling on, while the music, aftera piercing crescendo, came breathlessly to a pause amid a silence that Ifelt to be far louder than sound. The perspiration, forced out by inwardagony, stood in drops on my forehead, and as I wiped it away, I saidalmost defiantly:--

"It was the fault of George Bolingbroke. I told him I didn't know how todance. "

"I think I'd better go home, " murmured the heroine of the disaster, catching her lower lip in her teeth to bite back a sob, "I wonder wheremamma can be?"

"Here, dear, " responded a commiserating voice, and I was about to turnaway in disgrace without a further apology, when the little circlearound us divided with a flutter, and Sally appeared, leaning on the armof a youth with bulging eyes and a lantern jaw. 

"Go home, Bessy? Why, how silly!" she exclaimed, and her energetic voiceseemed suddenly to dominate the situation. "It wasn't so many years ago, I'm sure, that you used to tumble for the pleasure of it. Here, let mepin on your crown, and then run straight upstairs to the red room andget mammy to mend your flounce. It won't take her a minute. There, now, you're all the prettier for a high colour. "

When she had pushed Bessy across the threshold with her small, stronghands, she turned to me, laughing a little, and slipped her arm intomine with the air of a young queen bestowing a favour. 

"It's just as well, Ben Starr, " she said, "that you're engaged to me forthis dance, and not to a timid lady. "

It wasn't my dance, I knew; in fact, I had not had sufficient boldnessto ask her for one, and I discovered the next minute, when she sent awayrather impatiently a youth who approached, that she had taken suchglorious possession merely from some indomitable instinct to give peoplepleasure. 

"Shall we sit down and talk a little over there under the smilax?" sheasked, "or would you rather dance? If you'd like to dance, " she addedwith a sparkle in her face, "I am not afraid. "

"Well, I am, " I retorted, "I shall never dance again. "

"How serious that sounds--but since you've made the resolution I hopeyou'll keep it. I like things to be kept. "

"There's no chance of my breaking it. I never made but one other solemnvow in my life. "

"And you've kept that?"

"I am keeping it now. "

She sat down, arranging her white draperies under the festoons ofsmilax, her left hand, from which a big feather fan drooped, resting onher knees, her small, white-slippered foot moving to the sound of thewaltz. 

"Was it a vow not to grow any more?" she asked with a soft laugh. 

"It was, " I leaned toward her and the fragrance of the white rose, drooping a little in her wreath of plaits, filled my nostrils, "that Iwould not stay common. "

Her lashes, which had been lowered, were raised suddenly, and I met hereyes. "O Ben Starr, Ben Starr, " she said, "how well you have kept it!"

"Do you remember the stormy night when you would not let me take yourwet cap because I was a common boy?". 

"How hateful I must have been!"

"On that night I determined that I would not grow up to be a common man. That was why I ran away, that was why I went into the tobacco factory, that was why I started to learn Johnson's Dictionary by heart--why Idrudged over my Latin, why I went into stocks, why--"

Her eyes had not left my face, but unfurling the big feather fan, shewaved it slowly between us. I, who had, in the words of Dr. Theophilus, "no small wits in my head, " who could stand, dumb and a clown, in aballroom, who could even trip up my partner, had found words that couldarrest the gaze of the woman before me. To talk at all I must talk ofbig things, and it was of big things that I now spoke--of poverty, ofstruggle, of failure, of aspiration. My mind, like my body, was notrounded to the lighter graces, the rippling surface, that societyrequires. In my everyday clothes, among men, I was at no loss for words, but the high collar and the correctly tied cravat I wore seemed tostrangle my throat, until those starry eyes, seeking big things also, had looked into mine. Then I forgot my fruitless efforts atconversation, I forgot the height of my collar, the stiffness of myshirt, the size of my hands and my feet. I forgot that I was a plainman, and remembered only that I was a man. The merely social, thetrivial, the commonplace, dropped from my thoughts. My dignity, --thedignity that George Bolingbroke had called that of size, --was restoredto me; and beyond the rosy lights and the disturbing music, we stood aman and a woman together. Our consciousness had left the surface oflife. We had become acutely aware of each other and aware, too, of thesilence in which our eyes wavered and met. 

"That was why I starved and sweated and drudged and longed, " I added, while her fan waved with its large, slow movement between us, "that waswhy--"

Her lips parted, she leaned slightly forward, and I saw in her face whatI had never seen in the face of a woman before--the bloom of a soul. 

"And you've done this all your life?"

"Since that stormy evening. "

"You have won--already you have won--"

"Not yet. I am beginning and I may win in the end if I keep steady, if Idon't lose my head. I shall win in the end--perhaps--"

"You will win what?"

"A fortune it may be, or it may be even the thing that has made thefortune seem worth the having. "

"And that is?" she asked simply. 

"It is too long a story. Some day, if you will listen, I may tell you, but not now--"

The dance stopped, she rose to her feet, and George Bolingbroke, rushingexcitedly to where we stood, claimed the coming Virginia reel as hisown. 

"Some day you shall tell me the long story, Ben Starr, " she said, as shegave me her hand. 

I watched her take her place in the Virginia reel, watched the dancebegin, watched her full, womanly figure, in its soft white draperies, glide between the lines, with her head held high, her hand in GeorgeBolingbroke's, her white slippers skimming the polished floor. Thenturning away, I walked slowly down the length of the two drawing-rooms, and said "Good-night" to Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca near the door. As Ipassed into the hall, I heard a woman's voice murmur distinctly:--

"Yes, he is a magnificent animal, but he has no social manner. "

CHAPTER XII

I WALK INTO THE COUNTRY AND MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE

My sleep that night was broken by dreams of roses and pink-shaded lamps. For the first time in my life my brain and body alike refused rest, andthe one was illumined as by the rosy glow of a flame, while the otherwas scorched by a fever which kept me tossing sleeplessly between Mrs. Clay's lavender-scented sheets. At last when the sun rose, I got out ofbed, and hurriedly dressing, went up Franklin Street, and turned intoone of the straight country roads which led through bronzed levels ofbroomsedge. Eastward the sun was ploughing a purple furrow across thesky, and toward the south a single golden cloud hung over some thinstretches of pine. The ghost of a moon, pale and watery, was riding low, after a night of high frolic, and as the young dawn grew stronger, Iwatched her melt gradually away like a face that one sees through smoke. The October wind, blowing with a biting edge over the broomsedge, bentthe blood-red tops of the sumach like pointed flames toward the road. 

For me a new light shone on the landscape--a light that seemed to haveits part in the high wind, in the waving broomsedge, and in the risingsun. For the first time since those old days in the churchyard I feltwith every fibre of me, with every beat of my pulses, with every drop ofmy blood, that it was good to be alive--that it was worth while everybit of it. My starved boyhood, the drudgery in the tobacco factory, thebreathless nights in the Old Market, the hours when, leaning overJohnson's Dictionary, I had been obliged to pinch myself to keep wideawake--the squalor out of which I had come, and the future into which Iwas going--all these were a part to-day of this strange new ecstasy thatsang in the wind and moved in the waving broomsedge. 

And through it all ran my thoughts: "How fragrant the white rose was inher hair! How tremulous her mouth! Are her eyes grey or green, and is itonly the heavy shadow of her lashes that makes them appear black attimes, as if they changed colour with her thoughts? Is it possible thatshe could ever love me? If I make a fortune will that bring me anynearer to her? Obscure as I am my cause is hopeless, but even if I wererich and powerful, should I ever dare to ascend the steps of that housewhere I had once delivered marketing at the kitchen door?"

The memory of the spring morning when I had first gone there with mybasket on my arm returned to me, and I saw myself again as a ragged, barefooted boy resting beneath the silvery branches of the greatsycamore. Even then I had dreamed of her; all through my life thethought of her had run like a thread of gold. I remembered her as shehad stood in our little kitchen on that stormy October evening, holdingher mop of a muff in her cold little hands, and looking back at me withher sparkling defiant gaze. Then she came to me in her red shoes, dancing over the coloured leaves in the churchyard, and a minute later, as she had knelt in the box-bordered path patiently building her housesof moss and stones. As a child she had stirred my imagination, as awoman she had filled and possessed my thoughts. Always I had seen her alittle above, a little beyond, but still beckoning me on. 

The next instant my thoughts dropped back to the evening before, and Iwent over word for word every careless phrase she had spoken. Was shemerely kind to the boor in her house? or had there been a deeper meaningin her divine smile--in her suddenly lifted eyes? "O Ben Starr, you havewon!" she had said, and had the thrill in her voice, the tremor of herbosom under its fall of lace, meant that her heart was touched? Modestor humble I had never been. The will to fight--the exaggeratedself-importance, the overweening pride of the strong man who has madehis way by buffeting obstacles, were all mine; and yet, walking therethat morning in the high wind between the rolling broomsedge and theblood-red sumach, I was aware again of the boyish timidity with which Ihad carried my market basket so many years ago to her kitchen doorstep. She had said of me last night that I was no longer "common. " Was thatbecause she had read in my glance that I had kept myself pure for hersake?--that for her sake I had made myself strong to resist as well asto achieve? Would Miss Mitty's or Miss Matoaca's verdict, I wondered, have been as merciful, as large as hers? "A magnificent animal, but withno social manner, " the voice had said of me, and the words burned now, hot with shame, in my memory. The recollection of my fall in the dance, of the crying lips of the pretty girl in pink tarlatan, while she stoodholding her ruined flounce, became positive agony. What did she think ofmy boorishness? Was I, for her also, merely a magnificent animal? Hadshe noticed how ill at ease I felt in my evening clothes? O young Love, young Love, your sharpest torments are not with arrows, but with pinpricks!

A trailing blackberry vine, running like a crimson vein close to theearth, caught my foot, and I stooped for a minute. When I looked up shewas standing clear against the reflected light of the sunrise, where alow hill rose above the stretches of broomsedge. Her sorrel mare wasbeside her, licking contentedly at a bright branch of sassafras; and Isaw that she had evidently dismounted but the moment before. As Iapproached, she fastened her riding skirt above her high boots, andkneeling down on the dusty roadside, lifted the mare's foot and examinedit with searching and anxious eyes. Her three-cornered riding hat hadslipped to her shoulders, where it was held by a broad black band ofelastic, and I saw her charming head, with its wreath of plaits, definedagainst the golden cloud that hung above the thin stretch of pines. Atmy back the full sunrise broke, and when she turned toward me, her gazewas dazzled for a moment by the flood of light. 

"Let me have a look, " I said, as I reached her, "is the mare hurt?"

"She went lame a few minutes ago. There's a stone in her foot, but Ican't get it out. "

"Perhaps I can. "

Rising from her knees, she yielded me her place, and then stood lookingdown on me while I removed the stone. 

"She'll still limp, I fear, it was a bad one, " I said as I finished. 

Without replying, she turned from me and ran a few steps along the road, calling, "Come, Dolly, " in a caressing voice. The mare followed withdifficulty, flinching as she put her sore foot to the ground. 

"See how it hurts her, " she said, coming back to me. "I'll have to leadher slowly--there's no other way. "

"Why not ride at a walk?"

She shook her head. "My feet are better than a lame horse. It's not morethan two miles anyway. "

"And you danced all night?"

I hung the reins over my arm and we turned together, facing the sunrise. 

"Yes, but the way to rest is to run out-of-doors. Are you often up withthe dawn, too?"

"No, but I couldn't sleep. The music got into my head. "

"Into mine also. But I often take a canter at sunrise. It is my hour. "

"And this is your road?"

"Not always. I go different ways. This one I call theroad-to-what-might-have-been because it turns off just as it reaches aglorious view. "

"Then don't let's travel it. I'd rather go with you on theroad-to-what-is-to-be. "

She looked at me steadily for a minute with arching brows. "I wonder whythey say of you that you have no social amenities?" she observedmockingly. 

"I haven't. That isn't an amenity, it is a fact. To save my life Icouldn't find a blessed thing to say last night to the little lady inpink tarlatan whose dress I tore. "

"Poor Bessy!" she laughed softly, "she vows she'll never waltz with youagain. "

"She's perfectly safe to vow it. "

"Oh, yes, I remember, and I hope you won't dance any more. Do you know, I like you better out-of-doors. "

"Out-of-doors?"

"Well, the broomsedge is becoming to you. It seems your naturalbackground somehow. Now it makes George Bolingbroke look frivolous. "

"His natural background is the ballroom, and I'm not sure he hasn't thebest of it. I can't live always in the broomsedge. "

"Oh, it isn't only the broomsedge, though that goes admirably with yourhair--it's the bigness, the space, the simplicity. You take up too muchroom among lamps and palms, you trip on a waxed floor, and down goespoor Bessy. But out here you are natural and at home. The sky sets offyour head--and it's really very fine if you only knew it. Out here, withme, you are in your native element. "

"Is that because you are my native element? Can you imagine poor Bessyfitting into the picture?"

"To tell the truth I can't imagine poor Bessy fitting you at all. Hernative element is pink tarlatan. "

"And yours?" I demanded. 

"That you must find out for yourself. " A smile played on her face likean edge of light. 

"The sunrise, " I answered. 

"Like you, I am sorry that I can't be always in my proper setting, " shereplied. 

"You are always. The sunrise never leaves you. "

Her brows arched merrily, and I saw the tiny scar I had remembered fromchildhood catch up the corner of her mouth with its provoking andirresistible trick of expression. 

"Do you mean to tell me that you learned these gallantries in Johnson'sDictionary?" she enquired, "or have you taken other lessons from theGeneral besides those in speculations?"

I had got out of my starched shirt and my evening clothes, and thetimidity of the ballroom had no part in me under the open sky. "Johnson's Dictionary wasn't my only teacher, " I retorted, "nor was theGeneral. At ten years of age I could recite the prosiest speeches of SirCharles Grandison. "

"Ah, that explains it. Well, I'm glad anyway you didn't learn it fromthe General. He broke poor Aunt Matoaca's heart, you know. "

"Then I hope he managed to break his own at the same time. "

"He didn't. I don't believe he had a big enough one to break. Oh, yes, I've always detested your great man, the General. They were engaged tobe married, you have heard, I suppose, and three weeks before thewedding she found out some dreadful things about his life--and shebehaved then, as Dr. Theophilus used to say, 'like a gentleman ofhonour. ' He--he ought to have married another woman, but even after AuntMatoaca gave him up, he refused to do it--and this was what she nevergot over. If he had behaved as dishonourably as that in business, no manwould have spoken to him, she said--and can you believe it?--shedeclined to speak to him for twenty years, though she was desperately inlove with him all the time. She only began again when he got old andgouty and humbled himself to her. In my heart of hearts I can't helpdisliking him in spite of all his success, but I really believe that hehas never in his life cared for any woman except Aunt Matoaca. It'sbecause she's so perfectly honourable, I think--but, of course, it isher terrible experience that has made her so--so extreme in her views. "

"What are her views?"

"She calls them principles--but Aunt Mitty says, and I suppose she'sright, that it would have been more ladylike to have borne her wrongs insilence instead of shrieking them aloud. For my part I think that, however loud she shrieked, she couldn't shriek as loud as the Generalhas acted. "

"I hope she isn't still in love with him?"

Her clear rippling laugh--the laugh of a free spirit--fluted over thebroomsedge. "Can you imagine it? One might quite as well be in love withone's Thanksgiving turkey. No, she isn't in love with him now, but she'sin love with the idea that she used to be, and that's almost as bad. Iknow it's her own past that makes her think all the time about thewrongs of women. She wants to have them vote, and make the laws, andhave a voice in the government. Do you?"

"I never thought about it, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't like my wifeto go to the polls, " I answered. 

Again she laughed. "It's funny, isn't it?--that when you ask a mananything about women, he always begins to talk about his wife, even whenhe hasn't got one?"

"That's because he's always hoping to have one, I suppose. "

"Do you want one very badly?" she taunted. 

"Dreadfully--the one I want. "

"A real dream lady in pink tarlatan?"

"No, a living lady in a riding habit. "

If I had thought to embarrass her by this flight of gallantry, my hopewas fruitless, for the arrow, splintered by her smile, fell harmlesslyto the dust of the road. 

"An Amazon seems hardly the appropriate mate to Sir Charles Grandison, "she retorted. 

"Just now it was the General that I resembled. "

"Oh, you out-generaled the General a mile back. Even he didn't attemptto break the heart of Aunt Matoaca at their second meeting. "

The candid merriment in her face had put me wholly at ease, --I who hadstood tongue-tied and blushing before the simpers of poor Bessy. Dare asI might, I could bring no shadow of self-consciousness, no armour ofsex, into her sparkling eyes. 

"And have I tried to break yours?" I asked bluntly. 

"Have you? You know best. I am not familiar with Grandisonian tactics. "

"I don't believe there's a man alive who could break your heart, " Isaid. 

With her arm on the neck of the sorrel mare, she gave me back my glance, straight and full, like a gallant boy. 

"Nothing, " she remarked blithely, "short of a hammer could do it. "

We laughed together, and the laughter brought us into an intimacy whichto me, at least, was dangerously sweet. My head whirled suddenly. 

"You asked me last night about the one thing I'd wanted most all mylife, " I said. 

"The thing that made you learn Johnson's Dictionary by heart?" sheasked. 

"Only to the end of the _c_'s. Don't credit me, please, with the wholealphabet. "

"The thing, then, " she corrected herself, "that made you learn the _a_, _b_, _c_'s of Johnson's Dictionary by heart?"

"If you wish it I will tell you what it was. "

For the first time her look wavered. "Is it very long? Here is FranklinStreet, and in a little while we shall be at home. "

"It is not long--it is very short. It is a single word of threeletters. "

"I thought you said it had covered every hour of your life?"

"Every hour of my life has been covered by a word of three letters. "

"What an elastic word!"

"It is, for it has covered everything at which I looked--both the earthand the sky. "

"And the General and the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad?"

"Without that word the General and the railroad would have beennothing. "

"How very much obliged to it the poor General must be!"

"Will you hear it?" I asked, for when I was once started to the goalthere was no turning me by laughter. 

She raised her eyes, which had been lowered, and looked at me long anddeeply--so long and deeply that it seemed as if she were seekingsomething within myself of which even I was unconscious. 

"Will you hear it?" I asked again. 

Her gaze was still on mine. "What is the word?" she asked, almost in awhisper. 

At the instant I felt that I staked my whole future, and yet that it wasno longer in my power to hesitate or to draw back. "The word is--you, " Ireplied. 

Her hand dropped from the mare's neck, where it had almost touched mine, and I watched her mouth grow tremulous until the red of it showed in aviolent contrast to the clear pallor of her face. Then she turned herhead away from me toward the sun, and thoughtful and in silence, wepassed down Franklin Street to the old grey house. 

CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH I RUN AGAINST TRADITIONS

When we had delivered the mare to the coloured groom waiting on thesidewalk, she turned to me for the first time since I had uttered mydaring word. 

"You must come in to breakfast with us, " she said, with a friendly andcareless smile, "Aunt Mitty will be disappointed if I return withoutwhat she calls 'a cavalier. '"

The doubt occurred to me if Miss Mitty would consider me entitled to sofelicitous a phrase, but smothering it the next minute as best I could, I followed Sally, not without trepidation, up the short flight of steps, and into the wide hall, where the air was heavy with the perfume offading roses. Great silver bowls of them drooped now, with blightedheads, amid the withered smilax, and the floor was strewn thickly withpetals, as if a strong wind had blown down the staircase. From thedining room came a delicious aroma of coffee, and as we crossed thethreshold, I saw that the two ladies, in their lace morning caps, werealready seated at the round mahogany table. From behind the tall oldsilver service, the grave oval face of Miss Mitty cast on me, as Ientered, a look in which a faint wonder was mingled with a pleasanthereditary habit of welcome. A cover was already laid for the chancecomer, and as I took possession of it in response to her invitation, Ifelt again that terrible shyness--that burning physical embarrassment ofthe plain man in unfamiliar surroundings. So had I felt on the morningwhen I had stood in the kitchen, with my basket on my arm, and declinedthe plum cake for which my mouth watered. In the road with Sally I hadappeared to share, as she had said, something of the dignity of thebroomsedge and the open sky; here opposite to Miss Matoaca, with therich mahogany table and the vase of chrysanthemums between us, I seemedridiculously out of proportion to the surroundings amid which I sat, speechless and awkward. Was it possible that any woman could lookbeneath that mountain of shyness, and discern a self-confidence in largematters that would some day make a greater man than the General?

"Cream and sugar?" enquired Miss Mitty, in a tone from which I knew shehad striven to banish the recognition that she addressed a socialinferior. Her pleasant smile seemed etched about her mouth, over theexpression of faint wonder which persisted beneath. I felt that herracial breeding, like Miss Matoaca's, was battling against herinstinctive aversion, and at the same moment I knew that I ought to havedeclined the invitation Sally had given. A sense of outrage--ofresentment--swelled hot and strong in my heart. What was this socialbarrier--this aristocratic standard that could accept the General andreject such men as I? If it had sprung back, strong and flexible as asteel wire, before the man, would it still present its irresistiblestrength against the power of money? In that instant I resolved that ifwealth alone could triumph over it, wealth should become the weapon ofmy attack. Then my gaze met Sally's over the chrysanthemums, and thethought in my brain shrank back suddenly abashed. 

"Dolly got a stone in her foot, poor dear, " she remarked to her aunts, "and Ben Starr got it out. She limped all the way home. "

At her playful use of my name, a glance flashed from Miss Mitty to MissMatoaca and back again across the high silver service. 

"Then we are very grateful to Mr. Starr, " replied Miss Mitty in a primvoice. "Sister Matoaca and I were just agreeing that you ought not to beallowed to ride alone outside the city. "

"Perhaps we can arrange with Ben to go walking along the same road, "responded Sally provokingly, "and I shouldn't be in need of a groom. "

For the first time I raised my eyes. "I'll walk anywhere except alongthe road-to-what-might-have-been, " I said, and my voice was quitesteady. 

Her glance dropped to her plate. Then she looked across the vase ofchrysanthemums into Miss Mitty's face. 

"Ben and I used to play together, Aunt Mitty, " she said, offering theinformation as if it were the most pleasant fact in the world, "when Ilived on Church Hill. "

A flush rose to Miss Mitty's cheeks, and passed the next instant, as ifby a wave of sympathy, into Miss Matoaca's. 

"I hoped, Sally, that you had forgotten that part of your life, "observed the elder lady stiffly. 

"How can I forget it, Aunt Mitty? I was very happy over there. "

"And are you not happy here, dear?" asked Miss Matoaca, hurt by thewords, and bending over, she smelt a spray of lilies-of-the-valley thathad lain beside her plate. 

"Of course I am, Aunt Matoaca, but one doesn't forget. I met Ben firstwhen I was six years old. Mamma and I stopped at his house in a stormone night on our way over to grandmama's. We were soaking wet, and theywere very kind and dried us and gave us hot things to drink, and hismother wrapped me up in a shawl and sent me here with mamma. I shallalways remember how good they were, and how he broke off a red geraniumfrom his mother's plant and gave it to me. "

As she told her story, Miss Mitty watched her attentively, theexpression of faint wonder in her eyes and her narrow eyebrows, and herpleasant, rather pained smile etched delicately about her fine, thinlips. Her long, oval face, suffused now by an unusual colour, rose abovethe quaint old coffee urn, on which the Fairfax crest, belonging to hermother's family, was engraved. If any passion could have been supposedto rock that flat, virgin bosom, I should have said that it was moved bya passion of wounded pride. 

"Is your coffee right, Mr. Starr? Have you cream enough?" she enquiredpolitely. "Selim, give Mr. Starr a partridge. "

My coffee was right, and I declined the bird, which would have stuck inmy throat. The united pride of the Blands and the Fairfaxes, I toldmyself, could not equal that possessed by a single obscure son of astone-cutter. 

"If you are as hungry as I am, you are famished, " observed Sally, with agallant effort to make a semblance of gayety sport on a frozenatmosphere. "Aunt Matoaca, have pity and give me a muffin. "

Muffins were passed by Miss Matoaca; waffles were presented immediatelyby Selim. 

"Do take a hot one, " urged Miss Matoaca anxiously, "yours is quitecold. "

I took a hot one, and after placing it on the small white and goldplate, swore desperately to myself that I would not eat a mouthful inthat house until I could eat there as an equal. The faint wonder beneaththe pained fixed smile on Miss Mitty's face stabbed me like a knife. Allher anxious hospitality, all her offers of cream and partridges, couldnot for a single minute efface it. Turning my head I discerned the sameexpression, still fainter, still gentler, reflected on Miss Matoaca'slips--as if some subtle bond of sympathy between them were askingalways, beneath the hereditary courtesy: "Can this be possible? Are we, whose mother was a Fairfax, whose father was a Bland, sitting at our owntable with a man who is not a gentleman by birth?--who has even broughta market basket to our kitchen door? What has become of the establishedorder if such a thing as this can happen to two unprotected Virginialadies?"

And it was quite characteristic of their race, of their class, that thegreater the wonder grew in their gentle minds, the more sedulously theyplied me with coffee and partridges and preserves--that the more theirsouls abhorred me, the more lavish became their hands. Divided as theywere by their principles, something stronger than a principle now heldthe sisters together, and this was a passionate belief in the integrityof their race. 

Again Selim handed the waffles in a frozen silence, and again Sally madean unsuccessful attempt to produce an appearance of animation. 

"Are you going to market, Aunt Matoaca?" she asked, "and will youremember to buy seed for my canary?"

The flush in Miss Matoaca's cheek this time, I could not explain. 

"Sister Mitty will go, " she replied, in confusion, "I--I have anotherengagement. "

"She alludes to a meeting of one of her boards, " observed Miss Mitty, and turning to me she added, with what I felt to be an unfair thrust atthe shrinking bosom of Miss Matoaca, "My sister is a great reader, Mr. Starr, and she has drawn many of her opinions out of books instead offrom life. "

I looked up, my eyes met Miss Matoaca's, and I remembered her lovestory. 

"We all do that, I suppose, " I answered. "Even when we get them fromlife, haven't most of them had their beginning in books?"

"I am not a great reader myself, " remarked Miss Mitty, a trifle primly. "My father used to say that when a lady had read a chapter of her Biblein the morning, and consulted her cook-book, she had done as muchliterary work as was good for her. Too intimate an acquaintance withbooks, he always said, was apt to unsettle the views, and the bestjudgment a woman can have, I am sure, is the opinion of the gentlemen ofher family. "

"That may be true, " I admitted, and my self-possession returned to me, until a certain masculine assurance sounded in my voice, "but I'm quitesure I shouldn't like anybody else's opinion to decide mine. "

"You are a man, " rejoined Miss Mitty, and I felt that she had not beenable to bring her truthful lips to utter the word "gentleman. " "It isnatural that you should have independent ideas, but, as far as I amconcerned, I am perfectly content to think as my grandmother and mygreat-grandmother have thought before me. Indeed, it seems to me almostdisrespectful to differ from them. "

"And it was dear great-grandmama, " laughed Sally, "who when the doctoronce enquired if her tooth ached, turned to great-grandpapa and asked, 'Does it ache, Bolivar?'"

She had tossed her riding hat aside, and a single loosened wave of herhair had fallen low on her forehead above her arched black eyebrows. Beneath it her eyes, very wide and bright, held a puzzled yet resolutelook, as if they were fixed upon an obstacle which frightened her, andwhich she was determined to overcome. 

"You are speaking of my grandmama, Sally, " observed Miss Mitty, and Icould see that the levity of the girl had wounded her. 

"I'm sorry, dear Aunt Mitty, she was my great-grandmama, too, but thatdoesn't keep me from thinking her a very silly person. "

"A silly person? Your own great-grandmama, Sally!" Her mind, long andnarrow, like her face, had never diverged, I felt, from the straightline of descent. 

"My sister and I unfortunately do not agree in our principles, Mr. Starr, " said Miss Matoaca, breaking her strained silence suddenly in ahigh voice, and with an energy that left tremors in her thin, delicatefigure. "Indeed, I believe that I hold views which are opposed generallyby Virginia ladies--but I feel it to be a point of honour that I shouldlet them be known. " She paused breathlessly, having delivered herselfof the heresy that worked in her bosom, and a moment later she sattrembling from head to foot with her eyes on her plate. Poor littlegallant lady, I thought, did she remember the time when at the call ofthat same word "honour, " she had thrown away, not only her peace, buther happiness?

"Whatever your opinions may be, Miss Matoaca, I respect your honest andloyal support of them, " I said. 

The embarrassment that had overwhelmed me five minutes before hadvanished utterly. At the first chance to declare myself--to contend, notmerely with a manner, but with a situation, I felt the full strength ofmy manhood. The General himself could not have uttered his piquantpleasantries in a blither tone than I did my impulsive defence of theright of private judgment. Miss Mitty raised her eyes to mine, and MissMatoaca did likewise. Over me their looks clashed, and I saw at oncethat it was the relentless warfare between individual temperament andracial instinct. In spite of the obscurity of my birth, I knew that inMiss Matoaca, at that instant, I had won a friend. 

"Surely Aunt Matoaca is right to express what she thinks, " said Sally, loyally following my lead. 

"No woman of our family has ever thought such things, Sally, or has everfelt called upon to express her views in the presence of men. "

"Well, I suppose, some woman has got to begin some day, and it may aswell be Aunt Matoaca. "

"There is no reason why any woman should begin. Your great-grandmama didnot. "

"But my great-grandmama couldn't tell when her tooth ached, and you can, I've heard you do it. It was very disrespectful of you, dear Auntie. "

"If you cannot be serious, Sally, I refuse to discuss the subject. "

"But how can anybody be serious, Aunt Mitty, about a person who didn'tknow when her own tooth ached?"

"Dear sister, " remarked Miss Matoaca, in a voice of gentle obstinacy, "Ido not wish to be the cause of a disagreement between Sally andyourself. Any question that was not one of principle I should gladlygive up. I know you are not much of a reader, but if you would onlyglance at an article in the last _Fortnightly Review_ on theEmancipation of Women--"

"I should have thought, sister Matoaca, that Dr. Peterson's last sermonin St. Paul's on the feminine sphere would have been a far safer guidefor you. His text, Mr. Starr, " she added, turning to me, "was, 'Shelooketh well to the ways of her household. '"

"At least you can't accuse Aunt Matoaca of neglecting the ways of herhousehold, " said Sally, merrily, "even the General rises up after dinnerand praises her mince pies. Do you like mince pies, Ben?"

I replied that I was sure that I should like Miss Matoaca's, for I hadheard them lauded by General Bolingbroke; at which the poor lady blusheduntil her cheeks looked like withered rose leaves. She was one of thoseunhappy women, I had learned during breakfast, who suffered from agreater mental activity than was usually allotted to the females oftheir generation. Behind that long and narrow face, with its pencilledeyebrows, its fine, straight nose, and restlessly shining eyes, whatbattles of conviction against tradition must have waged. Was the finaltriumph of intellect due, in reality, to the accident of an unhappylove? Had the General's frailties driven this shy little lady, with herdevotion to law and order, and her excellent mince pies, into a martyrfor the rights of sex?

"I am told that Mrs. Clay prides herself upon her pies, " she remarked. "I have never eaten them, but Dr. Theophilus tells me that he prefersmine because I use less suet. "

"I am sure nobody's could compare with yours, sister Matoaca, " observedMiss Mitty in an affable tone, "and I happen to know that Mrs. Clayresorts to Mrs. Camberwell's cook-book. _We_ prefer Mrs. Randolph's, "she added, turning to me. 

"Well, we'll ask Ben to dinner some day, and he may judge, " said Sally. 

Instantly I felt that her words were a challenge, and the shiningmahogany table, with its delicate lace mats, its silver and itschrysanthemums, became a battle-field for opposing spirits. I saw MissMitty stiffen and the corners of her mouth grow rigid under herpleasant, fixed smile. 

"Will you have some marmalade, Mr. Starr?" she asked, and I knew thatwith the phrase, she had flung down her gauntlet on the table. Her verypoliteness veiled a purpose, not of iron, but finely tempered andresistless as a blade. Had she said to me: "Sir, you are an upstart, andI, sitting quietly at the same table with you, and inviting you to eatof the same dish of marmalade, am a descendant of the Blands and theFairfaxes, "--her words would have stabbed me less deeply than did thepathetic "Can this be possible?" of her smiling features. 

A canary, swinging in a gilt cage between the curtains at the window, broke suddenly into a jubilant fluting; and rising from the table, westood for a minute, as if petrified, with our eyes on the bird, and onthe box of blossoming sweet alyssum upon the sill. A little later, whenI left with the plea that the General expected me at nine o'clock, thetwo elder ladies gave me their small, transparent hands, while theirpolite farewell sounded as final as if it had been uttered on the edgeof an open grave. Only Sally, smiling up at me, with that puzzled yetdetermined look still in her eyes, said gayly, "When you go walking atsunrise, Ben, choose the road-to-what-might-have-been!"

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH I TEST MY STRENGTH

Her words rang in my ears while I went along the crooked pavement underthe burnished sycamore. As I met the General at the corner I was stillhearing them, and they prompted the speech that burst impulsively frommy lips. 

"General, I've got to get rich quickly, and I'm finding a way. "

"You'd better make sure first that your royal road doesn't end in aditch. "

"I was talking to a man from West Virginia yesterday about buying outthe National Oil Company, and I dreamed of it all night. He wants me togo in with him, and start a refining plant. If I can get specialprivileges and rebates from the railroads to give us advantages, we maymake a big business of it. "

"You may and you mayn't. Who's your man?"

"Sam Brackett. Bob's brother, you know. "

"A mighty good fellow, and shrewd, too. But I'd think it over carefully, if I were you. "

I did think it over, and the result of my thoughts was, as I told theGeneral a fortnight later, the purchase of a refining plant nearClarksburg, and the beginning of a lively war with the competitors inthe business. 

"We're going to sweep the South, General, with the help of therailroad, " I said. 

The great man, with his gouty foot in a felt slipper, sat gazingmeditatively over the words of a telegram, which had come on his privatewire. 

"Midland stock is selling at 160, " he said. "It's a big railroad, myboy, and I've made it. "

Even to-day, with the living presence of Sally still in my eyes, I wasfilled again with the old unappeasable desire for the great railroad. The woman and the road were distinct and yet blended in my thoughts. 

At dinner-time, when the General hobbled to his buggy on my arm, I madeagain the remark I had blurted out so inopportunely. 

"General, I've been to West Virginia and started the plant, and we'regoing to give Hail Columbia to our competitors. "

He looked at me attentively, and a sly twinkle appeared in his littlewatery grey eyes, which were sunk deep in the bluish and swollensockets. 

"Do you feel yourself getting big, Ben?" he enquired, with a chuckle. 

I shook my head. "Not yet, but it's a fair risk and a good chance tomake a big business. "

"Well, you're right, I suppose, and if you ain't you'll find out beforelong. What's luck, after all, but the thing that enables a man to see along way ahead?"

He settled himself under his fur rug, flicked the reins over the oldgrey horse, and we drove slowly up Main Street behind a street car. 

"I don't know about luck, General, but I'm going to win out if hardpushing can do it. "

"It can do 'most anything if you only push hard, enough. But you talk asif you were in love, Ben, I've said the same thing a hundred times in myday, I reckon. "

I blushed furiously, and then turning my face from him, stared at agroup of children upon the sidewalk. 

"Whom could I marry, General?" I asked. "You know well enough that awoman in your class wouldn't marry a man in mine--unless--"

"Unless she were over head and heels in love with him, " he chuckled. 

"Unless he were a great man, " I corrected. 

"You mean a rich man, Ben? So your oil business is merely a little loveattention, after all. "

"No, money has very little to do with it, and the woman I want to marrywouldn't marry me for money. But it's the mettle that counts, and inthis age, given the position I've started from, how can a man prove hismettle except by success?--and success does mean money. The president ofthe Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad is obliged to be a richman, isn't he?"

"So you're still after my job, eh? Is that why you've let me bully andbadger you for the last six years?"

"It was at the bottom of it, " I answered honestly, for the gay old birdliked downright speaking, and I knew it. "I'd rather have been yourconfidential secretary for six years than general manager of traffic. Iwas learning what I wanted to know. "

"And what was that?"

"The way you did things. The way you handled men and bought and soldstocks. "

"You like the road, too, eh?"

"I like the road as long as it can be of use to me. "

"And when it ceases to be you'll throw it over?"

"Yes, if it ever ceases to be I'll throw it over--honestly, " I answered. 

"Now that's the thing, " he said, "remember always that in handling menhonesty is a big asset. I've always been honest, my boy, and it's helpedme when I needed it. Why, when I came in and got control of the road inthat slump after the war, I was able to reorganise it principallybecause of the reputation for honesty I had earned. It was a long timebefore it began to pay dividends, but nobody grumbled. They knew I wasdoing my best--and that I was doing it fair and square, and to-day wecontrol nearly twenty thousand miles of road. "

"Yes, honesty I've learned in your office, sir. "

"Well, it's good training, --it's mighty good training, if I do say itmyself. You could have got with a darn bloater like Dick Horseley, andhe'd have worked your ruin. Now you never saw me lose my head, did you, eh, Ben?"

I replied that I had not--not even when his private wire had ticked offnews of the last panic. 

"Well, I never did, " he said reflectively, "except with women. Take myadvice, Ben, and find a good sensible wife, even if she's in your ownclass, and marry and settle down. It steadies a man, somehow. I'd be along ways happier to-day, " he added, a little wistfully, "if I'd taken awife when I was young. "

I thought of Miss Matoaca, with her bright brown eyes, her witheredroseleaf cheeks, and her sacrifice in the cause of honour. 

"Whatever you are don't be an old bachelor, " he pursued after a pause, "it may be pleasant in the beginning, but I'll be blamed if it pays inthe end. Find a good sensible woman who hasn't any opinions of her own, and you will be happy. But as you value your peace, don't go and fall inlove with a woman who has any heathenish ideas in her head. When a womanonce gets that maggot in her brain, she stops believing in gentlenessand self-sacrifice, and by George, she ceases to be a woman. Every manknows there's got to be a lot of sacrifice in marriage, and he likes tofeel that he's marrying a woman who is fully capable of making it. Astrong-minded woman can't--she's gone and unsexed herself--and insteadof taking pleasure in giving up, she begins to talk everlastingly abouther 'honour. ' Pshaw! the next thing she'll expect to be treated aspunctiliously as if she were a business partner!"

The old wound still ached sometimes, it was easy to see; and because ofhis age and his growing infirmities, he found it harder to keep back thequerulous complaints that rose to his lips. 

"Now, there's that George of mine, " he resumed, still fretting, "he'sprobably gone and set his eyes on Sally Mickleborough, and it's as plainas daylight that she's got a plenty of that outlandish spirit of heraunt's. I don't mean she's got her notions--I ain't saying any harm ofthe girl--she's handsome enough in spite of Hatty's nonsense about hermouth--and I call it downright scandalous of Edmund Bland to leave everylast penny of his money away from her. But, mark my words, and I tellGeorge so every single day I live, if she marries George he's going tohave trouble as sure as shot. She's just the kind to expect him to makesacrifices, and by Jove, no man wants to be expected to make sacrificesin his own home!"

Sacrifices! My blood sang in my ears. If she would only marry me I'dpromise to make a sacrifice for her every blessed minute that I lived. 

"And do you think she likes George, General?" I asked timidly. 

"Oh, I don't suppose she knows her own mind, " he retorted. "I never inmy life, sir, knew but one woman who did. "

We drove on for a minute in silence, and from the red and watery look inthe General's eyes, I inferred that, in spite of his broken engagementand his bitter judgment, Miss Matoaca had managed to retain her place inhis memory. As I looked at him, sitting there like a wounded eagle, huddled under his fur rug, a feeling of thanksgiving that was almost oneof rapture swelled in my heart. If I had a plain name, I had also aclean life to offer the woman I loved. When I remembered the strong, pure line of her features, her broad, intelligent brow, her clear, unswerving gaze, I told myself that whatever the world had to say, she, at least, would consider the difference a fair one. At the great momentshe would choose me, I knew, for myself alone; choose in a democracy theman who, God helping him, would stand always for the best in thedemocratic spirit--for courage and truth and strength and a clean honourtoward men and women. 

"Who was that pretty girl, Ben, " the General enquired presently, "I sawyou walking with last Sunday? A sweetheart?"

"No, sir. My sister. "

"A lady? She looked it. "

"She has been taught like one. "

"What'll you do with her? Marry her off?"

"I haven't thought--but she won't look at any of the men she knows. "

"Oh, well, if the National Oil wins, you may give her a fortune. Thereare plenty of young chaps who would jump at her. Bless my soul, she'smore to my taste than Sally Mickleborough. It's the women who are suchfools about birth, you know, men don't care a rap. Why, if I'd loved awoman, she might have been born in the poorhouse for all the thought I'dhave given it. A pretty face or a small foot goes a long sight fartherwith a man than the tallest grandfather that ever lived. " For a momenthe was silent, and then he spoke softly, unconscious that he uttered histhought aloud. "No, Matoaca's birth, whatever it might have been, couldn't have come between us--it was her damned principles. "

He looked tired and old, now that his armour of business had droppedfrom him, as he sat there, with the fur rug drawn over his chest, andhis loose lower lip hanging slightly away from his shrunken gums. Asudden pity, the first I had ever dared feel for the president of theGreat South Midland and Atlantic Railroad, shot through my heart. Thegay old bird, I told myself, was shedding his plumage at last. 

"Well, as long as I can't rest on my birth, I might as well stand up onsomething, " I said. 

"Women think a lot of it, " he resumed, as if he had not noticed myflippant interjection; "and I reckon it about fits the size of theirminds. Why, to hear Miss Mitty Bland talk you would think good birth wasthe only virtue she admitted to the first rank. I was telling her aboutyou, " he added with a chuckle, "and you've got sense enough to see thehumour of what she said. "

"I hope I have, General. "

"Well, I began it by boasting about your looks, Ben, if you don't mind. 'That wonderful boy of ours is the finest-looking fellow in the Southto-day, Miss Mitty, ' I burst out, 'and he stands six feet two in hisstockings. ' 'Ah, General, ' she replied sadly, 'what are six feet twoinches without a grandfather?'"

He threw back his head with a roar, appearing a trifle chagrined thenext instant by my faint-hearted pretence of mirth. 

"Doesn't it tickle you, Ben?" he enquired, checking his laughter. 

"I'm afraid it makes me rather angry, General, " I answered. 

"Oh, well, I didn't think you'd take it seriously. It's just a joke, youknow. Go ahead and make your fortune, and they'll receive you quickenough. "

"But they have received me. They asked me to their party. "

"That was Sally, my boy--it was her party, and she fought the ladies foryou. That girl's a born fighter, and I reckon she gets it from HarryMickleborough--for the only blessed thing he could do was to fight. Hewas a mighty poor man, was Harry, but a God Almighty soldier--and hesent more Yankees to glory than any single man in the whole South. Thegirl gets it from him, and she hasn't any of her aunts' aristocraticnonsense in her either. She told Miss Mitty, on the spot, and I can seeher eyes shine now, that she liked you and she meant to know you. "

"That she meant to know me, " I repeated, with a singing heart. 

"The ladies were put out, I could see, but they ain't a match for thatscamp Harry, and he's in her. There never lived the general that couldcommand him, and he'd have been shot for insubordination in '63 if hehadn't been as good as a whole company to the army. 'I'll fight for theSouth and welcome, ' he used to say, 'but, by God, sir, I'll fight as Idamn please. ' 'Twas the same way about the church, too. Old Dr. Petersongot after him once about standing, instead of kneeling, during prayers, and 'I'll pray as I damn please, sir!' responded Harry. Oh, he was a sadscamp!"

"So his daughter fought for me?" I said. "How did it end?"

"It will end all right when you are president of the Great South Midlandand Atlantic Railroad, and have shipped me to Kingdom Come. They won'tshut their doors in your face, then. "

"But she stood up for me?" I asked, and my voice trembled. 

"She? Do you mean Miss Matoaca? Well, she granted your good looks andyour virtues, but she regretted that they couldn't ask you to theirhouse. "

"And Miss Mitty?"

"Oh, Miss Mitty assured me that six feet two were as an inch in hersight, without a grandfather. "

"But her niece--Miss Mickleborough?" I had worked delicately up to mypoint. 

"The girl fought for you--but then she's obliged to fight forsomething?--it's Harry in her. That's why, as I said to George atbreakfast, I don't want him to marry her. She's a good girl, and I likeher, but who in the deuce wants to marry a fighting wife? Look at thatfellow mauling his horse, Ben. It makes me sick to see 'em do it, butit's no business of mine, I reckon. "

"It is of mine, General, " I replied, for the sight of an ill-treatedanimal had made my blood boil since childhood. Before he could answer, Ihad jumped over the moving wheel, and had reached the miserable, sore-backed horse struggling under a load of coal and a big stick. 

"Come off and put your shoulder to the wheel, you drunken brute, " Isaid, as my rage rose in my throat. 

"I'll be damned if I will, " replied the fellow, and he was about tobegin belabouring again, when I seized him by the collar and swung himclear to the street. 

"I'll be damned if you don't, " I retorted. 

I was a strong man, and when my passions were roused, the thought of myown strength slipped from consciousness. 

"You'll break his bones, Ben, " said the General, leaning out of hisbuggy, but his eyes shone as they might have shone at the sight of hisfirst battle. 

"I hope I shall, " I responded grimly, and going over to the wagon I putmy shoulder to the wheel, and began the ascent of the steep hill. Somebody on the pavement came to my help on the other side, and we wentup slowly, with a half-drunken driver reeling at our sides and theGeneral following, in his buggy, a short way behind. 

"I thought you were a diffident fellow, Ben, " remarked the great man, asI took my seat again by his side; "but I don't believe there's anotherman in Richmond that would make such a spectacle of himself. "

"I forget myself when I'm worked up, " I answered, "and I forget thatanybody is looking. "

"Well, somebody was, " he replied slyly. "You didn't see Miss MatoacaBland pass you in a carriage as you were pushing that wheel?"

"No, I didn't see anybody. "

"She saw you--and so did Sally Mickleborough. Why, I'd have givensomething pretty in my day to make a girl's eyes blaze like that. "

A week later I swallowed my pride, with an effort, and called at the oldgrey house at the hour of sunset. Selim, stepping softly, conducted meinto the dimly lighted drawing-room, where a cedar log burned, with adelicious fragrance, on a pair of high brass andirons. The red glow, half light, half shadow, flickered over the quaint tapestried furniture, the white-painted woodwork, and the portraits of departed Blands andFairfaxes that smiled gravely down, with averted eyes. In a massive giltframe over a rosewood spinet there was a picture of Miss Mitty and MissMataoca, painted in fancy dress, with clasped hands, under a garland ofroses. My gaze was upon it, when the sound of a door opening quicklysomewhere in the rear came to my ears; and the next instant I heard MissMitty's prim tones saying distinctly:--

"Tell Mr. Starr, Selim, that the ladies are not receiving. "

There was a moment's silence, followed by a voice that brought mydelighted heart with a bound into my throat. 

"Aunt Mitty, I _will_ see him. "

"Sally, how can you receive a man who was not born a gentleman?"

"Aunt Mitty, if you don't let me see him here, I'll--I'll meet him inthe street. "

The door shut sharply, there was a sound of rapid steps, and the voicesceased. Harry Mickleborough, in his daughter, I judged, had gained thevictory; for an instant afterwards I heard her cross the hall, with adefiant and energetic rustle of skirts. When she entered the room, andheld out her hand, I saw that she was dressed in her walking gown. Therewere soft brown furs about her throat, and on her head she wore a smallfur hat, with a bunch of violets at one side, under a thin white veil. 

"I was just going to walk, " she said, breathing a little quickly, whileher eyes, very wide and bright, held that puzzled and resolute look Iremembered; "will you come with me?"

She turned at once to the door, as if eager to leave the house, andwhile I followed her through the hall, and down the short flight ofsteps to the pavement, I was conscious of a sharp presentiment that Ishould never again cross that threshold. 

CHAPTER XV

A MEETING IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

I spoke no word of love in that brisk walk up Franklin Street, and whenI remembered this a month afterwards, it seemed to me that I had let theopportunity of a lifetime slip by. Since that afternoon I had not seenSally again--some fierce instinct held me back from entering the doorsthat would have closed against me--and as the days passed, crowded withwork and cheered by the immediate success of the National Oil Company, Ifelt that Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca, and even Sally, whom I loved, hadfaded out of the actual world into a vague cloud-like horizon. To womenit is given, I suppose, to merge the ideal into everyday life, but withmen it is different. I saw Sally still every minute that I lived, but Isaw her as a star, set high above the common business world in which Ihad my place--above the strain and stress of the General's office, abovethe rise and fall of the stock market, above the brisk triumphant warwith competitors for the National Oil Company, above even the hope ofthe future presidency of the Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad. Between my love and its fulfilment, stretched, I knew, hard years ofstruggle, but bred in me, bone and structure, the instinct of democracywas still strong enough to support me in the hour of defeat. Neveronce--not even when I sat, condescendingly plied with coffee andpartridges, face to face with the wonder expressed in Miss Mitty's eyes, had I admitted to myself that I was obliged to remain in the class fromwhich I had sprung. Courage I had never lost for an instant; the presentmight embarrass me, but the future, I felt always, I held securelygrasped in my own hands. The birthright of a Republic was mine as wellas the General's, and I knew that among a free people it was the mettleof the man that would count in the struggle. In the fight betweendemocratic ideals and Old World institutions I had no fear, even to-day, of what the future would bring. The right of a man to make his ownstanding was all that I asked. 

And yet the long waiting! As I walked one Sunday afternoon over toChurch Hill, after a visit to Jessy (who was living now with a friend ofthe doctor's), I asked myself again and again if Sally had read my heartthat last afternoon and had seen in it the reason of my fierce reserve. Jessy had been affectionate and very pretty--she was a cold, small, blond woman, with a perfect face and the manner of an indifferentchild--but she had been unable to wean me from the thought whichreturned to take royal possession as soon as the high pressure of myworking day was relaxed. It controlled me utterly from the moment I putthe question of the stock market aside; and it was driving me now, likethe ghost of an unhappy lover, back for a passionate hour in theenchanted garden. 

The house was half closed when I reached it, though the open shutters tothe upper windows led me to believe that some of the rooms, at least, were tenanted. When I entered the gate and passed the stuccoed wing tothe rear piazza, I saw that the terraces were blotted and ruined as ifan invading army had tramped over them. The magnolias and laburnums, with the exception of a few lonely trees, had already fallen; thelatticed arbours were slowly rotting away; and several hardyrose-bushes, blooming bravely in the overgrown squares, were the onlysurvivals of the summer splendour that I remembered. Turning out of thepath, I plucked one of these gallant roses, and found it pale andsickly, with a November blight at the heart. Only the great elms stillarched their bared branches unchanged against a red sunset; and now asthen the small yellow leaves fluttered slowly down, like woundedbutterflies, to the narrow walks. 

I had left the upper terrace and had descended the sunken green steps, when the dry rustle of leaves in the path fell on my ears, and turning afallen summer house, I saw Sally approaching me through the broken mazeof the box. A colour flamed in her face, and pausing in the leaf-strewnpath, she looked up at me with shining and happy eyes. 

"It has been so long since I saw you, " she said, with her handoutstretched. 

I took her hand, and turning we moved down the walk while I still heldit in mine. Out of the blur of her figure, which swam in a mist, I sawonly her shining and happy eyes. 

"It has been a thousand years, " I answered, "but I knew that they wouldpass. "

"That they would pass?" she repeated. 

"That they must pass. I have worked for that end every minute since Isaw you. I have loved you, as you surely know, " I blurted out, "everyinstant of my life, but I knew that I could offer you nothing until Icould offer you something worthy of your acceptance. "

Reaching out her hand, which she had withdrawn from mine, she caughtseveral drifting elm leaves in her open palm. 

"And what, " she asked slowly, "do you consider to be worthy of myacceptance?"

"A name, " I answered, "that you would be proud to bear. Not only thelove of a man's soul and body, but the soul and body themselves afterthey have been tried and tested. Wealth, I know, would not count withyou, and I believe, birth would not, even though you are a Bland--but Imust have wealth, I must have honour, so that at least you will notappear to stoop. I must give you all that it lies in my power toachieve, or I must give you nothing. "

"Wealth! honour!" she said, with a little laugh, "O Ben Starr! BenStarr!"

"So that, at least, you will not appear to stoop, " I repeated. 

"I stoop to you?" she responded, and again she laughed. 

"You know that I love you?" I asked. 

"Yes, " she replied, and lifted her eyes to mine, "I know that you loveme. "

"Beyond love I have nothing at the moment. "

A light wind swept the leaves from her hand, and blew the ends of herwhite veil against my breast. 

"And suppose, " she demanded in a clear voice, "that love was all that Iwanted?"

Her lashes did not tremble; but in her eyes, in her parted red lips, andin her whole swift and expectant figure, there was something noble andfree, as if she were swept forward by the radiant purpose which shone inher look. 

"Not my love--not yet--my darling, " I said. 

At the word her blush came. 

"You say you have only yourself to give, " she went on with an effort. "Is it possible that in the future--in any future--you could have morethan yourself?"

"Not more love, Sally, not more love. "

"Then more of what?"

"Of things that other men and women count worth the having!"

The sparkle returned to her eyes, and I watched the old childisharchness play in her face. 

"Do I understand that you are proposing to other men and women or to me, sir?" she enquired, above her muff, in the prim tone of Miss Mitty. 

"To neither the one nor the other, " I answered stubbornly, though Ilonged to kiss the mockery away from her curving lips. "When the timecomes I shall return to you. "

"And you are doing this for the sake of other people, not for me, " shesaid. "I suppose, indeed, that it's Aunt Mitty and Aunt Matoaca you areputting before me. They would be flattered, I am sure, if they couldonly know of it--but they can't. As a matter of fact, they also putsomething before me, so I don't appear to come first with anybody. AuntMitty prefers her pride and Aunt Matoaca prefers her principles, and youprefer both--"

"I am only twenty-six, " I returned. "In five years--in ten at most--Ishall be far in the race--"

"And quite out of breath with the running, " she observed, "by the timeyou turn and come back for me. "

"I don't dare ask you to wait for me. "

"As a matter of fact, " she responded serenely, "I don't think I shall. Icould never endure waiting. "

Her calmness was like a dash of cold water into my face. 

"Don't laugh at me whatever you do, " I implored. 

"I'm not laughing--it's far too serious, " she retorted. "That scheme ofyours, " she flashed out suddenly, "is worthy of the great brain of theGeneral. "

"Now I'll stand anything but that!" I replied, and turned squarely onher; "Sally, do you love me?"

"Love a man who puts both his pride and his principles before me?"

"If you don't love me--and, of course you can't--why do you torment me?"

"It isn't torment, it's education. When next you start to propose to thelady of your choice, don't begin by telling her you are lovesick for thegood opinion of her maiden aunts. "

"Sally, Sally!" I cried joyfully. My hand went out to hers, and then asshe turned away--my arm was about her, and the little fur hat with thebunch of violets was on my breast. 

"O, Ben Starr, were you born blind?" she said with a sob. 

"Sally, am I mad or do you love me?" I asked, and the next instant, bending over as she looked up, I kissed her parted lips. 

For a minute she was silent, as if my kiss had drawn her strengththrough her tremulous red mouth. Her body quivered and seemed to melt inmy arms--and then with a happy laugh, she yielded herself to my embrace. 

"A little of both, Ben, " she answered, "you are mad, I suppose, and soam I--and I love you. "

"But how could you? When did you begin?"

"I could because I would, and there was no beginning. I was born thatway. "

"You meant you have cared for me, as I have for you--always?"

"Not always, perhaps--but--well, it started in the churchyard, I think, when I gave you Samuel. Then when I met you again it might have beenjust the way you look--for oh, Ben, did you ever discover that you aresplendid to look at?"

"A magnificent animal, " I retorted. 

She blushed, recognising the phrase. "To tell the truth, though, itwasn't the way you look, " she went on impulsively, "it was, I think, --Iam quite sure, --the time you pushed that wheel up the hill. I adoredyou, Ben, at that moment. If you'd asked me to marry you on the spot I'dhave responded, 'Yes, thank you, sir, ' as one of my great-grandmothersdid at the altar. "

"And to think I didn't even know you were there. I'd forgotten it, but Iremember now the General told me I made a spectacle of myself. "

"Well, I always liked a spectacle, it's in my blood. I like a man, too, who does things as if he didn't care whether anybody was looking at himor not--and that's you, Ben. "

"It's not my business to shatter your ideals, " I answered, and the nextminute, "O Sally, how is it to end?"

"That depends, doesn't it, " she asked, "whether you want to marry me ormy maiden aunts?"

"Do you mean that you will marry me?"

"I mean, Ben, that if you aren't so obliging as to marry me, I'll pineaway and die a lovelorn death. "

"Be serious, Sally. "

"Could anything on earth be more serious than a lovelorn death?"

I would have caught her back to my breast, but eluding my arms, shestood poised like the fleeting-spirit of gaiety in the little path. 

"Will you promise to marry me, Ben Starr?" she asked. 

"I'll promise anything on earth, " I answered. 

"Not to talk any more about my stooping to a giant?"

"I won't talk about it, darling, I'll let you do it. "

"And if you're poor you'll let me be poor too? And if you're rich you'llgive me a share of the money?"

"Both--all. "

"And you'll make a sacrifice for me--as the General said Georgewouldn't--whenever I happen particularly to want one?"

"A million of them--anything, everything. "

She came a step nearer, and raised her smiling lips to mine. 

"Anything--everything, Ben, together, " she said. 

Presently we walked back slowly, hand in hand, through the maze of box. 

"Will you tell your aunts, or shall I, Sally?" I asked. 

"We'll go to them together. "

"Now, at this instant?"

"Now--at this instant, " she agreed, "but I thought you were so patient?"

"Patient? I'm as patient as an engine on the Great South Midland. "

"A minute ago you were prepared to wait ten years. "

"Oh, ten years!" I echoed, as I followed her out of the enchantedgarden. 

At the corner the surrey was standing, and the face of old Shadrach, thenegro driver, stared back at me, transfixed with amazement. 

"Whar you gwine now, Miss Sally?" he demanded defiantly of his youngmistress, as I took my place under the fur rug beside her. 

"Home, Uncle Shadrach, " she replied. 

"Ain't I gwine drap de gent'man some whar on de way up?"

"No, Uncle Shadrach, home, "--and for home we started merrily with aflick of the whip over the backs of the greys. 

Sitting beside her for the first time in my life, I was conscious, as wedrove through the familiar streets, only of an acute physical delight inher presence. As she turned toward me, her breath fanned my cheek, thetouch of her arm on mine was a rapture, and when the edge of her whiteveil was blown into my face, I felt my blood rush to meet it. Neverbefore had I been so confident, so strong, so assured of the future. Notthe future alone, but the whole universe seemed to lie in the closedpalm of my hand. I knew that I was plain, that I was rough beside thevelvet softness of the woman who had promised to share my life; but thisplainness, this roughness, no longer troubled me since she had found init something of the power that had drawn her to me. My awkwardness haddropped from me in the revelation of my strength which she had brought. The odour of burning leaves floated up from the street, and I saw againher red shoes dancing over the sunken graves in the churchyard. Oh, those red shoes had danced into my life and would stay there forever!

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH SALLY SPEAKS HER MIND

We crossed the threshold, which I had thought never to pass again, andentered the drawing-room, where a cedar log burned on the andirons. Ateither end of the low brass fender, Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca sat veryerect, like two delicate silhouettes, the red light of the flamesshining through their fine, almost transparent profiles. Beyond them, over the rosewood spinet, I saw their portrait, painted in fancy dress, with clasped hands under a garland of roses. 

As we entered the room, they rose slightly from their chairs, and turnedtoward us with an expression of mild surprise on their faces. It wasimpossible, I knew, for their delicately moulded features to express anyimpulse more strongly. 

"Dear aunties, " began Sally, in a voice that was a caress, "I've broughtBen back with me because I met him in the garden on ChurchHill--and--and--and he told me that he loved me. "

"He told you that he loved you?" repeated Miss Mitty in a high voice, while Miss Matoaca sat speechless, with her unnaturally bright eyes onher niece's face. 

Kneeling on the rug at their feet, Sally looked from one to the otherwith an appealing and tender glance. 

"You brought him back because he told you that he loved you?" said MissMitty again, as if her closed mind had refused to admit the words shehad uttered. 

"Well, only partly because of that, Aunt Mitty, " replied Sally bravely, "the rest was because--because I told him that I loved him. "

For a moment there was a tense and unnatural silence in the midst ofwhich I heard the sharp crackling of the fire and smelt the faint sweetsmell of the burning cedar. The two aunts looked at each other over thekneeling girl, and it seemed to me that the long, narrow faces had grownsuddenly pinched and old. 

"I--I don't think we understood quite what you said, Sally dear, " saidMiss Matoaca, in a hesitating voice; and I felt sorry for her as shespoke--sorry for them both because the edifice of their beliefs andtraditions, reared so patiently through the centuries by dead Fairfaxesand Blands, had crumbled about their ears. 

"What she means, Miss Matoaca, " I said gently, coming forward into thefirelight, "is that I have asked her to marry me. "

"To marry you--you--Ben Starr?" exclaimed Miss Mitty abruptly, risingfrom her chair, and then falling nervelessly back. "There is somemistake--not that I doubt, " she added courteously, the generations ofbreeding overcoming her raw impulse of horror, "not that I doubt for aminute that you are an estimable and deserving character--GeneralBolingbroke tells me so and I trust his word. But Sally marry you! Why, your father--I beg your pardon for reminding you of it--your father wasnot even an educated man. "

"No, " I replied, "my father was not an educated man, but I am. "

"That speaks very well for you, sir, I am sure--but how--how could myniece marry a man who--I apologise again for alluding to yourorigin--whose father was a stone-cutter--I have heard?"

"Yes, he was a stone-cutter, and I am sorry to say wasn't even a goodone. "

"I don't know that good or bad makes a difference, except, of course, asit affected his earning a livelihood. But the fact remains that he was acommon workman and that no member of our family on either side has everbeen even remotely connected with trade. Surely, you yourself, Mr. Starr, must be aware that my niece and you are not in the same walk oflife. Do you not realise the impossibility of--of the connection youspeak of?"

"I realised it so much, " I answered, "that until I met her thisafternoon I had determined to wait five--perhaps ten years before askingher to become my wife. "

"Ten years? But what can ten years have to do with it? Families are notmade in ten years, Mr. Starr, and how could that length of time alterthe fact that your father was a person of no education and that youyourself are a self-made man?"

"I am not ashamed to offer her the man after he is made, " I replied. "What I did not think worthy of her was the man in the making. "

"But it is the man in the making that I want, " said Sally, rising to herfeet, and taking my hand in hers. "O Aunt Matoaca, I love him!"

The little lady to whom she appealed bent slowly forward in thefirelight, her face, which had grown old and wan, looking up at us, aswe stood there, hand in hand, on the rug. 

"I am distressed for you, Sally, " she said, "but when it becomes aquestion of honour, love must be sacrificed. "

"Honour!" cried Sally, and there was a passionate anger in her voice, "but I _do_ honour him. " My hand was in hers, and she stooped and kissedit before turning to Miss Matoaca, who had drawn herself up, thin andstraight as a blade, in her chair. 

"You are right, " I said, "to tell me that I am unworthy of yourniece--for I am. I am plain and rough beside her, but, at least, I amhonest. What I offer her is a man's heart, and a man's hand that hasdealt cleanly and fairly with both men and women. "

Until the words were uttered my pride had blinded me to my cruelty. ThenI saw two bright red spots appear in Miss Matoaca's thin cheeks, and Iasked myself in anger if the General or George Bolingbroke would havebeen guilty of so deep a thrust? Did she dream that I knew her story?And were those pathetic red spots the outward sign of a stab in hergentle bosom?

"There are many different kinds of merit, Mr. Starr, " she returned, witha wistful dignity. "I do not undervalue that of character, but I do notthink that even a good character can atone for the absence of familyinheritance--of the qualities which come from refined birth andbreeding. We have had the misfortune in our family of one experience ofan ill-assorted and tragic marriage, " she added. 

"We must never forget poor Sarah's misery and ours, Sister Matoaca, "remarked Miss Mitty, from the opposite side of the hearth; "and yetHarry Mickleborough's father was a most respectable man, and the teacherof Greek in a college. "

All the pity went out of me, and I felt only a blind sense of irritationat the artificial values, the feminine lack of grasp, the ignorance ofthe true proportions of life. I grew suddenly hard, and something ofthis hardness passed into my voice when I spoke. 

"I stand or fall by own worth and by that alone, " I returned, "and yourniece, if she marries me, will stand or fall as I do. I ask no favours, no allowances, even from her. "

Withdrawing her hand from mine, Sally took a single step forward, andstood with her eyes on the faces that showed so starved and wan in thefirelight. 

"Don't you see--oh, can't you see, " she asked, "that it is because ofthese very things that I love him? How can I separate his past from whathe is to-day? How can I say that I would have this or thatdifferent--his birth, his childhood, his struggle--when all these havehelped to make him the man I love? Who else have I ever known that couldcompare with him for a minute? You wanted me to marry GeorgeBolingbroke, but what has he ever done to prove what he was worth?"

"Sally, Sally, " said Miss Mitty, sternly, "he had no need to prove it. It was proved centuries before his birth. The Bolingbrokes provedthemselves to their king before this was a country--"

"Well, I'm not his king, " rejoined Sally, scornfully, "so it wasn'tproved to me. I ask something more. "

"More, Sally?"

"Yes, more, Aunt Mitty, a thousand times and ten thousand times. What doI care for a dead arm that fought for a dead king? Both are dust to-day, and I am alive. No, no, give me, not honour and loyalty that have beendead five hundred years, but truth and courage that I can turn toto-day, --not chivalric phrases that are mere empty sound, but honestyand a strong arm that I can lean on. "

Miss Matoaca's head had dropped as if from weariness over her thinbreast, which palpitated under the piece of old lace, like the breast ofa wounded bird. Then, as the girl stopped and caught her breath sharplyfrom sheer stress of feeling, the little lady looked up again andstraightened herself with a gesture of pride. 

"Do not make the mistake, Sally, " she said, "of thinking that a humblebirth means necessarily greater honesty than a high one. Generations ofrefinement are the best material for character-building, and you mightas easily find the qualities you esteem in a gentleman of your ownsocial position. "

"I might, Aunt Matoaca; but, as a matter of fact, have I? Until you haveseen a man fight can you know him? Is family tradition, after all, asgood a school as the hard world? A life like Ben's does not always makea man good, I know, but it has made him so. If this were not true--ifany one could prove to me that he had been false or cruel to any livingcreature--man, woman, or animal--I'd give him up to-day and not break myheart--"

It was true, I knew it as she spoke, and I could have knelt to her. 

"You are blind, Sally, blind and rash as your mother before you, "returned Miss Mitty. 

"No, Aunt Mitty, it is you who are blind--who see by the old values thatthe world has long since outgrown--who think you can assign a place to aman and say to him, 'You belong there and cannot come out of it. ' But, oh, Aunt Matoaca, surely you, who have sacrificed so much for what youbelieve to be right, --who have placed principle before any claims ofblood, surely you will uphold me--"

"My child, my child, " replied the poor lady, with a sob, "I placedprinciple first, but never emotion--never emotion. "

"Poor Sarah was the only one of us who gave up everything for the sakeof an emotion, " added Miss Mitty, "and what did it bring her exceptmisery?"

Our cause was lost--we saw it at the same instant--and again Sally gaveme her hand and stood side by side with me in the firelight. 

"I am sorry, dear aunts, " she said gently, and turning to me, she addedslowly and clearly, "I will marry you a year from to-day, if you willwait, Ben. "

"I will wait for you, whether you marry me or not, forever, " I answered;and bowing silently, I turned and left the room, while Sally went downagain on her knees. 

Once outside, I drew a long breath of air, sharp with the scent of thesycamore, and stood gazing up at the clear sunset beyond the silveryboughs. It was good to be out of those mouldering traditions, thatatmosphere of an all-enveloping past; good, too, to be out of thetapestried room, away from the grave, fixed smiles of the dead Blandsand Fairfaxes and the close, sweet smell of the burning cedar. There Idared not step with my full weight, lest I should ruthlessly tread on asentiment, or bring down a moth-eaten tradition upon my head. I was forthe hard, bright world, and the future; there in that cedar-scentedroom, sat the two ladies, forever guarding the faded furniture and thecrumbling past. The pathetic contradiction of Miss Matoaca returned tome, and I laughed aloud. Miss Matoaca, who worked for the emancipationof women, while she herself was the slave of an ancestry of men whooppressed women, and women who loved oppression! Miss Matoaca, whosemind, long and narrow like her face, could grasp but a single idea andreject the sequence to which it inevitably led! I wondered if she meantto emancipate "ladies" merely, or if her principles could possiblyoverleap her birthright of caste? Was she a gallant martyr to theinequalities of sex, who still clung, trembling, to the inequalities ofsociety? She would go to the stake, I felt sure, for the cause ofwomanhood, but she would go supported by the serene conviction that shewas "a lady. " The pathos of it, and the mockery, checked the laugh in mythroat. To how many of us, after all, was it given to discern, not onlyimmediate effects, but universal relations as well? To the General? Tomyself? What did we see except the possible opportunity, the room forthe ego, the adjustment to selfish ends? Yet our school was the world. Should we, then, expect that little lady, with her bright eyes and herwithered roseleaf cheeks, to look farther than the scented firelight inwhich she sat? I felt a tenderness for her, as I felt a tenderness forall among whom Sally moved. The house in which she lived, the thresholdshe had crossed, the servants who surrounded her, were all bathed for mein the rosy light of her lamps. Common day did not shine there. I wasbut twenty-seven, and my eyes could still find romance in the rustle ofher skirt and in the curl of her eyelash. 

In the little office, where the curtains were drawn and the green-shadedlamp already lit, I found Dr. Theophilus sitting over his evening mintjulep, the solitary dissipation in which I had ever seen him indulge. His strong, ruddy face, with its hooked nose and illuminating smile, wasstill the face of a middle-aged man, though he had passed, a year ago, his seventieth birthday. At his feet, Waif, a stray dog, rescued inmemory of Robin, the pointer, was curled up on a rug. 

"Well, my boy, " he said cheerily, "you've had a good day, I hope?"

"A good day, doctor, I've been in heaven, " I answered. 

His smile shone out, clear and bright, as it did at a patient's bedside. "I've been there, too, Ben, " he responded, "forty years ago. "

"Then why didn't you stay, sir?"

"Because it isn't given to any man to stay longer than a few minutes. Ah, my boy, you are the mixture of a fighter and a dreamer. "

"But suppose, " I blushed, for I was a reserved man, though few peoplewere reserved with Dr. Theophilus, "suppose that your heaven is awoman?"

"Has it ever been anything else to a man since Adam?" he asked. "Everyman's heaven, and most men's hell, is a woman, my boy. Why, look at oldGeorge Bolingbroke now! He's no longer young, and he's certainly nolonger handsome, yet I've seen him, in his day, stand up straight andtall in church at Miss Matoaca Bland's side, and look perfectly happybecause he could sing from the same hymn-book. Then a week later, whenshe'd thrown him over, I saw him jump up at a supper, and drinkchampagne out of the slipper of some variety actress. "

"Yet she was right, I suppose, to throw him over?"

"Oh, she was right, I'm not questioning that she was right, " heresponded hastily; "but it isn't always the woman who is right, Ben, " headded, "that makes a man's heaven. "

"The poor little lady had no slipperful of champagne to fall back on, " Isuggested. 

"It's a pity she hadn't--for it's as true as the Gospel, that GeorgeBolingbroke drove her into all this nonsense about the equality ofsexes. Equality, indeed! A man doesn't want to make love to an equal, but to an angel! Bless my soul, I don't know to save my life, what tothink of Miss Matoaca, except that she's crazy. That's the kindest thingI can say for her. She's gone now and got into correspondence with somebloodthirsty, fire-eating woman's rights advocates up North, and she'sactually taken to distributing their indecent pamphlets. She had theface to leave one on my desk this morning. I'd just taken it in thetongs before you came in and put it into the fire. There are the ashesof it, " he added sardonically, waving his silver goblet in the directionof some grey shreds of paper in the fireplace. 

"All the same, doctor, she may be crazy, but I respect her. "

"Respect her? Respect Miss Matoaca Bland? Of course you respect her, sir. Even George Bolingbroke, bitter as he is, respects her from hisboots up. She's the embodiment of honour, and if there's a man alive whodoesn't respect the embodiment of honour, be it male or female, heought--he ought to be taken out and horsewhipped, sir! Her own sister, poor Miss Mitty, has the greatest veneration for her, though she can'thelp lying awake at night and wondering where those crazy principleswill lead her next. If they lead her to a quagmire, she'll lift herskirts and step in, Ben, there's no doubt of that--and what Miss Mittyfears now is that, since she's got hold of these abolition sheets, they'll lead her to the public platform--"

"You mean she'd get up and speak in public? She couldn't to save herhead. "

"You'd better not conclude that Miss Matoaca can't do anything untilyou've seen her try it, " replied the doctor indignantly. "I supposeyou'd think she couldn't bombard a political meeting, with not a womanto help her. Yet last winter she went down to the Legislature, in herblack silk dress and poke bonnet, and tried to get her obnoxiousmeasures brought before a committee. "

"Was she laughed at?" I demanded angrily. 

"Good Lord, no. They are gentlemen, even if they are politicians, andthey know a lady even if she's cracked. "

"And is she entirely alone? Has she no supporter?"

"As far as I know, my boy, Matoaca Bland is the only blessed thing inthe state that cares a continental whether women are emancipated ornot. "

He lifted the silver goblet to his lips, and drank long and deeply, while the rustle of Mrs. Clay's skirts was heard at his office door. After a sharp rap, she entered in her bustling way, and presented mewith a second julep, deliciously frosted and fragrant. She was a small, very alert old lady, wearing a bottle-green alpaca, made so slender inthe waist that it caused her to resemble one of her own famous pickledcucumbers. 

"Theophilus, " she began in a crisp, high voice, "I hope you have sent inthose bills, as you promised me?"

"Good Lord, Tina, " responded the doctor, with a burst of irritation, "isn't it bad enough to be sick without being made to pay for it?"

"You promised me, Theophilus. "

"I promised you I'd send bills to the folks I'd cured, but, when I cameto think of it, how was I to know, Tina, that I'd cured any?"

"At least you dosed them?"

"Yes, I dosed them, " he admitted; "but taking medicine isn't a pleasurethat I'd like to pay for. "

Turning away, she rustled indignantly through the door, and Dr. Theophilus, as he returned to the rim of his silver goblet, gave me asly wink over his sprigs of mint. 

"Yes, Ben, it isn't always the woman who is right that makes a man'sheaven, " he said. 

CHAPTER XVII

IN WHICH MY FORTUNES RISE

The winter began with a heavy snow-storm and ended in a long April rain, and in all those swiftly moving months I had seen Sally barely a dozentimes. Not only my pride, but Miss Mitty's rigid commands had kept mefrom her house, and the girl had promised that for the first six monthsshe would not meet me except by chance. 

"In the spring--oh, in the spring, " she wrote, "I shall be free. Mypromise was given and I could not recall it, but I believe now that itwas pride, not love, that made them exact it. Do you know, I sometimesthink that they do not love me at all. They have both told me that theywould rather see me dead than married, as they call it, beneath me. Beneath me, indeed! Ah, dearest, dearest, how can one lower one's selfto a giant? When I think of all that you are, of all that you have madeyourself, I feel so humble and proud. The truth is, Ben, I'm notsuffering half so much from love as I am from indignation. If it keepsup, some day I'll burst out like Aunt Matoaca, for I've got it in me. And she of all people! Why, she goes about in her meek, sanctifiedmanner distributing pamphlets on the emancipation of woman, and yet sheactually told me the other day that, of course, she would prefer to haveonly 'ladies' permitted to vote. 'In that case, however, ' she added, 'Ishould desire to restrict the franchise to gentlemen, also. ' Did youever in your whole life hear of anything so absurd, and she really meantit. She's a martyr, and filled with a holy zeal to get burned or racked. But it's awful, every bit of it. Oh, lift me up, Ben! Lift me up!" Andin a postscript, "What does the General say to you? Aunt Mitty has toldthe General. "

The General had said nothing to me, but when I drove him up from hisoffice the next day, he invited me to dine with him, and talkedincessantly through the three simple courses about the prospects of theNational Oil Company. 

"So you're sweeping the whole South?" he said. 

"Yes, Sam has made a big thing of it. We've knocked out everybody elsein the oil business in this part of the world. "

"Mark my word, then, you've been cutting into the interest of the oiltrust, and it will come along presently and try to knock you out. Whenit does, Ben, make it pay, make it pay. "

"Oh, I'll make it pay, " I answered. "The consolidated interests maysweep out the independent companies, but they can't overturn the GreatSouth Midland and Atlantic Railroad. "

"It's the road, of course, that has made such a success possible. "

"Yes, it's the road--everything is the road, General. "

"And to think that when I got control of it, it was bankrupt. "

Rising from the table he took my arm, and limped painfully into hisstudy, where he lit a cigar and sank back in his easy chair. 

"Look here, Ben, " he began suddenly, with a change of tone, "what's thistrouble brewing between you and Miss Mitty Bland?"

"There's no trouble, sir, except that her niece has promised to marryme. "

"Promised to marry you, eh? Sally Mickleborough? Are you sure it's SallyMickleborough?"

"I'm hardly likely to be mistaken, General, about the identity of myfuture wife. "

"No, I suppose you ain't, " he admitted, "but, good Lord, Ben, how didyou make her do it?"

"I didn't make her. She was good enough to do it of her own accord. "

"So she did it of her own accord? Well, confound you, boy, how did itever occur to you to ask her?"

"That's what I can't answer, General, I don't believe it ever occurredto me any more than it occurred to me to fall in love with her. "

"You've fallen in love with Sally Mickleborough, Miss Matoaca's niece. She refused George, you know?"

I replied that I didn't know it, but I never supposed that she wouldengage herself to two men at the same time. 

"And she's seriously engaged to you?" he demanded, still unconvinced. "Are you precious sure she isn't flirting? Girls will flirt, and I don'treckon you've had much experience of 'em. Why, even Miss Mitty was knownto flirt in a prim, stiff-necked fashion in her time, and as for SarahBland, they say she promised to marry a whole regiment before the battleof Seven Pines. A little warning beforehand ain't going to do any harm, Ben. "

"I'm much obliged to you, General, but I don't think in this case it'sneeded. Sally is staunch and true. "

"Sally? Do you call her 'Sally'? It used to be the custom to address thelady you were engaged to as 'Miss Sally' up to the day of the marriage. "

I laughed and shook my head. "Oh, we move fast!"

"Yes, I'm an old man, " he admitted sadly, "and I was brought up in adifferent civilisation. It's funny, my boy, how many customs were sweptaway with the institution of slavery. "

"There'd have been little room for me in those days. "

"Oh, you'd have got into some places quick enough, but you'd never havecrossed the Blands' threshold when they lived down on James River. Thereisn't much of that nonsense left now, but Miss Mitty has got it andTheophilus has got it; and, when all's said, they, might have somethingconsiderably worse. Why, look at Miss Matoaca. When I first saw heryou'd never have imagined there was an idea inside her head. "

"I can understand that she must have been very pretty. "

"Pretty? She was as beautiful as an angel. And to think of herdistributing those damned woman's rights pamphlets! She left one on mydesk, " he added, sticking out his lower lip like a crying child, andwiping his bloodshot eyes on the hem of his silk handkerchief. "I tellyou if she'd had a husband this would never have happened. "

"We can't tell--it might have been worse, if she believes it. "

"Believes what, sir?" gasped the great man, enraged. "Believes thatoutlandish Yankee twaddle about a woman wanting any rights except theright to a husband! Do you think she'd be running round loose in thiscrackbrained way if she had a home she could stay in and a husband shecould slave over? I tell you there's not a woman alive that ain'thappier with a bad husband than with none at all. "

"That's a comfortable view, at any rate. "

"View? It's not a view, it's a fact--and what business has a lady gotwith a view anyway? If Miss Matoaca hadn't got hold of those heathenishviews, she'd be a happy wife and mother this very minute. "

"Does it follow, General, that she would have been a happy one?" I askeda little unfairly. 

"Of course it follows. Isn't every wife and mother happy? What more doesshe want unless she's a Yankee Abolitionist?"

"Who's a Yankee?" enquired young George, in his amiable voice from thehall. "I'm surprised to hear you calling names when the war is over, sir. "

"I wasn't calling names, George. I was just saying that Miss MatoacaBland was a Yankee. Did you ever hear of a Virginia lady who wasn'tcontent to be what the Lord and the men intended her?"

"No, sir, I never did--but it seems to me that Miss Matoaca has managedto secure a greater share of your attention than the more amenableVirginia ladies. "

"Well, isn't it a sad enough sight to see any lady going cracked?"retorted the General, hotly; "do you know, George, that SallyMickleborough--he says he's sure it's Sally Mickleborough--has promisedto marry Ben Starr?"

"Oh, it's Sally all right, " responded George, "she has just told me. "

He came over and held out his hand, smiling pleasantly, though there wasa hurt look in his eyes. 

"I congratulate you, Ben, " he observed in his easy, good-natured way, "the best man comes in ahead. "

His face wore the frown, not from temper, but from pain, that I had seenon it at the club when his favourite hunter had dropped dead, and he hadtried to appear indifferent. He was a superb horseman, a typical manabout town, a bit of a sport, also, as Dr. Theophilus said. I knew heloved Sally, just as I had known he loved his hunter, by a sympatheticreading of his character rather than by any expression of regret on hislong, highly coloured, slightly wooden countenance, with its set mouthover which drooped a mustache so carefully trimmed that it looked almostas if it were glued on his upper lip. 

"By the way, uncle, have you heard the last news?" he asked, "Barclay isbuying all the A. P. & C. Stock he can lay hands on. It's selling at--"

"Hello! What's that? Barclay, did you say? I knew it was coming, andthat he'd spring it. Here, Hatty, give me my cape, I'm going back to theoffice!"

"George, George, the doctor told you not to excite yourself, "remonstrated Miss Hatty, appearing in the doorway with a glass ofmedicine in her hand. 

"Excite myself? Pish! Tush!" retorted the General, "I ain't a bit moreexcited than you are yourself. Do you think if I hadn't had a cool headthey'd have made me president of the South Midland? But I tell youBarclay's trying to get control of the A. P. & C. , and I'll be blamed ifhe shall! Do you want him to snatch a railroad out of my very mouth, madam?"

By this time he had got into his cape and slouch hat, turning at thelast moment to swallow Miss Hatty's dose of medicine with a wry mouth. Then with one arm in George's and one in mine, he descended the stepsand limped as far as the car line on Main Street. 

On that same afternoon I walked out to meet Sally on her ride in one ofthe country roads to what was called "the Pump House, " and when she haddismounted, we strolled together along the little path under the scarletbuds of young maples. At the end of the path there was a rude benchplaced beside the stream, which broke from the dam above with a soundthat was like laughing water. The grass was powdered with small springflowers, and overhead a sycamore drooped its silvery branches to thesparkling waves. Spring was in the air, in the scarlet buds of maples, in the song of birds, in the warm wind that played on Sally's flushedcheek and lifted a loosened curl on her forehead. And spring was in myheart, too, as I sat there beside her, on the old bench, with her handin mine. 

"You will marry me in November, Sally?"

"On the nineteenth of November, as I promised. Aunt Mitty and AuntMatoaca have forbidden me to mention your name to them, so I shall walkwith you to church some morning--to old Saint John's, I think, Ben. "

"Then may God punish me if I ever fail you, " I answered. 

Her look softened. "You will never fail me. "

"You will trust me now and in all the future?"

"Now and in all the future. "

As we strolled back a little later to her horse that was tethered to amaple on the roadside, I told her of the success of the National OilCompany and of the possibility that I might some day be a rich man. 

"As things go in the South, sweetheart, I'm a rich man now for myyears. "

"I am glad for your sake, Ben, but I have never expected to have wealth, you know. "

"All the same I want you to have it, I want to give it to you. "

"Then I'll begin to love it for your sake--if it means that to you?"

"It means nothing else. But what do you think it will mean to your auntsnext November?"

She shook her head, while I untethered Dolly, the sorrel mare. 

"They haven't a particle of worldliness, either of them, and I don'tbelieve it will make any great difference if we have millions. Of courseif you were, for instance, the president of the South Midland they wouldnot have refused to receive you, but they would have objected quite asstrongly to your marrying into the family. What you are yourself mightconcern them if they were inviting you to dinner, but when it is aquestion of connecting yourself with their blood, it is what your fatherwas that affects them. I really believe, " she finished half angrily, half humorously, "that Aunt Mitty--not Aunt Matoaca--would honestlyrather I'd marry a well-born drunkard or libertine than you, whom shecalls 'quite an extraordinary-looking young man. '"

"Then if they can neither be cajoled nor bought, I see no hope forthem, " I replied, laughing, as she sprang from my hand into her saddle. 

The red flame of the maple was in her face as she looked back at me. "Everything will come right, Ben, if we only love enough, " she said. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PRINCIPLES OF MISS MATOACA

When I walked down to the office now, I began to be pointed out as "theGeneral's wonderful boy. " Invitations to start companies, or todirectorships of innumerable boards, were showered upon me, andadventurous promoters of vain schemes sought desperately to shelterthemselves behind my growing credit. Then, in the following October, theconsolidated oil interests bought out my business at my own price, and Iawoke one glorious morning to the knowledge that my fortune was made. 

"If you're going to swell, Ben, now's the time, " said the General, "andout you go. "

But my training had been in a hard school, and by the end of the monthhe had ceased to enquire in the mornings "if my hat still fitted myhead. "

"You'll have your ups and downs, Ben, like the rest of us, " he said, "but the main thing is, let your fortunes see-saw as they may, alwayskeep your eyes on a level. By the way, I saw Sally Mickleborough lastnight, and when I asked her why she fell in love with you, she repliedit was because she saw you pushing a wheel up a hill. Now there's awoman with a reason--you'd better look sharp, or she'll begin talkingpolitics presently like her Aunt Matoaca. What do you think I found onmy desk this morning? A pamphlet, addressed in her handwriting, aboutthe presidential election. " Then his tone softened. "So Sally's going tomarry you in spite of her aunts? Well, she's a good girl, a brave girl, and I'm proud of her. "

When I went home to supper, I was to have a different opinion from Dr. Theophilus. 

"I saw Sally Mickleborough to-day, Ben, when I called on MissMatoaca, --[that poor lady gets flightier every day, she left a pamphlethere this morning about the presidential election]--and the girl told mein the few minutes I saw her in the hall, that she meant to marry younext month. "

"She will do me that great honour, doctor. "

"Well, I regret it, Ben; I can't conceal from you that I regret it. You're a good boy, and I'm proud of you, but I don't like to see youngfolks putting themselves in opposition to the judgment of their elders. I'm an orthodox believer in the claims of blood, you know. "

"And is there nothing to be said for the claims of love?"

"The claims of moonshine, Ben, " observed Mrs. Clay in her sharp voice, looking up from a pair of yarn socks she was knitting for the doctor;"you know I'm fond of you, but when you begin to talk of the claims oflove driving a girl to break with her family, I feel like boxing yourears. "

"You see, Tina is a cynic, " remarked Dr. Theophilus, smiling, "and Idon't doubt that she has her excellent reasons, as usual; most cynicshave. A woman, however, has got to believe in love to the point oflunacy or become a scoffer. What I contend, now, is that love isn'tmoonshine, but that however solid a thing it may be, it isn't, afterall, as solid as one's duty to one's family. "

"Of course I can't argue with you, doctor. I know little of the unit youcall 'the family'; but I should think the first duty of the family wouldbe to consider the happiness of the individual. "

"And do you think, Ben, that you are the only person who is consideringSally's happiness?"

"I know that I am considering it; for the rest I can't speak. "

"I firmly believe, " broke in Mrs. Clay, "that Sally's behaviour hashelped to drive Matoaca Bland clean out of her wits. She's actually sentme one of her leaflets, --what do you think of that, Theophilus?--to me, the most refined and retiring woman on earth. "

"What I'd say, Tina, is that you aren't half as refined and retiring asMiss Matoaca, " chuckled the doctor. 

"That is merely the way she dresses, " rejoined Mrs. Clay stiffly; "it isher poke bonnet and black silk mantle that deceives you. As for me, Ican call no woman truly refined who does not naturally avoid the societyof men. "

"Well, Tina, I had a notion that all of you were pretty fond of it, whenit comes to that. "

"Not of the society of men, Theophilus, but of the select attentions ofgentlemen. "

"I'm not taking up for Miss Matoaca, " pursued the good man; "I can'tconscientiously do that, and I'm more concerned at this minute about themarriage of Ben and Sally. You may smile at me as superstitious, if youplease, but I never yet saw a marriage turn out happily that was made indefiance of family feeling. "

As I could make no reply to this, except to put forward a second timewhat Mrs. Clay had tartly called "the claims of moonshine, " I bade thedoctor goodnight, and going upstairs to my room, sat down beside thesmall square window, which gave on the garden, with its miniature boxborders and its single clipped yew-tree, over which a young moon wasrising. "A mixture of a fighter and a dreamer, " the old man had oncecalled me, and it seemed to me now that something apart from the merebusiness of living and the alert man of affairs, brooded in me over theyoung moon and the yew-tree. 

A letter from Sally had reached me a few hours before, and taking itfrom my pocket, I turned to the lamp and read it for the sixth time witha throbbing heart. 

"You ask me if I am happy, dearest, " she wrote, "and I answer that I amhappy, with a still, deep happiness, over which a hundred troubles andcares ripple like shadows on a lake. But oh! poor Aunt Mitty, with hersilent hurt pride in her face, and poor Aunt Matoaca, with the strained, unnatural brightness in her eyes, and her cheeks so like rose leavesthat have crumpled. Oh, Ben, I believe Aunt Matoaca is living over againher own romance, and it breaks my heart. Last night I went into herroom, and found her with her old yellowed wedding veil and orangeblossoms laid out on the bed. She tried to pretend that she wasstraightening her cedar chests, but she looked so little andpitiable--if you could only have seen her! I wonder what she would benow if the General had been a man like you? How grateful I am, howprofoundly thankful with my whole heart that I am marrying a man that Ican trust!"

"That I can trust!" Her words rang in my ears, and I heard them again, clear and strong, the next morning, when I met Miss Matoaca as I was onmy way to my office. She was coming slowly up Franklin Street, her armsfilled with packages, and when she recognised me, with a shy, startledmovement to turn aside, a number of leaflets fluttered from her grasp tothe pavement between us. When I stooped and gathered them up, her face, under the old-fashioned poke bonnet, was brought close to my eyes, and Isaw that she looked wan and pinched, and that her bright brown eyes wereshining as if from fever. 

"Mr. Starr, " she said, straightening her thin little figure as I handedher the leaflets, "I've wanted for some time to speak a word to you onthe subject of my niece--Miss Mickleborough. "

"Yes, Miss Matoaca. "

"My sister Mitty thought it better that I should refrain from doing so, and upon such matters she has excellent judgment. It is my habit, indeed, to yield to her opinion in everything except a question ofconscience. "

"Yes?" for again she had paused. "It is very kind of you, " I added. 

"I do not mean it for kindness, Mr. Starr. My niece is very dear to me;and since poor Sarah's unfortunate experience, we have feltmore--strongly, if possible, about unequal marriages. I know that youare a most remarkable young man, but I do not feel that you are in anyway suited to make the happiness of our niece--Miss Mickleborough--"

"I am sorry, Miss Matoaca, but Miss Mickleborough thinks differently. "

"Young people are rarely the best judges in such matters, Mr. Starr. "

"But do you think their elders can judge for them?"

"If they have had experience--yes. "

"Ah, Miss Matoaca, does our own experience ever teach us to understandthe experience of others?"

"The Blands have never needed to be taught, " she returned with pride, "that the claims of the family are not to be sacrificed to--to asentiment. Except in the case of poor Sarah there has never been amésalliance in our history. We have always put one thing above theconsideration of our blood, and that is--a principle. If it were aquestion of conscience, however painful it might be to me, I shoulduphold my niece in her opposition to my sister Mitty. I myself haveopposed her for a matter of principle. "

"I am aware of it, Miss Matoaca. "

Her withered cheeks were tinged with a delicate rose, and I could almostsee the working of her long, narrow mind behind her long, narrow face. 

"I should like to leave a few of these leaflets with you, Mr. Starr, "she said. 

A minute afterwards, when she had moved on with her meek, slow walk, Iwas left standing on the pavement with her suffrage pamphlets flutteringin my hand. Stuffing them hurriedly into my pocket, I went on to theoffice, utterly oblivious of the existence of any principle on earthexcept the one underlying the immediate expansion of the Great SouthMidland and Atlantic Railroad. 

A fortnight later I heard that Miss Matoaca had begun writing letters tothe "Richmond Herald"; and I remembered, with an easy masculinecomplacency, the pamphlets I had thrown into the waste basket beside theGeneral's desk. The presidential election, with its usual upheaval ofthe business world, had arrived; and that timid little Miss Matoacashould have intruded herself into the affairs of the nation did notoccur to me as possible, until the General informed me, while we watcheda Democratic procession one afternoon, that Miss Mitty had come to himthe day before in tears over the impropriety of her sister's conduct. 

"She begged me to remonstrate with Miss Matoaca, " he pursued, "and byGeorge, I promised her that I would. There's one thing, Ben, I've neverbeen able to stand, and that's the sight of a woman in tears. Of coursewhen you've made 'em cry yourself, it is different; but to have a ladycoming to you weeping over somebody else--and a lady like MissMitty--well, I honestly believe if she'd requested me to give her myskin, I'd have tried to get out of it just to oblige her. "

"Did you go to Miss Matoaca?" I asked, for the picture of the Generallecturing his old love on the subject of the proprieties had caught myattention even in the midst of a large Democratic procession that wasmarching along the street. While he rambled on in his breaking voice, which had begun to grow weak and old, I gazed over his head at thepolitical banners with their familiar, jesting inscriptions. 

"I declare, Ben, I'd rather have swallowed a dose of medicine, " he wenton; "you see I used to know Miss Matoaca very well forty years ago--Ireckon you've heard of it. We were engaged to be married, and it wasbroken off because of some woman's rights nonsense she'd got in herhead. "

"Well, it's hard to imagine your interview of yesterday. "

"There wasn't any interview. I went to her and put it as mildly as Icould. 'Miss Matoaca, ' I said, 'I'm sorry to hear you've gone cracked. '"

"And how did she take it?"

"'Do you mean my heart or my head, General?' she asked--she had alwaysplenty of spirit, had Matoaca, for all her soft looks. 'It's your head, 'I answered. 'Lord knows I'm not casting any reflections on the rest ofyou. ' 'Then it has fared better than my heart, General, ' she replied, 'for that was broken. ' She looked kind of wild, Ben, as she said it. Idon't know what she was talking about, I declare on my honour I don't!"

A cheer went up from the procession, and an expression of eagercuriosity came into his face. 

"Can you read that inscription, Ben? My eyes ain't so good as they usedto be. "

"It's some campaign joke. So your lecture wasn't quite a success?"

"It would have been if she'd listened to reason. "

"But she did not, I presume?"

"She never listened to it in her life. If she had, she wouldn't be apoor miserable old maid at this moment. What's that coming they'remaking such a noise about? My God, Ben, if it ain't Matoaca herself!"

It was Matoaca, and the breathless horror in the General's voice passedinto my own mind as I looked. There she was, in her poke bonnet and herblack silk mantle, walking primly at the straggling end of theprocession, among a crowd of hooting small boys and gaping negroes. Hereyes, very wide and bright, like the eyes of one who is mentallyderanged, were fixed straight ahead, over the lines of men marching infront of her, on the blue sky above the church steeples. Under her pokebonnet I saw her meekly parted hair and her faded cheeks, flushed nowwith a hectic colour. In one neatly gloved hand her silk skirt was heldprimly; in the other she carried a little white silk flag, on which thestaring gold letters were lost in the rippling folds. With her eyes onthe sky and her feet in the dust, she marched, a prim, ladylike figure, an inspired spinster, oblivious alike of the hooting small boys and thehalf-compassionate, half-scoffing gazers upon the pavement. 

"She's crazy, Ben, " said the General, and his voice broke with a sob. 

For a minute, as dazed as he, I stared blankly at the little figure withthe white flag. Then bewilderment gave place before the call to action, and it seemed to me that I saw Sally there in Miss Matoaca, as I hadseen her in the rising moon over the clipped yew, and in the whirlpoolof the stock market. Leaving my place at the General's side, I descendedthe steps at a bound, and made my way through the jostling, noisy crowdto the little lady in its midst. 

"Miss Matoaca!" I said. 

For the first time her eyes left the sky, and as she looked down, theconsciousness of her situation entered into her strained bright eyes. Her composure was lost in a birdlike, palpitating movement of terror. 

"I--I am going as far as the Square, Mr. Starr, " she replied, as if shewere repeating by rote a phrase in a strange tongue. 

At my approach the ridicule, somewhat subdued by the sense of herhelplessness, broke suddenly loose. Bending over I offered her my arm, my head still uncovered. As the hand holding the white flag drooped fromexhaustion, I took it, with the banner, into my own. 

"Then I'll go with you, Miss Matoaca, " I responded. 

We started on, took a few measured paces in the line of march, and thenher strength failing her, she sank back, with a pathetic moan ofweariness, into my arms. Lifting her like a child I carried her out ofthe street and up the steps into the General's office. Turning at atouch as I entered the room, I saw that Sally was at my side. 

"I've sent for Dr. Theophilus, " she said. "There, put her on thelounge. "

Kneeling on the floor she began bathing Miss Matoaca's forehead withwater which somebody had brought. The General, his eyes very red andbloodshot and his lower lip fallen into a senile droop, was tryingvainly to fan her with his pocket-handkerchief. 

"We have always feared this would happen, " said Sally, very quiet andpale. 

"She was talking to me yesterday about her heart, " returned the General, "and I didn't know what she meant. "

He bent over, fanning her more violently with his silk handkerchief, andon the lounge beneath, Miss Matoaca lay, very prim and maidenly, withher skirt folded modestly about her ankles. 

Dr. Theophilus, coming in with the messenger, bent over her for a longminute. 

"I always thought her sense of honour would kill her, " he said at lastas he looked up. 

CHAPTER XIX

SHOWS THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE

A week after Miss Matoaca's funeral, Sally met me in one of the secludedstreets by the Capitol Square, and we walked slowly up and down for anhour in the November sunshine. In her black clothes she appeared to havebloomed into a brighter beauty, a richer colour. 

"Why can't I believe, Sally, that you will really marry me a week fromto-day?"

"A week from to-day. Just you and I in old Saint John's. "

"And Miss Mitty, will she not come with you?"

"She refuses to let me speak your name to her. It would be hard to leaveher, Ben, if--if she hadn't been so bitter and stern to me for the lastyear. I live in the same house with her and see nothing of her. "

"I thought Miss Matoaca's death might have softened her. "

"Nothing will soften her. Aunt Matoaca's death has hurt her terribly, Iknow, but--and this is a dreadful thing to say--I believe it has hurther pride more than her heart. If the poor dear had died quietly in herbed, with her prayer-book on the counterpane, Aunt Mitty would havegrieved for her in an entirely different way. She lives in a kind ofstained-glass seclusion, and anything outside of that seems to hervulgar--even emotion. "

"How I must have startled her. "

"You startled her so that she has never had courage to face the effect. Think what it must mean to a person who has lived sixty-five years in anatmosphere of stained glass to be dragged outside and made to look atthe great common sun--"

A squirrel, running out from between the iron railing surrounding thesquare, crossed the pavement and then sat erect in front of us, hisbushy tail waving like a brush over his ears. While she was bending overto speak to it, the Bland surrey turned the corner at a rapid pace, andI saw the figure of Miss Mitty, swathed heavily in black, sitting verystiff and upright behind old Shadrach. As she caught sight of us, sheleaned slightly forward, and in obedience to her order, the carriagestopped the next instant beside the pavement. 

"Sally!" she called, and there was no hint in her manner that she wasaware of my presence. 

"Yes, Aunt Mitty. " The girl had straightened herself, and stood calmlyand without embarrassment at my side. 

"I should like you to come with me to Hollywood. "

"Yes, Aunt Mitty. "

Pausing for an instant, she gave me her hand. "Until Wednesday, Ben, "she said in a low, clear voice, and then entering the surrey, she tookher place under the fur robe and was driven away. 

The week dragged by like a century, and on Wednesday morning, when I gotup and opened my shutters, I found that our wedding-day had begun in aslow autumnal rain. A thick tent of clouds stretched overhead, and theminiature box in the garden looked like flutings of crape on the pebbledwalk, which had been washed clean and glistening during the night. Theclipped yew stood dark and sombre as a solitary mourner among theblossomless rose-bushes. 

At breakfast Mrs. Clay poured my coffee with a rigid hand and an avertedface, and Dr. Theophilus appeared to find difficulty in keeping up hischeerful morning comments. 

"I'll miss you, Ben, my boy, " he remarked, as he rose from the table;"it's a sad day for me when I lose you. "

"I hate to lose you, doctor, but I shan't, after all, be far off. I'vebought a house, as you know, beyond the Park in Franklin Street. "

"The one Jack Montgomery used to live in before he lost his money--yes, it is a fine place. Well, you have my best wishes, Ben, whatever comes;you may be sure of that. I hope you and Sally will have everyhappiness. "

He shook my hand in his hearty grasp before going into his littleoffice, and the next minute I went out into the rain, and walked downfor a few words with the General, before I met Sally under the bigsycamore at the side gate. I had waited for her but a little while whenshe came out under an umbrella held by Aunt Euphronasia, who was toaccompany us on our journey South in the General's private car. As sheentered the carriage, I saw that she wore a white dress under her longblack cloak. 

"Mammy wouldn't let me be married in black, " she said; "she says itmeans death or a bad husband. "

"Dar ain' gwine be a bad husband fur dish yer chile, " grumbled the oldwoman, who was evidently full of gloomy forebodings, "caze she ain'built wid de kinder spine, suh, dat bends easy. "

"There'll be nobody at church?" asked Sally. 

"Only the General, and I suppose the sexton. "

"I am glad. " She leaned forward, we clasped hands, and I saw that theeyes she lifted to mine were starry and expectant, as they had been thatday, so many years ago, when she stood between the gate and the bed ofgeraniums in the General's yard. 

The carriage rolled softly over the soaking streets, and above the soundof the wheels I heard the patter of the rain on the dead leaves in thegutters. I can see still a wet sparrow or two that fluttered down fromthe bared branches, and the negro maid sweeping the water from the stepsin front of the doctor's house. There was no wind, and the rain fell instraight elongated drops like a shower of silvery pine-needles. Themixture of a fighter and a dreamer! On my wedding-day, as I sat besidethe woman I loved, approaching the fulfilment of my desire, I wasconscious of a curious gravity, of almost a feeling of sadness. Thestillness without, intensified by the slow, soft fall of the rain on thedead leaves, seemed not detached, but at one with the inner stillnesswhich possessed alike my heart and my brain. I, the man of action, theembodiment of worldly success, was awed by the very intensity of mylove, which added a throb of apprehension to the supreme moment of itsfulfilment. 

The carriage crawled up the long hill, and stopped before the stepsleading to the churchyard of Saint John's. Like a sombre omen up wentthe umbrella in the hands of Aunt Euphronasia; and as I led Sally acrossthe pavement to the General, who stood waiting under the dripping maplesand sycamores, I saw that she was very pale, and that her lips trembledwhen she smiled back at me. With her arm in the General's, she passedbefore me up the walk to the church door, while Aunt Euphronasia and Ifollowed under the same umbrella a short way behind. 

At the door the minister met us with outstretched hands, for he hadknown us from childhood; and when Aunt Euphronasia had removed thebride's moist cloak, Sally joined me before the altar, in the square offaint light that fell from the windows. The interior of the church wasvery dim, so dim that her white dress and the minister's gown seemed theonly patches of high light in the obscurity. Through the window I couldsee the wet silvery boughs of a sycamore, and, I remember still, as ifit had been illuminated upon my brain, a single bronzed leaf thatwrithed and twisted at the end of a slender branch. Never in my life hadmy mind been so awake to trivial impressions, so acutely aware of theexternal world, so perfectly unable to realise the profound significanceof the words I uttered. The sound of the soft rain on the graves outsidewas in my ears, and instead of my marriage, I found myself thinking ofthe day I had seen Sally dancing toward me in her red shoes, over thecoloured leaves. In those few minutes, which changed the course of ourtwo lives, it was as if I myself--the man that men knew--had beenpresent only in a dream. 

When it was over, the General kissed Sally, and wiped his eyes on hissilk handkerchief. 

"You're a brave girl, my dear, and I'm proud of you, " he said; "you'vegot your mother's heart and your father's fighting blood, and that's agood blending. "

"I wish the sun had shone on you, " observed the old minister, while Ihelped her into her cloak; "but we Christians can't afford to wasteregret on heathen superstitions. I married your mother, " he added, as ifthere were possible comfort in a proof of the futility of omens, "on acloudless morning in June. "

Sally shivered, and glanced across the churchyard, where the waterdripped from the bared trees on the graves that were covered thicklywith sodden leaves. 

"The sun may welcome us home, " she replied, with an effort to becheerful; "we shall be back again in a fortnight. "

"And you go South?" asked the minister nervously, like a man who triesto make conversation because his professional duty requires it of him. Then the umbrella went up again, and after a good-by to the General, westarted together down the walk, with Aunt Euphronasia following close asa shadow. 

"The rain does not sadden you, sweetheart?"

"It saddens me, but that does not mean that I am not happy. "

"And you would do it over again?"

"I would do it over until--until the last hour of my life. "

"Oh, Sally, Sally, if I were only sure that I was worthy. "

A light broke in her face, and as she looked up at me, I bent over andkissed her under the leafless trees. 

CHAPTER XX

IN WHICH SOCIETY RECEIVES US

It was a bright December evening when we returned to Richmond, and drovethrough the frosty air to our new home. The house was large and modern, with a hideous brown stone front, and at the top of the brown stonesteps several girl friends of Sally's were waiting to receive us. Beyondthem, in the brilliantly lighted hall, I saw masses of palms and rosesunder the oak staircase. 

"Oh, you bad Sally, not even to ask us to your wedding. And you know howwe adore one!" cried a handsome, dark girl in a riding habit, namedBonny Page. "How do you do, Mr. Starr? We're to call you 'Ben' nowbecause you've married our cousin. "

I made some brief response, and while I spoke, I felt again the oldsense of embarrassment, of strangeness in my surroundings, that alwayscame upon me in a gathering of women--especially of girls. With Sally Inever forgot that I was a strong man, --with Bonny Page I remembered onlythat I was a plain one. As she stood there, with her arm about Sally, and her black eyes dancing with fun, she looked the incarnate spirit ofmischief, --and beside the spirit of mischief I felt decidedly heavy. Shewas a tall, splendid girl, with a beautiful figure, --the belle ofRichmond and the best horsewoman of the state. I had seen her take ajump that had brought my heart to my throat, and come down on the otherside with a laugh. A little dazzling, a little cold, fine, quick, generous to her friends, and merciless to her lovers, I had wonderedoften what subtle sympathy had knit Sally and herself so closelytogether. 

"You'd always promised that I should be your bridesmaid, " she remarkedreproachfully; "she's hurt us dreadfully, hasn't she, Bessy? And it'svery forgiving of us to warm her house and have her dinner ready forher. "

Bessy, the little heroine of the azalea wreath and my first party, murmured shyly that she hoped the furniture was placed right and thatthe dinner would be good. 

"Oh, you darlings, it's too sweet of you!" said Sally, entering thedrawing-room, amid palms and roses, with an arm about the neck of each. "You know, don't you, " she went on, "that poor Aunt Mitty's not comingkept me from having even you? How is she, Bonny? O Bonny, she won'tspeak to me. "

Immediately she was clasped in Bonny's arms, where she shed a few tearson Bonny's handsome shoulder. 

"She'll grow used to it, " said little Bessy; "but, Sally, how did youhave the courage?"

"Ask Bonny how she had the courage to take that five-foot jump. "

"I took it with my teeth set and my eyes shut, " said Bonny. 

"Well, that's how I took Ben, with my teeth set and my eyes shut tight. "

"And I came down with a laugh, " added Bonny. 

"So did I--I came down with a laugh. Oh, you dears, how lovely the houselooks! Here are all the bridal roses that I missed and you'veremembered. "

"There're blue roses in your room, " said Bonny; "I mean on the chintzand on the paper. "

"How can I help being happy, when I have blue roses, Bonny? Aren't blueroses an emblem of the impossible achieved?"

Bonny's dancing black eyes were on me, and I read in them plainly thethought, "Yes, I'm going to be nice to you because Sally has marriedyou, and Sally's my cousin--even if I can't understand how she came todo it. "

No, she couldn't understand, and she never would, this I read also. Theman that she saw and the man that Sally knew were two different persons, drawing life from two different sources of sympathy. To her I was still, and would always be, the "magnificent animal, "--a creature of goodmuscle and sinew, with an honest eye, doubtless, and clean hands, butlacking in the finer qualities of person and manner that must appeal toher taste. Where Sally beheld power, and admired, Bonny Page saw onlyroughness, and wondered. 

Presently, they led her away, and I heard their merry voices floatingdown from the bedrooms above. The pink light of the candles on thedinner table in the room beyond, the vague, sweet scent of the roses, and the warmth of the wood fire burning on the andirons, seemed to growfaint and distant, for I was very tired with the fatigue of a man whosemuscles are cramped from want of exercise. I felt all at once that I hadstepped from the open world into a place that was too small for me. Iwas a rich man at last, I was the husband, too, of the princess of theenchanted garden, and yet in the midst of the perfume and the softlights and the laughter floating down from above, I saw myself, by somefreak of memory, as I had crouched homeless in the straw under adeserted stall in the Old Market. Would the thought of the boy I hadbeen haunt forever the man I had become? Did my past add a keenerhappiness to my present, or hang always like a threatening shadow aboveit? There was a part in my life which these girls could not understand, which even Sally, whom I loved, could never share with me. How couldthey or she comprehend hunger, who had never gone without for a moment?Or sympathise with the lust of battle when they had never encountered anobstacle? Already I heard the call of the streets, and my bloodresponded to it in the midst of the scented atmosphere. These thingswere for Sally, but for me was the joy of the struggle, the passion toachieve that I might return, with my spoils and pile them higher andhigher before her feet. The grasping was what I loved, not thepossession; the instant of triumph, not the fruits of the conquest. Lovethrobbed in my heart, but my mind, as if freeing itself from arestraint, followed the Great South Midland and Atlantic, covering thatnight under the stars nearly twenty thousand miles of road. Theelemental man in me chafed under the social curb, and I longed at thatinstant to bear the woman I had won out into the rough joys of theworld. My muscles would soon grow flabby in this scented warmth. Thefighter would war with the dreamer, and I would regret the short, fiercebattle with my competitors in the business of life. 

A slight sound made me turn, and I saw Bonny Page standing alone in thedoorway, and looking straight at me with her dancing eyes. 

"I don't know you yet, Ben, " she said in the direct, gallant manner of aperfect horsewoman, "but I'm going to like you. "

"Please try, " I answered, "and I'll do my best not to make it hard. "

"I don't think it will be hard, but even if it were, I'd do it forSally's sake. Sally is my darling. "

"And mine. So we're alike in one thing at least. "

"I'm perfectly furious with Aunt Mitty. I mean to tell her so the nexttime I've taken a high jump. "

"Poor Miss Mitty. How can she help herself? She was born that way. "

"Well, it was a very bad way to be born--to want to break Sally's heart. Do you know, I think it was delightful--the way you did it. If I'm evermarried, I want to run away, too, --only I'll run away on horseback, because that will be far more exciting. "

She ran on merrily, partly I knew to take my measure while she watchedme, partly to ease the embarrassment which her exquisite social instincthad at once discerned. She was charming, friendly, almost affectionate, yet I was conscious all the time that, in spite of herself, she was alittle critical, a trifle aloof. Her perfect grooming, the very finenessof her self-possession, her high-bred gallantry of manner, and even theshining gloss on her black, beribboned hair, and her high boots, produced in me a sense of remoteness, which I found it impossiblealtogether to overcome. 

In a little while there was a flutter on the staircase, and the othergirls trooped down, with Sally in their midst. She had changed hertravelling dress for a gown of white, cut low at the neck, and about herthroat she wore a necklace of pearls I had given her at her wedding. There was a bright flush in her face, and she looked to me as she haddone that day, in her red shoes, in Saint John's churchyard. 

When I came downstairs from my dressing-room, I found that the girls hadgone, and she was standing by the dinner table, with her face bent downover the vase of pink roses in the centre. 

"So we are in our own home, darling, at last, " I said, and a few minuteslater, as I looked across the pink candle shades and the roses, and sawher sitting opposite to me, I told myself that at last both the fighterin me and the dreamer had found the fulfilment of their desire. 

After dinner, when I had had my smoke in the library, we caught handsand wandered like two children over the new house--into the pink andwhite guest room, and then into Sally's bedroom, where the blue rosessprawled over the chintz-covered furniture and the silk curtains. Aglass door gave on a tiny balcony, and throwing a shawl about her headand her bare shoulders, she went with me out into the frosty Decembernight, where a cold bright moon was riding high above the churchsteeples. With my arm about her, and her head on my breast, we stood insilence gazing over the city, while the sense of her nearness, of herthrobbing spirit and body, filled my heart with an exquisite peace. 

"You and I are the world, Ben. "

"You are my world, anyway. "

"It is such a happy world to-night. There is nothing but love in it--nopain, no sorrow, no disappointment. Why doesn't everybody love, Iwonder?"

"Everybody hasn't you. "

"I'm so sorry for poor Aunt Mitty, --she never loved, --and for poor AuntMatoaca, because she didn't love my lover. Oh, you are so strong, Ben;that, I think, is why I first loved you! I see you always in thebackground of my thoughts pushing that wheel up the hill. "

"That won you. And to think if I'd known you were there, Sally, Icouldn't have done it. "

"That, too, is why I love you, so there's another reason! Itisn't only your strength, Ben, it is, I believe, still more yourself-forgetfulness. Then you forgot yourself because you thought of thepoor horse; and again, do you remember the day of Aunt Matoaca's death, when you gave her your arm and took her little flag in your hand? Youwould have marched all the way to the Capitol just like that, and Idon't believe you would ever have known that it looked ridiculous orthat people were laughing at you. "

"To tell the truth, Sally, I should never have cared. "

She clung closer, her perfumed hair on my breast. 

"And yet they wondered why I loved you, " she murmured; "they wonderedwhy!"

"Can you guess why I loved you?" I asked. "Was it for your red shoes? Orfor that tiny scar like a dimple I've always adored?"

"I never told you what made that, " she said, after a moment. "I was avery little baby when my father got angry with mamma one day--he hadbeen drinking--and he upset the cradle in which I was asleep. "

She lifted her face, and I kissed the scar under the white shawl. 

The next day when I came home to luncheon, she told me that she had beento her old home to see Miss Mitty. 

"I couldn't stand the thought of her loneliness, so I went into thedrawing-room at the hour I knew she would be tending her sweet alyssumand Dicky, the canary. She was there, looking very thin and old, and, Ben, she treated me like a stranger. She wouldn't kiss me, and shedidn't ask me a single question--only spoke of the weather and herflower boxes, as if I had called for the first time. "

"I know, I know, " I said, taking her into my arms. 

"And everybody else is so kind. People have been sending me flowers allday. Did you ever see such a profusion? They are all calling, too, --theFitzhughs, the Harrisons, the Tuckers, the Mayos, Jennie Randolph came, and old Mrs. Tucker, who never goes anywhere since her daughter died, and Charlotte Peyton, and all the Corbins in a bunch. " Then her tonechanged. "Ben, " she said, "I want to see that little sister of yours. Will you take me there this afternoon?"

Something in her request, or in the way she uttered it, touched me tothe heart. 

"I'd like you to see Jessy--she's pretty enough to look at--but I didn'tmean you to marry my family, you know. "

"I know you didn't, dear, but I've married everything of yours all thesame. If you can spare a few minutes after luncheon, we'll drive downand speak to her. "

I could spare the few minutes, and when the carriage was ready, she camedown in her hat and furs, and we went at a merry pace down FranklinStreet to the boarding-house in which Jessy was living. As we drove upto the pavement, the door of the house opened and my little sister cameout, dressed for walking and looking unusually pretty. 

"Why, Ben, she's a beauty!" said Sally, in a whisper, as the girlapproached us. To me Jessy's face had always appeared too cold andvacant for beauty, in spite of her perfect features and the brilliantfairness of her complexion. Even now I missed the glow of feeling or ofanimation in her glance, as she crossed the pavement with her slow, precise walk, and put her hand into Sally's. 

"How do you do? It is very kind of you to come, " she said in a measured, correct voice. 

"Of course I came, Jessy. I am your new sister, and you must come andstay with me when I am out of mourning. "

"Thank you, " responded Jessy gravely, "I should like to. "

The cold had touched her cheek until it looked like tinted marble, andunder her big black hat her blond hair rolled in natural waves from herforehead. 

"Are you happy here, Jessy?" I asked. 

"They are very kind to me. There's an old gentleman boarding here nowfrom the West. He is going to give us a theatre party to-night. They sayhe has millions. " For the first time the glow of enthusiasm shone in herlimpid blue eyes. 

"A good use to make of his millions, " I laughed. "Do you hear often fromPresident, Jessy?"

The glow faded from her eyes and they grew cold again. "He writes suchbad letters, " she answered, "I can hardly read them. "

"Never forget, " I answered sternly, "that he denied himself an educationin order that you might become what you are. "

While I spoke the door of the house opened again, and the old gentlemanshe had alluded to came gingerly down the steps. He had a small, wizenedface, and he wore a fur-lined overcoat, in which it was evident that hestill suffered from the cold. 

"This is my brother and my sister, Mr. Cottrel, " said Jessy, as he cameslowly toward us. 

He bowed with a pompous manner, and stood twirling the chain of hiseye-glasses. "Yes, yes, I have heard of your brother. His name is wellknown already, " he answered. "I congratulate, sir, " he added, "not the'man who got rich quickly, ' as I've heard you called, but the fortunatebrother of a beautiful sister. "

"What a perfectly horrid old man, " remarked Sally, some minutes later, as we drove back again. "I think, Ben, we'll have to take the littlesister. She's a beauty. "

"If she wasn't so everlastingly cold and quiet. "

"It suits her style--that little precise way she has. There's a lookabout her like one of Perugino's saints. "

Then the carriage stopped at the office, and I returned, with a highheart, to the game. 

CHAPTER XXI

I AM THE WONDER OF THE HOUR

During the first year of my marriage I was already spoken of as the mostsuccessful speculator in the state. The whirlpool of finance had won mefrom the road, and I had sacrificed the single allegiance to the boldermoves of the game. Yet if I could be bold, I was cautious, too, --andthat peculiar quality which the General called "financial genius, " andthe world named "the luck of the speculator, " had enabled me to actalways between the two dangerous extremes of timidity and rashness. "Toget up when others sat down, and to sit down when others got up, " I toldthe General one day, had been the rule by which I had played. 

"They were talking of you at the club last night, Ben, " he said. "Youwere the only one of us who had sense enough to load up with A. P. & C. Stock when it was selling at 80, and now it's jumped up to 150. JimRandolph was fool enough to remark that you'd had the easiest success ofany man he knew. "

"Easy? Does he think so?"

"So you call that easy, gentlemen?' I responded. 'Well, I tell you thatboy has sweated for it since he was seven years old. It's the only way, too, I'm sure of it. If you want to succeed, you've got to begin bysweating. '"

"Thank you, General, but I suppose most things look easy until you'vetried them. "

"It doesn't look easy to me, Ben, when I've seen you at it all day andhalf the night since you were a boy. What I said to those fellows at theclub is the Gospel truth--there's but one way to get anything in thisworld, and that is by sweating for it. "

We were in his study, to which he was confined by an attack of the gout, and at such times he loved to ramble on in his aging, reminiscent habit. 

"You know, General, " I said, "that they want me to accept the presidencyof the Union Bank in Jennings' place. I've been one of the directors, you see, for the last three or four years. "

"You'd be the youngest bank president in the country. It's a good thing, and you'd control enough money to keep you awake at night. But remember, Ben, as my dear old coloured mammy used to say to me, 'to hatch firstain't always to crow last. '"

"Do you call it hatching or crowing to become president of the UnionBank?"

"That depends. If you're shrewd and safe, as I think you are, it mayturn out to be both. It would be a good plan, though, to say to yourselfevery time you come up Franklin Street, 'I've toted potatoes up thishill, and not my own potatoes either. ' It's good for you, sir, toremember it, damned good. "

"I'm not likely to forget it--they were heavy. "

"It was the best thing that ever happened to you--it was the making ofyou. There's nothing I know so good for a man as to be able to rememberthat he toted somebody else's potatoes. Now, look at that George ofmine. He never toted a potato in his life--not even his own. If he had, he might have been a bank president to-day instead of the pleasant, well-dressed club-man he is, with a mustache like wax-work. I've anidea, Ben, but don't let it get any farther, that he never got over nothaving Sally, and that took the spirit out of him. She's well, ain'tshe?"

"Yes, she's very well and more beautiful than ever. "

"Hasn't developed any principles yet, eh? I always thought they were inher. "

"None that interfere with my comfort at any rate. "

"Keep an eye on her and keep her occupied all the time. That's the wayto deal with a woman who has ideas--don't leave her a blessed minute tosit down and hatch 'em out. Pet her, dress her, amuse her, and whenevershe begins to talk about a principle, step out and buy her a present totake her mind off it. Anything no bigger than a thimble will turn awoman's mind in the right direction if you spring it on her like asurprise. Ah, that's the way her Aunt Matoaca ought to have beentreated. Poor Miss Matoaca, she went wrong for the want of a littlesimple management like that. You never saw Miss Matoaca Bland when shewas a girl, Ben?"

"I have heard she was beautiful. "

"Beautiful ain't the word, sir! I tell you the first time I ever saw hershe came to church in a white poke bonnet lined with cherry-colouredsilk, and her cheeks exactly a match to her bonnet lining. " He got outhis big silk handkerchief, and blew his nose loudly, after which hewiped his eyes, and sat staring moodily at his foot bandaged out of allproportion to its natural size. 

"Who'd have thought to look at her then, " he pursued, "that she'd gocracked over this Yankee abolition idea before she died. "

"Why, I thought they owned slaves up to the end, General. "

"Slaves? What have slaves got to do with it? Ain't the abolitionists andthe woman suffragists and the rest of those damned fire-eating Yankeesall the same? What they want to do is to overturn the Constitution, andit makes no difference to 'em whether they overturn it under one name orthe other. I tell you, Ben, as sure's my name's George Bolingbroke, Matoaca Bland couldn't have told me to the day of her death whether shewas an abolitionist or a woman's suffragist. When a woman goes crackedlike that, all she wants is to be a fire-eater, and I doubt if she everknows what she is eating it about. Women ain't like men, my boy, thereisn't an ounce of moderation to the whole sex, sir. Why, look at the waythey're always getting their hearts broken or their heads cracked. Theycan't feel an emotion or think an idea that something inside of 'emdoesn't begin to split. Now, did you ever hear of a man getting hisheart broken or his brain cracked?"

The canker was still there, doing its bitter work. For forty years MissMatoaca had had her revenge, and even in the grave her ghost would notlie quiet and let him rest. In his watery little eyes and hisprotruding, childish lip, I read the story of fruitless excesses and ofvain retaliations. 

When I reached home, I found Sally in her upstairs sitting-room withJessy, who was trying on an elaborate ball gown of white lace. Since thetwo years of mourning were over, the little sister had come to stay withus, and Sally was filled with generous plans for the girl's pleasure. Jessy, herself, received it all with her reserved, indifferent manner, turning her beautiful profile upon us with an expression of saintlyserenity. It amused me sometimes to wonder what was behind the brilliantred and white of her complexion--what thoughts? what desires? whatimpulses? She went so placidly on her way, gaining what she wanted, executing what she planned, accepting what was offered to her, thatthere were moments when I felt tempted to arouse her by a burst ofanger--to discover if a single natural instinct survived the shiningpolish of her exterior. Sally had worked a miracle in her manner, herspeech, her dress; and yet in all that time I had never seen the rippleof an impulse cross the exquisite vacancy of her face. Did she feel? Didshe think? Did she care? I demanded. Once or twice I had spoken ofPresident, trying to excite a look of gratitude, if not of affection;but even then no change had come in the mirror-like surface of her blueeyes. President, I was aware, had sacrificed himself to her while I wasstill a child, had slaved and toiled and denied himself that he mightmake her a lady. Yet when I asked her if she ever wrote to him, shesmiled quietly and shook her head. 

"Why don't you write to him, Jessy? He was always fond of you. "

"He writes such dreadful letters--just like a working-man's--that I hateto get them, " she answered, turning to catch the effect of her train inthe long mirror. 

"He is a working-man, Jessy, and so am I. "

She accepted the statement without demur, as she acceptedeverything--neither denying nor disputing, but apparently indifferent toits truth or falseness. My eyes met Sally's in the glass, and they heldme in a long, compassionate gaze. 

"All men are working-men, Jessy, if they are worth anything, " she said, "and any work is good work if it is well done. "

"He is a miner, " responded Jessy. 

"If he is, it is because he prefers to do the work he knows to beingidle, " I answered sharply. "What you must remember is that when he hadlittle, and I had nothing, he gave you freely all that he had. "

She did not answer, and for a moment I thought I had convinced her. 

"Will you write to President to-night?" I asked. 

"But we are having a dinner party. How can I?"

"To-morrow, then?"

"I am going to the theatre with Mrs. Blansford. Mr. Cottrel has taken abox for her. He is one of the richest men in the West, isn't he?"

"There are a great many rich men in the West. How can it concern you?"

"Oh, it's beautiful to be rich, " she returned, in the most enthusiasticphrase I had ever heard her utter; and gathering her white lace trainover her arm she went into her bedroom to remove the dress. 

"What is she made of, Sally?" I asked, in sheer desperation; "flesh andblood, do you think?"

"I don't know, Ben, not your flesh and blood, certainly. "

"But for President--why wasn't my father hanged before he gave him sucha name!--she would have remained ignorant and common with all herbeauty. He almost starved himself in order to send her to a good schooland give her pretty clothes. "

"I know, I know, it seems terribly ungrateful--but perhaps she's excitedover her first dinner. "

That evening we were to give our first formal dinner, and when I camedownstairs a little before eight o'clock, I found the rooms a bower ofazaleas, over which the pink-shaded lamps shed a light that touchedJessy's lace gown with pale rose. 

"It's like fairyland, isn't it?" she said, "and the table is sobeautiful. Come and see the table. "

She led me into the dining-room and we stood gazing down on thedecorations, while we waited for Sally. 

"Who is coming, Jessy?"

"Twelve in all. General Bolingbroke and Mr. Bolingbroke, Mrs. Fitzhugh, Governor Blenner, Miss Page, " she went on reading the cards, "Mr. Mason, Miss Watson, Colonel Henry, Mrs. Preston, Mrs. Tyler--"

"That will do. I'll know them when I see them. Do you like it, Jessy?"

"Yes, I like it. Isn't my dress lovely?"

"Very, but don't get spoiled. You see Sally has had this all her life, and she isn't spoiled. "

"I don't believe she could be, " she responded, for her admiration forSally was the most human thing I had ever discovered about her, "andshe's so beautiful--more beautiful, I think, than Bonny Page, though ofcourse nobody would agree with me. "

"Well, she's perfect, and she always was and always will be, " Ireturned. 

"You're a great man, aren't you?" she asked suddenly, turning away fromthe table. 

"Why, no. What in the world put that into your head?"

"Well, the General told Mr. Cottrel you were a genius, and Mr. Cottrelsaid you were the first genius he had ever heard of who measured sixfeet two in his stockings. "

"Of course I'm not a genius. They were joking. "

"You're rich anyway, and that's just as good. "

I was about to make some sharp rejoinder, irritated by her insistence onthe distinction of wealth, when the sound of Sally's step fell on myears, and a moment later she came down the brilliantly lightedstaircase, her long black lace train rippling behind her. As she movedamong the lamps and azaleas, I thought I had never seen her moreradiant--not even on the night of her first party when she wore thewhite rose in her wreath of plaits. Her hair was arranged to-night inthe same simple fashion, her mouth was as vivid, her grey eyes held thesame mingling of light with darkness. But there was a deeper serenity inher face, brought there by the untroubled happiness of her marriage, andher figure had grown fuller and nobler, as if it had moulded itself tothe larger and finer purposes of life. 

"The house is charming, Jessy is lovely, and you, Ben, are magnificent, "she said, her eyebrows arching merrily as she slipped her hand in myarm. "And it's a good dinner, too, " she went on; "the terrapin isperfect. I sent into the country for the game, and the man fromWashington came down with the decorations and the ices. Best of all, Imade the salad myself, so be sure to eat it. We'll begin to be gay now, shan't we? Are you sure we have money enough for a ball?"

"We've money enough for anything that you want, Sally. "

"Then I'll spend it--but oh! Ben, promise me you won't mention stocksto-night until the women have left the table. "

"I'll promise you, and keep it, too. I don't believe I ever introduced asubject in my life to any woman but you. "

"I'm glad, at least, there's one subject you didn't introduce to anyother. "

Then the door-bell rang, and we hurried into the drawing-room in time toreceive Governor Blenner and the General, who arrived together. 

"I almost got a fall on your pavement, Ben, " said the General, "it'sbeginning to sleet. You'd better have some sawdust down. "

It took me a few minutes to order the sawdust, and when I returned, theother guests were already in the room, and Sally was waiting to go in todinner on the arm of Governor Blenner, a slim, nervous-looking man, witha long iron-grey mustache. I took in Mrs. Tyler, a handsome widow, witha young face and snow-white hair, and we were no sooner seated than shebegan to tell me a story she had heard about me that morning. 

"Carry James told me she gave her little boy a penny and asked him whathe meant to do with it. 'Ath Mithter Starr to thurn it into, aquarther, ' he replied. "

"Oh, he thinks that easy now, but he'll find out differently some day, "I returned. 

She nodded brightly, with the interested, animated manner of a woman whorealises that the burden of conversation lies, not on the man'sshoulders, but on hers. While she ate her soup I knew that her alertmind was working over the subject which she intended to introduce withthe next course. From the other end of the table Sally's eyes wereraised to mine over the basket of roses and lilies. Jessy was listeningto George Bolingbroke, who was telling a story about the races, whilehis eyes rested on Sally, with a dumb, pained look that made me suddenlyfeel very sorry for him. I knew that he still loved her, but until I sawthat look in his eyes I had never understood what the loss of her musthave meant in his life. Suppose I had lost her, and he had won, and Ihad sat and stared at her across her own dinner table with my secretwritten in my eyes for her husband to read. A fierce sense of possessionswept over me, and I felt angered because his longing gaze was on herflushed cheeks and bare shoulders. 

"No, no wine. I've drunk my last glass of wine unless I may hope for itin heaven, " I heard the General say; "a little Scotch whiskey now andthen will see me safely to my grave. "

"From champagne to Scotch whiskey was a flat fall, General, " observedMrs. Tyler, my sprightly neighbour. 

"It's not so flat as the fall to Lithia water, though, " retorted theGeneral. 

I was about to join vacantly in the laugh, when a sound in the doorwaycaused me to lift my eyes from my plate, and the next instant I satparalysed by the figure that towered there over the palms and azaleas. 

"Why, Benjy boy!" cried a voice, in a tone of joyous surprise, and whileevery head turned instantly in the direction of the words, the candlesand the roses swam in a blur of colour before my eyes. Standing on thethreshold, between two flowering azaleas, with a palm branch wavingabove his head, was President, my brother, who was a miner. Twenty yearsago I had last seen him, and though he was rougher and older and greyernow, he had the same honest blue eyes and the same kind, sheepish face. The clothes he wore were evidently those in which he dressed himself forchurch on Sunday, and they made him ten times more awkward, ten timesmore ill at ease, than he would have looked in his suit of jeans. 

"Why, Benjy boy!" he burst out again; "and little Jessy!"

I sprang to my feet, while a hot wave swept over me at the thought thatfor a single dreadful instant I had been ashamed of my brother. AlreadyI had pushed back my chair, but before I could move from my place, Sallyhad walked the length of the table, and stood, tall and queenly, betweenthe flowering azaleas, with her hand outstretched. There was no shame inher face, no embarrassment, no hesitation. Before I could speak she hadturned and come back to us, with her arm through President's, and neverin my eyes had she appeared so noble, so high-bred, so thoroughly aBland and a Fairfax as she did at that moment. 

"Governor, this is my brother, Mr. Starr, " she said in her low, clearvoice. "Ben has not seen him for twenty years, so if you will pardonhim, he will go upstairs with him to his room. "

As I went toward her my glance swept the table for Jessy, and I saw thatshe was sitting perfectly still and colourless, crumbling a small pieceof bread, while her eyes clung to the basket of roses and lilies. 

"Well, Benjy boy!" exclaimed President, too full for speech, "and littleJessy!"

In spite of his awkwardness and his Sunday clothes, he looked so happy, so uplifted by the sincerity of his affection above any false feeling ofshame, that the tears sprang to my eyes as I clasped his hand. 

The governor had risen to speak to him, the General had done likewise. By their side Sally stood with a smile on her face and her hand on thetable. She was a Bland, after all, and the racial instinct within herhad risen to meet the crisis. They recognised it, I saw, and they, whoseblood was as blue as hers, responded generously to the call. Not one hadfailed her! Then my eyes fell on Jessy, sitting cold and silent, whileshe crumbled her bit of bread. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE MAN AND THE CLASS

"I oughtn't to have done it, Benjy, " said President, following me withdiffidence under the waving palm branches and up the staircase. 

"Nonsense, President, " I answered; "I'm awfully glad you've come. Onlyif I'd known about it, I'd have met you at the station. "

"No, I oughtn't to have done it, Benjy, " he repeated humbly, standing ina dejected attitude in the centre of the guest room next to Jessy's. Hehad entered nervously, as if he were stepping on glass, and when Imotioned to a chair he shook his head and glanced uneasily at thedelicate chintz covering. 

"I'd better not sit down. I'm feared I'll hurt it. "

"It's made to be sat in. You aren't going to stand up in the middle ofthe room all night, old fellow, are you?"

At this he appeared to hesitate, and a pathetic groping showed itself inhis large, good-humoured face. 

"You see, I've been down in the mines, " he said, "an' anything so fancymakes my flesh crawl. "

"I wish you'd give up that work. It's a shame to have you do it whenI've got more money than I can find investments for. "

"I'm a worker, Benjy, and I'll die a worker. Pa wa'nt a worker, andthat's why he took to drink. "

"Well, sit down now, and make yourself at home. I've got to go backdownstairs, but I'll come up again the very minute that it's over. "

Pushing him, in spite of his stubborn, though humble, resistance, intothe depths of the chintz-covered chair, I went hurriedly back to thedinner-table, and took my seat beside Mrs. Tyler, who remarked with atact which won me completely:--

"Mrs. Starr has been telling us such interesting things about yourbrother. He has a very fine head. "

"By George, I'm glad I shook his hand, " said the General, in his loud, kindly way. "Bring him to see me, Ben, I like a worker. "

The terrible minute in which I had sat there, paralysed by the shame ofacknowledging him, was still searing my mind. As I met Sally's eyes overthe roses and lilies, I wondered if she had seen my cowardliness as Ihad seen Jessy's, and been repelled by it? When the dinner was over, andthe last guest had gone, I asked myself the question again while I wentupstairs to bring my brother from his retirement. As I opened the door, he started up from the chair in which I had placed him, and beganrubbing his eyes as he followed me timidly out of the room. At the tableSally seated herself opposite to him, and talked in her simple, kindlymanner while he ate his dinner. 

"Pour his wine, Ben, " she said, dismissing the butler, "there are toomany frivolities, aren't there? I like a clear space, too. "

Turning toward him she pushed gently away the confusing decorations, andremoved the useless number of forks from beside his plate. If the way heate his soup and drank his wine annoyed her, there was no hint of it inher kind eyes and her untroubled smile. She, who was sensitive to thepoint of delicacy, I knew, watched him crumble his bread into his greenturtle, and gulp down his sherry, with a glance which apparently wasoblivious of the thing at which it looked. Jessy shrank gradually away, confessing presently that she had a headache and would like to goupstairs to bed; and when she kissed President's cheek, I saw aversionwritten in every line of her shrinking figure. Yet opposite to him satSally, who was a Bland and a Fairfax, and not a tremor, not the flickerof an eyelash, disturbed her friendly and charming expression. What wasthe secret of that exquisite patience, that perfect courtesy, which wasconfirmed by the heart, not by the lips? Did the hidden cause of it liein the fact that it was not a manner, after all, but the very essence ofa character, whose ruling spirit was exhaustless sympathy?

"I've told Benjy, ma'am, " said President, selecting the largest fork bysome instinct for appropriateness, "that I know I oughtn't to have doneit. "

"To have done what?" repeated Sally kindly. 

"That I oughtn't to have come in on a party like that dressed as I am, and I so plain and uneddicated. "

"You mustn't worry, " she answered, bending forward in all thequeenliness of her braided wreath and her bare shoulders, "you mustn'tworry--not for a minute. It was natural that you should come to yourbrother at once, and, of course, we want you to stay with us. "

I had never seen her fail when social intuition guided her, and she didnot fail now. He glanced down at his clothes in a pleased, yethesitating, manner. 

"These did very well on Sunday in Pocahontas, " he said, "but somehowthey don't seem to suit here; I reckon so many flowers and lights kindof dazzle my eyes. "

"They do perfectly well, " answered Sally, speaking in a firm, direct wayas if she were talking to a child; "but if you would feel morecomfortable in some of Ben's clothes, he has any number of them at yourservice. He is about your height, is he not?"

"To think of little Benjy growin' so tall, " he remarked with a kind ofecstasy, and when we went into the library for a smoke, he insisted uponmeasuring heights with me against the ledge of the door. Then, alonewith me and the cheerful crackling of the log fire, his embarrassmentdisappeared, and he began to ask a multitude of eager questions aboutmyself and Jessy and my marriage. 

"And so pa died, " he remarked sadly, between the long whiffs of hispipe. 

"I'm not sure it wasn't the best thing he ever did, " I responded. 

"Well, you see, Benjy, he wa'nt a worker, and when a man ain't a workerthere's mighty little to stand between him and drink. Now, ma, she was aworker. "

"And we got it from her. That's why we hate to be idle, I suppose. "

"Did it ever strike you, Benjy, " he enquired solemnly, after a minute, "that in the marriage of ma and pa the breeches were on the wrong one of'em? Pa wa'nt much of a man, but he would have made a female that wecould have been proud of. With all the good working qualities, we nevercould be proud of ma when we considered her as a female. "

"Well, I don't know, but I think she was the best we ever had. "

"We are proud of Jessy, " he pursued reflectively. 

"Yes, we are proud of Jessy, " I repeated, and as I uttered the words, Iremembered her beautiful blighted look, while she sat cold and silent, crumbling her bit of bread. 

"And we are proud of you, Benjy, " he added, "but you ain't anyparticular reason to be proud of me. You can't be proud of a man thatain't had an eddication. "

"Well, the education doesn't make the man, you know. "

"It does a good deal towards it. The stuffing goes a long way with thegoose, as poor ma used to say. Do you ever think what ma would have beenif she'd had an eddication? An eddication and breeches would have made ageneral of her. It must take a powerful lot of patience to stand beingborn a female. "

He took a wad of tobacco from his pocket, eyed it timidly, and afterglancing at the tiled hearth, put it back again. 

"You know what I would do if I were a rich man, Benjy?" he said; "I'dbuy a railroad. "

"You'd have to be a very rich man, indeed, to do that. "

"It's a little dead-beat road, the West Virginia and Wyanoke. Ioverheard two gentlemen talking about it yesterday in Pocahontas, andone of 'em had been down to look at those worked-out coal fields atWyanoke. 'If I wa'nt in as many schemes as I could float, I'd buy up acontrol of that road, ' said the one who had been there, 'you mark mywords, there's better coal in those fields than has ever come out of'em. ' They called him Huntley, and he said he'd been down with anexpert. "

"Huntley?" I caught at the name, for he was one of the shrewdestpromoters in the South. "If he thinks that, why didn't he get control ofthe road himself?"

"The other wanted him to. He said the time would come when they tappedthe coal fields that the Great South Midland and Atlantic would want thelittle road as a feeder. "

"So he believed the Wyanoke coal fields weren't worked out, eh?"

"He said they wa'nt even developed. You see it was all a secret, andthey didn't pay any attention to me, because I was just a common miner. "

"And couldn't buy a railroad. Well, President, if it comes to anything, you shall have your share. Meanwhile, I'll run out to Wyanoke and lookaround. "

With the idea still in my mind, I went into the General's office nextday, and told him that I had decided to accept the presidency of theUnion Bank. 

"Well, I'm sorry to lose you, Ben. Perhaps you'll come back to the roadin another capacity when I am dead. It will be a bigger road then. We'rebuying up the Tennessee and Carolina, you know. "

"It's a great road you've made, General, and I like to serve it. By theway, I'm going to West Virginia in a day or two to have a look at theWest Virginia and Wyanoke. What do you know of the coal fields atWyanoke?"

"No 'count ones. I wouldn't meddle with that little road if I were you. It will go bankrupt presently, and then we'll buy it, I suppose, at ourown price. It runs through scrub land populated by old field pines. Howis that miner brother of yours, Ben? I saw Sally at the theatre withhim. You've got a jewel, my boy, there's no doubt of that. When I lookedat her sailing down the room on his arm last night, by George, I wishedI was forty years younger and married to her myself. "

Some hours later I repeated his remark to Sally, when I went home atdusk and found her sitting before a wood fire in her bedroom, with herhat and coat on, just as she had dropped there after a drive withPresident. 

"Well, I wouldn't have the General at any age. You needn't be jealous, Ben, " she responded. "I'm too much like Aunt Matoaca. "

"He always said you were, " I retorted, "but, oh, Sally, you are anangel! When I saw you rise at dinner last night, I wanted to squeeze youin my arms and kiss you before them all. "

The little scar by her mouth dimpled with the old childish expression ofarchness. 

"Suppose you do it now, sir, " she rejoined, with the primness of MissMitty, and a little later, "What else was there to do but rise, youabsurd boy? Poor mamma used to tell me that grandpapa always said toher, 'When in doubt choose the kindest way. '"

"And yet he disinherited his favourite daughter. "

"Which only proves, my dear, how much easier it is to make a proverbthan to practise it. "

"Do you know, Sally, " I began falteringly, after a minute, "there issomething I ought to tell you, and that is, that when I looked up at thetable last night and saw President in the doorway, my first feeling wasone of shame. "

She rubbed her cheek softly against my sleeve. 

"Shall I confess something just as dreadful?" she asked. "When I lookedup and saw him standing there my first feeling was exactly the same. "

"Sally, I am so thankful. "

"You wicked creature, to want me to be as bad as yourself. "

"It couldn't have lasted with you but a second. "

"It didn't, but a second is an hour in the mind of a snob. "

"Well, we were both snobs together, and that's some comfort, anyway. "

For the three days that President remained with us he wore my clothes, in which he looked more than ever like a miner attired for church, andcarried himself with a resigned and humble manner. 

Sally took him to the theatre and to drive with her in the afternoon, and I carried him to the General's office and over the Capitol, which hesurveyed with awed and admiring eyes. Only Jessy still shrank from him, and not once during his visit were we able to prevail upon her to appearwith him in the presence of strangers. There was always an excuse readyto trip off her tongue--she had a headache, she was going to thedressmaker's, the milliner's, the dentist's even; and I honestly believethat she sought cheerfully this last place of torture as an escape. Tothe end, however, he regarded her with an affection that fell littleshort of adoration. 

"Who'd have thought that little Jessy would have shot up into a regularbeauty!" he exclaimed for the twentieth time as he stood ready todepart. "She takes arter pa, and I always said the only thing against pawas that he wa'nt born a female. "

He kissed her good-by in a reverential fashion, and after a cordial, though exhausted, leave-taking from Sally, we went together to WestVirginia. In spite of the General's advice, I had decided to take a lookat the coal fields of Wyanoke, and a week later, when I returned toRichmond, I was the owner of a control of the little West Virginia andWyanoke Railroad. It was a long distance from the presidency of theGreat South Midland and Atlantic, but I watched still from some vantageground in my imagination, the gleaming tracks of the big road sweepingstraight on to the southern horizon. 

For the next few years there was hardly a shadow on the smiling surfaceof our prosperity. Society had received us in spite of my father, inspite even of my brother; and the day that had made me Sally's husbandhad given me a place, if an alien one, in the circle in which she moved. I was there at last, and it was neither her fault nor mine if I carriedwith me into that stained-glass atmosphere something of theconsciousness of the market boy, who seemed to stand always at thekitchen door. Curiously enough there were instants even now when I feltvaguely aware that, however large I might appear to loom in my physicalpresence, a part of me was, in reality, still on the outside, hoveringuncertainly beyond the threshold. There were things I had neverlearned--would never learn; things that belonged so naturally to thepeople with whom I lived that they seemed only aware of them whenbrought face to face with the fact of their absence. The lightness oflife taught me nothing except that I was built in mind and in body upona heavier plan. At the dinner-table, when the airy talk floated aboutme, I felt again and again that the sparkling trivialities settled likethistledown upon the solid mass I presented, and remained there becauseof my native inability to waft them back. It was still as impossible forme to entertain pretty girls in pink tarlatan as it had been on thenight of my first party; and the memory of that disastrous socialepisode stung me at times when I stood large and awkward before a gayand animated maiden, or sat wedged in, like a massive block, between twopatient and sleepy mothers. These people were all Sally's friends, notmine, and it was for her sake, I never forgot for a minute, that theyhad accepted me. With just such pleasant condescension they would stillhave accepted me, I knew, if I had, in truth, entered their company withmy basket of potatoes or carrots on my arm. One alone held outunwaveringly through the years; for Miss Mitty, shut with her pride andher portraits in the old grey house, obstinately closed her big mahoganydoors against our repeated friendly advances. Sometimes at dusk, as Ipassed on the crooked pavement under the two great sycamores, I wouldglance up at the windows, where the red firelight glimmered on the smallsquare panes, and fancy that I saw her long, oval face gazing down on mefrom between the parted lace curtains. But she made no sign offorgiveness, and when Sally went to see her, as she did sometimes, theold lady received her formally in the drawing-room, with a distant andstately manner. She, who was the mixture of a Bland and a Fairfax, satenthroned upon her traditions, while we of the common, outside worldwalked by under the silvery boughs of her sycamores. 

"Aunt Mitty has told Selim not to admit me, " said Sally one day atluncheon. "I know she wasn't out in this dreadful March wind--she neverleaves the house except in summer--and yet when I went there, he told mepositively she was not at home. When I think of her all alone hour afterhour with Aunt Matoaca's things around her, I feel as if it would breakmy heart. George says she is looking very badly. "

"Does George see her?" I asked, glancing up from my cup of coffee, whileI waited for the light to a cigar. "I didn't imagine he had enoughattentions left over from his hunters to bestow upon maiden ladies. "

The sugar tongs were in her hand, and she looked not at me, but at thelump of sugar poised above her cup, as she answered, "He is so good. "

"Good?" I echoed lightly; "do you call George good? The General thinkshe's a sad scamp. "

The lump of sugar dropped with a splash into her cup, and her eyes weredark as she raised them quickly to my face. Instinctively I felt, with ablind groping of perception, that I had wounded her pride, or herloyalty, or some other hereditary attribute of the Blands and theFairfaxes that I could not comprehend. 

"If I wanted an estimate of goodness, I don't think I'd go to theGeneral as an authority, " she retorted. 

"I'm sorry you never liked him, Sally. He's a great man. "

"Well, he isn't _my_ great man anyway, " she retorted. "I prefer Dr. Theophilus or George. "

I laughed gayly. "The doctor is a mollycoddle and George is a fop. " Mytone was jaunty, yet her words were like the prick of a needle in asensitive place. What was her praise of George except the confession ofan appreciation of the very things that I could never possess? I knewshe loved me and not George--was not her marriage a proof of thissufficient to cover a lifetime?--yet I knew also that the externalgraces which I treated with scorn because I lacked them, held for herthe charm of habit, of association, of racial memory. Would the power inme that had captured her serve as well through a future of familiarpossession as it had served in the supreme moment of conquest? I couldnot go through life, as I had once said, forever pushing a wheel up ahill, and the strength of a shoulder might prove, after all, lesseffective in the freedom of daily intercourse than the quickness ordelicacy of a manner. Would she begin to regret presently, I wondered, the lack in the man she loved of those smaller virtues which in thefirst rosy glow of romance had seemed to her insignificant and of littleworth?

"There are worse things than a mollycoddle or a fop, " she rejoined aftera pause, and added quickly, while old Esdras left the dining-room toanswer a ring at the bell, "That's either Bonny Page or George now. Oneof them is coming to take me out. "

For a moment I hoped foolishly that the visitor might be Bonny Page, butthe sound of George's pleasant drawling voice was heard speaking to oldEsdras, and as the curtains swung back, he crossed the threshold andcame over to take Sally's outstretched hand. 

"You're lunching late to-day, " he said. "I don't often find you here atthis hour, Ben. "

"No, I'm not a man-about-town like you, " I replied, pushing the cigarsand the lamp toward him; "the business of living takes up too much of mytime. "

He leaned over, without replying to me, his hand on the back of Sally'schair, his eyes on her face. 

"It's all right, Sally, " he said in a low voice, and when he drew back, I saw that he had laid a spray of sweet alyssum on the table beside herplate. 

Her eyes shone suddenly as if she were looking at sunlight, and when shesmiled up at him, there was an expression in her face, half gratitude, half admiration, that made it very beautiful. While I watched her, Itried to overcome an ugly irrational resentment because George had beenthe one to call that tremulous new beauty into existence. 

"How like you it was, " she returned, almost in a whisper, with the sprayof sweet alyssum held to her lips, "and how can I thank you?"

His slightly wooden features, flushed now with a fine colour, as if hehad been riding in the March wind, softened until I hardly knew them. Standing there in his immaculate clothes, with his carefully groomedmustache hiding a trembling mouth, he had become, I realised vaguely, aGeorge with whom the General and I possessed hardly so much as anacquaintance. The man before me was a man whom Sally had invoked intobeing, and it seemed to me, as I watched them, that she had awakened inGeorge, who had lost her, some quality--inscrutable and elusive--thatshe had never aroused in the man to whom she belonged. What this qualitywas, or wherein it lay, I could not then define. Understanding, sympathy, perception, none of these words covered it, yet it appeared tocontain and possess them all. The mere fact of its existence, and that Irecognised without explaining it, had the effect of a barrier whichseparated me for the moment from my wife and the man to whom she wasrelated by the ties of race and of class. Again I was aware of thatsense of strangeness, of remoteness, which I had felt on the night ofour home-coming when I had stood, spellbound, before Bonny Page'sexquisite grooming and the shining gloss on her hair and boots. Something--a trifle, perhaps, had passed between Sally and George--andthe reason I did not understand it was because I belonged to anotherorder and had inherited different perceptions from theirs. Thetrifle--whatever it was--appeared visibly, I knew, before us; it wasevident and on the surface, and if I failed to discern it what did thatprove except the shortness of the vision through which I looked? Aphysical soreness, like that of a new bruise, attacked my heart, andrising hastily from the table, I made some hurried apology and went out, leaving them alone together. Glancing back as I got into my overcoat inthe hall, I saw that Sally still held the spray of sweet alyssum to herlips, and that the look George bent on her was transfigured by thetenderness that flooded his face with colour. She loved me, she wasmine, and yet at this instant she had turned to another man for a keenercomprehension, a subtler sympathy, than I could give. A passion, not ofjealousy, but of hurt pride, throbbed in my heart, and by some curiouseccentricity of emotion, this pride was associated with a rush ofambition, with the impelling desire to succeed to the fullest in thethings in which success was possible. If I could not give what Georgegave, I would give, I told myself passionately, something far better. When the struggle came closer between the class and the individual, Ihad little doubt that the claims of tradition would yield as they hadalways done to the possession of power. Only let that power find itsfullest expression, and I should stand to George Bolingbroke as theliving present of action stands to the dead past of history. After all, what I had to give was my own, hewn by my own strength out of life, while the thing in which he excelled was merely a web of delicate fibrewoven by generations of hands that had long since crumbled to dust. Triumph over him, I resolved that I would in the end, and the way totriumph led, I knew, through a future of outward achievement to thedazzling presidency of the South Midland and Atlantic Railroad. 

As time went on this passionate ambition, which was so closely bound upwith my love for Sally, absorbed me even to the exclusion of the feelingfrom which it had drawn its greatest strength. The responsibilities ofmy position, the partial control of the large sums of money that passedthrough my hands, crowded my days with schemes and anxieties, and keptme tossing, sleepless yet with wearied brain, through many a night. Forpleasure I had no time; Sally I saw only for a hurried or anabsent-minded hour or two at meals, or when I came up too tired to thinkor to talk in the evenings. Often I fell asleep over my cigar afterdinner, while she dressed and hastened, with her wreathed head and bareshoulders, to a reception or a ball. A third of my time was spent in NewYork, and during my absence, it never occurred to me to enquire how shefilled her long, empty days. She was sure of me, she trusted me, I knew;and in the future, I told myself when I had leisure to think of it--nextyear, perhaps--I should begin again to play the part of an ardent lover. She was as desirable--she was far dearer to me than she had ever been inher life, but while I held her safe and close in my clasp, my mindreached out with its indomitable energy after the uncertain, theunattained. I had my wife--what I wanted now was a fortune and a greatname to lay at her feet. 

And all these months did she ever question, ever ask herself, while shewatched me struggling day after day with the lust for power, if thething that I sought to give her would in the end turn to Dead Sea fruitat her lips? Question she may have done in her heart, but no hint of itever reached me--no complaint of her marriage ever disturbed the outwardserenity in which we lived. Yet, deep in myself, I heard always a stillsmall voice, which told me that she demanded something far subtler andfiner than I had given--something that belonged inherently to the natureof George Bolingbroke rather than to mine. Even now, though she loved meand not George, it was George who was always free, who was alwaysamiable, who was always just ready and just waiting to be called. Onanother day, a month or two later, he came in again with his blossom ofsweet alyssum, and again her eyes grew shining and grateful, while theold bruise throbbed quickly to life in my heart. 

"Is it all right still?" she asked, and he answered, "All right, " withhis rare smile, which lent a singular charm to his softened features. 

Then he glanced across at me and made, I realised, an effort to befriendly. 

"You ought to get a horse, Ben, " he remarked, "it would keep you fromgetting glum. If you'd hunted with us yesterday, you would have seenBonny Page take a gate like a bird. "

"I tried to follow, " said Sally, "but Prince Charlie refused. "

"You mean I wouldn't let go your bridle, " returned George, in ahalf-playful, half-serious tone. 

The bruise throbbed again. Here, also, I was shut out--I who had carriedpotatoes to George's door while he was off learning to follow thehounds. His immaculate, yet careless, dress; the perfection of hismanner, which seemed to make him a part of the surroundings in which hestood; the very smoothness and slenderness of the hand that rested onSally's chair--all these produced in me a curious and unreasonablesensation of anger. 

"I forbid you to jump, Sally, " I said, almost sharply; "you know I hateit. "

She leaned forward, glancing first at me and then at George, with anexpression of surprise. 

"Why, what's the matter, Ben?" she asked. "He's a perfect bear, isn'the, George?"

"The best way to keep her from jumping, " observed George, pleasantlyenough, though his face flushed, "is to be on the spot to catch herbridle or her horse's mane or anything else that's handy. It's the onlymeans I've found successful, for there was never a Bland yet who didn'tgo straight ahead and do the thing he was forbidden to. Miss Mitty toldme with pride that she had been eating lobster, which she always hated, and I discovered her only reason was that the doctor had ordered her notto touch it. "

"Then I shan't forbid, I'll entreat, " I replied, recovering myself withan effort. "Please don't jump, Sally, I implore it. "

"I won't jump if you'll come with me, Ben, " she answered. 

I laughed shortly, for how was it possible to explain to two Virginiansof their blood and habits that a man of six feet two inches could notsit a horse for the first time without appearing ridiculous in the eyeseven of the woman who loved him? They had grown up together in thefields or at the stables, and a knowledge of horse-flesh was as much apart of their birthright as the observance of manners. The one I couldnever acquire; the other I had attained unaided and in the face of thetremendous barriers that shut me out. The repeated insistence upon thefact that Sally was a Bland aroused in me, whenever I met it, anirritation which I tried in vain to dispel. To be a Bland meant, afterall, simply to be removed as far as possible from any temperamentalrelation to the race of Starrs. 

"I wish I could, dear, " I answered, as I rose to go out, "but remember, I've never been on a horse in my life and it's too late to begin. "

"Oh, I forgot. Of course you can't, " she rejoined. "So if George isn'tstrong enough to hold me back, I'll have to go straight after Bonny. "

"I promise you I'll swing on with all my might, Ben, " said George, witha laugh in which I felt there was an amiable condescension, as from thebest horseman in his state to a man who had never ridden to hounds. 

A little later, as I walked down the street, past the old grey house, under the young budding leaves of the sycamores, the recollection ofthis amiable condescension returned to me like the stab of a knife. Theimage of Sally, mounted on Prince Charlie, at George's side, troubled mythoughts, and I wondered, with a pang, if the people who saw themtogether would ask themselves curiously why she had chosen me. To oneand all of them, --to Miss Mitty, to Bonny Page, to Dr. Theophilus, --themystery, I felt, was as obscure to-day as it had been in the beginningof our love. Why was it? I questioned angrily, and wherein lay thesubtle distinction which divided my nature from George Bolingbroke's andeven from Sally's? The forces of democracy had made way for me, and yetwas there something stronger than democracy--and this something, fineand invincible as a blade, I had felt long ago in the presence of MissMitty and Miss Matoaca. Over my head, under the spreading boughs of thesycamore, a window was lifted, and between the parted lace curtains, thesong of Miss Mitty's canary floated out into the street. As the musicentered my thoughts, I remembered suddenly the box of sweet alyssumblooming on the window-sill under the swinging cage, and there flashedinto my consciousness the meaning of the flowers George had laid besideSally's plate. For her sake he had gone to Miss Mitty in the sad oldhouse, and that little blossom was the mute expression of a service hehad rendered joyfully in the name of love. The gratitude in Sally's eyeswas made clear to me, and a helpless rage at my own blindness, my owndenseness, flooded my heart. George, because of some inborn fineness ofperception, had discerned the existence of a sorrow in my wife to whichI, the man whom she loved and who loved her, had been insensible. He hadunderstood and had comforted--while I, engrossed in larger matters, hadgone on my way unheeding and indifferent. Then the anger against myselfturned blindly upon George, and I demanded passionately if he wouldstand forever in my life as the embodiment of instincts and perceptionsthat the generations had bred? Would I fail forever in little thingsbecause I had been cursed at birth by an inability to see any except bigones? And where I failed would George be always ready to fill theunspoken need and to bestow the unasked-for sympathy?

CHAPTER XXIII

IN WHICH I WALK ON THIN ICE

On a November evening, when we had been married several years, I camehome after seven o'clock, and found Sally standing before the bureauwhile she fastened a bunch of violets to the bosom of her gown. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get up earlier, but there's a good deal ofexcitement over a failure in Wall Street, " I said. "Are you going out?"

Her hands fell from her bosom, and as she turned toward me, I saw thatshe was dressed as though for a ball. 

"Not to-night, Ben. I had an engagement, but I broke it because I wantedto spend the evening with you. I thought we might have a nice cosy timeall by ourselves. "

"What a shame, darling. I've promised Bradley I'd do a little work withhim in my study. He's coming at half-past eight and will probably keepme till midnight. I'll have to hurry. Did you put on that gorgeous gownjust for me?"

"Just for you. " There was an expression on her face, half humorous, halfresentful, that I had never seen there before. "What day is this, Ben?"she asked, as I was about to enter my dressing-room. 

"The nineteenth of November, " I replied carelessly, looking back at herwith my hand on the door. 

"The nineteenth of November, " she echoed slowly, as if saying the wordsto herself. 

I was already on the threshold when light broke on me in a flash, and Iturned, blind with remorse, and seized her in my arms. 

"Sally, Sally, I am a brute!"

She laughed a little, drawing away, not coming closer. 

"Ben, are you happy?"

"As happy as a king. I'll telephone Bradley not to come. "

"Is it important?"

"Yes, very important. That failure I told you of is a pretty seriousmatter. "

"Then let him come. All days are the same, after all, when one comes tothink of it. "

Her hand went to the violets at her breast, and as my eyes followed it, a sudden intuitive dread entered my mind like an impulse of rage. 

"I intended to send you flowers, Sally, but in the rush, I forgot. Whoseare those you are wearing?"

She moved slightly, and the perfume of the violets floated from thecloud of lace on her bosom. 

"George sent them, " she answered quietly. 

Before she spoke I had known it--the curse of my life was to be thatGeorge would always remember--and the intuitive dread I had feltchanged, while I stood there, to the dull ache of remorse. 

"Take them off, and I'll get you others if there's a shop open in thecity, " I said. Then, as she hesitated, wavering between doubt andsurprise, I left the room, descended the steps with a rush, and pickingup my hat, hurried in search of a belated florist who had not closed. Atthe corner a man, going out to dine, paused to fasten his overcoat underthe electric light, which blazed fitfully in the wind; and as Iapproached and he looked up, I saw that it was George Bolingbroke. 

"It's time all sober married men were at home dressing for dinner, " heobserved in a whimsical tone. 

The wind had brought a glow of colour into his face, and he looked veryhandsome as he stood there, in his fur-lined coat, under the blaze oflight. 

"I was kept late down town, " I replied. "The General and I get all thehard knocks while you take it easy. "

"Well, I like an easy world, and I believe your world is pretty muchabout what you make it. Where are you rushing? Do you go my way?"

"No, I'm turning off here. There's something I forgot this morning and Icame out to attend to it. "

"Don't fall into the habit of forgetting. It's a bad one and it's sureto grow on you--and whatever you forget, " he added with a laugh as weparted, "don't forget for a minute of your life that you've marriedSally. "

He passed on, still laughing pleasantly, and quickening my steps, I wentto the corner of Broad Street, where I found a florist's shop stilllighted and filled with customers. There were no violets left, and whileI waited for a sheaf of pink roses, with my eyes on the elaboratefuneral designs covering the counter, I heard a voice speaking in a lowtone beyond a mass of flowering azalea beside which I stood. 

"Yes, her mother married beneath her, also, " it said; "that seems to bethe unfortunate habit of the Blands. "

I turned quickly, my face hot with anger, and as I did so my eyes metthose of a dark, pale lady, through the thick rosy clusters of theazalea. When she recognised me, she flushed slightly, and then movingslowly around the big green tub that divided us, she held out her handwith a startled and birdlike flutter of manner. 

"I missed you at the reception last night, Mr. Starr, " she said; "Sallywas there, and I had never seen her looking so handsome. "

Then as the sheaf of roses was handed to me, she vanished behind theazaleas again, while I turned quickly away and carried my fragrantarmful out into the night. 

When I reached home, I was met on the staircase by Jessy, who ran, laughing, before me to Sally, with the remark that I had come backbringing an entire rose garden in my hands. 

"There weren't any violets left, darling, " I said, as I entered andtossed the flowers on the couch, "and even these roses aren't fresh. "

"Well, they're sweet anyway, poor things, " she returned, gathering theminto her lap, while her hands caressed the half-opened petals. "It waslike you, Ben, when you did remember, to bring me the whole shopful. "

Breaking one from the long stem, she fastened it in place of the violetsin the cloud of lace on her bosom. 

"Pink suits me better, after all, " she remarked gayly; "and now you mustlet Bradley come, and Jessy and I will go to the theatre. "

"I suppose he'll have to come, " I said moodily, "but I'll be up earlierto-morrow, Sally, if I wreck the bank in order to do it. "

All the next day I kept the importance of fulfilling this promise in mymind, and at five o'clock, I abruptly broke off a business appointmentto rush breathlessly home in the hope of finding Sally ready to walk orto drive. As I turned the corner, however, I saw, to my disappointment, that several riding horses were waiting under the young maples besidethe pavement, and when I entered the house, I heard the merry fluteliketones of Bonny Page from the long drawing-room, where Sally was servingtea. 

For a minute the unconquerable shyness I always felt in the presence ofwomen held me, rooted in silence, on the threshold. Then, "Is that you, Ben?" floated to me in Sally's voice, and pushing the curtains aside, Ientered the room and crossed to the little group gathered before thefire. In the midst of it, I saw the tall, almost boyish figure of BonnyPage, and the sight of her gallant air and her brilliant, vivacioussmile aroused in me instantly the oppressive self-consciousness of ourfirst meeting. I remembered suddenly that I had dressed carelessly inthe morning, that I had tied my cravat in a hurry, that my coat fittedme badly and I had neglected to send it back. All the innumerabledetails of life--the little things I despised or overlooked--swarmed, like stinging gnats, into my thoughts while I stood there. 

"You're just in time for tea, Ben, " said Sally; "it's a pity you don'tdrink it. "

"And you're just in time for a scolding, " remarked Bonny. "Do you know, if I had a husband who wouldn't ride with me, I'd gallop off the firsttime I went hunting with another man. "

"You'd better start, Ben. It wouldn't take you three days to followBonny over a gate, " said Ned Marshall, one of her many lovers, eager, Idetected at once, to appear intimate and friendly. He was a fine, strong, athletic young fellow, with a handsome, smooth-shaven face, aslightly vacant laugh, and a figure that showed superbly in hisloose-fitting riding clothes. 

"When I get the time, I'll buy a horse and begin, " I replied; "but allhours are working hours to me now, Sally will tell you. "

"It's exactly as if I'd married a railroad engine, " remarked Sally, laughing, and I realised by the strained look in their faces, that thisabsorption in larger matters--this unchangeable habit of thought that Icould not shake off even in a drawing-room--puzzled them, because oftheir inherent incapacity to understand how it could be. My mind, whichresponded so promptly to the need for greater exertions, was reduced tomere leaden weight by this restless movement of little things. And thisleaden weight, this strained effort to become something other than I wasby nature, was reflected in the smiling faces around me as in a mirror. The embarrassment in my thoughts extended suddenly to my body, and Iasked myself the next minute if Sally contrasted my heavy silence withthe blithe self-confidence and the sportive pleasantries of NedMarshall? Was she beginning already, unconsciously to her own heart, perhaps, to question if the passion I had given her would suffice tocover in her life the absence of the unspoken harmony in outward things?With the question there rose before me the figure of George Bolingbroke, as he bent over and laid the blossom of sweet alyssum beside her plate;and, as at the instant in which I had watched him, I felt again thephysical soreness which had become a part of my furious desire to makegood my stand. 

When Bonny and Ned Marshall had mounted and ridden happily away in thedusk, Sally came back with me from the door, and stood, silent andpensive, for a moment, while she stroked my arm. 

"You look tired, Ben. If you only wouldn't work so hard. "

"I must work. It's the only thing I'm good for. "

"But I see so little of you and--and I get so lonely. "

"When I've won out, I'll stop, and then you shall see me every livingminute of the day, if you choose. "

"That's so far off, and it's now I want you. I'd like you to take meaway, Ben--to take me somewhere just as you did when we were married. "

Her face was very soft in the firelight, and stooping, I kissed hercheek as she looked up at me, with a grave, almost pensive smile on herlips. 

"I wish I could, sweetheart, but I'm needed here so badly that I don'tdare run off for a day. You've married a working-man, and he's obligedto stick to his place. "

She said nothing more to persuade me, but from that evening until thespring, when our son was born, it seemed to me that she retreatedfarther and farther into that pale dream distance where I had first seenand desired her. With the coming of the child I got her back to earthand to reality, and when the warm little body, wrapped in flannels, wasfirst placed in my arms, it seemed to me that the thrill of the merephysical contact had in it something of the peculiar starlike radianceof my bridal night. Sally, lying upon the pillow under a blue satincoverlet, smiled up at me with flushed cheeks and eyes shining withlove, and while I stood there, some divine significance in her look, inher helplessness, in the oneness of the three of us drawn together inthat little circle of life, moved my heart to the faint quiver ofapprehension that had come to me while I stood by her side before thealtar in old Saint John's. 

When she was well, and the long, still days of the summer opened, littleBenjamin was wrapped in a blue veil and taken in Aunt Euphronasia's armsto visit Miss Mitty in the old grey house. 

"What did she say, mammy? How did she receive him?" asked Sally eagerly, when the old negress returned. 

"She ain' said nuttin' 'tall, honey, cep'n 'huh, '" replied AuntEuphronasia, in an aggrieved and resentful tone. "Dar she wuz a-settin'jes' ez prim by de side er dat ar box er sweet alyssum, en ez soon ez Ilay eyes on her, I said, 'Howdy, Miss Mitty, hyer's Marse Ben's en MissSally's baby done come to see you. ' Den she kinder turnt her haid, likeoner dese yer ole wedder cocks on a roof, en she looked me spang in deeye en said 'huh' out right flat jes' like dat. "

"But didn't you show her his pretty blue eyes, mammy?" persisted Sally. 

"Go way f'om hyer, chile, Miss Mitty done seen de eyes er a baby befo'now. I knowed dat, en I lowed in my mind dat you ain' gwinter git aroun'her by pretendin' you kin show her nuttin'. So I jes' begin ter sidle upter her en kinder talk sof ez ef'n I 'uz a-talkin' ter myself. 'Dish yerchile is jes' de spi't er Marse Bland, ' I sez, 'en dar ain' noner de po'wite trash in de look er him needer. '"

"Aunt Euphronasia, how dare you!" said Sally, sternly. 

"Well, 'tis de trufe, ain't hit? Dar ain' nuttin er de po' wite trash inde look er him, is dar?"

"And what did she say then, Aunt Euphronasia?"

"Who? Miss Mitty? She sez 'huh' again jes' ez she done befo'. Miss Mittyain't de kind dat's gwinter eat her words, honey. W'at she sez, she sez, en she's gwinter stick up ter hit. The hull time I 'uz dar, I ain' neveryearn nuttin' but 'huh!' pass thoo her mouf. "

"I knew she was proud, Ben, but I didn't know she was so cruel as tovisit it on this precious angel, " said Sally, on the point of tears;"and I believe Jessy is the same way. Nobody cares about him except hisdoting mother. "

"What's become of his doting father?"

"Oh, his doting father is entirely too busy with his darling stocks. "

"Sally, " I asked seriously, "don't you understand that allthis--everything I'm doing--is just for you and the boy?"

"Is it, Ben?" she responded, and the next minute, "Of course, Iunderstand it. How could I help it?"

She was always reasonable--it was one of her greatest charms, and I knewthat if I were to open my mind to her at the moment, she would enterinto my troubles with all the insight of her resourceful sympathy. But Ikept silence, restrained by some masculine instinct that prompted me toshut the business world outside the doors of home. 

"Well, I must go downtown, dear; I don't see much of you these days, doI?"

"Not much, but I know you're here to stay and that's a good deal ofcomfort. "

"I'm glad you've got the baby. He keeps you company. "

She looked up at me with the puzzling expression, half humour, halfresentment, I had seen frequently in her face of late. If she stopped toquestion whether I really imagined that a child of three months was allthe companionship required by a woman of her years, she let no sign ofit escape the smiling serenity of her lips. On her knees little Benjaminlay perfectly quiet while he stared straight up at the ceiling with hisround blue eyes like the eyes of an animated doll. 

"Yes, he is company, " she answered gently; and stooping to kiss themboth, I ran downstairs, hurried into my overcoat, and went out into thestreet. 

As I closed the door behind me, I saw the General's buggy turning thecorner, and a minute later he drew up under the young maples beside thepavement, and made room for me under the grey fur rug that covered hisknees. 

"I don't like the way things are behaving in Wall Street, Ben, " he said. "Did that last smash cost you anything?"

"About two hundred thousand dollars, General, but I hadn't spoken ofit. "

"I hope the bank hasn't been loaning any more money to the Cumberlandand Tidewater. I meant to ask you about that several days ago. "

"The question comes up before the directors this afternoon. We'llprobably refuse to advance any further loans, but they've already drawnon us pretty heavily, you understand, and we may have to go in deeper tosave what we've got. "

"Well, it looks pretty shaky, that's all I've got to say. If Jenkinsdoesn't butt in and reorganise it, it will probably go into the hands ofa receiver before the year is up. Is it the bank or your privateinvestments you've been worrying over?"

"My own affairs entirely. You see I'd dealt pretty largely through Crossand Hankins, and I don't know exactly what their failure will mean tome. "

"A good many men in the country are asking themselves that question. Asmash like that isn't over in a day or a night. But I'm afraid you'vebeen spending too much money, Ben. Is your wife extravagant?"

"No, it's my own fault. I've never liked her to consider the value ofmoney. "

"It's a bad way to begin. Women have got it in their blood, and Iremember my poor mother used to say she never felt that a dollar wasworth anything until she spent it. If I were you, I'd pull up and goslowly, but it's mighty hard to do after you've once started at agallop. "

"I don't think I'll have any trouble, but I hate like the deuce to speakof it to Sally. "

"That's your damned delicacy. It puts me in mind of my cousin, JennyTyler, who married that scamp who used to throw his boots at her. Oncewhen she was a girl she stayed with us for a summer, and old Judge Lacy, one of the ugliest men of his day, fell over head and heels in love withher. She couldn't endure the sight of him, and yet, if you'll believe myword, though she was as modest as an angel, I actually found him kissingher one day in a summer-house. 'Bless my soul, Jenny!' I exclaimed, 'whydidn't you tell that old baboon to stop hugging you and behave himself?''O Cousin George, ' she replied, blushing the colour of a cherry, 'Ididn't like to mention it. ' Now, that's the kind of false modesty you'vegot, Ben. "

"Well, you see, General, " I responded when he had finished his slychuckle, "I've always felt that money was the only thing that I had tooffer. "

"You may feel that way, Ben, but I don't believe that Sally does. Myhonest opinion is that it means a lot more to you than it does to her. There never was a Bland yet that didn't look upon money as a vulgarthing. I've known Sally's grandfather to refuse to invite a man to hishouse when the only objection he had to him was that he was too rich tobe a gentleman. If you think it's wealth or luxury or their old housethat the Blands pride themselves on, you haven't learned a thing about'em in spite of the fact that you've married into the family. Whatthey're proud of is that they can do without any of these things;they've got something else--whatever it is--that they consider a longsight better. Miss Mitty Bland would still have it if she went in ragsand did her own cooking, and it's this, not any material possessions, that makes her so terribly important. Look here, now, you take my adviceand go home and tell Sally to stop spending money. How's that boy ofyours? Is he wanting to become a bank president already?"

The old grey horse, rounding the corner at an amble, came suddenly to astop as he recognised the half-grown negro urchin waiting upon thepavement. As if moved by a mechanical spring, the General's expressionchanged at once from its sly and jolly good nature to the look ofcapable activity which marked the successful man of affairs. The twinklein his little bloodshot eyes narrowed to a point of steel, the looselines of his mouth, which was the mouth of a generous libertine, grewinstantly sober, and even his crimson neck, sprawling over his puffy, magenta-coloured tie, stiffened into an appearance of pompous dignity. 

"Look sharp about the Cumberland and Tidewater, Ben, " he remarked as heturned to limp painfully into the railroad office. Then the glass doorsswung together behind him, and he forgot my existence, while I crossedthe street in a rush and entered the Union Bank, which was a blockfarther down on the opposite side. 

On the way home that afternoon, I told myself with determination that Iwould tell Sally frankly about the money I had lost; but when a littlelater she slipped her hand into my arm, and led me into the nursery toshow me a trunk filled with baby's clothes that had come down from NewYork, my courage melted to air, and I could not bring myself to dispelthe pretty excitement with which she laid each separate tiny garmentupon the bed. 

"Oh, of course, you don't enjoy them, Ben, as I do, but isn't thatlittle embroidered cloak too lovely?"

"Lovely, dear, only I've had a bad day, and I'm tired. "

"Poor boy, I know you are. Here, we'll put them away. But first there'ssomething really dreadful I've got to tell you. "

"Dreadful, Sally?"

"Yes, but it isn't about us. Do you know, I honestly believe that Jessyintends to marry Mr. Cottrel. "

"What? That old rocking-horse? Why, he's a Methusalah, and knock-kneedinto the bargain. "

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters to her except clothes. I've heard ofwomen who sold themselves for clothes, and I believe she's one of them. "

"Well, we're an eccentric family, " I said wearily, "and she's theworst. "

At any other time the news would probably have excited my indignation, but as I sat there, in the wicker rocking-chair, by the nursery fire, Iwas too exhausted to resent any manifestation of the family spirit. Thelast week had been a terrible strain, and there were months ahead whichI knew would demand the exercise of every particle of energy that Ipossessed. In the afternoon there was to be a meeting of the directorsof the bank, called to discuss the advancing of further loans to theCumberland and Tidewater Railroad, and at eight o'clock I had promisedto work for several hours with Bradley, my secretary. To go slowly nowwas impossible. My only hope was that by going fast enough I mightmanage to save what remained of the situation. 

As the winter passed I went earlier to my office and came up later. Failure succeeded failure in Wall Street, and the whole country beganpresently to send back echoes of the prolonged crash. The Cumberland andTidewater Railroad, to which we had refused a further loan, went intothe hands of a receiver, and the Great South Midland and Atlanticimmediately bought up the remnants at its own price. The General, whohad been jubilant about the purchase, relapsed into melancholy a weeklater over the loss of "a good third" of his personal income. 

"I'm an old fool or I'd have stopped dabbling in speculations and putaway a nest-egg for my old age, " he remarked, wiping his empurpled lidson his silk handkerchief. "No man over fifty ought to be trusted togamble in stocks. Thank God, I'm the one to suffer, however, and not theroad. If there's a more solid road in the country, Ben, than the SouthMidland, I've got to hear of it. It's big, but it's growing--swallowingup everything that comes in its way, like a regular boa constrictor. Think what it was when I came into it immediately after the war; andto-day it's one of the few roads that is steadily increasing itsearnings in spite of this blamed panic. "

"You worked regeneration, General, as I've often told you. "

"Well, I'm too old to see what it's coming to. I hope a good man willstep into my place after I'm gone. I'm sometimes sorry you didn't stickby me, Ben. "

He spoke of the great road in a tone of regretful sentiment which I hadnever found in his allusions to his lost Matoaca. The romance of hislife, after all, was not a woman, but a railroad, and his happiestmemory was, I believe, not the Sunday upon which he had stood beside therose-lined bonnet of his betrothed and sung lustily out of the samehymn-book, but the day when the stock of the Great South Midland andAtlantic had sold at 180 in the open market. 

"I'll tell you what, my boy, " he remarked with a quiver of his lowerlip, which hung still farther away from his bloodless gum, "a woman maygo back on you, and the better the woman the more likely she is to doit, --but a road won't, --no, not if it is a good road. "

"Well, I'm not getting much return out of the West Virginia and Wyanokejust now, " I replied. "It's no fun being a little road at the mercy of abig one when the big one is a boa constrictor. Even if you get a fairdivision of the rates, you don't get your cars when you want them. "

"The moral of that, " returned the General, with a chuckle, "is, to quotefrom my poor old mammy again, 'Don't hatch until you're ready to hatchwhole. '"

We parted with a laugh, and I dismissed the affairs of the littlerailroad as I entered my office at the bank, where my private wireimmediately ticked off the news of a state of panic in the money market. That was in February, and it was not until the end of March that the iceon which I was walking cracked under my feet and I went through. 

CHAPTER XXIV

IN WHICH I GO DOWN

I had just risen from breakfast on the last day of March when I wascalled to the telephone by Cummins, the cashier of the bank. 

"Things are going pretty queer down here. Looks as if a run werebeginning. Some old fool started it after reading about that failure ofthe Darlington Trust Company in New York. Wish you'd hurry. "

"Call up the directors, and look here!--pay out all deposits slowlyuntil I get there. "

The telephone rang off, and picking up my hat, I went down the frontsteps to the carriage, which had been ordered by Sally for an earlyappointment. As I stepped in, she appeared in her hat and coat andjoined me. 

"Drive to the bank, Micah, " I said, "I want to get there likelightning. "

"Can you wait till I speak to mammy? She is bringing the baby. "

For the first time since our marriage my nerves got the better of me, and I answered her sharply. 

"No, I can't wait--not a minute, not a second. Drive on, Micah. "

In obedience to my commands, Micah touched the horses, and as we speddown Franklin Street, Sally looked at me with an expression whichreminded me of the faint wonder under the fixed smile about Miss Mitty'smouth. 

"What's the matter, Ben? Are you working too hard?" she enquired. 

"I'm tired and I'm anxious. Do you realise that we are living in themidst of a panic?"

"Are we?" she asked quietly, and arranged the fur rug over her knees. 

"Do you mean to tell me you hadn't heard it?" I demanded, in pureamazement that the thing which had possessed me to madness for threemonths should have escaped the consciousness of the wife with whom Ilived. 

"How was I to hear of it? You never told me, and I seldom read thepapers now since the baby came. Of course I knew something was wrong. You were looking so badly and so much older. "

To me it had needed no telling, because it had become suddenly the mostobvious fact in the world in which I moved. Only a fool would gaze up atthe sky during a storm burst and remark to a bystander, "It thunders. "Yet even now I saw that what she realised was not the gravity of thefinancial crisis, but its injurious effect upon my health and myappearance. 

"You've been on too great a strain, " she remarked sympathetically; "whenit's all over you must come away and we'll go to Florida in theGeneral's car. "

To Florida! and at that instant I was struggling in the grip offailure--the failure of the successful financier, which is of allfailures the hardest. Not a few retrenchments, not the economy of aluxury here and there, but ultimate poverty was the thing that I facedwhile I sat beside her on the soft cushions under the rich fur rug. Oneby one the familiar houses whirled by me. I saw the doors open and shut, the people come out of them, the sunshine fall through the budding treeson the sidewalk; and the houses and the moving people and the buddingtrees, all seemed to me detached and unreal, as if they stood apartsomewhere in a world of quiet, while I was sucked in by the whirlpool. Though I lifted my voice and called aloud to them, I felt that thepeople I passed would still go quietly in and out of the opening doorsin the placid spring sunshine. 

"There's Bonny Page, " said Sally, waving her hand; "she's to marry NedMarshall next month, you know, and they are going to Europe. Did younotice that baby in the carriage--the one with blue bows and the Irishlace afghan?--it is Bessy Munford's, --the handsomest in town, they say, after little Benjamin. "

The sight of the baby carriage, with its useless blue fripperies, trundled on the pavement under the budding trees, had aroused in me asudden ridiculous anger, as though it represented the sinfulextravagance of an entire nation. That silly carriage with its blueribbons and its lace coverlet! And over the whole country factory afterfactory was shutting down, and thousands of hungry mothers and childrenwere sitting on door-steps in this same sunshine. My nerves were bad. Ithad been months since I had a good night's sleep, and I knew that in thecondition of my temper a trifle might be magnified out of all dueproportion to its relative significance. 

The horses stopped at the bank, and Sally leaned out to bow smilingly toone of the directors, who was coming along the sidewalk. 

"I never saw so many people about here, Ben, " she remarked; "it looksexactly as if it were a theatre. Ah, there's the General now going intohis office. He hobbles so badly, doesn't he? When do you think you'll behome?"

"I don't know, " I returned shortly, "perhaps at midnight--perhaps nextweek. "

My tone brought a flush to her cheek, and she looked at me with thefaint wonder that I had seen first on the face of Miss Mitty when I wentin to breakfast with her on that autumn morning. It was the look ofrace, of the Bland breeding, of the tradition that questioned, notviolently, but gently, "Can this be possible?"

She drove on without replying to me, and as I entered my office, thefaces of Miss Mitty and of Sally were confused into one by my disorderedmind. 

The run had already started--a depositor, who had withdrawn ten thousanddollars after reading of the failure of the Darlington Trust Company, had been paid off first, and following him the line had come, crawlinglike black ants on the pavement. As I entered the doors, it seemed to methat the face of each man or woman in the throng stood out, separate anddistinct, as though an electric search-light had passed over it; and Isaw one and all, frightened, satisfied, or merely ludicrous, with avividness of perception which failed me when I remembered the featuresof my own wife. 

"We can pay them off slowly till three o'clock, " said Bingley, thevice-president, whom I found, with five or six of the directors, alreadyin my office. "I've got only one paying teller's window open. Thetrouble, of course, began with the small accounts, of which we carrysuch a blamed lot. Mark my words, it is the little depositor thatendangers a bank. "

He looked nervous, and swallowed hastily while he talked, as if he hadjust rushed in from breakfast, with his last mouthful still unchewed. AsI entered and faced the men sitting in different attitudes, but allwearing the same strained and helpless expression, a feeling ofirritation swept over me, and I paused in the middle of the floor, withmy hat and a folded newspaper in my hand. 

"A quarter of a million in hard cash would tide us over, I believe, "pursued Bingley, swallowing faster; "but the question is how in thunderare we to lay hands on it by nine o'clock to-morrow morning?"

I drew out my watch, and with the simple, mechanical action, I wasconscious of an immediate quickening of the blood, a clearing of thebrain. A certain readiness for decision, a power of dealing with anemergency, of handling a crisis, a response of pulse and brain to thecall for action, stood me service now as in every difficult instant ofmy career. They were picked business men and shrewd financiers beforeme, yet I was aware that I dominated them, all and each, by some qualityof force, of aggressiveness, of inflated self-confidence. The secret ofmy success, I had once said to the General, was that I began to get coolwhen I saw other people getting scared. 

"It is now a quarter of ten, gentlemen, " I said, "and I pledge my wordof honour that I will have a quarter of a million dollars in bank by teno'clock to-morrow. "

"For God's sake, Ben, where is it coming from?" demanded Judge Kenton, an old Confederate, with the solemn face I had sometimes watched himassume in church during the singing of the hymns. As I looked at him thehumour of his expression struck me, and I broke into a laugh. 

"I beg your pardon, " I returned the next minute, "but I'll getit--somewhere--if it's in the city. "

One of the men--I forget which, though I remember quite clearly that hewore a red necktie--got up from the table and slapped me on theshoulder. 

"Go ahead, Ben, and get it, " he said. "We take your word. "

On the pavement the crowd had thickened, and when it caught sight of me, a confused murmur rose, and I was surrounded by half-hysterical women. The trouble, as Bingley had said, had begun with the small depositors;and in the line that pressed now like black ants to the doors, therewere many evidently who had entrusted their nest-eggs to us forsafe-keeping. I was not gentle by nature, and the sight of a woman'stears always aroused in me, not the angel, but the brute. For five yearsI had been married to a descendant of the Blands and the Fairfaxes, andyet, as I stood there, held at bay, in the midst of those sobbing women, the veneer of refinement peeled off from me, and the raw strength of thecommon man showed on the surface, and triumphed again as it hadtriumphed over the frightened directors in my office. 

"What are you whining about?" I said with a laugh, "your money is allthere. Go in and get it. "

An old woman in a plaid shawl, with her mouth twisted sideways by arecent stroke of paralysis, barred my way with an outstretched hand, inwhich she held the foot of a grey yarn stocking. 

"I'd laid it up for my old age, Mister, " she mumbled, through hertoothless gums, "an' they told me it was safer in the bank, so I put itthere. But I reckon I'd feel easier if I had it back--I reckon I'd feeleasier. "

"Then go after it, " I replied harshly, pushing her out of my way. "Ifyou don't get it before I come back, I'll give it to you with my ownhands. "

For a minute my presence subdued the crowd; but the panic terror hadgripped it, and while I crossed the street the hysterical murmurs werein my ears. A desire to turn and throttle the sound as I might a howlingwild beast took possession of me. It was true, I suppose, as Dr. Theophilus had once told me, that the quality I lacked was tenderness. 

The General fortunately was alone in his private office, and when I wentin he glanced up enquiringly from a railroad report he was reading. 

"It's you, Ben, is it?" he remarked, and went back to his paper. 

"General, " I said bluntly, and stopped short in the centre of the room, "I want a quarter of a million dollars in cash by nine o'clock to-morrowmorning. "

For a moment he sat speechless, blinking at me with his swollen eyelids, while his lower lip protruded angrily, like the lip of a crying child. Then the old war-horse in him responded gallantly to the scent ofbattle. 

"Damn you, Ben, do you know cash is as tight as wax?" he enquired. "Youain't dozing in the midst of a panic?"

"There's trouble at the bank, " I replied. "A run has started, but so farit is almost entirely among the small depositors. We can manage to payoff till three o'clock, and if we open to-morrow with a quarter of amillion, we shall probably keep on our feet, unless the excitementspreads. "

"When do you want it?"

"By nine o'clock to-morrow morning; and I want it, General, " I added, "on my personal credit. "

He rose from his chair and stood swaying unsteadily on his gouty foot. 

"I'll give you every penny that I've got, Ben, " he answered, "but itain't that much. "

"You have access to the cash of both the Tilden Bank and the BonfieldTrust Company. If there's a dollar in the city you can get it. "

A hint of his sly humour appeared for an instant in his eyes. "It wasn'tany longer ago than breakfast that I remarked I didn't believe there wasa blamed dollar in the whole country, " he returned. Then his swayingstopped and he became invested suddenly with the dignity of the greatestfinancier in the state. 

"Hand me my stick, Ben, and I'll go and see what I can do about it, " hesaid. 

I gave him his stick and my arm, and with my assistance he limped to theoffices of the Bonfield Trust Company on the next block. When I returnedto the bank the directors were talking excitedly, but at my entrance ahush fell, and they sat looking at me with a row of vacant, expectantfaces that waited apparently to be filled with expression. 

"By ten o'clock to-morrow morning, " I said, "a quarter of a million incash will be brought in through the door in bags. "

"I told you he'd do it, " exclaimed Bingley, as he grasped my hand, "andI hope to God it will stay 'em off. "

"You need a drink, Ben, " observed Judge Kenton, "and so do I. Let's goand get it. A soft-boiled egg was all I had for breakfast, and I've gonefaint. "

I remember that I went to a restaurant with him, that a few old womensitting on the curbing spoke to us as we passed, that we ate oysters, and returned in half an hour to another meeting, that we discussed waysand means until eight o'clock and decided nothing. I know also that whenwe came out again several of the old women were still crouching there, and that when they came whining up to me, I turned on them with an oathand ordered them to be off. As clearly as if it were yesterday, I cansee still the long, solemn face of the Judge as he glanced up at me, andI see written upon it something of the faint wonder that I had grown toregard as the peculiar look of the Blands. 

I had telephoned Sally not to wait, and when I reached home I found thatshe had dismissed the servants and was preparing a little supper for meherself. While she served me, I sat perfectly silent, too exhausted totalk or to think, trying in vain to remember the more important eventsof the day. Only once did Sally speak, and that was to beg me to eat theslice of cold turkey she had laid on my plate. 

"I'm not hungry, I got something with Judge Kenton down town, " Ireturned as I pushed back my chair and rose from the table; "what I needis sleep, sleep, sleep. If I don't get to bed, I'll drop to sleep on thehearth-rug. "

"Then go, dear, " she answered, and not until I reached the landing abovedid I realise that through it all she had not put a single question tome. With the realisation I knew that I ought to have told her what inher heart she must have felt it to be her right to know; but a nervousshrinking, which seemed to be a result of my complete physicalexhaustion, held me back when I started to retrace my steps. 

She might cry, and the sight of tears would unman me. There's timeenough, I thought. Why not to-morrow instead? Yet in my heart I knew itwould be no easier to do it to-morrow than it was to-day. By somestrange freak of the imagination those unshed tears of hers seemedalready dropping upon my nerves. "There's time enough, she'll be obligedto hear it in the end, " something within me repeated with a kind ofdulness. And with the words, while my head touched the pillow, I startedsuddenly wide awake as though from the flash of a lantern that wasturned inward. Trivial impressions of the afternoon stood out as ifilluminated against the outer darkness, and there hovered before me theface of the old woman, in the plaid shawl, with her twisted mouth, andthe foot of her grey yarn stocking held out in her palsied hand. "Ireckon I'd feel easier if I had it back, " said a voice somewhere in mybrain. 

CHAPTER XXV

WE FACE THE FACTS AND EACH OTHER

The panic which had begun with the depositors of small accounts, spreadnext day to the holders of larger ones, and even while I stood at mywindow and watched the cash brought in in bags through the cheeringcrowd on the sidewalk, I knew that the quarter of a million dollarswould go down with the rest. My financial insight had misled me, and thebank funds, which I had believed so carefully guarded, had suffered thesame fate as my private fortune. There were more serious questionsbehind the immediate need of currency, and these questions drummed in mymind now, dull and regular as the beat of a hammer. 

For three days we paid off our accounts, and at the end of that time, when I left the building, after the run had stopped, it seemed to methat the city had a deserted and trampled look, as if some enormouspicnic had been held in the streets. A few loose shreds of paper, abanana peel here and there, the ends of numerous cigars, and the whitepatch torn from a woman's petticoat littered the pavement. Over allthere was a thick coating of dust, and the wind, blowing straight fromthe east, whipped swirls of it into our faces, as the General and Idrove slowly up-town in his buggy. 

"You look down in the mouth, Ben, " he remarked, as I took the reins. 

"I've got an infernal toothache, General; it kept me awake all night. "

"Well, bless my soul, you ought to be thankful if it takes your mind offthe country. I haven't seen such a state of affairs since the days ofreconstruction. I tell you, my boy, the only thing on earth to do is totake a julep. Lithia water is well enough in times of prosperity, butyou can't support a panic on it. I've gone back to my julep, and if Idie of it, I'll die with a little spirit in me. "

"There're worse things than death ahead of me, General, there's ruin. "

"It's the toothache, Ben. Don't let it take all the spirit out of you. "

"No, it's more than the toothache, confound it!--it never leaves off. The truth is, I'm in the tightest place of my life, and to keep what Iown would cost me more than I've got. I haven't the money to pay up--andif I can't buy outright, you see that I must let go. "

"I've done what I could for you, Ben, and if there is more I can do, heaven knows I'll be thankful enough. "

"You've already done too much, General, but I've made sure that youshan't suffer by it. I've simply gone down, that's all, and I've got tostay there till I can get on my feet. The bank will close temporarily, Isuppose, but when it starts again, it will have to start with anotherman. I shall look out for a smaller job. "

"If you come back to the road, I'll find a place for you--but it won'tbe like being a bank president, you know. "

"Well, when the time comes, I'll let you know, " I added, when the buggystopped before my door, and I handed him the reins. 

"Listen to me, my boy, " he called back, as he drove off and I went upthe brown stone steps, "and take a julep. "

But the support I needed was not that of whiskey, and though I swalloweda dozen juleps, the thought of Sally's face when I broke the news wouldsuffer no blessed obscurity. 

"Shall I tell her now, or after dinner?" I asked, while I drew out mylatch-key; and then when she met me at the head of the staircase, withher shining eyes, I grew cowardly again, and said, "Not now--not now. To-night I will tell her. "

At night, when we sat opposite to each other, with a silver bowl ofjonquils between us, she began talking idly about the marriage of BonnyPage, inspired, I felt, by a valiant determination to save the situationin the eyes of the servants at least. The small yellow candle shades, made to resemble flowers, shone like suns in a mist before my eyes; andall the time that my thoughts worked over the approaching hour, I heard, like a muffled undertone, the soft, regular footfalls of old Esdras, thebutler, on the velvet carpet. 

"I'll tell her after the servants have gone, and the house isquiet--when she has taken off her dinner gown--when she may turn on herpillow and cry it out. I'll say simply, 'Sally, I am ruined. I haven't apenny left of my own. Even the horses and the carriages and thefurniture are not mine!' No, that is a brutal way. It will be better toput it like this"--"What did you say, dear?" I asked, speaking aloud. 

"Only that Bonny Page is to have six bridesmaids, but the wedding willbe quiet, because they have lost money. "

"They've lost money?"

"Everybody has lost money--everybody, the General says. Ben, do youknow, " she added, "I've never cared truly about money in my heart. "

In some vague woman's way she meant it, I suppose, yet as I looked ather, where she sat beyond the bowl of jonquils, in one of her old Parisgowns, which she had told me she was wearing out, I broke into a short, mirthless laugh. She held her head high, with its wreath of plaits thatmade a charming frame for her arched black eyebrows and her full redmouth. On her bare throat, round and white as a marble column, there wasan old-fashioned necklace of wrought gold, which had belonged to someancestress, who was doubtless the belle and beauty of her generation. Was it possible to picture her in a common gown, with her sleeves rolledup and the perplexed and anxious look that poverty brings in her eyes?For the first time in my life I was afraid to face the moment before me. 

The roast was removed, the dessert served, and played with in silence. The footfalls of old Esdras, the butler, sounded softer on the carpet, as he carried away the untasted pudding and brought coffee and anapricot brandy, which he placed before me with a persuasive air. I lit acigar at the flame of the little silver lamp he offered me, drank mycoffee hurriedly, and rose from the table. 

"Are you going to work, Ben?" asked Sally, following me to the door ofthe library. 

"Yes, I am going to work. "

Without a word she raised her lips to mine, and when I had kissed her, she turned slowly away, and went up the staircase, with the branchinglights in the hall shining upon her head. 

I closed the door, lowered the wick of the oil lamp on my desk, andbegan walking up and down the length of the room, between the black oakbookcases filled with rows of calf-bound volumes. I tried to think, butbetween my thoughts and myself there obtruded always, like some small, malignant devil, the face of the old woman on the pavement before thebank, with her distorted and twisted mouth. "This will have togo--everything will have to go--when I've sold every last stick I havein the world, I shall still owe a debt of some cool hundreds ofthousands. I'll pay that, too, some day. Of course, of course, but when?Meanwhile, we've got to live somewhere, somehow. There's the child, too--and there's Sally. I always said I'd only money to give her, andnow I haven't that. We'll have to go into some cheap place, and I'llbegin over again, with the disadvantages of a failure behind me, and aburden of debt on my shoulders. She's got to know--I've got to tell her. Confound that old woman! Why can't I keep her out of my thoughts?"

The hours went by, and still I walked up and down between the black oakbookcases, driven by some demon of torture to follow the same line inthe Turkish rug, to turn always at the same point, to measure always thesame number of steps. 

"Well, she got her money--they all got their money, " I said at last. "Iam the only one who is ruined--no, not the only one--there is Sally andthere is the child. I'd feel easier, " I added, echoing the words of theold woman aloud, "I'd feel easier if I were the only one. "

A clock somewhere in the city struck the hour of midnight, and while thesound was still in the air, the door opened softly and Sally came intothe room. She had slipped on a wrapper over her nightdress, and herhair, flattened and warmed by the pillow, hung in a single braid overher bosom. There were deep circles under her eyes, which shone the morebrilliantly because of the heavy shadows. 

"What is the matter, Ben? Why don't you come upstairs?"

"I couldn't sleep--I am thinking, " I answered, almost roughly, oppressedby my weight of misery. 

"Would you rather be alone? Shall I go away again?"

"Yes, I'd rather be alone. "

She went silently to the door, stood there a minute, and then ran backwith her arms outstretched. 

"Oh, Ben, Ben, why are you so hard? Why are you so cruel?"

"Cruel? Hard? To you, Sally?"

"You treat me as if--as if I'd married you for your money and you'vemade me hate and despise it. I wish--I almost wish we hadn't a penny. "

I laughed the bitter, mirthless laugh that had broken from me at dinner. 

"As a matter of fact we haven't--not a single penny that we can honestlycall our own. "

She drew back instantly, her head held high under the branching electricjet in the ceiling. 

"Well, I'm glad of it, " she responded defiantly. 

"You don't in the least understand what it means, Sally. It isn't merelygiving up a few luxuries, it is actually going without the necessities. It is practically beginning again. "

"I am glad of it, " she repeated, and there was no regret in her voice. 

"Oh, can't you understand?"

"Tell me and I will try. "

"I've lost everything. I'm ruined. "

"There is nothing left?"

"There is honour, " I said bitterly, "a couple of hundred thousanddollars of debt, and a little West Virginia railroad too poor to gobankrupt. "

"Then we must start from the very bottom?"

"From the very bottom. Nothing that you are likely to imagine can beworse than the facts--and I've brought you to it. "

Something that was like a sob burst from me, and turning away, I flungmyself into the chair on the hearth-rug. 

"Can't you think of anything that would be worse?" she asked quietly. 

I shook my head, "The worst thing about it is that I've brought you toit. "

"Wouldn't it be worse, " she went on in the same level voice, "if you hadlost me?"

"Lost you!" I cried, and my arms were open at the thought. 

"I'm glad, I'm glad. " With the words she was on her knees at my side, and her mouth touched my cheek. "I knew it wasn't the worst, Ben, --Iknew you'd rather give up the money than give up me. Ah, can't yousee--can't you see, that the worst can't come to us while we are stilltogether?"

Leaning over her, I gathered her to me with a hunger for comfort, kissing her eyes, her mouth, her throat, and the loosened braid on herbosom. 

"Oh, you witch, you've almost made me happy!" I said. 

"I am happy, Ben. "

"Happy? The horses must go, and the carriage and the furniture even. We'll have to move into some cheap place. I'll get a position of somekind with the railroad, and then we'll have to scrimp and save for aneternity, until we pay off this damned burden of debt. "

She laughed softly, her mouth at my ear. "I'm happy, Ben. "

"We shan't be able to keep servants. You'll have to wear old clothes, and I'll go so shabby that you'll be ashamed of me. We'll forget what abottle of wine looks like, and if we were ever to see a decent dinner, we shouldn't recognise it. "

Again she laughed, "I'm still happy, Ben. "

"We'll live in some God-forsaken, out-of-the-way little hole, and nevereven dare ask a person in to a meal for fear there wouldn't be enoughpotatoes to go around. It will be a daily uphill grind until I'vemanaged to pay off honestly every cent I owe. "

Her arms tightened about my neck, "Oh, Ben, I'm so happy. "

"Then you are a perfectly abandoned creature, " I returned, lifting herfrom the rug until she nestled against my heart. "I've given up tryingto make you as miserable as a self-respecting female ought to be. If youwon't be proper and wretched, I can't help it, for I've done my best. And the most ridiculous part of it is, darling, that I actually believeI'm happy, too!"

She laughed like a child between her kisses. "Then, you see, it isn'treally the thing, but the way you take it that matters. "

"I'm not sure about the logic of that--but I'm inclined to think justnow that the only thing I've ever taken is you. "

"If you'll try to remember that, you'll be always happy. "

"But I must remember also that I've brought you to poverty--I, who hadonly money to give you. "

"Do you dare to tell me to my face that I married you for money?"

"You couldn't very well have married me without it. "

"I don't know about the 'very well, ' but I know that I'd have done it. "

"Do you think that, Sally?"

Turning in my arms, she lifted her head, and looked steadily into myface. 

"Have I ever lied to you since we were married, Ben?"

"No, darling. "

"Have I ever deceived you?"

"Never, I am sure, " I responded with a desperate levity, "except for mygood. "

"Have I ever deceived you, " she demanded sternly, "even for your good?"

"To tell the truth, I don't believe you ever have. "

The warm pressure of her body was withdrawn, and rising to her feet, shestood before me under the blazing light. 

"Then I'm not lying to you when I say that I'd have married you if youhadn't possessed a penny to your name--I'd have married you if--if I'dhad to take in washing. "

"Sally!" I cried, and made a movement to recapture her; but pushing meback, she stood straight and tall, with the fingers of her outstretchedhand touching my breast. 

"No, listen to me, listen to me, " she said gravely. "As long as I haveyou and you love me, Ben, nothing can break my spirit, because the thingthat makes life of value to me will still be mine. If you ever ceased tolove me, I might get desperate, and do something wild and foolish--evenrun off with another man, I believe--I don't know, but I am my father'sdaughter, as well as my mother's. Until that time comes, I can bearanything, and bear it with courage--with gaiety even. I can imaginemyself without everything else, but not without you. I love mychild--you know I love my child--but even my child isn't you. If I hadto choose to-night between my baby and you, I'd give him up, --and clingthe closer to you. You are myself, and if I had to choose betweeneverything else I've ever known in my life and you, I'd let everythingelse go and follow you anywhere--anywhere. There is nothing that you canendure that I cannot share with you. I can bear poverty, I could evenhave borne shame. If we had to go to some strange country far away fromall I have ever known, I could go and go cheerfully. I can work besideyou, I can work for you--oh, my dear, my dearest, I am your wife, do youstill doubt me?"

I had fallen on my knees before her, with her open palms pressed to myforehead, in which my very brain seemed throbbing. As I looked up ather, she stooped and gathered me to her bosom. 

"Do you know me now?" she asked in a whisper. 

Then her voice broke, and the next instant she would have sunk downbeside me, if I had not sprung to my feet and lifted her in my arms. While I held her thus, pressed close against me, something of herradiant strength entered into me, and I was aware of a power in myselfthat was neither hers nor mine, but the welding of the finer qualitiesin both our natures. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE RED FLAG AT THE GATE

Sally was not beside me when I awoke in the morning, nor was she sippingher coffee by the window, as I had sometimes found her doing when Islept late. Going downstairs an hour afterwards, I discovered her, forthe first time since our marriage, awaiting me in the dining-room. Inher dainty breakfast jacket of blue silk, with a bit of lace and ribbonframing her wreath of plaits, she appeared to my tired eyes as theembodied freshness and buoyancy of the morning. Would her sparklinggaiety endure, I wondered, through the monotonous days ahead, whenpoverty became, not a child's play, not a game tricked out by theimagination, but the sordid actuality of hard work and hourlyself-denial?

"I am practising early rising, Ben, " she said, "and it's astonishingwhat an appetite it gives one. I've made the coffee myself, and AuntMehitable has just taught me how to make yeast. One can never tell whatmay come useful, you know, and if we go to live somewhere in a jungle, which I'm quite prepared to do, you'd be glad to know that I could makeyeast, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose so, sweetheart, and as a matter of fact, " I added presently, "this is the best cup of coffee I've had for many a month. "

Laughing merrily, she perched herself on the arm of my chair, and sippedout of the cup I held toward her. "Of course it is. So you've gainedthat much by losing everything. It's very strange, Ben, and you mayconsider it presumptuous, but I've a profound conviction somewhere inthe bottom of my heart that I can do everything better than anybodyelse, if I once turn my hand to it. At this minute I haven't a doubtthat my yeast is better than Aunt Mehitable's. I'm going to cook dinner, too, and she'll be positively jealous of my performance. How do we knowwhether or not we'll meet any cooks in the jungle? And if we do, they'llprobably be tigers--"

"Oh, Sally, Sally! You think it play now, but what will you feel whenyou know it's earnest?"

"Of course it's earnest. Do you imagine I'd get out of my bed at seveno'clock and cut up a slimy potato if it wasn't earnest? That may be youridea of play, but it's not mine. "

"And you expect to flutter about a stove in a pale blue breakfast jacketand a lace cap?"

"Just as long as they last. When they go, I suppose I'll have to take tocalico, but it will be pretty calico, and pink. Pink calico don't cost apenny more than drab--and there's one thing I positively decline to do, even in a jungle, and that is look ugly. "

"You couldn't if you tried, my beauty. "

"Oh, yes, I could--I could look hideous--any woman could if she tried. But as long as it doesn't cost any more, you've no objection to mycooking in pink instead of drab, I suppose?"

"I've an objection to your cooking in anything. Another cup of coffee, please. "

"Ben. "

"Yes, dear. "

"You never drank but one of Aunt Mehitable's. "

"I'm aware of it, and I'm aware of something else. It's worth beingpoor, Sally, to be poor with you. "

"Then give me another taste of your coffee. But you don't call thisbeing poor, do you, you silly boy?--with all this beautiful mahoganythat I can use for a mirror? This isn't any fun in the world. Just waituntil I spread the cloth over a pine table. Then we'll have something tolaugh at sure enough, Ben. "

"And I thought you'd cry!"

"You thought a great many very foolish things, my dear. You even thoughtI'd married you because I wanted to be rich, and it seemed an easy way. "

"Only it turned out to be an easier way of getting poor. "

"Well, rich or poor, what I married you for, after all, was theessential thing. "

"And you've got it, sweetheart?"

"Of course I've got it. If I didn't have it, do you think I'd be able tolaugh at a pine table?"

"If I were only sure you realised it!"

"You'll be sure enough when we are in the midst of it, and we'll be inthe midst of it, I don't doubt, in a little while. I've been thinkingpretty hard since last night, and this is what I worked out while I wasmaking yeast. "

"Let's have it, then. "

"Now, the first thing we've got to do is to get out of debt, isn't it?"

"The very first thing, if it can be managed. "

"We'll manage it this way. The furniture and the silver and my jewelsmust all be sold, of course; that's easy. But even after we've donethat, there'll still be a great big burden to carry, I suppose?"

"Pretty big, I'm afraid, for your shoulders. "

"Oh, we'll pay it every bit in the end. We won't go bankrupt. You'll goback to the railroad on a salary, and we'll begin to pinch on the spot. "

"Yes, but times are hard and salaries are low. "

"Anyway they're salaries, there's that much to be said for them. Andwhile we're pinching as hard as we can pinch, we'll move over to ChurchHill and rent two or three rooms in the old house with the enchantedgarden. All the servants will have to go except Aunt Euphronasia, whocouldn't go very far, poor thing, because she's rheumatic and can'tstand on her feet. She can sit still very well, however, and rock thebaby, and I'll look after the rooms and get the meals--I'm glad they'llbe simple ones--and we'll put by every penny that we can save. "

"The mere interest on the debt will take almost as much as we can save. There'll be some arrangement made, of course, and the payments will beeasy, but there's one thing I'm determined on, and that is that I'll payit, every cent, if I live. Then, too, there's chance, you know. Something may turn up--something almost always turns up to a man likemyself. "

"Well, if it turns up, we'll welcome it with open arms. But in themeantime we'll see if we can't scrape along without it. I'm going overthis morning to look for rooms. How soon, Ben, do you suppose they willevict us?"

"Does there exist a woman, " I demanded sternly, "who can be humorousover her own eviction?"

"It's better to be humorous over one's own than over one's neighbour's, isn't it? And besides, a laugh may help things, but tears never do. Iwas born laughing, mamma always said. "

"Then laugh on, sweetheart. "

I had risen from the table, and was moving toward the door, when shecaught my arm. 

"There's only one thing I'll never, never consent to, " she said, "youremember Dolly?"

"Your old mare?"

"I've pensioned her, you know, and I'll pay that pension as long as shelives if we both have to starve. "

"You shall do it if we're hanged and drawn for it--and now, Sally, Imust be off to my troubles!"

"Then, good-by and be brave. Oh, Ben, my dearest, what is the matter?"

"It's my head. I've been worrying too much, and it's gone back on melike that twice in the last few days. "

I went out hurriedly, convinced that even failure wasn't quite so bad asit had appeared from a distance; and Sally, following me to the door, stood smiling after me as I went down the block toward the car line. Looking back at the corner, I saw that she was still standing on thethreshold, with the sun in her eyes and her head held high under theruffle of lace and ribbon that framed her hair. 

The street was filled with people that morning, and at the end of thefirst block Bonny Page nodded to me jauntily, as she passed on her earlyride with Ned Marshall. Turning, almost unconsciously, my eyes followedher graceful, very erect figure, in its close black habit, swaying soperfectly with the motion of her chestnut mare. An immeasurable, wind-blown space seemed to stretch between us, and the very sound of thehorse's hoofs on the cobblestones in the street came to me, faint andthin, as if it had floated back from some remote past which I but dimlyremembered. I had never felt, even when standing at Bonny's side, that Iwas within speaking distance of her, and to-day, while I looked afterthe vanishing horses, I knew that odd, baffling sensation of strugglingto break through an inflexible, yet invisible barrier. Why was it that Iwho had won Sally should still remain so hopelessly divided from allthat to which Sally by right and by nature belonged?

Farther down the two great sycamores, still gaunt and bare as skeletons, stood out against a sky of intense blueness; and on the crooked pavementbeneath, the shadows, fine and delicate as lace-work, rippled gently inthe wind that blew straight in from the river. Looking up from under thesilvery boughs, I saw the wire cage of the canary between the partedcurtains, and beyond it the pale oval face of Miss Mitty, with itsgrave, set smile, so like the smile of the painted Blands and Fairfaxesthat hung, in massive frames, on the drawing-room walls. In the midst ofmy own ruin an impulse of compassion entered my heart. The vacancy ofthe old grey house was like the vacancy of a tomb in which the asheshave scattered, and the one living spirit seemed that of the canarysinging joyously in his wire cage. Something in the song brought Sallyto my mind as she had appeared that morning at breakfast, and I feltagain the soft, comforting touch of the hand she had laid on my face. Then I turned my eyes to the street, and saw George Bolingbroke comingslowly toward me, beyond the last great sycamore, which grew midway ofthe bricks. At the sight of him all that had comforted or supported mecrumbled and fell. In its place came that sharp physical soreness--likethe soreness from violent action--that the shock of my failure hadbrought. I, who had meant so passionately to win in the race, wassuddenly crippled. Money, I had said, was all that I had to give, andyet I was beggared now even of that. Shorn of my power, what remained tome that would make me his match?

He came up, taking his cigar from his mouth as he stopped, and flickingthe ashes away, while he stood looking at me with an expression ofsympathy which he struggled in vain, I saw, to dissemble. On his finelycoloured, though rather impassive features, there was the same darkeningof a carefully suppressed emotion--the same lines of anger drawn, not bytemper, but by suffering--that I had seen first at the club when hisfavourite hunter had died, and next on the day when the General hadspoken to him, in my presence, of my engagement to Sally. Under hisshort dark mustache, his thin, nervous lips were set closely together. 

"I'm awfully cut up, Ben, " he said, "I declare I don't know when I wasever so cut up about anything before. "

"I'm cut up too, George, like the deuce, but it doesn't appear to helpmatters, somehow. "

"That's the worst thing about being a man of affairs like you--or likeUncle George, " he observed, making an amiable effort to assure me thateven in the hour of adversity, I still held my coveted place in theGeneral's class; "when the crash comes, you big ones have to pay thepiper, while the rest of us small fry manage to go scot-free. "

It was put laboriously, but beneath the words I felt the force of thatpainful sympathy, too strong for concealment, and yet not strong enoughto break through the inherited habit of self-command. The General hadbroken through, I acknowledged, but then was not the very greatness ofthe great man the expression of an erratic departure from traditionsrather than of the perfect adherence to the racial type?

"And the louder the music the bigger the cost of the piper, " I observed, with a laugh. 

"Oh, you'll come out all right, " he rejoined cheerfully, "things arenever so bad as they might be. "

"Well, I don't know that there's much comfort in reflecting that athunder-storm might have been accompanied by an earthquake. "

For a moment he stood in silence watching the end of his cigar, whichwent out in his hand. Then without meeting my eyes he asked in a voicethat had a curiously muffled sound:--

"It's rough on Sally, isn't it? How does she stand it?"

"As she stands everything--like an angel out of heaven. "

"Yes, you're right--she is an angel, " he returned, still without lookinginto my face. An instant later, as if in response to an impulse whichfor once rose superior to the dead weight of custom, he blurted out witha kind of suffering violence, "I say, Ben, you know it's really awful. I'm so cut up about it I don't know what to do. I wish you'd let me helpyou out of this hole till you're on your feet. I've got nobody on me, you see, and I can't spend half of my income. "

For the first time in our long acquaintance the tables were turned; itwas George who was awkward now, and I who was perfectly at my ease. 

"I can't do that, George, " I said quietly, "but I'm grateful to you allthe same. You're a first-rate chap. "

We shook hands with a grip, and while he still lingered to strike amatch and light the fresh cigar he had taken from his case, the littleyellow flame followed, like an illuminated pointer, the expression ofsuffering violence which showed so strangely upon his face. Then, tossing the match into the gutter, he went on his way, while I passedthe great scarred body of the sycamore and hurried down the long hill, which I never descended without recalling, as the General had said, thatI had once "toted potatoes for John Chitling. "

At the beginning of the next block, I saw the miniature box hedge andthe clipped yew in the little garden of Dr. Theophilus, and as I turneddown the side street, the face of the old man looked at me from themidst of some leafless red currant bushes that grew in clumps at the endof the walk. 

"Come in, Ben, come in a minute, " he called, beaming at me over hislowered spectacles, "there's a thing or two I should like to say. "

As I entered the garden and walked along the tiny path, bordered byoyster shells, to the red currant bushes beyond, he laid hispruning-knife on the ground, and sat down on an old bench beside alittle green table, on which a sparrow was hopping about. On hisseventy-fifth birthday he had resigned his profession to take togardening, and I had heard from no less an authority than the Generalthat "that old fool Theophilus was spending more money in roses thanMrs. Clay was making out of pickles. "

"What is it, doctor?" I asked, for, oppressed by my own burdens, Iwaited a little impatiently to hear "the thing or two" he wanted to say. 

"You see I've given up people, Ben, and taken to roses, " he began, whileI stood grinding my heel into the gravelled walk; "and it's a goodchange, too, when you come to my years, there's no doubt of that. If youweed and water them and plant an occasional onion about their roots youcan make roses what you want--but you can't people--no, not even whenyou've helped to bring them into the world. No matter how straight theycome at birth, they're all just as liable as not to take an inward crankand go crooked before the end. " He looked thoughtfully at the sparrowhopping about on the green table, and his face, beautiful with thewisdom of more than seventy years, was illumined by a smile which seemedin some way a part of the April sunshine flooding the clumps of redcurrant bushes and the miniature box. "George--I mean old George--wastelling me about you, Ben, " he went on after a minute, "and as soon as Iheard of your troubles, I said to Tina--'We've got a roof and we've gota bite, so they'll come to us. ' What with Tina's pickling and preservingwe manage to keep a home, my boy, and you're more than welcome to shareit with us--you and Sally and your little Benjamin--"

"Doctor--doctor--" was all I could say, for words failed me, and I, also, stood looking thoughtfully at the sparrow hopping about on thegreen table, with eyes that saw two small brown feathered bodies in theplace where, a minute before, there had been but one. 

"Come when you're ready, come when you're ready, " he repeated, "andwe'll make you welcome, Tina and I. "

I grasped his hand without speaking, and as I wrung it in my own, I feltthat it was long and fine and nervous, --the hand, not of a worker, butof a dreamer. Then tearing my gaze from the sparrow, I went back throughthe clump of red currant bushes, and between the shining rows of oystershells, to the busy street which led to a busy world and my office door. 

A fortnight later the house was sold over our heads, and when I came upin the afternoon, I found a red flag flying at the gate, and the dustybuggies of a few real estate men tied to the young maples on thesidewalk. Upstairs Sally was sitting on a couch, in the midst of thescattered furniture, while George Bolingbroke stood looking ruefully ata pile of silver and bric-a-brac that filled the centre of the floor. 

"Are you laughing now, Sally?" I asked desperately, as I entered. 

"Not just this minute, dear, because that awful man and a crowd ofpeople have been going over the house, and Aunt Euphronasia and I lockedourselves in the nursery. I'll begin again, however, as soon as they'vegone. All these things belong to George. It was silly of him to buythem, but he says he had no idea of allowing them to go to strangers. "

"Well, George as well as anybody, I suppose, " I responded, moodily. 

Beside the window Aunt Euphronasia was rocking slowly back and forth, with little Benjamin fast asleep on her knees, and her great rollingeyes, rimmed with white, passed from me to George and from George to mewith a defiant and angry look. 

"I ain' seen nuttin' like dese yer doin's sence war time, " she grumbled;"en hit's wuss den war time, caze war time hit's fur all, en dish yerhit ain't fur nobody cep'n us. "

Throwing herself back on the pillow, Sally lay for a minute with herhand over her eyes. 

"I can laugh now, " she said at last, raising her head, and she, also, asshe sat there, pale and weary but bravely smiling, glanced from me toGeorge with a perplexed, inscrutable look. A minute later, when Georgemade some pleasant, comforting remark and went down to join the crowdgathered before the door, her gaze still followed him, a littlepensively, as he left the room. The bruise throbbed again; and walkingto the window, I stood looking through the partly closed blinds to thestreet below, where I could see the dusty buggies, the switching tailsof the horses, bothered by flies, and the group of real estate men, lounging, while they spat tobacco juice, by the red flag at the gate. Inthe warm air, which was heavy with the scent of a purple catalpa tree onthe corner, the drawling voice of the auctioneer could be heard like theloud droning of innumerable bees. A carriage passed down the street in acloud of dust, and the very dust, as it drifted toward us, was drenchedwith the heady perfume of the catalpa. 

"That tree makes me dizzy, " I said; "it's odd I never minded it before. "

"You aren't well--that's the trouble--but even if you were, the voice ofthat man down there is enough to drive any sane person crazy. He soundsexactly as if he were intoning a church service over our misfortunes. That is certainly adding horror to humiliation, " she finished withmerriment. 

"At any rate he doesn't humiliate you?"

"Of course he doesn't. Imagine one of the Blands and the Fairfaxes beinghumiliated by an auctioneer! He amuses me, even though it is our woes heis singing about. If I were Aunt Mitty, I'd probably be seated on thefront porch with my embroidery at this minute, bowing calmly to thepassers-by, as if it were the most matter-of-fact occurrence in theworld to have an auctioneer selling one's house over one's head. "

"Dear old enemy, I wonder what she thinks of this?"

"She hasn't heard it, probably. A newspaper never enters her doors, anddo you believe she has a relative who would be reckless enough to breakit to her?"

"I hope she hasn't, anyhow. "

"They haven't had time to go to her. They have all been here. Peoplehave been coming all day with offers of help--even Jessy's Mr. Cottrel--and oh, Ben, she told me she meant to marry him! Bonny Page, " alittle sob broke from her, "Bonny Page wanted to give up her trip toEurope and have me take the money. Then everybody's been sending meluncheons and jellies and things just exactly as if I were an invalid. "

"Hit's de way dey does in war time, honey, " remarked Aunt Euphronasia, shaking little Benjamin with the slow, cradling movement of the armsknown only to the negroes. 

Downstairs the auction was over, the drawling monologue was succeeded bya babel of voices, and glancing through the blinds, I saw the realestate men untying their horses from the young maples. A swirl of dustladen with the scent of the catalpa blew up from the street. 

"But we can't take help, Sally, " I said, almost fiercely. 

"No, we can't take help, I told them so--I told them that we didn't needit. In a few years we'd be back where we were, I said, and I believedit. "

"Do you believe it after listening to that confounded fog-horn on theporch?"

"Well, it's a trial to faith, as Aunt Mitty would say, but, oh, Ben, Ireally _do_ believe it still. "

CHAPTER XXVII

WE CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND US

It was a warm spring afternoon when we closed the door behind us for thelast time, and took the car for Church Hill, where we had rented severalrooms on the first floor of the house with the enchanted garden. As thecar descended into the neighbourhood of the Old Market, with its tightlypacked barrooms, its squalid junk shops, its strings of old clotheswaving before darkened, ill-smelling doorways, I seemed to have steppedsuddenly backward into a place that was divided between the dream andthe actuality. I remembered my awakening on the pile of straw, with theface of John Chitling beaming down on me over the wheelbarrow ofvegetables; and the incidents of that morning--the long line of stallsgiving out brilliant flashes from turnips and onions, the sharp, fishyodour from the strings of mackerel and perch, the very bloodstains onthe apron and rolled-up sleeves of the butcher--all these things weremore vivid to my consciousness than were the faces of Sally and of AuntEuphronasia, or the fretful cries of little Benjamin, swathed in a blueveil, in the old negress's lap. I had meant to make good that morning, when I had knelt there sorting the yellow apples. I had made good for atime, and yet to-day I was back in the place from which I had started. Well, not in the same place, perhaps, but my foot had slipped on theladder, and I must begin again, if not from the very bottom, at leastfrom the middle rung. The market wagons, covered with canvas, were stillstanding with empty shafts in the littered street, as if they had waitedthere, a shelter for prowling dogs, until my return. Mrs. Chitling'sslovenly doorstep I could not see, but as we ascended the long hill onthe other side, I recognised the musty "old clothes" shop, in which Ihad stumbled on "Sir Charles Grandison" and Johnson's Dictionary. Thatminute, I understood now, had been in reality the turning-point in mycareer. In that close-smelling room I had come to the cross-roads ofsuccess or failure, and swerving aside from the dull level of ignorance, I had rushed, almost by accident, into the better way. The very odour ofthe place was still in my nostrils--a mixture of old clothes, of stalecheese, of overripe melons. A sudden dizziness seized me, and a wave ofphysical nausea passed over me, as if the intense heat of that pastsummer afternoon had gone to my head. 

The car stopped at the corner of old Saint John's; we got out, assistingAunt Euphronasia, and then turned down a side street in the direction ofour new home. As we mounted the curving steps, Sally passed a littleahead of me, and looked back with her hand on the door. 

"I am happy, Ben, " she said with a smile; and with the words on herlips, she crossed the threshold and entered the wide hall, where themoth-eaten stags' heads, worn bare of fur, still hung on the fadedplaster. 

My first impression upon entering the room was that the strangesurroundings struck with a homelike and familiar aspect upon myconsciousness. Then, as bewilderment gave place before a closerscrutiny, I saw that this aspect was due to the presence of the objectsby which I had been so long accustomed to see Sally surrounded. Heramber satin curtains hung at the windows; the deep couch, with the amberlining, upon which she rested before dressing for dinner, stood near thehearth; and even the two crystal vases, which I had always seen holdingfresh flowers upon her small, inlaid writing desk, were filled now withbranching clusters of American Beauty roses. Beyond them, and beyond theamber satin curtains at the long window, I saw the elm boughs archingagainst a pale gold sunset into which a single swallow was flying. And Iremember that swallow as I remember the look, swift, expectant, as ifit, also, were flying, that trembled, for an instant, on Sally's face. 

"It is George, " she said, turning to me with radiant eyes; "George hasdone this. These are the things he bought, and I wondered so what hewould do with them. " Then before something in my face, the radiance diedout of her eyes. "Would you rather he didn't do it? Would you rather Ishouldn't keep them?" she asked. 

A struggle began within me. Through the window I could see still thepale gold sunset beyond the elms, but the swallow was gone, and gone, also, from Sally's face was the look as of one flying. 

"Would you rather that I shouldn't keep them?" she asked again, and hervoice was very gentle. 

At that gentleness the struggle ceased as sharply as it had begun. 

"Do as you choose, darling, you know far better than I, " I replied; andbending over her, I raised her chin that was lowered, and kissed herlips. 

A light, a bloom, something that was fragrant and soft as the colour andscent of the American Beauty roses, broke over her as she looked up atme with her mouth still opening under my kiss. 

"Then I'll keep them, " she answered, "because it would hurt him so, Ben, if I sent them back. "

The colour and bloom were still there, but in my heart a chill hadentered to drive out the warmth. My ruin, my failure, the poverty towhich I had brought Sally and the child through my inordinate ambition, and the weight of the two hundred thousand dollars of debt on myshoulders--all these things returned to my memory, with an additionalheaviness, like a burden that has been lifted only to drop back morecrushingly. And as always in my thoughts now, this sense of my failurecame to me in the image of George Bolingbroke, with his air of generousself-sufficiency, as if he needed nothing because he had been born tothe possession of all necessary things. 

Sally drew the long pins from her hat, laid them, with the floatingwhite veil and her coat, on a chair in one corner, and began to movesoftly about in her restful, capable way. Her very presence, I had oncesaid of her, would make a home, and I remembered this a little later asI watched the shadow of her head flit across the faded walls above thefine old wainscoting, from which the white paint was peeling in places. Her touch, swift and unfaltering, released some spirit of beauty andcheerfulness which must have lain imprisoned for a generation in thesuperb old rooms. On the floor with us there were no other tenants, butwhen I heard an occasional sound in the room above, I remembered thatthe agent had told me of an aristocratic, though poverty-stricken, maiden lady, who was starving up there in the midst of some rare piecesof old Chippendale furniture, and with the portrait of an Englishancestress by Gainsborough hanging above her fireless hearth. 

"The baby is asleep, so Aunt Euphronasia and I are cooking supper, " saidSally, when she had spread the cloth over the little table, and laidcovers for two on either side of the shaded lamp; "at least she'scooking and I'm serving. Come into the garden, Ben, before it's ready, and run with me down the terrace. "

"The garden is ruined. I saw it when I came over with the agent. "

"Ruined? And with such lilacs! They are a little late because of thecold spring, but a perfect bower. "

She caught my hand as she spoke, and we passed together through the longwindow leading from our bedroom to the porch, where a few startledswallows flew out, crying harshly, from among the white columns. Many ofthe elms had died; the magnolias and laburnums, with the exception of afew stately trees, had decayed on the terrace, and the thick maze of boxwas now thin and rapidly dwindling away from the gravelled paths. On theground, under the young green of dandelion and wild violets, the rottingleaves of last year were still lying; and as we descended the steps, andfollowed the littered walks down the hill-side, broken pieces of potterycrumbled beneath our feet. 

Clasping hands like two children, we stood for a minute in silence, withour eyes on the ruin before us, and the memory of the enchanted gardenand our first love in our thoughts. Then, "Oh, Ben, the lilacs!" saidSally, softly. 

They were there on all sides, floating like purple and white clouds inthe wind, and shedding their delicious perfume over the scattered rosearbours and the dwindling box. Light, delicate, and brave, they hadwithstood frost and decay, while the latticed summer houses had fallenunder the weight of the microphylla roses that grew over them. The windnow was laden with their sweetness, and the golden light seemed aware oftheir colour as it entered the garden softly through the screen ofboughs. 

"Do you remember the first day, Ben?"

"The first day? That was when President lifted me on the wall--and eventhe wall has gone. "

"Did you dream then that you'd ever stand here with me like this?"

"I dreamed nothing else. I've never dreamed anything else. "

"Then you aren't so very unhappy as long as we are together?"

"Not so unhappy as I might be, but, remember, I'm a man, Sally, and Ihave failed. "

"Yes, you're a man, and you couldn't be happy even with me--withoutsomething else. "

"The something else is a part of you. It belongs to you, and that'smostly why I want to make good. These debts are like a dead weight--likethe Old Man of the Sea--on my shoulders. Until I'm able to shake themoff, I shall not stand up straight. "

"I'm glad you've gone back to the railroad. "

"There are a lot of men in the railroad, and very few places. TheGeneral found me this job at six thousand a year, which is preciouslittle for a man of my earning capacity. They'll probably want to sendme down South to build up the traffic on the Tennessee and Carolina, --Idon't know. It will take me a month anyway to wind up my affairs andstart back with the road. Oh, it's going to be a long, hard pull when itonce begins. "

Pressing her cheek to my arm, she rubbed it softly up and down with agentle caress. "Well, we'll pull it, never fear, " she responded. 

At our feet the twilight rose slowly from the sunken terrace, and theperfume of the lilacs seemed to grow stronger as the light faded. For amoment we stood drawn close together; then turning, with my arm stillabout her, we went back over the broken pieces of pottery, and ascendingthe steps, left the pearly afterglow and the fragrant stillness behindus. 

Half an hour later, when we were in the midst of our supper, which shehad served with gaiety and I had eaten with sadness, a hesitating knockcame at the door leading into the dim hall, and opening it withsurprise, I was confronted by a small, barefooted urchin, who stood, like the resurrected image of my own childhood, holding a covered dishat arm's length before him. 

"If you please, ma'am, " he said, under my shoulder, to Sally, who wasstanding behind me, "ma's jest heard you'd moved over here, an' she'ssent you some waffles for supper. "

"And what may ma's name be?" enquired Sally politely, as she removed thered and white napkin which covered the gift. 

"Ma's Mrs. Titterbury, an' she lives jest over yonder. She says she'sbeen a-lookin' out for you an' she hopes you've come to stay. "

"That's very kind of her, and I'm much obliged. Tell her to come to seeme. "

"She's a-comin', ma'am, " he responded cheerfully, and as he withdrew, his place was immediately filled by a little girl in a crimson calico, with two very tight and very slender braids hanging down to her waist inthe back. 

"Ma's been makin' jelly an' syllabub, an' she thought you might like ataste, " she said, offering a glass dish. "Her name is Mrs. Barley, an'she lives around the corner. "

"These are evidently our poorer neighbours, " observed Sally, as the doorclosed after the crimson calico and the slender braids; "where are thewell-to-do ones that live in all the big houses around us?"

"It probably never occurred to them that we might want a supper. It'sthe poor who have imagination. By Jove! there's another!"

This time it was a stout, elderly female in rusty black, with a very redface, whom, after some frantic groping of memory, I recognised as Mrs. Cudlip, unaltered apparently by her thirty years of widowhood. 

"I jest heard you'd moved back over here, Benjy, " she remarked, and atthe words and the voice, I seemed to shrink again into the small, half-scared figure clad in a pair of shapeless breeches which were madeout of an old dolman my mother had once worn to funerals, "an' I thoughtas you might like a taste of muffins made arter the old receipt of yo'po' ma's--the very same kind of muffins she sent me by you on themornin' arter I buried my man. "

Placing the dish upon the table, she seated herself, in response to aninvitation from Sally, and spread her rusty black skirt, with aleisurely movement, over her comfortable lap. As I looked at her, Iforgot that I stood six feet two inches in my stockings; I forgot that Ihad married a descendant of the Blands and the Fairfaxes; and Iremembered as plainly as if it were yesterday, the morning of thefuneral, when, with my mother's grey blanket shawl pinned on myshoulders, I had sat on the step outside and waited for the service toend, while I made scornful faces at the merry driver of the hearse. 

"It's been going on thirty years sence yo' ma died, ain't it, Benjy?"she enquired, while I struggled vainly to recover a proper consciousnessof my size and my importance. 

"I was a little chap at the time, Mrs. Cudlip, " I returned. 

"An' it's been twenty, I reckon, " she pursued reminiscently, "sence yo'pa was took. Wall, wall, time does fly when you come to think of deaths, now, doesn't it? I al'ays said thar wa'nt nothin' so calculated to putcheer an' spirit into you as jest to remember the people who've droppedoff an' died while you've been spared. You didn't see much of yo' padurin' his last days, did you?"

"Never after I ran away, and that was the night he brought his secondwife home. "

"He had a hard time toward the end, but I reckon she had a harder. Itwa'nt that he was a bad man at bottom, but he was soft-natured an' easy, an' what he needed was to be helt an' to be helt steady. Some men airlike that--they can't stand alone a minute without beginnin' to wobble. Now as long as yo' ma lived, she kept a tight hand on yo' pa, an' hestayed straight; but jest as soon as he was left alone, he began towobble, an' from wobblin' he took to the bottle, and from the bottle hetook to that brass-headed huzzy he married. She was the death of him, Benjy; I ought to know, for I lived next do' to 'em to the day of hisburial. As to that, anyway, ma'am, " she added to Sally, "my humbleopinion is that women have killed mo' men anyway than they've everbrought into the world. It's a po' thought, I've al'ays said, in whichyou can't find some comfort. "

"You were very kind to him, I have heard, " I observed, as she paused forbreath and turned toward me. 

"It wa'nt mo'n my duty if I was, Benjy, for yo' ma was a real goodneighbour to me, an' many's the plate of buttered muffins you've broughtto my do' when you wa'nt any higher than that. "

It was true, I admitted the fact as gracefully as I could. 

"My mother thought a great deal of you, " I remarked. 

"You don't see many of her like now, " she returned with a sigh, "themo's the pity. 'Thar ain't room for two in marriage, ' she used to say, 'one of 'em has got to git an' I'd rather 'twould be the other!' 'Twa'ntthat way with the palaverin' yaller-headed piece that yo' pa marriedarterwards. She'd a sharp enough tongue, but a tongue don't do you muchgood with a man unless he knows you've got the backbone behind to driveit. It ain't the tongue, but the backbone that counts in marriage. Atfirst he was mighty soft, but befo' two weeks was up he'd begun to beather, an' I ain't got a particle of respect for a woman that's once beenbeaten. Men air born mean, I know, it's thar natur, an' the good Lordintended it; but, all the same, it's my belief that mighty few womencome in for a downright beatin' unless they've bent thar backs towelcome it. It takes two to make a beatin' the same as a courtin', an'whar the back ain't ready, the blows air slow to fall. "

"I never saw her but once, and then I ran away, " I remarked to fill inher pause. 

"Wall, you didn't miss much, or you either, ma'am, " she rejoinedpolitely; "she was the kind that makes an honest woman ashamed to belongto a sex that's got to thrive through foolishness, an' to git to a placeby sidlin' backwards. That wa'nt yo' ma's way, Benjy, an' I've oftensaid that I don't believe she ever hung back in her life an' waited fora man to hand her what she could walk right up an' take holt of withouthis help. 'The woman that waits on a man has got a long wait ahead ofher, ' was what she used to say. "

Rising to her feet, she stood with the empty plate in her hand, and herback ceremoniously bent in a parting bow. 

"Is that yo' youngest? Now, ain't he a fine baby!" she burst out, aslittle Benjamin appeared, crowing, in the arms of Aunt Euphronasia, "anhe's got all the soft, pleasant look of yo' po' pa a'ready. "

I opened the door, and with a last effusive good-by, she passed out inher stiff, rustling black, which looked as if she had gone intoperpetual mourning. 

"Will you have some syllabub, Ben?" enquired Sally primly, as the doorclosed. 

"Sally, how will you stand it?"

"She wants to be kind--she really wants to be. "

Crossing moodily to the table, I pushed aside the waffles, the muffins, and the syllabub, with an angry gesture. 

"It is what I came from, after all. It is my class. "

"Your class?" she repeated, laughing and sobbing together with her armson my shoulders. "There's nobody else in the whole world in your class, Ben. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

IN WHICH SALLY STOOPS

A week or two later the General stopped me as I was leaving his office. 

"I don't like the look of you, Ben. What's the matter?"

"My head has been troubling me, General. It's been splitting for a week, and I can't see straight. "

"You've thought too much, that's the mischief. Why not cut the wholething and go West with me to-morrow in my car? I'll be gone for amonth. "

"It's out of the question. A man who is over head and ears in debtoughtn't to be spinning about the country in a private car. "

"I don't see the logic of that as long as it's somebody else's car. "

"You'd see it if you had two hundred thousand dollars of debt. "

"Well, I've been worse off. I've had two hundred thousand devils ofgout. Here, come along with me. Bring Sally, bring the youngster. I'lltake the whole bunch of 'em. "

When I declined, he still urged me, showing his annoyance plainly, as aman does in whom opposition even in trifles arouses a resentful, almosta violent, spirit of conquest. So, I knew, he had pursued every aim, great or small, of his life, with the look in his face of an intelligentbulldog, and the conviction somewhere in his brain that the only methodof overcoming an obstacle was to hang on, if necessary, until theobstacle grew too weak to put forth further resistance. Once, and onceonly, to my knowledge, had this power to hang on, this bulldog grip, availed him but little, and that was when his violence had encountered agentleness as soft as velvet, yet as inflexible as steel. In his wholelife only poor little Miss Matoaca had withstood him; and as I met theangry, indomitable spirit in his eyes, there rose before me the figureof his old love, with her look of meek, unconquerable obstinacy and withthe faint fragrance and colour about her that was like the fragrance andcolour of faded rose-leaves. 

"There's no use, General. I can't do it, " I said at last; and partingfrom him at the corner, I signalled the car for Church Hill, while hedrove slowly up-town in his buggy. 

It was a breathless June afternoon. A spell of intense early heat hadswept over the country, and the summer flowers were unfolding as ifforced open in the air of a hothouse. At the door Sally met me with atelegram from Jessy announcing her marriage to Mr. Cottrel in New York;but the words and the fact seemed to me to have no nearer relation to mylife than if they had described the romantic adventures of a girl, in acrimson blouse, who was passing along the pavement. 

"Well, she's got what she wanted. " I remarked indifferently, "so she'sto be congratulated, I suppose. My head is throbbing as if it wouldbreak open. I'll go in and lie down in the dusk, before supper. "

"Do the flowers bother you? Shall I take them away?" she asked, following me into the bedroom, and closing the shutters. 

"I don't notice them. This confounded headache is the only thing I canthink of. It hasn't let up a single minute. "

Bending over me, she laid her cheek to mine, and stroked the hair backfrom my forehead with her small, cool hand, which reminded me of thetouch of roses. Then going softly out, she closed the door after her, while I turned on my side, and lay, half asleep, half awake, in thedeepening twilight. 

From the garden, through the open blinds of the green shutters, floatedthe strong, sweet scent of the jessamine blooming on the columns of thepiazza; and I heard, now and then, as if from a great distance, theharsh, frightened cry of a swallow as it flew out from its nest underthe roof. A sudden, sharp realisation of imperative duties left undoneawoke in my mind; and I felt impelled, as if by some outward pressure, to rise and go back again down the long, hot hill into the city. "There's something important I meant to do, and did not, " I thought; "assoon as this pain stops, I suppose I shall remember it, and why it is sourgent. If I can only sleep for a few minutes, my brain will clear, andthen I can think it out, and everything that is so confused now will beeasy. " In some way, I knew that this neglected duty concerned Sally andthe child. I had been selfish with Sally in my misery. When I awoke witha clear head, I would go to her and say I was sorry. 

The scent of the jessamine became suddenly so intense that I drew thecoverlet over my face in the effort to shut it out. Then turning my eyesto the wall, I lay without thinking or feeling, while my consciousnessslowly drifted outside the closed room and the penetrating fragrance ofthe garden beyond. Once it seemed to me that somebody came in a dreamand bent over me, stroking my forehead. At first I thought it was Sally, until the roughness of the hand startled me, and opening my eyes, I sawthat it was my mother, in her faded grey calico, with the perplexed andanxious look in her eyes, as if she, too, were trying to remember someduty which was very important, and which she had half forgotten. "Why, Ithought you were dead!" I exclaimed aloud, and the sound of my own voicewaked me. 

It was broad daylight now; the shutters were open, and the breeze, blowing through the long window, brought the scent of jessaminedistilled in the sunshine beyond. It seemed to me that I had sleptthrough an eternity, and with my first waking thought, there revived thesame pressure of responsibility, the same sense of duties, unfulfilledand imperative, with which I had turned to the wall and drawn thecoverlet over my face. "I must get up, " I said aloud; and then, as Ilifted my hand, I saw that it was wasted and shrunken, and that the blueveins showed through the flesh as through delicate porcelain. Then, "I've been ill, " I thought, and "Sally? Sally?" The effort of memory wastoo great for me, and without moving my body, I lay looking toward thelong window, where Aunt Euphronasia sat, in the square of sunshine, crooning to little Benjamin, while she rocked slowly back and forth, beating time with her foot to the music. 

 "Oh, we'll ride in de golden cha'iot, by en bye, lil' chillun, We'll ride in de golden cha'iot, by en bye. 

 Oh, we'se all gwine home ter glory, by en bye, lil' chillun, We'se all gwine home ter glory by en bye. 

 Oh, we'll drink outer de healin' fountain, by en bye, lil' chillun, We'll drink outer de healin' fountain by en bye. "

"Sally!" I called aloud, and my voice sounded thin and distant in my ownears. 

There was the sound of quick steps, the door opened and shut, and Sallycame in and leaned over me. She wore a blue gingham apron over herdress, her sleeves were rolled up, and her hand, when it touched myface, felt warm and soft as if it had been plunged into hot soapsuds. Then my eyes fell on a jagged burn on her wrist. 

"What is that?" I asked, pointing to it. "You've hurt yourself. "

"Oh, Ben, my dearest, are you really awake?"

"What is that, Sally? You have hurt yourself. "

"I burned my hand on the stove--it is nothing. Dearest, are you better?Wait. Don't speak till you take your nourishment. "

She went out, returning a moment later with a glass of milk and whiskey, which she held to my lips, sitting on the bedside, with her arm slippedunder my pillow. 

"How long have I been ill, Sally?"

"Several weeks. You became conscious and then had a relapse. Do youremember?"

"No, I remember nothing. "

"Well, don't talk. Everything is all right--and I'm so happy to have youalive I could sing the Jubilee, as Aunt Euphronasia says. "

"Several weeks and there was no money! Of course, you went to theGeneral, Sally--but I forgot, the General is away. You went to somebody, though. Surely you got help?"

"Oh, I managed, Ben. There's nothing to worry about now that you arebetter. I feel that there'll never be anything to worry about again. "

"But several weeks, Sally, and I lying like a log, and the General away!What did you do?"

"I nursed you for one thing, and gave you medicine and chicken broth andmilk and whiskey. Now, I shan't talk any more until the doctor comes. Lie quiet and try to sleep. "

But the jagged burn on her wrist still held my gaze, and catching herhand as she turned away, I pressed my lips to it with all my strength. 

"Your hand feels so queer, Sally. It's as red as if it had beenscalded. "

"I've been cooking my dinner, and you see I eat a great deal. There, now, that's positively my last word. "

Bending over, she kissed me hurriedly, a tear fell on my face, and thenbefore I could catch the fluttering hem of her apron, she had brokenfrom me, and gone out, closing the door after her. For a minute I layperfectly motionless, too weak for thought. Then opening my eyes with aneffort, I stared straight up at the white ceiling, against which a greenJune beetle was knocking with a persistent, buzzing sound that seemed anaccompaniment to the crooning lullaby of Aunt Euphronasia. 

 "Oh, we'se all gwine home ter glory, by en bye, lil' chillun, We'se all gwine home ter glory, by en bye. "

"Will he break his wings on the ceiling, or will he fly out of thewindow?" I thought drowsily, and it appeared to me suddenly that mypersonal troubles--my illness, my anxiety for Sally, and even thepoverty that must have pressed upon her--had receded to an obscure andcloudy distance, in which they became less important in my mind than theproblem of the green June beetle knocking against the ceiling. "Will hebreak his wings or will he fly out?" I asked, with a dull interest inthe event, which engrossed my thoughts to the exclusion of all personalmatters. "I ought to think of Sally and the child, but I can't. My headwon't let me. It has gone wrong, and if I begin to think hard thoughtsI'll go delirious again. There is jessamine blooming somewhere. Did shehave a spray in her hair when she bent over me? Why did she wear agingham apron at a ball instead of pink tarlatan? No, that was not theproblem I had to solve. Will he break his wings or will he fly out?"

 "Oh, we'll fit on de golden slippers, by en bye, lil' chillun, "

crooned Aunt Euphronasia, rocking little Benjamin in the square ofsunlight. 

The song soothed me and I slept for a minute. Then starting awake in thecold sweat of terror, I struggled wildly after the problem which stilleluded me. 

"Has he flown out?" I asked. 

"Who, Marse Ben?" enquired the old negress, stopping her rocking and herlullaby at the same instant. 

"The June beetle. I thought he'd break his wings on the ceiling. "

"Go 'way f'om hyer, honey, he ain' gwine breck 'is wings. Dar's moughtylittle sense inside er dem, but dey ain' gwine do dat. Is yo' wits donecome back?"

"Not quite. I feel crazy. Aunt Euphronasia!"

"W'at you atter, Marse Ben?"

"How did Sally manage?"

"Ef'n hit's de las' wud I speak, she's done managed jes exactly ez ef'nshe wuz de Lawd A'moughty. "

"And she didn't suffer?"

"Who? She? Dar ain' none un us suffer, honey, we'se all been livin' onde ve'y fat er de lan', we is. Dar's been roas' pig en shoat e'vyblessed day fur dinner. "

She had talked me down, and I turned over again and lay in silence, until Sally came in with a dose of medicine and a cup of broth. 

"Have I been very ill, Sally?"

"Very ill. It was the long mental strain, followed by the intense heat. At one time we feared that a blood vessel was broken. Now, puteverything out of your mind, and get well. "

She had taken off her gingham apron, and was wearing one of her lastsummer's dresses of flowered organdie. I remembered that I had alwaysliked it because it had blue roses over it. 

"How can I get well when I know that you have been starving?"

"But we haven't been. We've had everything on earth we wanted. "

"Then thank God you got help. Whom did you go to?"

Putting the empty glass aside, she began feeding me spoonfuls of broth, with her arm under my pillow. 

"If you will be bad and insist upon knowing--I didn't go to anybody. Yousaid you couldn't bear being helped, you know. "

"I said it--oh, darling--but I didn't think of this!"

"Well, I thought of it, anyway, and I wasn't going to do while you wereill and helpless what you didn't want me to do when you were well. "

"You mean you told nobody all these weeks?"

"Well, I told one or two people, but I didn't accept charity from them. The General was away, you know, but some people from the office cameover with offers of help--and I told them we needed nothing. Dr. Theophilus was too far away to treat you, but he has come almost everyday with a pitcher of Mrs. Clay's chicken broth. Oh, we've prospered, Ben, there's no doubt of that, we've prospered!"

"How soon may I get up?"

"Not for three weeks, and it will be another three weeks even if you'regood, before you can go back to the office. "

A sob rose in my throat, but I bit it back fiercely before it passed mylips. 

"Oh, Sally, my darling, why did you marry me?"

"You cruel boy, " she returned cheerfully, as she smoothed my pillows, "when you know that if I hadn't married you there wouldn't be any littleBenjamin in the world. "

After this the slow days dragged away, while I consumed chicken brothand milk punches with a frantic desire to get back my strength. Only tobe on my feet again, and able to lift the burden from Sally's shoulders!Only to drive that tired look from her eyes, and that patient, divinesmile from her lips! I watched her with jealous longing while I laythere, helpless as a fallen tree, and I saw that she grew daily thinner, that the soft redness never left her small, childlike hands, that threefine, nervous wrinkles had appeared between her arched eyebrows. Something was killing her, while I, the man who had sworn before God tocherish her, was but an additional burden on her fragile shoulders. Andyet how I loved her! Never had she seemed to me more lovely, moredesirable, than she did as she moved about my bed in her gingham apron, with the anxious smile on her lips, and the delicate furrows deepeningbetween her eyebrows. 

"How soon? How soon, Sally?" I asked almost hourly, kissing the scar onher wrist when she bent over me. 

"Be patient, dear. "

"I am trying to be patient for your sake, but oh, it's devilish hard!"

"I know it is, Ben. Another week, and you will be up. "

"Another week, and this killing you!"

"It isn't killing me. If it were killing me, do you think I could laugh?And you hear me laugh?"

"Yes, I hear you laugh, and it breaks my heart as I lie here. If I'mever up, Sally, if I'm ever well, I'll make you go to bed and I willslave over you. "

"There are many things I'd enjoy more, dear. Going to bed isn't my ideaof happiness. "

"Then you shall sit on a cushion and eat nothing but strawberries andcream. "

"That sounds better. Well, there's something I've got to see about, soI'll leave you with Aunt Euphronasia to look after you. The doctor saysyou may have a cup of tea if you're good. We'll make a party together. "

An hour or two later, when the afternoon sunshine was shut out by thegreen blinds, and the room was filled with a gentle droning sound fromthe humming-birds at the jessamine, she drew up the small wicker teatable to my bedside, and we made the party with merriment. Her eyes weretired, the three fine nervous wrinkles had deepened between her archedeyebrows, and the soft redness I had objected to, covered her hands; yetthat spirit of gaiety, which had seemed to me to resemble the spirit ofthe bird singing in the old grey house, still showed in her voice andher smile. As she brewed the tea in the little brown tea-pot and pouredit into the delicate cups, with the faded pattern of moss rosebudsaround the brim, I wondered, half in a dream, from what inexhaustiblesource she drew this courage which faced life, not with endurance, butwith blitheness. Were the ghosts of the dead Blands and Fairfaxes fromwhom she had sprung fighting over again their ancient battles in theirdescendant?

"This is a nice party, isn't it?" she asked, when she had brought thehot buttered toast from the kitchen and cut it into very small slices onmy plate; "the tea smells deliciously. I paid a dollar and a quarter fora pound of it this morning. "

"If I'm ever rich again you shall pay a million and a quarter, if youwant to. "

The charming archness awoke in her eyes, while she looked at me over thebrim of the cup. 

"Isn't this just as nice as being rich, Ben?" she asked; "I am really, you know, a far better cook than Aunt Mehitable. "

"All the same I'd rather live on bread and water than have you do it, " Ianswered. 

She lifted her hand, pushing the heavy hair from her forehead, and mygaze fell on the jagged scar on her wrist. Then, as she caught myglance, her arm dropped suddenly under the table, and she pulled herloose muslin sleeve into place. 

"Does the burn hurt you, Sally?"

"Not now--it is quite healed. At first it smarted a little. "

"Darling, how did you do it?"

"I've forgotten. On the stove, I think. "

I fell back on the pillow, too faint, in spite of the tea I had taken, to follow a thought in which there was so sharp and so incessant a pang. Before my eyes the little table, with its white cloth and its fragilechina service, decorated with moss rosebuds, appeared to dissolve intosome painful dream distance, in which the sound of the humming-birds atthe jessamine grew gradually louder. 

Six days longer I remained in bed, too weak to get into my clothes, orto stand on my feet, but at the end of that time I was permitted tostruggle to the square of sunlight by the window, where I sat for anhour with the warm breeze from the garden blowing into my face. For thefirst day or two I was unable to rise from the deep chintz-coveredchair, in which Aunt Euphronasia and Sally had placed me; but oneafternoon, when the old negress had returned to the kitchen, and Sallyhad gone out on an errand, I disobeyed their orders and crawled out onthe porch, where the scent of the jessamine seemed a part of the summersunshine. The next day I ventured as far as the kitchen steps, and foundAunt Euphronasia plucking a chicken for my broth, with little Benjaminasleep in his carriage at her side. 

"Aunt Euphronasia, do you know where Sally goes every afternoon?" Ienquired. 

"Hi! Marse Ben, ain't un 'oman erbleeged ter teck her time off de sameez a man?" she demanded indignantly. "She cyarn' be everlastin'lya-settin' plum at yo' elbow. "

"You know perfectly well I'm not such a brute as to be complaining, mammy. "

"Mebbe you ain't, honey, but hit sounds dat ar way ter me. "

"If I could only make sure she'd gone to walk, I'd be jolly glad. "

"Ef'n you ax me, " she retorted contemptuously, "she ain't de sort, suh, dat's gwineter traipse jes' fur de love er traipsing. '"

There was small comfort, I saw, to be had from her, so turning away, while she resumed her plucking, I crawled slowly back through thebedroom into the hall, and along the hall to the front door, which stoodopen. Here the dust of the street rose like steam to my nostrils, andthe stone steps and the brick pavement were thickly coated. Awatering-cart turned the corner, scattering a refreshing spray, andbehind it came a troop of thirsty dogs, licking greedily at the waterbefore it sank into the dust. The foliage of the trees was scorched to alivid shade, and the ends of the leaves curled upward as if a flame hadblown by them. Down the street, as I stood there, came the old familiarcry from a covered wagon: "Water-million! Hyer's yo' watermillion freshf'om de vine!"

Clinging to the iron railing, which burned my hand, I descended thesteps with trembling limbs, and stood for a minute in the patch of shadeat the bottom. A negro, seated on the curbing, was drinking the juicefrom a melon rind, and he looked up at me with rolling eyes, hisgluttonous red lips moving in rapture. 

"Dish yer's a moughty good melon, Marster, " he said, and returned to hisfeast. 

As I was about to place my foot on the bottom step and begin thedifficult ascent, my eyes, raised to our sitting-room window, hungspellbound on a black and white sign fastened against the panes:

"Fine laundering. Old laces a specialty. Desserts made to order. "

"Old laces a specialty, " I repeated, as if struck by the phrase. Then, as my strength failed me, I sank on the stone step in the patch ofshade, and buried my face in my hands. 

CHAPTER XXIX

IN WHICH WE RECEIVE VISITORS

I was still sitting there, with my head propped in my hands, when myeyes, which had seen nothing before, saw Sally coming through the hotdust in the street, with George Bolingbroke, carrying a bundle under hisarm, at her side. As she neared me a perplexed and anxious look--thelook I had seen always on the face of my mother when the day's burdenwas heavy--succeeded the smiling brightness with which she had beenspeaking to George. 

"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed, quickening her steps, "what are you doing outhere in this terrible heat?"

"I got down and couldn't get back, " I answered. 

"Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Here, George, give me thebundle and help him up. "

"He deserves to be left here, " remarked George, laughing good-humouredlyas he grasped my arm, and half led, half dragged me up the steps andinto the house. Then, when I was placed in the deep chintz-covered chairby the window, Sally came in with a milk punch, which she held to mylips while I drank. 

"You're really very foolish, Ben. "

"I know all, Sally, " I replied, sitting up and pushing the glass and herhand away, "and I'm going to get up and go back to work to-morrow. "

"Then drink this, please, so you will be able to go. I suppose you sawthe sign, " she pursued quietly, when I had swallowed the punch; "Georgesaw it, too, and it put him into a rage. "

"What has George got to do with it?" I demanded with a pang in my heart. 

"He hasn't anything, of course, but it was kind of him all the same towant to lend me his money. You see, the way of it was that when you fellill, and there wasn't a penny in the house, I remembered how bitterlyyou'd hated the idea of taking help. "

I caught her hand to my lips. "I'd beg, borrow, or steal for you, darling. "

"You'd neglected to tell me that, so I didn't know. What I did was tosit down and think hard for an hour, and at the end of that time, whenyou were well enough to be left, I got on the car and went over to seeseveral women, who, I knew, were so rich that they had plenty of oldlace and embroidery. I told them exactly how it was and, of course, theyall wanted to give me money, and Jennie Randolph even sat down and criedwhen I wouldn't take it. Then they agreed to let me launder all theirfine lace and embroidered blouses, and I've made desserts and cakes forsome of them and--and--"

"Don't go on, Sally, I can't stand it. I'm a crackbrained fool and I'mgoing to cry. "

"Of course, the worst part was having to leave you, but when Georgefound out about it, he insisted upon fetching and carrying my bundles. "

"George!" I exclaimed sharply, and a spasm of pain, like the entrance ofpoison into an unhealed wound, contracted my heart. "Was that confoundedpackage under his arm, " I questioned, almost angrily, "some of thestuff?"

"That was a blouse of Maggie Tyler's. He is going to take it back to heron Friday. There, now, stay quiet, while I run and speak to him. He iswaiting for me in the kitchen. "

She went out, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for herto take in washing and for George to deliver it, while, opening the longgreen shutters, I sat staring, beyond the humming-birds and the whitecolumns, to the shimmering haze that hung over the old tea-roses and thedwindled box in the garden. Here the heat, though it was still visibleto the eyes, was softened and made fragrant by the greenness of thetrees and the grass and by the perfume of the jessamine and the oldtea-roses, dropping their faintly coloured leaves in the sunshine. Fromtime to time the sounds of the city, grown melancholy and discordant, like the sounds that one hears in fever, reached me across theshimmering vagueness of the garden. 

And then as I sat there, with folded hands, there came to me, out ofsome place, so remote that it seemed a thousand miles away from thesunny stillness, and yet so near that I knew it existed only within mysoul, a sense of failure, of helplessness, of humiliation. A hundredcasual memories thronged through my mind, and all these memories, gathering significance from my imagination, plunged me deeper into thebitter despondency which had closed over my head. I saw the General, with his little, alert bloodshot eyes, like the eyes of an intelligentbulldog, with that look of stubbornness, of tenacity, persisting beneaththe sly humour that gleamed in his face, as if he were thinking alwayssomewhere far back in his brain, "I'll hang on to the death, I'll hangon to the death. " His figure, which, because of that legendary glamour Ihad seen surrounding it in childhood, still personified shining successin my eyes, appeared to add a certain horror to this sense ofhelplessness, of failure, that dragged me under. Deep down within me, down below my love for Sally or for the child, something older than anyemotion, older than any instinct except the instinct of battle, awakenedand passed from passiveness into violence. "Let me but start again inthe race, " said this something, "let me but stand once more on my feet. "The despondency, which had been at first formless and vague as meredarkness, leaped suddenly into a tangible shape, and I felt that theoppressive weight of the debt on my shoulders was the weight, not ofthought, but of metal. Until that was lifted--until I had struggledfree--I should be crippled, I told myself, not only in ambition, but inbody. 

From the detached kitchen, at the end of the short brick walk, overgrownwith wild violets, that led to it, the sound of George's laugh fell onmy ears. Rising to my feet with an effort, I stood, listening, withoutthought, to the sound, which seemed to grow vacant and sad as it floatedto me in the warm air over the sunken bricks. Then passing through thelong window, I descended the steps slowly, and stopped in the shadow ofa pink crape myrtle that grew near the kitchen doorway. Again themerriment came to me, Sally's laughter mingling this time with George's. 

"No, that will never do. This is the way, " she said, in her sparklingvoice, which reminded me always of running water. 

"Sally!" I called, and moving nearer, I paused at the kitchen step, while she came quickly forward, with some white, filmy stuff she hadjust rinsed in the tub still in her hands. 

"Why, here's Ben!" she exclaimed. "You bad boy, when I told youpositively not to get up out of that chair!"

A gingham apron was pinned over her waist and bosom, her sleeves wererolled back, and I saw the redness from the hot soapsuds rising from herhands to her elbows. 

"For God's sake, Sally, what are you doing?" I demanded, and reachingout, as I swayed slightly, I caught the lintel of the door for support. 

"I'm washing and George is splitting kindling wood, " she repliedcheerfully, shaking out the white, filmy stuff with an upward movementof her bare arms; "the boy who splits the wood never came--I think heate too many currants yesterday--and if George hadn't offered hisservices as man of all work, I dread to think what you and AuntEuphronasia would have eaten for supper. "

"It's first-rate work for the muscles, Ben, " remarked George, flingingan armful of wood on the brick floor, and kneeling beside the stove tokindle a fire in the old ashes. "I haven't a doubt but it's better forthe back and arms than horseback riding. All the same, " he added, pokingvigorously at the smouldering embers, "I'm going to wallop that boy assoon as I've got this fire started. "

"You won't have time to do that until you've delivered the day'swashing, " rejoined Sally, with merriment. 

"Yes, I shall. I'll stop on my way--that boy comes first, " returnedGeorge with a grim, if humorous, determination. 

This humour, this lightness, and above all this gallantry, which was somuch a part of the older civilisation to which they belonged, wroughtupon my disordered nerves with a feeling of anger. Here, at last, I hadrun against that "something else" of the Blands', apart from wealth, apart from position, apart even from blood, of which the General hadspoken. Miss Mitty might go in rags and do her own cooking, he had said, but as long as she possessed this "something else, " that supported her, she would preserve to the end, in defiance of circumstances, herterrible importance. 

"You know I don't care a bit what I eat, Sally!" I blurted out, in atemper. 

"Well, you may not, dear, but George and I do, " she rejoined, pinningthe white stuff on a clothes-line she had stretched between the door andthe window, "we are both interested, you see, in getting you back towork. There's the door-bell, George. You may wash your hands at the sinkand answer it. If it's the butter, bring it to me, and if it's a caller, let him wait, while I turn down my sleeves. "

Rising from his knees, George washed his hands at the sink, and went outalong the brick walk to the house, while I stood in the doorway, underthe shadow of the pink crape myrtle, and made a vow in my heart. 

"Sally, " I said at last in the agony of desperation, "you ought to havemarried George. "

With her arms still upraised to the clothes-line, she looked round at meover her shoulder. 

"He is useful in an emergency, " she admitted; "but, after all, theemergency isn't the man, you know. "

I was about to press the point home to conscience, when George, returning along the walk, announced with the mock solemnity of a footmanin livery, that the callers were Dr. Theophilus and the General, whoawaited us in the sitting-room. 

"There's no hurry, Sally, " he added; "they started over to condole withyou, I imagine, but they've both become so absorbed in discussing thisneighbourhood as it was fifty years ago, that I honestly believe they'veentirely forgotten that you live here. "

"Well, we'll have to remind them, " said Sally, with a laugh; and whenshe had rolled down her sleeves and tidied her hair before the crackedmirror on the wall, we went back to the house, where we found the twoold men engaged in a violent controversy over the departed inhabitantsof Church Hill. 

"I tell you, Theophilus, it wasn't Robert Carrington, but his brotherBushrod that lived in that house!" exclaimed the General, as we entered;and he concluded--while he shook hands with us, in the tone of one whoforever clinches an argument, "I can take you this minute straight overthere to his grave in Saint John's Churchyard. How are you, Ben, glad tosee you up, " he observed in an absent-minded manner. "Have you got apalm-leaf fan around, Sally? I can't get through these swelteringafternoons without a fan. What do you think Theophilus is arguing aboutnow? He is trying to prove to me that it was Robert Carrington, notBushrod, who lived in that big house at the top of the hill. Why, I tellyou I knew Bushrod Carrington as well as I did my own brother, sir. "

He sat far back in his chair, pursing his full red lips angrily, like awhimpering child, and fanning himself with short, excited movements ofthe palm-leaf fan. His determined, mottled face was covered thickly withfine drops of perspiration. 

"I knew Robert very intimately, " remarked the doctor, in a peaceablevoice. "He married Matty Price, and I was the best man at his wedding. They lived unhappily, I believe, but he told me on his death-bed--Iattended him in his last illness--that he would do it over again if hehad to re-live his life. 'I never had a dull minute after I married her, doctor, ' he said, 'I lived with her for forty years and I never knewwhat was coming next till she died. '"

"Robert was a fool, " commented the General, brusquely, "a longwhite-livered, studious fellow that dragged around at his wife's apronstrings. Couldn't hold a candle to his brother Bushrod. When I was aboy, Bushrod Carrington--he was nearer my father's age than mine--wasthe greatest dandy and duellist in the state. Got all his clothes inParis, and I can see him now, as plainly as if it were yesterday, whenhe used to come to church in a peachblow brocade waistcoat of a foreignfashion, and his hair shining with pomatum. Yes, he was a greatduellist--that was the age of duels. Shot a man the first year he cameback from France, didn't he?"

"A sad scamp, but a good husband, " remarked the doctor, ignoring theincident of the duel. "I remember when his first child was born, he wason his knees praying the whole time, and then when it was over he wentout and got as drunk as a lord. 'Where's Bushrod?' were the first wordshis wife spoke, and when some fool answered her, 'Bushrod's drunk, Bessy, ' she replied, like an angel, 'Poor fellow, I know he needs it. 'They were a most devoted couple, I always heard. Who was she, George?It's gone out of my mind. Was she Bessy Randolph?"

"No, Bessy Randolph was his first flame, and when she threw him over forNed Peyton, he married Bessy Tucker. They used to say that when hecouldn't get one Bessy, he took the other. Yes, he made a devotedhusband, never a wild oat to sow after his marriage. I remember when Icalled on him once, when he was living in that big house there on top ofthe hill--"

"I think you're wrong about that, George. I am sure it was Robert wholived there. When I attended him in his last illness--"

"I reckon I know where Bushrod Carrington lived, Theophilus. I've beenthere often enough. The house you're talking about is over on the otherside of the hill, and was built by Robert. "

"Well, I'm perfectly positive, George, that when I attended Robert inhis last illness--"

"His last illness be hanged! I tell you what, Theophilus, you're gettingentirely too opinionated for a man of your years. If it grows on you, you'll be having an attack of apoplexy next. Have you got a glass oficed water you can give Theophilus, Sally?"

"I'll get it, " said young George, as Sally rose, and when he had goneout in response to her nod, the General, cooling a little, glanced witha sly wink from Sally to me. "You put me in mind of Bushrod's firstflame, Bessy Randolph, my dear, " he observed; "she was a great belle andbeauty and half the men in Virginia proposed to her, they used to say, before she married Ned Peyton. 'No, I can't accept you for a husband, 'the minx would reply, 'but I think you will do very well indeed as ahanger-on. ' It looks as if you'd got George for a hanger-on, eh?"

"At present she's got him in place of a boy-of-all-jobs, " I observedrightly, though a fierce misery worked in my mind. 

"Well, she can't do better, " said the doctor, as they prepared to leave. "Let me hear how you are, Ben. Don't eat too much till you get back yourstrength, and be sure to take your egg-nog three times a day. Comealong, George, and we'll look up Robert's and Bushrod's graves in thechurchyard. You'd better bring the palm-leaf fan, you'll probably needit. "

They descended the curving steps leisurely, the General clinging to therailing on one side, and supported by George on the other. Then, atlast, after many protestations of sympathy, and not a few anecdotesforgotten until the instant of departure revived the memory, the oldgrey horse, deciding suddenly that it was time for oats and the coolstable, started of his own accord up the street toward the churchyard. As the buggy passed out of sight, with the palm-leaf fan wavingfrantically when it turned the corner, George came up the steps again, and going indoors, brought out the little bundle of lace that he was todeliver to its owner on his way home. 

"Keep up your pluck, Ben, " he said cheerfully; and turning away, helooked at Sally with a long, thoughtful gaze as he held out his hand. 

"Now, I'm going to wallop that boy, " he remarked, after a minute. "Isthere anything else? I'll be over to-morrow as soon as I can get offfrom the office. "

"Nothing else, " she replied; then, as he was moving away, she leanedforward, with that bloom and softness in her look which always came toher in moments when she was deeply stirred. "George!" she called, in alow voice, "George!"

He stopped and came back, meeting her vivid face with eyes that grewsuddenly dark and gentle. 

"It's just to say that I don't know what in the world I should have donewithout you, " she said. 

Again he turned from her, and this time he went quickly, without lookingback, along the dusty street in the direction of the car line beyond thecorner. 

"You've been up too long, Ben, and you're as white as a sheet, " saidSally, putting her hand on my arm. "Come, now, and lie down again whileAunt Euphronasia is cooking supper. I must iron Maggie Tyler's blouse assoon as it is dry. "

The mention of Maggie Tyler's blouse was all I needed to precipitate meinto the abyss above which I had stood. Too miserable to offer uselesscomment upon so obvious a tragedy, I followed her in silence back to thebedroom, where she placed me on the bed and flung a soft, thin coverletover my prostrate body. She was still standing beside me, when AuntEuphronasia hobbled excitedly into the room, and looking across thethreshold, I discerned a tall, slender figure, shrouded heavily inblack, hovering in the dim hall beyond. 

"Hi! hi! honey, hyer's Miss Mitty done come ter see you!" exclaimed AuntEuphronasia, in a burst of ecstasy. 

Sally turned with a cry, and the next instant she was clasped in MissMitty's arms, with her head hidden in the rustling crape on the oldlady's shoulder. 

"I've just heard that you were in trouble, and that your husband wasill, " said Miss Mitty, when she had seated herself in the chair by thewindow; "I came over at once, though I hadn't left the house for a yearexcept to go out to Hollywood. "

"It was so good of you, Aunt Mitty, so good of you, " replied Sally, caressing her hand. 

"If I'd only known sooner, I should have come. You are looking verybadly, my child. "

"Ben will be well quickly now, and then I can rest. "

At this she turned toward me, and enquired in a gentle, reserved wayabout my illness, the nature of the fever, and the pain from which I hadsuffered. 

"I hope you had the proper food, Ben, " she said, calling me for thefirst time by my name; "I am sorry that I could not supply you with mychicken jelly. Dr. Theophilus tells me he considers it superior to anyhe has ever tried. --even to Mrs. Clay's. "

"Comfort Sally, Miss Mitty, and it will do me more good than chickenjelly. "

For a minute she sat looking at me kindly in silence. Then, as littleBenjamin was brought, she took him upon her lap, and remarked that hewas a beautiful baby, and that she already discerned in him the look ofher Uncle Theodoric Fairfax. 

"I should like you to come to my house as soon as you are able to move, "she said presently, as she rose to go, and paused for a minute to bendover and kiss little Benjamin. "You will be more comfortable there, though the air is, perhaps, fresher over here. "

I thanked her with tears in my eyes, and a resolve in my mind that atleast Sally and the baby should accept the offer. 

"There is a basket of old port in the sitting-room; I thought it mighthelp to strengthen you, " were her last words as she passed out, withSally clinging to her arm, and the crape veil she still wore for MissMatoaca rustling as she moved. 

"Po' Miss Mitty has done breck so I 'ouldn't hev knowed her f'om dedaid, " observed Aunt Euphronasia, when the front door had closed and thesound of rapidly rolling wheels had passed down the street. 

All night Sally and I talked of her, she resisting and I entreating thatshe should go to her old home for the rest of the summer. 

"How can I leave you, Ben? How can you possibly do without me?"

"Don't bother about me. I'll manage to scrape along, somehow. There aretwo things that are killing me, Sally--the fact of owing money that Ican't pay, and the thought of your toiling like a slave over mycomfort. "

"I'll go, then, if you will come with me. "

"You know I can't come with you. She only asked me, you must realise, out of pity. "

"Well, I shan't go a step without you, " she said decisively at last, "for I don't see how on earth you would live through the summer if Idid. "

"I don't see either, " I admitted honestly, looking at her, as she stoodin the frame of the long window, the ruffles of her muslin dressing-gownblowing gently in the breeze which had sprung up in the garden. Beyondher there was a pale dimness, and the fresh, moist smell of the dew onthe grass. 

What she had said was the truth. How could I have lived through thesummer if she had left me? Since the night after my failure, when we hadcome, for the first time, face to face with each other, I had leaned onher with all the weight of my crippled strength; and this weight, instead of crushing her to the earth, appeared to add vigour andbuoyancy to her slender figure. Long afterwards, when my knowledge ofher had come at last, not through love, but through bitterness, Iwondered why I had not understood on that night, while I lay therewatching her pale outline framed by the window. Love, not meat anddrink, was her nourishment, and without love, though I were to surroundher with all the fruits of the earth, she would still be famished. Thatshe was strong, I had already learned. What I was still to discover wasthat this strength lay less in character than in emotion. Her veryendurance--her power of sustained sympathy, of sacrifice--had its birthin some strangely idealised quality of passion--as though even sufferingor duty was enkindled by this warm, clear flame that burned alwayswithin her. 

As the light broke, we were awakened, after a few hours' restless sleep, by a sharp ring at the bell; and when she had slipped into her wrapperand answered it, she came back very slowly, holding an open note in herhands. 

"Oh, poor Aunt Mitty, poor Aunt Mitty. She died all alone in her houselast night, and the servants found her this morning. "

"Well, the last thing she did was a kindness, " I said gently. 

"I'm glad of that, glad she came to see me, but, Ben, I can't helpbelieving that it killed her. She had Aunt Matoaca's heart trouble, andthe strain was too much. " Then, as I held out my arms, she clung to me, weeping. "Never leave me alone, Ben--whatever happens, never, neverleave me alone!"

 * * * * *

A few days later, when Miss Mitty's will was opened, it was found thatshe had left to Sally her little savings of the last few years, whichamounted to ten thousand dollars. The house, with her income, passedfrom her to the hospital endowed by Edmond Bland in a fit of rage withhis youngest daughter; and the old lady's canary and the cheque, whichfluttered some weeks later from the lawyer's letter, were the onlypossessions of hers that reached her niece. 

"She left the miniature of me painted when I was a child to George, "said Sally, with the cheque in her hand; "George was very good to her atthe end. Did you ever notice my miniature, framed in pearls, that shewore sometimes, in place of grandmama's, at her throat?"

I had not noticed it, and the fact that I had never seen it, and wasperfectly unaware whether or not it resembled Sally, seemed in somecurious way to increase, rather than to diminish, the jealous pain at myheart. Why should George have been given this trifle, which wasassociated with Sally, and which I had never seen?

She leaned forward and the cheque fluttered into my plate. 

"Take the money, Ben, and do what you think best with it, " she added. 

"It belongs to you. Wouldn't you rather keep it in bank as a nest-egg?"

"No, take it. I had everything of yours as long as you had anything. "

"Then it goes into bank for you all the same, " I replied, as I slippedthe paper into my pocket. 

An hour later, as I passed in the car down the long hill, I told myselfthat I would place the money to Sally's account, in order that she mightdraw on it until I had made good the strain of my illness. My firstintention had been to go into the bank on my way to the office; butglancing at my watch as I left the car, I found that it was alreadyafter nine o'clock, and so returning the cheque to my pocket, I crossedthe street, where I found the devil of temptation awaiting me in theperson of Sam Brackett. 

"I say, Ben, if you had a little cash, here's an opportunity to makeyour fortune rise, " he remarked; "I've just given George a tip and he'sgoing in. "

"You'd better keep out of it, Ben, " said George, wheeling round suddenlyafter he had nodded and turned away. "It's copper, and you know ifthere's a thing on earth that can begin to monkey when you don't expectit to, it's the copper trade. "

"Bonanza copper mining stock is selling at zero again, " commented Samimperturbably, "and if it doesn't go up like a shot, then I'm a deader. "

Whether his future was to be that of a deader or not concerned melittle; but while I stood there on the crowded pavement, with my eyes onthe sky, I had a sudden sensation, as if the burden of debt--which wasthe burden, not of thought, but of metal--had been removed from myshoulders. My first fortune had been made in copper, --why not repeat it?That one minute's sense of release, of freedom, had gone like wine to myhead. I saw stretching away from me the dull years I must spend inchains, but I saw, also, in the blessed vision which Sam Brackett hadcalled up, the single means of escape. 

"What does the General think of it, George?" I enquired. 

"He's putting in money, I believe, moderately as usual, " replied George, with a worried look on his face; "but I tell you frankly, Ben, whetherit's a good thing or not, if that's Miss Mitty's legacy, you oughtn't tospeculate with it. Sally might need it. "

"Sally needs a thousand times more, " I returned, not without irritation, "and I shall get it for her in the way I can. " Then I held out my hand. "You're a first-rate chap, George, " I added, "but just think what itwould mean to Sally if I could get out of debt at a jump. "

"I dare say, " he responded, "but I'm not sure that putting your last tenthousand dollars in the Bonanza copper mining stock is a rational way ofdoing it. "

"Such things aren't done in a rational way. The secret of successfulspeculating is to be willing to dare everything for something. Sam's gotfaith in the Bonanza, and he knows a hundred times as much about it asyou or I. "

"If it doesn't rise, " said Sam emphatically, "then I'm a deader. "

I still saw the dull years stretching ahead, and I still felt thetangible weight on my shoulders of the two hundred thousand dollars Iowed. The old prostrate instinct of the speculator, which is but thegambler's instinct in better clothes, lifted its head within me. 

"Well, it won't do any harm to go into Townley's and find out about it, "I said, moving in the direction of the broker's office next door. 

CHAPTER XXX

IN WHICH SALLY PLANS

My first sensation after putting Sally's ten thousand dollars intocopper mining stock was one of immense relief, almost of exhilaration, as if I already heard in my fancy the clanking of the loosened chains asthey dropped from me. I recalled, one by one, the incidents of myearliest "risky" and yet fortunate venture, when, following theGeneral's advice, I had gone in boldly, and after a short period ofbreathless fluctuation, had "realised, " as he had said, "a nice littlefortune for a first hatching. " And because this seemed to me the singlemeans of recovery, because I had so often before in my life been guidedby some infallible instinct to seize the last chance that in the outcomehad proved to be the right way, I felt now that reliance upon fortune, that assurance of the thing hoped for, which was as much a portion ofexperience as it was a quality of temperament. 

At home, when I reached there late in the afternoon, I found Sally juststepping out of the General's buggy, while the great man, sacrificinggallantry to the claims of gout, sat, under his old-fashioned linen dustrobe, holding the slackened reins over the grey horse. 

"We've got a beautiful plan, Ben, the General and I, " remarked Sally, when he had driven away, and we were entering the house; "but it's asecret, and you're not to know of it until it is ready to be divulged. "

"Is George aware of it?" I asked irrelevantly, moved by I know not whatspirit of averseness. 

"Yes, we've let George into it, but I'm not perfectly sure that heapproves. The idea came to the General and to me almost at the sameinstant, and that is a very good thing to be said of any idea. It provesit to be an elastic one anyway. "

She talked merrily through supper, breaking into smiles from time totime, caressing evidently this idea, which was so elastic, and which shedeclined provokingly to divulge. But I, also, had my secret, for mymind, responding to the springs of hope, toyed ceaselessly with thepossibility of escape. For several weeks this dream of ultimate freedompossessed my thoughts, and then, at last, when the copper trade, insteadof reviving, seemed paralysed for a season, I awakened with a shock, tothe knowledge that I had lost Sally's little fortune as irretrievably asI appeared to have lost my larger one. Clearly my financial genius wasasleep, or off assisting at a sacrifice; and it did little good, as Itoiled home in the afternoon, to curse myself frantically for a perverseand a thankless brute. It was too late now; I had played the fool oncetoo often and the money was gone. Was my brain weakened permanently bythe fever, I wondered? Had the muscles of my will dwindled away andgrown flabby, like the muscles of my body?

As I left the car, a group of school children ran along the pavement infront of me, and then scattering like pigeons, fluttered after a big, old-fashioned barouche that had turned the corner. When it came nearer, I saw that the barouche was the General's, a piece of family propertywhich had descended to him from his father, and that the great man nowsat on the deep, broadcloth-covered cushions, his legs very far apart, his hands clasped on his gold-headed walking-stick, and his square, mottled face staring straight ahead, with that look of tenacity, as ifhe were saying somewhere back in his brain, "I'll hang on to the death. "

Before our door, where Sally was waiting in her hat and veil, thebarouche drew up with a flourish; Balaam, the old negro coachman, settled himself for a doze on the box, and the pair of fat roans beganswitching their long tails in the faces of the swarming school children. 

"So you're just in time, Ben, " remarked the General, while he hobbledout in order to help Sally in. "I thought you'd have been at home atleast an hour ago. Meant to come earlier, but something went wrong atthe stables. Something always is wrong at the stables. I wouldn't be inGeorge's shoes for a mint of money. Never a day passes that he isn'tfussing about his horses, or his traps, or his groom. Well, you'reready, Sally? I like a woman who is punctual, and I never in my lifeknew but one who was. That was your Aunt Matoaca. You get it from her, Isuppose. Ah, _she_ never kept you waiting a minute, --no fussing aboutgloves or fans or handkerchiefs. Always just ready when you came forher, and looking like an angel. Never saw her in a rose-lined bonnet, did you, my dear?"

"Only in black, General, " replied Sally, as she took her seat in thebarouche. "Come, get in, Ben, we're going to reveal our secret at last, and we want you to be with us. "

The General got in again with difficulty, groaning a little; I enteredand sat down opposite to them, with my back to the horses; and the oldnegro coachman, disappointed at the length of the wait, pulled the reinsgently and gave a slight, admonishing flick at the broad flanks of theroans. Behind the barouche the school children still fluttered, andturning in his seat, the General looked back angrily and threatened themwith a wave of his big ebony walking-stick. 

"What is it, Sally?" I asked, striving to force a curiosity mywretchedness prevented me from feeling; "can't you unfold the mystery?"

"Be patient, be patient, " she responded gaily, leaning back beside theGeneral, as we rolled down the wide street under the wilted, dustyleaves of the trees. "Haven't you noticed for weeks that the General andI have had a secret?"

"Yes, I've noticed it, but I thought you'd tell me when the time came. "

"We shan't tell him, shall we, General?--We'll show him. "

"Ah, there's time enough, time enough, " returned the General, absent-mindedly, for he had not been listening. His resolute, bulldogface, flushed now by the heat and covered with a fine perspiration, hadtaken on an absorbed and pondering look. "I never come along here thatit doesn't put me back at least fifty years, " he observed, leaning overhis side of the barouche, and peering down one of the side streets thatled past the churchyard. "Sorry they've been meddling with that oldchurch. Better have left it as it used to be in my boyhood. Do you seethat little house there, set back in the yard, with the chimneycrumbling to pieces? That was the first school I ever went to, and itwas taught by old Miss Deborah Timberlake, the sister of WilliamTimberlake who shot all those stags' heads you've got hanging in yourhall. Nobody ever knew why she taught school. Plenty to eat and drink. William gave her everything that she wanted, but she got cranky whenshe'd turned sixty, and insisted on being independent. Independent, shesaid! Pish! Tush. Never learned a word from her. Taught us Englishhistory, then Virginia history. As for the rest of America, she used tosay it didn't have a history, merely a past. Mentioned the Boston teaparty once by mistake, and had to explain that _that_ was an incident, not history. Well, well, it seems a thousand years ago. Never couldunderstand, to save my life, why she took to teaching. Had all shewanted. Her brother William was an odd man. A fine toast. I never hearda better story--I remember them even as a boy--and often enough I've gotthem off since his death. Used to ill-treat his slaves, though, theysaid, and had queer ideas about women and property. Married his wife whodidn't have a red penny, and on his wedding journey, when she called himby his name, replied to her, 'Madam, my dependants are accustomed toaddress me as Mr. Timberlake. ' Ha, ha! a queer bird was William. "

The street was the one down which I had passed so many years ago, wedgedtightly between my mother and Mrs. Kidd, to the funeral of old Mr. Cudlip; and it seemed to me that it held unchanged, as if it hadstagnated there between the quaint old houses, that same atmosphere ofsadness, of desolation. The houses, still half closed, appeared all butdeserted; the aged negresses, staring after us under their hollowedpalms, looked as if they had stood there forever. Progress, which hadinvaded the neighbouring quarters, had left this one, as yet, undisturbed. 

Opposite to me, Sally smiled with beaming eyes when she met my gaze. Iknew that she was hugging her secret, and I knew, in some intuitive way, that she expected this secret to afford me pleasure. The General, peering from right to left in search of associations, kept moving hislips as if he were thinking aloud. On his face, in the deep creaseswhere the perspiration had gathered, the dust, rising from the street, had settled in greyish streaks. From time to time, in an absent-mindedmanner, he got out his big white silk handkerchief and wiped it away. 

"There now! I've got it! Hold on a minute, Balaam. That's the house thatRobert Carrington built clean over here on the other side of the hill. There it is now--the one with that pink crape myrtle in the yard, andthe four columns, you can see it with your own eyes. Theophilus tried toprove to me that Robert lived in Bushrod's house, and that he'd attendedhim there in his last illness. Last illness, indeed! The truth is thatTheophilus isn't what he once was. Memory's going and he doesn't like toown it. No use arguing with him--you can't argue with a man whose memoryis going--but there's Robert Carrington's house. You've seen it withyour own eyes. Drive on, Balaam. "

Balaam drove on; and the carriage, leaving the city and the thinningsuburbs, passed rapidly into one of the country roads, white with dust, which stretched between ragged borders of yarrow and pokeberry that werewhite with dust also. The fields on either side, sometimes planted incorn, oftener grown wild in broomsedge or life-everlasting, shimmeredunder the heat, which was alive with the whirring of innumerableinsects. Here and there a negro cabin, built close to the road, stoodbare in a piece of burned-out clearing, or showed behind the thickfanlike leaves of gourd vines, with the heads of sunflowers noddingheavily beside the open doorways. Occasionally, in the first few miles, a covered wagon crawled by us on its way to town, the driver leaning farover the dusty horses, and singing out "Howdy!" in a friendly voice, --towhich the General invariably responded "Howdy, " in the same tone, as hetouched the wide brim of his straw hat with his ebony stick. 

"Hasn't got on the scent, has he?" he enquired presently of Sally, witha sly wink in my direction. "Are you sure George hasn't let it out?Never could keep a secret, could George. He's one of those close-mouthedfellows that shuts a thing up so tight it explodes before he's aware ofit. He can't hide anything from me. I read him just as if he were abook. It's as well, I reckon, as I told him the other day, that he isn'tstill in love with your wife, Ben, or it would be written all over himas plain as big print. "

My eyes caught Sally's, and she blushed a clear, warm pink to the heavywaves of her hair. 

"Not that he'd ever be such a rascal as to keep up a fancy for a marriedwoman, " pursued the great man, unseeing and unthinking. "TheBolingbrokes may have been wild, but they've always been men of honour, and even if they've played fast and loose now and then with a woman, they have never tried to pilfer anything that belonged to another man. "

"I think we're coming to it, " said Sally suddenly, trying to turn theconversation to lighter matters. 

"Ah, so we are, so we are. That's a good view of the river, and there'sthe railroad station at the foot of the hill not a half mile away. It'sthe very thing you need, Ben, it will be the making of you and of theyoungster, as I said to Sally when the idea first entered my mind. "

The barouche made a quick turn into a straight lane bordered by oldlocust trees, and stopped a few minutes later before a square red brickcountry house, with four white columns supporting the portico, and abower of ancient ivy growing over the roof. 

"Here we are at last! Oh, Ben, don't you like it?" said Sally, springingto the ground before the horses had stopped. 

"Like it? Of course he likes it, " returned the General, impatiently, ashe got out and followed her between the rows of calycanthus bushes thatedged the walk. "What business has he got not to like it after all thetrouble we've been to on his account? It's the very thing for hishealth--that's what I said to you, my dear, as soon as I heard of MissMitty's legacy. 'The old Bending place is for sale and will go cheap, ' Isaid. 'Why not move out into the country and give Ben and the youngstera chance to breathe fresh air? He's beginning to look seedy and freshair will set him up. '"

"But I really don't believe he likes it, " rejoined Sally, a littlewistfully, turning, as she reached the columns of the portico, andlooking doubtfully into my face. 

"You know I like anything that you like, Sally, " I answered in a voicewhich, I knew, sounded flat and unenthusiastic, in spite of my effort;"it's a fine house and there's a good view of the river, I dare say, atthe back. "

"I thought it would please you, Ben. It seemed to the General and me thevery best thing we could do with Aunt Mitty's money. "

There was a hurt look in her eyes; her mouth trembled as she spoke, andall the charming mystery had fled from her manner. If we had been aloneI should have opened my arms to her, and have made my confession withher head on my shoulder; but the square, excited figure of the General, who kept marching aimlessly up and down between the calycanthus bushes, put the restraint of a terrible embarrassment upon my words. Tell her Imust, and yet how could I tell her while the little cynical bloodshoteyes of the great man were upon us?

"Let's go to the back. We can see the river from the terrace, " she said, and there was a touching disappointment in her smile and her voice. 

"Yes, we'll go to the back, " responded the General, with eagerness. "Follow this path, Ben, the one that leads round the west wing, " and headded when we had turned the corner of the house, and stopped on thetrim terrace, covered with beds of sweet-william and foxglove, "What doyou think of that for a view now? If those big poplars were out of theway, you could see clear down to Merrivale, the old Smith place, where Iused to go as a boy. "

Meeting the disappointment in Sally's look, I tried to rise valiantly tothe occasion; but it was evident, even while I uttered my empty phrases, that to all of us, except the General, the mystery had been blighted bysome deadly chill in the very instant of its unfolding. The great manalone, with that power of ignoring the obvious, which had contributed solargely to his success, continued his running comments in his cheerful, dogmatic tone. Some twenty minutes later, when, after an indifferentinspection of the house on our part, and a vigilant one on theGeneral's, we rolled back again in the barouche over the dusty road, hewas still perfectly unaware that the surprise he had sprung had not beenattended by a triumph of pleasure for us all. 

"You're foolish, my dear, about those big poplars, " he said a dozentimes, while he sat staring, with an unseeing gaze, at the thin red lineof the sunset over the corn-fields. "They ought to come down, and thenyou could see clean to the old Smith place, where I used to go as a boy. I learned to shoot there. Fell in love, too, when I wasn't more thantwelve with Miss Lucy Smith, my first flame--pretty as a pink, all theboys were in love with her. "

Sally's hand stole into mine under the muslin ruffles of her dress, andher eyes, when she looked at me, held a soft, deprecating expression, asif she were trying to understand, and could not, how she had hurt me. When at last we came to our own door and the General, after insistingagain that the only improvement needed to the place was that the bigpoplars should come down, had driven serenely away in his big barouche, we ascended the steps in silence, and entered the sitting-room, whichwas filled with the pale gloom of twilight. While I lighted the lamp, she waited in the centre of the room, with the soft, deprecatingexpression still in her eyes. 

"What is it, Ben?" she asked, facing the lamp as I turned; "did you mindmy keeping the idea a secret? Why, I thought that would please you. "

"It isn't that, Sally, it isn't that, --but--I've lost the money. "

"Lost it, Ben?"

"I saw what I thought was a good chance to speculate--and I speculated. "

"You speculated with the ten thousand dollars?"

"Yes. "

"And lost it?"

"Yes. "

For a moment her face was inscrutable. 

"When did it happen?"

"I found out to-day that it was gone beyond hope of recovery. "

"Then you haven't known it all along and kept it from me?"

"I was going to tell you as soon as I came up this afternoon, but theGeneral was here. "

"I am glad of that, " she said quietly. "If you had kept anything from meand worried over it, it would have broken my heart. "

"Sally, I have been a fool. "

"Yes, dear. "

"Heaven knows, I don't mean to add to your troubles, but when I think ofall that I've brought you to, I feel as if I should go out of my mind. "

She put her hand on my arm, smiling up at me with her old sparklinggaiety. "Come and sit down by me, and we'll have a cup of tea, andyou'll feel better. But first I must tell you that I am a terriblyextravagant person, Ben, for I paid another dollar and a quarter for apound of tea this morning. "

"Thank heaven for it, " I returned devoutly. 

"And there's something else. I feel my sins growing on me. Do youremember last winter, when you were worrying so over your losses, anddidn't know where you could turn for cash--do you remember that I paidfive thousand dollars--five thousand dollars, you understand, and that'shalf of ten--for a lace gown?"

"Did you, darling?"

"Do you remember what you said?"

"'Thank you for the privilege of paying for it, ' I hope. "

"You paid the bill, and never told me I oughtn't to have bought it. Whatyou said was, 'I'm awfully glad you've got such a becoming dress, because business is going badly, and we may have to pull up for awhile. ' Then I found out from George that you'd sold your motor car, andeverything else you could lay hands on to meet the daily expenses. Now, Ben, tell me honestly which is the worse sinner, you or I?"

"But that was my fault, too--everything was my fault. "

"The idea of your committing the extravagance of a lace gown! Why, youcouldn't even tell the difference between imitation and real. And thatpound of tea! You know you'd never have gone out and spent your lastdollar and a quarter on a pound of tea. "

"If you'd wanted it, Sally. "

"Well, you speculated with that ten thousand dollars from exactly thesame motive--because you thought I wanted so much that I didn't have. But I bought that gown entirely to gratify my vanity--so you see, afterall, I'm a great deal the worse sinner of us two. There, now, I must seeabout the baby. He was very fretful all the morning, and the doctor saysit is the heat. I'm sure, Ben, that he ought to get out of the city. Howcan we manage it?"

"I'll manage it, dear. The General will be only too glad to lend themoney. I'll go straight over and explain matters to him. "

A cry came from little Benjamin in the nursery, and kissing me hurriedlywith, "Remember, I'm a sinner, Ben, " she left the room, while I took upmy hat again, and went up-town to make my confession to the General andrequest his assistance. 

"Lend it to you, you scamp!" he exclaimed, when I found him on his frontporch with a palm-leaf fan in his hand. "Of course, I'll lend it to you;but why in the deuce were you so blamed cheerful this afternoon aboutthat house in the country? I could have sworn you were in a gale overthe idea. Here, Hatty, bring me a pen. I can see perfectly well by thisdamned electric light they've stuck at my door. Well, I'm sorry enough, for you, Ben. It's hard on your wife, and she's the kind of woman thatmakes a man believe in the angels. Her Aunt Matoaca all over--you know, George, I always told you that Sally Mickleborough was the image of herAunt Matoaca. "

"I know you did, " replied George, twirling the end of his mustache. Helooked tired and anxious, and it seemed to me suddenly that the wholecity, and every face in it, under the white blaze of the electric light, had this same tired and anxious expression. 

I took the cheque, put it into my pocket with a word of thanks, andturned to the steps. 

"I can't stay, General, while the baby is ill. Sally may need me. "

"Well, you're right, Ben, stick to her when she needs you, and you'llfind she'll stick to you. I've always said that gratitude countedstronger in the sex than love. "

As I went down the steps George joined me, and walked with me to the carline. The look on his face brought to my memory the night I had seen himstaring moodily across the roses and lilies at Sally's bare shoulders, and the same fierce instinct of possession gnawed in my heart. 

"Look here, Ben, I can't bear to think of the way things are going withSally, " he said. 

"I can't bear to think of it myself, " I returned gloomily. 

"If there's ever anything I can do--remember I am at your service. "

"I'll remember it, George, " I answered, angry with myself because mygratitude was shot through with a less noble feeling. "I'll remember it, and I thank you, too. "

"Then it's a bargain. You won't let her suffer because you're too proudto take help?"

"No, I won't let her suffer if I have to beg to prevent it. Haven't Ijust done so?"

He held out his hand, I wrung it in mine, and then, as I got on the car, he turned away and walked at his lazy step back along the block. Lookingfrom the car window, as it passed on, I saw his slim, straight figuremoving, with bent head, as if plunged in thought, under the electriclight at the corner. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DEEPEST SHADOW

As I entered the house, the sound of Aunt Euphronasia's crooning fell onmy ears, and going into the nursery, I found Sally sitting by thewindow, with the child on her knees, while the old negress waved apalm-leaf fan back and forth with a slow, rhythmic movement. Anight-lamp burned, with lowered wick, on the bureau, and as Sally lookedup at me, I saw that her face had grown wan and haggard since I had lefther. 

"The baby was taken very ill just after you went, " she said; "we feareda convulsion, and I sent one of the neighbours' children for the doctor. It may be only the heat, he says, but he is coming again at midnight. "

"I had hoped you would be able to get off in the morning. "

"No, not now. The baby is too ill. In a few days, perhaps, if he isbetter. "

Her voice broke, and kneeling beside her, I clasped them both in myarms, while the anguish in my heart rose suddenly like a wild beast tomy throat. 

"What can I do, Sally?" I asked passionately. "What can I do?"

"Nothing, dear, nothing. Only be quiet. "

Only be quiet! Rising to my feet I walked softly to the end of the room, and then turning came back again to the spot where I had knelt. At themoment I longed to knock down something, to strangle something, to pullto earth and destroy as a beast destroys in a rage. Through the openwindow I could see a full moon shining over a magnolia, and the verysoftness and quiet of the moonlight appeared, in some strange way, toincrease my suffering. A faint breeze, scented with jessamine, blewevery now and then from the garden, rising, dying away, and risingagain, until it waved the loosened tendrils of hair on Sally's neck. Theodour, also, like the moonlight, mingled, while I stood there, and wasmade one with the anguish in my thoughts. Again I walked the length ofthe room, and again I turned and came back to the window beside whichSally sat. My foot as I moved stumbled upon something soft and round, and stooping to pick it up, I saw that it was a rubber doll, dropped bylittle Benjamin when he had grown too ill or too tired to play. I laidit in Sally's work-basket on the table, and then throwing off my coat, flung myself into a chair in one corner. A minute afterwards I rose, andwalking gently through the long window, looked on the garden, which laydim and fragrant under the moonlight. On the porch, twining in and outof the columns, the star jessamine, riotous with its second blooming, swayed back and forth like a curtain; and as I bent over, the small, white, deadly sweet blossoms caressed my face. A white moth whirred byme into the room, and when I entered again, I saw that it was flyingswiftly in circles, above the flame of the night-lamp on the bureau. Sally was sitting just as I had left her, her arm under the child'shead, her face bent forward as if listening to a distant, almostinaudible sound. She appeared so still, so patient, that I wondered inamazement if she had sat there for hours, unchanged, unheeding, unapproachable? There was in her attitude, in her pensive quiet, something so detached and tragic, that I felt suddenly that I had neverreally seen her until that minute; and instead of going to her as I hadintended, I drew away, and stood on the threshold watching her almost asa stranger might have done. Once the child stirred and cried, liftinghis little hands and letting them fall again with the same short cry ofdistress. The flesh of my heart seemed to tear suddenly asunder, and Isprang forward. Sally looked up at me, shook her head with a slow, quietmovement, and I stopped short as if rooted there by the single step Ihad taken. After ten years I remember every detail, every glimmer oflight, every fitful rise and fall of the breeze, as if, not visualobjects only, but scents, sounds, and movements, were photographedindelibly on my brain. I know that the white moth fluttered about myhead, and that raising my hand, I caught it in my palm, which closedover it with violence. Then the cry from little Benjamin came again, andopening my palm, I watched the white moth fall dead, with crushed wings, to the floor. When I forget all else in my life, I shall still see Sallysitting motionless, like a painted figure, in the faint, reddish glow ofthe night-lamp, while above her, and above the little waxen face on herknee, the shadow, of the palm-leaf fan, waved by Aunt Euphronasia, flitted to and fro like the wing of a bat. 

At midnight the doctor came, and when he left, I followed him to thefront steps. 

"I'll come again at dawn, " he said, "and in the meantime look out foryour wife. She's been strained to the point of breaking. "

"You think, then, that the child is--is hopeless?"

"Not hopeless, but very serious. I'll be back in a few hours. If there'sa change, send for me, and remember, as I said, look out for your wife. "

I went indoors, found some port wine left in Miss Mitty's bottles, poured out a glass, and carried it to her. 

"Drink this, darling, " I said. 

As I held it to her lips, she swallowed it obediently, and then, lookingup, she thanked me with her unfailing smile. 

 "Oh, we'll drink outer de healin' fountain, by en bye, lil' chillun, "

crooned Aunt Euphronasia softly, and the tune has rung ever afterwardssomewhere in my brain. To escape from it at the time, I went out uponthe front steps, closed the door, and walked, restless as a caged tiger, up and down the deserted pavement. A homeless dog or two, panting fromthirst, lay in the gutter; otherwise there was not a sound, not a livingthing, from end to end of the long dusty street. 

For two hours I walked up and down there, entering the house from timeto time to see if Sally needed me, or if she had moved. Then, as thelight broke feebly, the doctor came, and we went in together. Sally wasstill sitting there, as she had sat all night, rigid in the dim glow ofthe lamp, and over her Aunt Euphronasia still waved the palm-leaf fanwith its black, flitting shadow. Then, as we crossed the threshold, there was a sudden sharp cry, and when I sprang forward and caught themboth in my arms, I found that Sally had fainted and the child was deadon her knees. 

 * * * * *

We buried the child in the old Bland section at Hollywood, where asingle twisted yew-tree grew between the graves, obliterated by ivy, ofEdmond Bland and his wife, Caroline Matilda, born Fairfax. On the wayhome Sally sat rigid and tearless, with her hand in mine, and her eyesfixed on the drawn blinds of the carriage, as though she were staringintently through the closed window at something that fascinated and heldher gaze in the dusty street. 

"Does your head ache, darling?" I asked once, and she made a quick, half-impatient gesture of denial, with that strained, rapt look, as ifshe were seeing a vision, still in her face. Only when we reached home, and Aunt Euphronasia met her with outstretched arms on the threshold, did this agonised composure break down in passionate weeping on the oldnegress's shoulder. 

The strength which had upheld her so long seemed suddenly to havedeparted, and all night she wept on my breast, while I fanned her in thehot air, which had grown humid and close. Not until the dawn had brokendid my arm drop powerless with sleep, and the fan fell on the pillow. Then I slept for an hour, worn out with grief and exhaustion, and whenpresently I awoke with a start, I saw that she had left my side, andthat her muslin dressing-gown was missing from the chintz-covered chairwhere it had lain. When I called her in alarm, she came through thedoorway that led to the kitchen, freshly dressed, with a coffeepot inher hand. 

"For God's sake, Sally, " I implored, "don't make coffee for me!"

"I've made it, dear, " she answered. "I couldn't let you go out without amouthful to eat. You did not sleep a wink. "

"And you?" I demanded. 

"I didn't sleep either, but then I can rest all day. " Her lip trembledand she pressed her teeth into it. "By the time you are dressed, Ben, breakfast will be ready. "

Her eyes were red and swollen, her mouth pale and tremulous, all herradiant energy seemed beaten out of her; yet she spoke almostcheerfully, and there was none of the slovenliness of sorrow in herfresh and charming appearance. I dressed quickly, and going into thesitting-room, drank the coffee she had made because I knew it wouldplease her. When it was time for me to start, she went with me to thedoor, and turning midway of the block, I saw her standing on the steps, smiling after me, with the sun in her eyes, like the ghost of herself asshe had stood and smiled the morning after my failure. In the evening Ifound her paler, thinner, more than ever like the wan shadow of herself, yet meeting me with the same brave cheerfulness with which she had sentme forth. Could I ever repay her? I asked myself passionately, could Iever forget?

The dreary summer weeks dragged by like an eternity; the autumn came andpassed, and at the first of the year I was sent down, with a salary often thousand dollars, to build up traffic on the Tennessee and CarolinaRailroad, which the Great South Midland and Atlantic had absorbed. Sallywent with me, but she was so languid and ill that the change, instead ofinvigorating her, appeared to exhaust her remaining vitality. She livedonly when I was with her, and when I came in unexpectedly, as I didsometimes, I would find her lying so still and cold on the couch that Iwould gather her to me in a passion of fear lest she should elude thelighter grasp with which I had held her. Never, not even in hergirlhood, had I loved her with the intensity, the violence, of thosemonths when I hardly dared clasp her to me in my terror that she mightdissolve and vanish from my embrace. Then, at last, when the springcame, and the woods were filled with flowering dogwood and red-bud, sheseemed to revive a little, to bloom softly again, like a flower thatopens the sweeter and fresher after the storm. 

"Is it the mild air, or the spring flowers?" I asked one afternoon, aswe drove through the Southern woods, along a narrow deserted road thatsmelt of the budding pines. 

"Neither, Ben, it is you, " she replied. "I have had you all thesemonths. Without that I could not have lived. "

"You have had me, " I answered, "ever since the first minute I saw yourface. You have had me always. "

"Not always. During those years of your great success I thought I hadlost you. "

"How could you, Sally, when it was all for you, and you knew it?"

"It may have been for me in the beginning, but success, when it came, crowded me out. It left me no room. That's why I didn't really mind thefailure, dear, and the poverty--that's why I don't now really mind thisburden of debt. Success took you away from me, failure brings you thecloser. And when you go from me, Ben, there's something in me, I don'tknow what--something, like Aunt Matoaca in my blood--that rises up andrebels. If things had gone on like that, if you hadn't come back, Ishould have grown hard and indifferent. I should have found some otherinterest. "

"Some other interest?" I repeated, while my heart throbbed as if a spasmof memory contracted it. 

"Oh, of course, I don't know now just what I mean--but when I look back, I realise that I couldn't have stood many years like that with nothingto fill them. I'd have done something desperate, if it was only goingover gates after Bonny. There's one thing they taught me, though, Ben, "she added, "and that is that poor Aunt Matoaca was right. "

"Right in what, Sally?"

"Right in believing that women must have larger lives--that they mustn'tbe expected to feed always upon their hearts. You tell them to let lovefill their lives, and then when the lives are swept bare and clean ofeverything else, in place of love you leave mere vacancy--just merevacancy and nothing but that. How can they fill their lives with lovewhen love isn't there--when it's off in the stock market or therailroad, or wherever its practical affairs may be?"

"But it comes back in the evening. "

"Yes, it comes back in the evening and falls asleep over its cigar. "

"Well, you've got me now, " I responded cheerfully, "there's no doubt ofthat, you've got me now. "

"That's why I'm getting well. How delicious the pines are! and look atthe red-bud flowering there over the fence! It may be wicked of me, but, do you know--I've never been really able to regret that you lost yourmoney. "

"It is rather wicked, dear, to rejoice in my misery. "

"I didn't say I 'rejoiced'--only that I couldn't regret. How can Iregret it when the money came so between us?"

"But it didn't, Sally, if you could only understand! I loved you just asmuch all that time as I do now. "

"But how was I to be sure, when you didn't want to be with me?"

"I did want to be with you--only there was always something else thathad to be done. "

"And the something else came always before me. But my life, you see, wasswept bare and clean of everything except you. "

"I had to work, Sally, I had to follow my ambition. "

"You work now, but it is different. I don't mind this because it isn'tworking with madness. Just as you felt that you wanted your ambition, Ben, I felt that I wanted love. I was made so, I can't help it. LikeAunt Matoaca, my life has been swept and garnished for that one guest, and if it were ever to fail me, I'd--I'd go wild like Aunt Matoaca, Isuppose. "

A red bird flew out of the pines across the road, and lifting her eyes, she followed its flight with a look in which there was a curiousblending of sadness with passion. The truth of her words came home tome, with a quiver of apprehension, while I looked at her face, and bysome curious freak of memory there flashed before me the image of GeorgeBolingbroke as he had bent over to lay the blossom of sweet alyssumbeside her plate. In all those months George, not I, had been there, Iremembered, and some fierce resentment, which was half jealousy, halfremorse, made me answer her almost with violence as my arm went abouther. 

"But you had the big things always, and it is the big things that countin the end. "

"Yes, the big things count in the end. I used to tell myself that whenyou forgot all the anniversaries. You remember them now. "

"I have time to think now, then I hadn't. " As I uttered the words I wasconscious of a sudden depression, of a poignant realisation of what this"time to think" signified in my life. The smart of my failure was stillthere, and I had known hours of late when my balked ambition was like awild thing crying for freedom within me. The old lust of power, thepassion for supremacy, still haunted my dreams, or came back to me atmoments like this, when I drove with Sally through the restless pines, and smelt those vague, sweet scents of the spring, which stirredsomething primitive and male in my heart. The fighter and the dreamer, having fought out their racial battle to a finish, were now merged intoone. 

We drove home slowly, the lights of the little Southern village shiningbrightly through a cloudless atmosphere ahead--and the lights, like thespring scents and the restless soughing of the pines, deepened the senseof failure, of incompleteness, from which I suffered. My career showedto me as suddenly cut off and broken, like a road the making of whichhas stopped short halfway up a hill. Did she discern this restlessnessin me, I wondered, this ceaseless ache which resembled the ache ofmuscles that have been long unused?

After this the months slipped quietly by, one placid week succeedinganother in a serene and cloudless monotony. Sally had few friends, therewere no women of her own social position in the place; yet she was neverlonely, never bored, never in search of distraction. 

"I love it here, Ben, " she said once, "it is so peaceful, just you andI. "

"You'd tire of it before long, and you'll be glad enough to go back toRichmond when next spring comes. "

At the time she did not protest, but when the following spring began tounfold, and we prepared to return to Virginia in May, there wassomething pensive and wistful in her parting from the little village andfrom the people who had been kind to her in the year she had spentthere. We had taken several rooms in the house of Dr. Theophilus, whowas supported in his prodigality in roses only by the strenuous picklingand preserving of Mrs. Clay; and as we drove, on a warm May afternoon, up the familiar street from the station, I tried in vain to arouse inher some of the interest, the animation, that she had lost. 

"You'll be glad to see the doctor and Bonny and George, " I said. 

"Yes, I'll be glad to see the doctor and Bonny and George. There is thehouse now, and look, the doctor is in his garden. "

He had seen us before she spoke, for glancing up meditatively fromworking a bed of bleeding hearts near the gate, his dim old eyes, overtheir lowered spectacles, had been attracted to the approachingcarriage. Rising to his feet, he came rapidly to the pavement, histrowel still in hand, his outstretched arms trembling with pleasure. 

"Well, well, so here you are. It's good to see you. Tina, they have comesooner than we expected them. Moses" (to a little negro, who appearedfrom behind the currant bushes, where he had been digging), "take thebags upstairs to the front rooms and tell your Miss Tina that they havecome sooner than we expected them. "

As Moses darted off on his errand, in which he was assisted by the negrocoachman, Dr. Theophilus led us back into the garden, and placed Sallyin a low canvas chair, which he had brought from the porch to a shadyspot between a gorgeous giant of battle rose-bush and a bed of bleedinghearts in full bloom. 

"Come and sit down, my dear, come and sit down, " he repeated, fussingabout her. "Tina will give you a cup of tea out here before you go toyour rooms, and Ben and I will take our juleps before supper. I've beenworking in my garden, you see; there's nothing so satisfying in old ageas a taste for flowers. It's more absorbing than chess, as I tellGeorge--old George, I mean--and it's more soothing than children. Wereyou far enough South, my dear, to see the yellow jessamine grow wild?They tell me, too, that the Marshal Niel rose runs there up to the roofsof the houses. With us it is a very delicate rose. I have never beenable to do anything with it, --but I have had a great success this yearwith my bleeding hearts, you will notice. Ah, there's Tina! So you see, Tina, here they are. They came sooner than we expected. "

From the low white porch, under a bower of honeysuckle, Mrs. Clayappeared, with a cup of tea and a silver basket of sponge snowballswhich she placed before Sally on a small green table; and immediately atroop of slate-coloured pigeons fluttered from the mimosa tree and theclipped yew at the end of the garden, and began pecking greedily in thegravelled walk. 

"I'm glad you've come, my dears, " remarked the old lady in her brusque, honest manner, "and I hope to heaven that you will be able to takeTheophilus's mind off his flowers. I declare he has grown so besottedabout them that I believe he'd sell the very clothes off his back to buya new variety of rose or lily. Only a week ago he took back a dozensocks I had given him because he said he'd rather have the money tospend in a strange kind of iris he'd just heard of. "

"A most remarkable plant, " observed the doctor, with enthusiasm, "thepeculiarity of which is that it is smaller and less attractive to thevulgar eye than the common iris, of which I have a great number growingat the end of the garden. Don't listen to Tina, my children, she's acynic, and no cynic can understand the philosophy of gardening. It wasone of the wisest of men, though a trifle unorthodox, I admit, whoadvised us to cultivate our garden. A pessimist he may have been beforehe took up the trowel, but a cynic--never. "

"I am not complaining of the trowel, Theophilus, " observed Mrs. Clay, "though when it comes to that I don't see why a trowel and a bed ofroses is any more philosophic than a ladle and a kettle of pickles. "

"Perhaps not, Tina, perhaps not, " chuckled the doctor, "but yours is apractical mind, and there's nothing, I've always said, like a practicalmind for seeing things crooked. It suits a crooked world, I suppose, andthat's why it usually manages to get on so well in it. "

"And I'd like to know how you see things, Theophilus, " sniffed Mrs. Clay, whose temper was rising. 

"I see them as they are, Tina, which isn't in the very least as theyappear, " rejoined the good man, unruffled. 

He bent forward, made a lunge with his trowel at a solitary blade ofgrass growing in the bed of bleeding hearts, and after uprooting it, returned with a tranquil face to his garden chair. 

But Mrs. Clay, having, as he had said, a practical mind, merely sniffedwhile she wiped off the small green table with a red-bordered napkin andscattered the crumbs of sponge-cake to the greedy slate-colouredpigeons. 

"If I judged you by what you appear, Theophilus, " she retorted, crushingly, "I should have judged you for a fool on the day you wereborn. "

This sally, which was delivered with spirit, afforded the doctor anevident relish. 

"If you knew your Juvenal, my dear, " he responded, with perfect goodhumour, "you would remember: _Fronti nulla fides_. "

Rising from his seat, he stooped fondly over the bed of bleeding hearts, and gathering a few blossoms, presented them to Sally, with a courtlybow. 

"A favourite flower of mine. My poor mother was always very partial toit, " he remarked. 

CHAPTER XXXII

I COME TO THE SURFACE

It was a bright June day, I remember, when I came to the surface again, and saw clear sky for the first time for more than two years. I hadentered the office a little late, and the General had greeted me with anoutstretched hand in which I felt the grip of the bones through theflabby flesh. 

"Look here, Ben, have you kept control of the West Virginia andWyanoke?" he enquired, and I saw the pupils of his eyes contract to finepoints of steel, as they did when he meant business. 

"Nobody wanted it, General. I still own control--or rather I stillpractically own the road. "

"Well, take my advice and don't sell to the first man that asks you, even if he comes from the South Midland. I've just heard that they'vebeen tapping those undeveloped coal fields at Wyanoke, and I shouldn'tbe surprised if they turned out, after all, to be the richest in WestVirginia. "

It was then that I saw clear sky. 

"I'll hold on, General, as long as you say, " I replied. "Meanwhile, I'llrun out there and have a look. "

"Oh, have a look by all means. I say, Ben, " he added after a minute, with a worried expression in his face, "have you heard about the troublethat old fool Theophilus has been getting into? Mark my words, before hedies, he'll land his sister in the poorhouse, as sure as I sit here. Garden needed moisture, he said, couldn't raise some of those scraggy, new-fangled things that nobody can pronounce the names of excepthimself, so he went to work and had pipes laid from one end to theother. When the bill came in there was no way to pay it except bymortgaging his house, so he's gone and mortgaged it. Mrs. Clay, poorlady, came to me on the point of tears--she'll be in the poorhouse yet, I was obliged to tell her so--and entreated me to make an effort torestrain Theophilus. 'I try to keep the catalogues from reaching him, 'she said, 'but sometimes the postman slips in without my seeing him, andthen he's sure to deliver one. Whenever Theophilus reads about anystrange specimen, or any hybridising nonsense that nobody heard of whenI was young, he seems to go completely out of his head, and the worst of'em is, ' she added, " concluded the General, chuckling under his breath, "'there isn't a single pretty, sweet-smelling flower in the lot. '"

"I'm awfully sorry about the house, General. Isn't there some way ofcurbing him?"

"I never saw the bit yet that could curb an old fool, " replied the greatman, indignantly; "the next thing his roof will be sold over his head, and they'll go to the poorhouse, that's what I told Mrs. Clay. Poorlady, she was really in a terrible state of mind. "

"Surely you won't let it come to that. Wait till these dreamed-of coalfields materialise and I'll take over that mortgage. "

The General's lower lip shot out with a sulky and forbidding expression. 

"The best thing that could happen to the old fool would be to have hishouse sold above him, and by Jove, if he doesn't cease his extravagance, I'll stand off and let them do it as sure as my name is GeorgeBolingbroke. What Theophilus needs, " he concluded angrily, "isdiscipline. "

"It's too late to begin to discipline a man of over eighty. "

"No, it ain't, " retorted the General; "it's never too late. If itdoesn't do him any good in this world, it will be sure to benefit him inthe next. He's entirely too opinionated, that's the trouble with him. Doyou remember the way he sat up over there on Church Hill, and tried tobeat me down that Robert Carrington lived in Bushrod's house, and thathe'd attended him there in his last illness? As if I didn't know BushrodCarrington as well as my own brother. Got all his clothes in Paris. Cansee him now as he used to come to church in one of his waistcoats ofpeaehblow brocade. Yet you heard Theophilus stick out against me. Wouldn't give in even when I offered to take him straight to Bushrod'sgrave in Saint John's Churchyard, where I had helped to lay him. That'sat the back of the whole thing, I tell you. If Theophilus had had alittle discipline, this would never have happened. "

"All the same I hope you won't let it come to a sale, " I responded, as abunch of telegrams was brought to him, and we settled down to ourmorning's work. 

In the afternoon when I went back to the doctor's, I found Sally in thelow canvas chair between the giant-of-battle rose-bush and the bleedinghearts, with George Bolingbroke on the ground at her feet, reading toher, I noticed at a glance, out of a book of poems. George hatedpoetry--I had never forgotten his contemptuous boyish attitude towardLatin--and the sight of him stretched there, his handsome figure at fulllength, his impassive face flushed with a fine colour, produced in me acurious irritation, which sounded in my voice when I spoke. 

"I thought you scorned literature, George. Are you acting the part of agay deceiver?"

"Oh, it goes well on a day like this, " he rejoined in his amiabledrawling manner; "the doctor has been quoting his favourite verse ofHorace to us. He has had trouble with his hybridising or something, sohe tells us--what is it, doctor? I'm no good at Latin. "

Dr. Theophilus, who was planting oysters at the roots of a calla lily, having discovered, as he repeatedly informed us, that such treatmentincreased the number and size of the blossoms, raised his fine old head, and stood up after wiping his trowel on the trimly mown grass in theborder. 

"_Æquam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem_, " he replied, rollingthe Latin words luxuriously on his tongue, as if he relished theflavour. "That verse of the poet has sustained me in many and variedafflictions. Not to know it is to dispense with an unfailing source ofconsolation in trouble. When using it at a patient's bedside, I havefound that it invariably acted as a sedative to an excited mind. Isometimes think, " he added gently, "that if Tina had not been ignorantof Latin, she would have had a--a less practical temper. "

Picking up the trowel, which he had laid on the grass, he returned witha calm soul to his difficulties, while Sally, looking up at me withanxious eyes, said:--

"Something has happened, Ben. What is it?"

I broke into a laugh. "Only that that little dead-beat road in WestVirginia may restore my fortune, after all, " I replied. 

The next day I went to Wyanoke and reorganised the affairs of the littleroad. Shortly afterwards orders for freight cars came in faster than wewere able to supply them, and we called at once on the cars of the GreatSouth Midland and Atlantic. 

"If you weren't a friend, this would be a mighty good chance to squeezeyou, " remarked the General; "we could keep your cars back until we'dclean squelched your traffic, and then buy the little road up for asong. It's business, but it isn't fair, and I'll be blamed if I'm goingto squelch a friend. "

He did not squelch us, being as good as his word; the undeveloped coalfields developed amazingly and the result was that before the year wasover, I had sold the little road at my own price to the big one. Then Istood up and drew breath, like a man released from the weight of irons. 

"We can go into our own home, " I said joyfully to Sally. "In a year ortwo, if all goes well, and I work hard, we'll be back again where wewere. "

"Where we were?" she repeated, and there was, I thought, a listless notein her voice. 

"Doesn't it make you happy?" I asked. 

"Oh, I'm glad, glad the debt is gone, and now you'll look young andsplendid again, won't you?"

"I'll try hard if you want me to. "

"I do want you to, " she answered, looking up at me with a smile. 

The window was open, and a flood of sunshine fell on her pale brownhair, as it rested against the high arm of a chintz-covered sofa. Herhand, small and childlike, though less round and soft than it had beentwo years ago, caressed my cheek when I bent over her. She was wellagain, she was blooming, but the bloom was paler and more delicate, andthere was a fragility in her appearance which was a new and disturbingsign of diminished strength. Would she ever, even when cradled inluxuries, recover her buoyant health, her sparkling vitality, Iwondered. 

The old Bland house, with the two great sycamores growing beside it, wasfor sale; and thinking to please Sally, I bought it without herknowledge, filled, as it was, with the Bland and Fairfax furniture, which had surrounded Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca. On the day some eightor nine months later that we moved into it the sycamores were budding, and there were faint spring scents in the air. 

"This is where you belong. This is home to you, " I said as we stood onthe wide porch at the back, and looked down on the garden. "You will behappy here, dearest. "

"Oh, yes, I'll be happy here. "

"It won't be so hard for you when I'm obliged to leave you alone. I'msorry I've had to be away so much of late. Have you been lonely?"

"I've taken up riding again. George has found me a new horse, a beauty. To-morrow I shall follow the hounds with Bonny. "

"Oh, be careful, Sally, promise me that you will be careful. "

She turned with a laugh that sounded a little reckless. 

"There's no pleasure in being careful, and I'm seeking pleasure, " sheanswered. 

The next morning I went to New York for a couple of days, and when Ireturned late one afternoon, I found Sally, in her riding habit, pouringtea for Bonny Marshall and George Bolingbroke in the drawing-room. 

I was very tired, my mind was engrossed in business, as it had beenengrossed since the day of the sale of the West Virginia and WyanokeRailroad, and I was about to pass upstairs to my dressing-room, whenGeorge, catching sight of me, called to me to come in and exert mypowers of persuasion. 

"I'm begging Sally to sell that horse, Beauchamp, " he said. "She triedto make him take a fence this afternoon and he balked and threw her. Atfirst we were frightened out of our wits, but she got up laughing andinsisted upon mounting him again on the spot. "

"Of course you didn't let her, " I retorted, with anger. 

"Let her? Great Scott! have you been married to a Bland for nearly eightyears and are you still saying, 'let her'?"

"I mounted and rode on with the hunt, " said Sally, looking at me withshining eyes in which there was a defiant and reckless expression. "Hegot quite away with me, but I held on and came in at the death, thoughwithout a hat. Now my arms are so sore I shall hardly be able to do myhair. "

"Of course you're not to ride that horse again, Sally, " I respondedsternly, forgetting my dusty clothes, forgetting Bonny's dancing blackeyes that never left my face while I stood there. 

"Of course I am, Ben, " rejoined Sally, laughing, while a high colourrose to her forehead. "Of course I'm going to ride him to-morrowafternoon when I go out with Bonny. "

"Ah, don't, please, " entreated Bonny, in evident distress; "he's reallyan ugly brute, you know, dear, if he is so beautiful. "

"I feel awfully mean about it, Ben, " said George, "because, you see, Igot him for her. "

"And you got him, " I retorted, indignantly, "without knowing evidently athing about him. "

"One can never know anything about a brute like that. He went like alamb as long as I was on him, but the trouble is that Sally has toolight a hand. "

"He'd be all right with me, " remarked Bonny, stretching out her arm, inwhich the muscle was hard as steel. "See what a grip I have. "

"I'll never give up, I'll never give up, " said Sally, and though sheuttered the words with gaiety, the expression of defiance, ofrecklessness, was still in her eyes. 

When George and Bonny had gone, I tried in vain to shake this resolve, which had in it something of the gentle, yet unconquerable, obstinacy ofMiss Matoaca. 

"Promise me, Sally, that you will not attempt to ride that horse again, "I entreated. 

Turning from me, she walked slowly to the end of the room and bent overthe box of sweet alyssum, which still blossomed under a canary cage onthe window-sill. A cedar log was burning on the andirons, and the redlight of the flames fell on the tapestried furniture, on the quaintinlaid spinet in one corner, and on the portrait above it of Miss Mittyand Miss Matoaca clasping hands under a garland of roses. 

"Will you promise me, dearest?" I asked again, for she did not answer. 

Lifting her head from the flowers, she stood with her hand on one of thedelicate curtains, and her figure, in its straight black habit, drawnvery erect. 

"I'll ride him, " she responded quietly, "if--if he kills me. "

"But why--why--what on earth is the use of taking so great a risk?" Idemanded. 

A humorous expression shot into her face, and I saw her full, red lipsgrow tremulous with laughter. 

"That, " she answered, after a moment, "is my ambition. All of us have anambition, you know, women as well as men. "

"An ambition?" I repeated, and looked in mystification at the portraitabove the spinet. 

"It sounds strange to you, " she went on, "but why shouldn't I have one?I was a very promising horsewoman before my marriage, and my ambitionnow is to--to go after Bonny. Only Bonny says I can't, " she addedregretfully, "because of my hands. "

"They are too small?"

"Too small and too light. They can't hold things. "

"Well, they've managed to hold one at any rate, " I responded gaily, though I added seriously the minute afterward, "If you'll let me sellthat horse, darling, I'll give you anything on God's earth that youwant. "

"But suppose I don't want anything on God's earth except that horse?"

"There's no sense in that, " I blurted out, in bewilderment. "What inthunder is there about the brute that has so taken your fancy?"

Her hand fell from the curtain, and plucking a single blossom of sweetalyssum, she came back to the hearth holding it to her lips. 

"He has taken my fancy, " she replied, "because he is exciting--and I amcraving excitement. "

"But you never used to want excitement. "

"People change, all the poets and philosophers tell us. I've wanted itvery badly indeed for the last six or eight months. "

"Just since we've recovered our money?"

"Well, one can't have excitement without money, can one? It costs a gooddeal. Beauchamp sold for sixteen hundred dollars. "

"He'd sell for sixteen to-morrow if I had my way. "

"But you haven't. He's the only excitement I have and I mean to keephim. I shall go out again with the hounds on Saturday. "

"If you do, you'll make me miserable, Sally. I shan't be able to do astroke of work. "

"Then you'll be very foolish, Ben, " she responded, and when I would havestill pressed the point, she ran out of the room with the remark thatshe must have a hot bath before dinner. "If I don't I'll be too stiff tomount, " she called back defiantly as she went up the staircase. 

All night I worried over the supremacy of Beauchamp, but on the morrowshe was kept in bed by the results of her fall, and before she was upagain, George had spirited the horse off somewhere to a farm in thecountry. 

"I'd have turned horse thief before I'd have let her get on him again, "he said. "I bought the brute, so I had the best right to dispose of himas I wanted to. "

"Well, I hope you'll do better next time, " I returned. "Sally has gotsome absurd idea in her head about rivalling Bonny Marshall, but shenever will because she isn't built that way. "

"No, she isn't built that way, " he agreed, "and I'm glad of it. When Iwant a boy I'd rather have him in breeches than in skirts. Is she out ofbed yet?"

"She was up this morning, and on the point of telephoning to the stableswhen I left the house. "

He laughed softly. "Well, my word goes at the stables, " he rejoined, "soyou needn't worry. I'll not let any harm come to her. "

The tone in which he spoke, pleasant as it was, wounded my pride ofpossession in some inexplicable manner. Sally was safe! It was all takenout of my hands, and the only thing that remained for me was to returnwith a tranquil mind to my affairs. In spite of myself this constantbeneficent intervention of George in my life fretted my temper. If hewould only fail sometimes! If he would only make a mistake! If he wouldonly attend to his own difficulties, and leave mine to go wrong if theypleased!

This was on my way up-town in the afternoon, and when I reached home, Ifound Sally lying on a couch in her upstairs sitting-room, with an uncutnovel in her hands. 

"Ben, did you sell Beauchamp?" she asked, as I entered, and her tone wasfull of suppressed resentment, of indignant surprise. 

"I'm sorry to say I didn't, dear, " I responded cheerfully, "for I shouldcertainly have done so if George hadn't been too quick for me. "

"It was George, then, " she said, and her voice lost its resentment. 

"Yes, it was George--everything is George, " I retorted, in an irascibletone. 

Her eyebrows arched, not playfully as they were used to do, but insurprise or perplexity. 

"He has been very good to me all my life, " she answered quietly. 

"I know, I know, " I said, repenting at once of my temper, "and if youwant another horse, Sally, you shall have it--George will find you agentle one this time. "

She shook her head, smiling a little. 

"I don't want a gentle one. I wanted Beauchamp, and since he has gone Idon't think I care to ride any more. Bonny is right, I suppose, I couldnever keep up with her. "

"Just as you like, sweetheart, but for my part, I feel easier, somehow, when you don't go out with the hounds. I'd rather you wouldn't do suchrough riding. "

"That's because like most men you have an ideal of a 'faire ladye, '" sheanswered, mockingly. "I'm not sure, however, that the huntress hasn'tthe best of it. What an empty existence the 'faire ladye' must haveled!"

At first I thought her determination was uttered in jest, and would notendure through the night; but as the weeks and the months went by andshe still refused to consider the purchase of the various horses Georgeput through their paces before her, I realised that she really meant, asshe had said, to give up her brief dream of excelling Bonny. Then, for afew months in the spring and summer, she turned to gardening withpassion, and aided by Dr. Theophilus and George, she planted a cart-loadof bulbs in our square of ground at the back. When I came up late now, Iwould find the three of them poring over flower catalogues, withgathered brows and thoughtful, enquiring faces. 

"There's nothing like a love of the trowel for making friends, " remarkedthe old man, one May afternoon, when I found them resting from theirlabours while they drank tea on the porch; "it's a pity you haven't timeto take it up, Ben. Now, young George there has developed a mostextraordinary talent for gardening that he never knew he possessed untilI cultivated it. I shouldn't wonder if it took the place of the horsewith him in the end. What do you say, Sally?" he added, turning to whereSally and George were leaning together over the railing, with their eyeson a bed of Oriental poppies. "I was telling Ben that I shouldn't wonderif George's taste for flowers would not finally triumph over his fancyfor the horse. "

For a minute Sally did not look round, and when at last she turned, herface wore a defiant and reckless expression, as it had done thatafternoon when Beauchamp had thrown her. 

"I'm not sure, doctor, " she answered; "after all flowers are tame sport, aren't they? And George is like me--what he wants is excitement. "

"I'm sorry to hear that, my dear, a gentle and quiet pursuit is a sourceof happiness. You remember what Horace says--"

"Ah, I know, doctor, but did even Horace remember what he said while hewas young?"

George was still gazing attentively down on the bed of Oriental poppiesat the foot of the steps, and though he had taken no part in theconversation, something in his back, in the rigid look of his shoulders, as though his muscles were drawn and tense, made me say suddenly:

"If George has changed his hobby from horse-racing to flowers, I'llbegin to expect the General to start collecting insects. "

At this George wheeled squarely upon me, and in his dark, flushed facethere was the set look of a man that has taken a high jump. 

"It's a bad plan to pin all your pleasure on one thing, Ben, " he said. "If you put all your eggs in one basket you're more than likely to stubyour toe. "

"Well, a good deal depends upon how wisely you may have chosen yourpursuit, " commented the doctor, pushing his spectacles away from hiseyes to his hair, which was still thick and long; "I don't believe thata man can make a mistake in selecting either flowers or insects for hislife's interest. The choice between the two is merely a question oftemperament, I suppose, and though I myself confess to a leaning towardplants, I seriously considered once devoting my declining years to thestudy of the habits of beetles. Your suggestion as to George, however, --old George, I am alluding to, --is a capital one, and I shallcall his attention to it the next time I see him. He couldn't do better, I am persuaded, than bend his remaining energies in the direction ofinsects. "

He paused to drink his tea, nodding gently over the rim of his cup toBonny Marshall and Bessy Dandridge, who came through one of the longwindows out upon the porch. 

"So you've really stopped for a minute, " remarked Bonny merrily, swinging her floating silk train as if it were the skirt of a ridinghabit, "and even Ben has fallen out of the race long enough to get aglimpse of his wife. Have stocks tripped him up again, poor fellow? Doyou know, Sally, it's perfectly scandalous the way you are never seen inpublic together. At the reception at the Governor's the other night, oneof those strange men from New York asked me if George were your husband. Now, that's what I call positively improper--I really felt theatmosphere of the divorce court around me when he said it--and mygrandmama assures me that if such a thing had happened to _your_grandmama, Caroline Matilda Fairfax, she would never have held up herhead again. 'But neither morals nor manners are what they were whenCaroline Matilda and I were young, ' she added regretfully, 'and it isdue, I suppose, to the war and to the intrusion into society of allthese new people that no one ever heard of. ' When I mentioned the guestsat the two last receptions I'd been to, if you will believe me, she hadnever heard of a single name, --'all mushrooms, ' she declared. "

Her eyes, dancing roguishly, met mine over the tea-table, and a brightblush instantly overspread her face, as if a rose-coloured search-lighthad fallen on her. 

The embarrassment which I always felt in her presence became suddenly asacute as physical soreness, and the blush in her face served only toilluminate her consciousness of my difference, of my roughness, of thefact that externally, at least, I had never managed to shake myself freefrom a resemblance to the market boy who had once brought his basket ofpotatoes to the door of this very house. The "magnificent animal, " Iknew, had never appealed to her except as it was represented inhorse-flesh; and yet the "magnificent animal" was what in her eyes Imust ever remain. I looked at George, leaning against a white column, and his appearance of perfect self-sufficiency, his air of needingnothing, changed my embarrassment into a smothered sensation of anger. And as in the old days of my first great success, this anger broughtwith it, through some curious association of impulses, a fierce, almosta frenzied, desire for achievement. Here, in the little world oftradition and sentiment, I might show still at a disadvantage, butoutside, in the open, I could respond freely to the lust for power, tothe passion for supremacy, which stirred my blood. Turning, with amuttered excuse about letters to read, I went into the house, and closedmy study door behind me with a sense of returning to a friendly andfamiliar atmosphere. 

Through the rest of the year Sally devoted herself with energy to thecultivation of flowers; but when the following spring opened, after ahard winter, she seemed to have grown listless and indifferent, and whenI spoke of the garden, she merely shook her head and pointed to anunworked border at the foot of the grey-wall. 

"I can't make anything grow, Ben. All those brown sticks down there arethe only signs of the bulbs I set out last autumn with my own hands. Nothing comes up as it ought to. "

"Perhaps you need pipes like the doctor, " I suggested. 

"Oh, no, that would uproot the old shrubs, and besides, I am tired ofit, I think. "

She was lying on the couch in her sitting-room, a pile of novels on atable beside her, and the delicacy in her appearance, the transparentfineness of her features, of her hands, awoke in me the feeling ofanxiety I had felt so often during the year after little Benjamin'sdeath. 

"I'm sorry I can't get up to luncheon now, darling, but we are making abig railroad deal. What have you been doing all day long by yourself?"

She looked up at me, and I remembered the face of Miss Matoaca, as I hadseen it against the red firelight on the afternoon when Sally and I hadgone in to tell her of our engagement. 

"I didn't go out, " she answered. "It was raining so hard that I stayedby the fire. "

"You've been lying here all day alone?"

"Bonny Page came in for a few minutes. "

"Have you read?"

"No, I've been thinking. "

"Thinking of what, sweetheart?"

"Oh, so many things. You've come up again, haven't you, Ben, splendidly!Luck is with you, the General says, and whatever you touch prospers. "

"Yes, I've come up, but this is the crisis. If I slip now, if I make afalse move, if I draw out, I'm as dead as a door-nail. But give me fiveor ten years of hard work and breathless thinking, and I'll be as big aman as the General. "

"As the General?" she repeated gently, and played with the petals of anAmerican Beauty rose on the table beside her. 

"As soon as I'm secure, as soon as I can slacken work a bit, I'm goingto cut all this and take you away. We'll have a second honeymoon whenthat time comes. "

"In five or ten years?"

"Perhaps sooner. Meanwhile, isn't there something that I can do for you?Is there anything on God's earth that you want? Would you like a stringof pearls?"

She shook her head with a laugh. "No, I don't want a string of pearls. Is it time now to dress for dinner?"

"Would you mind if I didn't change, dear? I'm so tired that I shallprobably fall asleep over the dessert. "

An evening or two later, when I came up after seven o'clock, I thoughtthat she had been crying, and taking her in my arms, I passionatelykissed the tear marks away. 

"There's but one thing to do, Sally. You must go away. What do you sayto Europe?"

"With you?"

"I wish to heaven it could be with me, but if I shirk this deal now, I'mdone for, and if I stick it out, it may mean future millions. Why notask Bessy Dandridge?"

"I don't think I want to go with Bessy Dandridge. "

Her tone troubled me, it was so gentle, so reserved, and walking to thewindow, I stood gazing out upon the April rain that dripped softlythrough the budding sycamores. I felt that I ought to go, and yet I knewthat unless I gave up my career, it was out of the question. Therailroad deal was, as I had said, very important, and if I were towithdraw from it now, it would probably collapse and bring down on methe odium of my associates. After my desperate failure of less than fiveyears ago, I was just recovering my ground, and the incidents of thatdisaster were still too recent to permit me to breathe freely. My namehad suffered little because my personal tragedy had been regarded as apart of the general panic, and I had, in the words of GeorgeBolingbroke, "gone to smashes with honour. " Yet I was not secure now; Ihad not reached the top of the ladder, but was merely mounting. "It'sfor Sally's sake that I'm doing it, " I said to myself, suddenlycomforted by the reflection; "without Sally the whole thing might go toruin and I wouldn't hold up my hand. But I must make her proud of me. Imust justify her choice in the eyes of her friends. " And the balm ofthis thought seemed to lighten my weight of trouble and to appease myconscience. "It isn't as if I were doing it for myself, or my ownambition. I am really doing it for her--everything is for her. If I canhold on now, in a few years I'll give her millions to spend. " Then Iremembered that the last time I had gone motoring with her it hadappeared to do her good, and that she had remarked she preferred a carwith a red lining. 

"I tell you what, sweetheart, " I said, going back to her, "as I can'ttake you away, I'll buy you a new motor car with a red lining and I'lltake you out every blessed afternoon I can get off from the office. You'll like that, won't you?" I asked eagerly. 

"Yes, I'll like that, " she replied, with an effort at animation, whileshe bent her face over the rose in her hand. 

A week later I bought the motor car, the handsomest I could find, withthe softest red lining; and when May came, I went out with her wheneverI could break away from my work. But the pressure was great, the Generalwas failing and leaned on me, and I was over head and ears in a dozenoutside schemes that needed only my amazing energy to push them tosuccess. Never had my financial insight appeared so infallible, neverhad my "genius" for affairs shone so brilliantly. The years of povertyhad increased, not dissipated, my influence, and I had come up all thestronger for the experience that had sent me down. The lesson that aweaker man might have succumbed beneath, I had absorbed into myself, andwas now making use of as I had made use of every incident, bad or good, in my life. I passed on, I accumulated, but I did not squander. Littlethings, as well as great things, served me for material, and duringthose first years of my recovery, I became by far the most brilliantfigure in my world of finance. "Pile all the bu'sted stocks in themarket on his shoulders, and he'll still come out on top, " chuckled theGeneral. "The best thing that ever happened to you, Ben, barring thetoting of potatoes, was the blow on the head that sent you under water. A little fellow would have drowned, but you knew how to float. "

"I'd agree with you about its being the best thing, except--except forSally. "

"What's the matter with Sally? Is she going cracked? You know I alwayssaid she was the image of her aunt--Miss Matoaca Bland. "

"She has never recovered. Her health seems to have given way. "

"She needs coddling, that's the manner of women and babies. Do youcoddle her? It's worth while, though some men don't know how to do it. Lord, Lord, I remember when my poor mother was on her death-bed and myfather got on his knees and asked her if he'd been a good husband (shewas his third wife and died of her tenth child), she looked at him witha kind of gentle resentment and replied: 'You were a saint, I suppose, Samuel, but I'd rather have had a sinner that would have coddled me. 'She was the prim, flat-bosomed type, too, just like Miss Mitty Bland, and my father said afterwards, crying like a baby, that he had so muchrespect for her he would as soon have thought of trying to coddle aLombardy poplar. Poplar or mimosa tree, I tell you, they are all madethat way, every last one of them--and nothing on earth made poor MissMatoaca a fire-eater and a disturber of the peace except that she didn'thave a man to coddle her. "

"I give Sally everything under heaven I can think of, but she doesn'tappear to want it. "

"Keep on giving, it's the only way. You'll see her begin to pick uppresently before you know it. They ain't rational, my boy, that's thewhole truth about 'em, they ain't rational. If Miss Matoaca had belongedto a rational sex, do you think she'd have killed herself trying to geton an equality with us? You can't make a pullet into a rooster byteaching it to crow, as my old mammy used to say. " For a minute he wassilent, and appeared to be meditating. "I tell you what I'll do, Ben, "he said at last, with a flash of inspiration, "I'll go in with you andsee if I can't cheer up Sally a bit. "

When we reached my door, he let the reins fall over the back of his oldhorse, and getting out, hobbled, with my assistance, upstairs, and intoSally's sitting-room, where we found George Bolingbroke, lookingdepressed and sullen. 

She was charmingly dressed, as usual, and as the General entered, shecame forward to meet him with the gracious manner which some one hadtold me was a part, not of her Bland, but of her Fairfax inheritance. "That's a pretty tea-gown you've got on, " observed the great man, in theplayful tone in which he might have remarked to a baby that it waswearing a beautiful bib. "You haven't been paying much attention tofripperies of late, Ben tells me. Have you seen any hats? I don't knowanything better for a woman's low spirits, my dear, than a trip to NewYork to buy a hat. "

She laughed merrily, while her eyes met George Bolingbroke's over theGeneral's head. 

"I bought six hats last month, " she replied. 

"And you didn't feel any better?"

"Not permanently. Then Ben got me a diamond bracelet. " She held out herarm, with the bracelet on her wrist, which looked thin and transparent. 

The General bent his bald head over the trinket, which he examined asattentively as if it had been a report of the Great South Midland andAtlantic Railroad. 

"Ben's got good taste, " he observed; "that's a pretty bracelet. "

"Yes, it's a pretty bracelet. "

"But that didn't make you feel any brighter?"

"Oh, I'm well, " she responded, laughing. "I've just been telling GeorgeI'm so well I'm going to a ball with him. "

"To a ball, " I said; "are you strong enough for that, Sally?"

"I'm quite strong, I'm well, I feel wildly gay. "

"It's the best thing for her, " remarked the General. "Don't stop her, Ben, let her go. "

At dinner that night, in a gorgeous lace gown, with pearls on her throatand in her hair, she was cheerful, animated, almost, as she had said, wildly gay. When George came for her, I put her into the carriage. 

"Are you all right?" I asked anxiously. "Are you sure you are strongenough, Sally?"

"Quite strong. What will you do, Ben?"

"I've got to work. There are some papers to draw up. Don't let her staylate, George. "

"Oh, I'll take care of her, " said George. "Good-night. "

She leaned out, touching my hand. "You'll be in bed when I come back. Good-night. "

The carriage rolled off, and entering the house I went into the library, where I worked until twelve o'clock. Then as Sally had not returned andI had a hard day ahead of me, I went upstairs to bed. 

She did not wake me when she came in, and in the morning I found hersleeping quietly, with her cheek pillowed on her open palm, and apensive smile on her lips. After breakfast, when I came up to speak toher before going out, she was sitting up in bed, in a jacket of bluesatin and a lace cap, drinking her coffee. 

"Did you have a good time?" I asked, kissing her. "Already you lookbetter. "

"I danced ever so many dances. Do you know, Ben, I believe it wasdiversion I needed. I've thought too much and I'm going to stop. "

"That's right, dance on if it helps you. "

"I can't get that year on Church Hill out of my mind. "

"Forget it, sweetheart, it's over; forget it. "

"Yes, it's over, " she repeated, and then as she lay back, in her bluesatin jacket, on the embroidered pillows and smiled up at me, I saw inher face a reflection of the faint wonder which was the inherited lookof the Blands in regarding life. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE GROWING DISTANCE

The memory of this look was with me as I went, a little later, down theblock to the car line, but meeting the General at the corner, all othermatters were crowded out of my mind by the gravity of the news he leanedout of his buggy to impart. 

"Well, it's come at last, Ben, just as I said it would, " he remarkedcheerfully; "Theophilus is to be sold out at four o'clock thisafternoon. "

"I'd forgotten all about it, General, but do you really mean you willlet it come to a public auction?"

"It's the only way on God's earth to stop his extravagance. Of courseI'm going to buy the house in at the end. I've given the agent orders. Theophilus ain't going to suffer, but he's got to have a lesson and I'mthe only one who can teach it. A little judicious discipline right nowwill make him a better and a happier man for the remainder of his life. He's too opinionated, that's the trouble with him and always has been. He's got some absurd idea in his head now that I ought to quit therailroad and begin watching insects. Actually brought me a microscopeand some ants in a little box that he had had sent all the way fromCalifornia. Wanted me to build 'em a glass house in my garden, and spendmy time looking at 'em. 'Look here, Theophilus, ' I said, 'I haven't cometo my dotage yet, and when I get there, I'm going to take up something alittle bigger than an insect. From a railroad to an ant is too long ajump. "

"But this auction, General, I'm very much worried about it. You know I'dalways intended to take over that mortgage, but, to tell the truth, itescaped my memory. "

"Oh, leave that to me, leave that to me, " responded the great manserenely. "Theophilus ain't going to suffer, but a little disciplinewon't do him any harm. "

His plan was well laid, I saw, but the best-laid plans, as the great manhimself might have informed me, are not always those that are destinedto reach maturity. When I had parted from him, I fell, almostunconsciously, to scheming on my own account, and the result was thatbefore going into my office, I looked up the real estate agent who hadcharge of the auction, and took over the mortgage which too great anindulgence in roses had forced upon Dr. Theophilus. In my luncheon hourI rushed up to the house, where I found Mrs. Clay, with a big woodenladle in her hand, wandering distractedly between the outside kitchenand the little garden, where the doctor was placidly spraying his roseswith a solution of kerosene oil. 

"I knew it would come, " said the poor lady, in tears; "no amount ofpreserves and pickles could support the extravagance of Theophilus. Morethan two years ago George Bolingbroke warned me that I should end mydays in the poorhouse, and it has come at last. As for Theophilus, eventhe thought of the poorhouse does not appear to disturb him. He doesnothing but walk around and repeat some foolish Latin verse aboutÆquam--æquam--until I am sick of the very sound--"

When I explained to her that the auction would be postponed, at leastfor another century, she recovered her temper and her spirit, andobserved emphatically that she hoped the lesson would do Theophilusgood. 

"May I go out to him now?"

"Oh, yes, you'll find him somewhere in the garden. He has just been inwith a watering-pot to ask for kerosene oil. "

In the centre of the gravelled walk, between the shining rows of oystershells, the doctor stood energetically spraying his roses. At the soundof my step he looked round with a tranquil face, his long white hairblowing in the breeze above his spectacles, which he wore, as usual whenhe was not reading, pushed up on his forehead. 

"Ah, Ben, you find us afflicted, but not despondent, " he observed. "Nowis the time, as I just remarked to Tina a minute ago, to prove theunfailing support of a knowledge of Latin and of the poet Horace. _Æquammemento_--"

"I'm afraid, doctor, I haven't time for Horace, " I returned, ruthlesslycutting short his enjoyment, while the sonorous sentence still rolled inhis mouth; "but I've attended to this affair of the mortgage, and youshan't be bothered again. Why on earth didn't you come to me soonerabout it?"

Bending over, he plucked a rosebud with a canker at the heart, and stoodmeditatively surveying it. "An Anna von Diesbach, " he observed, "andwhen perfect a most beautiful rose. The truth was, my boy, that I felt adelicacy about approaching my friends in the hour of my misfortunes. OldGeorge I did go to in my extremity, but I fear, Ben, --I seriously fearthat I have estranged old George by making him a present of a little boxof ants. He imagines, I fancy, that I intended a reflection upon hisintelligence. Because the ant is small, he concludes, unreasonably, thatit is unworthy. On the contrary, as I endeavoured to convince him, itpossesses a degree of sagacity and foresight the human being might wellenvy--"

"I can't stop now, doctor, I'm in too great a rush, but remember, if youever have a few hundred dollars you'd like me to turn over for you, I'mat your service. At all events, preserve your calm soul and leave me tocontend with your difficulties--"

"The word 'preserve, '" commented the doctor, "though used in a differentand less practical sense, reminds me of Tina. She has sacrificed herpeace of mind to preserves, as I told her this morning. Even I shouldfind it impossible to maintain an equable character, if I lived in theatmosphere of a stove and devoted my energies to a kettle. One'soccupation has, without doubt, a marked influence upon one's attitudetowards the universe. This was in my thoughts entirely when I suggestedto a man of old George's headstrong and undisciplined nature that hewould do well to investigate the habits of a sober and industriousinsect like the ant. He has led an improvident life, and I thought thatas he neared his end, whatever would promote a philosophic cast of mindwould inevitably benefit his declining years--"

"He doesn't like to be reminded that they are declining, doctor, that'sthe trouble, " I returned, as I shook hands hurriedly, and went on downthe gravelled walk between the oyster shells to the gate that opened, beyond the currant bushes, out into the street. 

My readjustment of the doctor's affairs had occupied no small part of myworking day, and it was even later than usual when I arrived at home, too tired to consider dressing for dinner. At the door old Esdrasannounced that Sally had already gone to dine with Bonny Marshall, andwould go to the theatre afterwards. 

"Was she alone, Esdras?"

"Naw, suh, Marse George he done come fur her en ca'ried her off. "

"Well, I'll dine just as I am, and as soon as it's ready. "

The house was empty and deserted without Sally, and the perfume of amimosa tree, which floated in on the warm breeze as I entered thedrawing-room, came to me like the sweet, vague scent of her hair and hergown. A dim light burned under a pink shade in one corner, and so quietappeared the quaint old room, with its faded cashmere rugs and itstapestried furniture, that the eyes of the painted Blands and Fairfaxesseemed alive as they looked down on me from the high white walls. Fromhis wire cage, shrouded in a silk cover, the new canary piped a singleenquiring note as he heard my step. 

I dined alone, waited on in a paternal, though condescending, manner byold Esdras, and when I had finished my coffee I sat for a few minuteswith a cigar on the porch, where the branches of the mimosa tree in fullbloom drooped over the white railing. While I sat there, I thoughtdrowsily of many things--of the various financial schemes in which I wasnow involved; of the big railroad deal which I had refused to shirk andwhich meant possible millions; of the fact that the General was rapidlyaging, and had already spoken of resigning the presidency of the GreatSouth Midland and Atlantic. Then there flashed before me suddenly, inthe midst of my business reflections, the look with which Sally hadregarded me that morning while she lay, in her blue satin jacket, on theembroidered pillows. 

"How alike all the Blands are, " I thought sleepily, as I threw the endof my cigar out into the garden and rose to go upstairs to bed; "I nevernoticed until of late how much Sally is growing to resemble her AuntMatoaca. "

At midnight, after two hours' restless sleep, I awoke to find herstanding before the bureau, in a gown of silver gauze, which gave her anillusive appearance of being clothed in moonlight. When I called her, and she turned and came toward me, I saw that there was a brilliant, unnatural look in her face, as though she had been dancing wildly orwere in a fever. And this brilliancy seemed only to accentuate thesharpened lines of her features, with their suggestion of delicacy, of atoo transparent fineness. 

"You were asleep, Ben. I am sorry I waked you, " she said. 

"What is the matter, you are so flushed?" I asked. 

"It was very warm in the theatre. I shan't go again until autumn. "

"I don't believe you are well, dear. Isn't it time for you to get out ofthe city?"

Her arms were raised to unfasten the pearl necklace at her throat, andwhile I watched her face in the mirror, I saw that the flush suddenlyleft it and it grew deadly white. 

"It's that queer pain in my back, " she said, sinking into a chair, andhiding her eyes in her hands. "It comes on like this without warning. I've had it ever--ever since that year on Church Hill. "

In an instant I was beside her, catching her in my arms as she swayedtoward me. 

"What can I do for you, dearest? Shall I get you a glass of wine?"

"No, it goes just as it comes, " she answered, letting her hands fallfrom her face, and looking at me with a smile. "There, I'm better now, but I think you're right. I need to go out of the city. Even if I wereto stay here, " she added, "you would be almost always away. "

"Go North with Bonny Marshall, as she suggested, and I'll join you fortwo weeks in August. "

Shrinking gently out of my arms, she sat with the unfastened bodice ofher gown slipping away from her shoulders, and her face bent over thepearl necklace which she was running back and forth through her fingers. 

"Bonny and Ned and George all want me to go to Bar Harbor, " she said, after a moment. Then she raised her eyes and looked at me with theexpression of defiance, of recklessness, I had seen in them first on theafternoon when Beauchamp had thrown her. "If you want me to go, too, that will decide it. "

"Of course I shall miss you, --I missed you this evening, --but I believeit's the thing for you. "

"Then I'll go, " she responded quietly, and turning away, as if theconversation were over, she went into her dressing-room to do her hairfor the night. 

Two weeks later she went, and during her absence the long hot summerdragged slowly by while I plunged deeper and deeper into the whirlpoolof affairs. In August I made an effort to spend the promised two weekswith her, but on the third day of my visit, I was summoned home by atelegram; and once back in the city, the General's rapidly failinghealth kept me close as a prisoner at his side. When October came and Imet her at the station, I noticed, with my first glance, that the lookof excitement, of strained and unnatural brilliancy, had returned to herappearance. Some inward flame, burning steadily at a white heat, shonein her eyes and in her altered, transparent features. 

"It's good to have you back again, heaven knows, " I remarked, as wedrove up the street between the scattered trees in their changingOctober foliage. "The house has been like a prison. "

For the first time since she had stepped from the train, she leanednearer and looked at me attentively, as if she were trying to recallsome detail to her memory. 

"You're different, Ben, " she said; "you look so--so careless. "

Her tone was gentle, yet it fell on my ears with a curious detachment, aremoteness, as if in thought, at least, she were standing off somewherein an unapproachable place. 

"I've had nobody to keep me up and I've grown seedy, " I replied, tryingto speak with lightness. "Now I'll begin grooming again, but all thesame, I've made a pretty pile of money for you this summer. "

"Oh, money!" she returned indifferently, "I've heard nothing but moneysince I went away. Is there a spot on earth, I wonder, where in this agethey worship another God?"

"I know one person who doesn't worship it, and that's Dr. Theophilus. "

She laughed softly. 

"Well, the doctor and I will have to set up a little altar of our own. "

For the first month after her return, I hoped that she had come back toa quieter and a more healthful life; but with the beginning of thewinter season, she resumed the ceaseless rush of gaiety in which she hadlived for the last two years. She was rarely at home now in theevenings; I came up always too tired or too busy to go out with her, andafter dining alone, without dressing, I would hurry into my study for anhour's work with Bradley, or more often doze for a while before thecedar logs, with a cigar in my hand. On the few occasions when sheremained at home, our conversation languished feebly because the onesubject which engrossed my thoughts was received by her with candid, ifsmiling, scorn. 

"I sometimes wish, Ben, " she remarked one evening while we sat by thehearth for a few minutes before going upstairs, "that you'd begin tolearn Johnson's Dictionary again. I'm sure it's more interesting thanstocks. "

The red light of the flames shone on her exquisite fineness, on that"look of the Blands, " which lent its peculiar distinction, itssuggestion of the "something else, " to her delicate features and to herlong slender figure, which had grown a little too thin. Between her andmyself, divided as we were merely by the space of the fireside, I feltsuddenly that there stretched both a mental and a physical distance; andthis sense of unlikeness, --which I had become aware of for the firsttime, when she stepped from the train that October morning, betweenBonny and George, --grew upon me until I could no longer tell whether itwas my pride or my affection that suffered. I had grown careless, Iknew, of "the little things" that she prized, while I so passionatelypursued the big ones to which she appeared still indifferent. Meeting myimage in one of the old gilt-framed mirrors between the windows, I sawthat my features had taken the settled and preoccupied look of thetypical man of affairs, that my figure, needing the exercise I had hadno time for of late, had grown already unelastic and heavy. Had shenoticed, I wondered, that the "magnificent animal" was losing his hold?Only that afternoon I had heard her laughing with George over sometrivial jest which they had not explained; and this very laughter, because I did not understand it, had seemed, in some subtle way, to drawthem to each other and farther from me. Yet she was mine, not George's, and the gloss on her hair, the scent of her gown, the pearls at herthroat, were all the things that my money had given her. 

"I've got terribly one-ideaed, Sally, I know, " I said, answering herremark after a long silence; "but some day, in a year or two perhaps, when I'm stronger, more successful, I'll cut it all for a time, andwe'll go to Europe together. We'll have our second honeymoon as soon asI can get away. "

"Remember I've a reception Thursday night, please, Ben, " she responded, brushing my sentimental suggestion lightly aside. 

"By Jove, I'm awfully sorry, but I've arranged to meet a man in New Yorkon Wednesday. I simply had to do it. There was no way out of it. "

"Then you won't be here?"

"I'll make a desperate effort to get back on the seven o'clock trainfrom Washington. That will be in time?"

"Yes, that will be in time. You are in New York and Washingtontwo-thirds of the month now. "

"It's a beastly shame, too, but it won't last. "

With a smothered yawn, she rose from her chair, and went over to thecanary cage, raising the silk cover, while she put her lips to the wiresand piped softly. 

"Dicky is fast asleep, " she remarked, turning away, "and you, Ben, arenodding. How dull the evenings are when one has nothing to do. "

The next day I went to New York, and leaving Washington on Thursdayafternoon, I had expected to reach Richmond in time to appear at Sally'sreception by nine o'clock that evening. But a wreck on the road causedthe train to be held back for several hours, and it was already latewhen I jumped from the cab at my door, and hurried under the awningacross the pavement. The sound of stringed instruments playing softlyreached me as it had done so many years ago on the night when I firstcrossed the threshold; and a minute afterwards, when I went hastily upthe staircase, in its covering of white, and its festoons of smilax, pretty girls made way for me, with laughing reprimands on their lips. Dressing as quickly as I could, I came down again and met the samerebukes from the same charming and smiling faces. 

"You are really the most outrageous man I know, " observed BonnyMarshall, stopping me at the foot of the staircase. "Poor Sally has beenso awfully worried that she hasn't any colour, and I've advised hersimply to engage George as permanent proxy. He is taking your place thisevening quite charmingly. "

The splendour of her appearance, rather than the severity of her words, held me bound and speechless. She was the most beautiful woman, it wasgenerally admitted, in all Virginia, and in her spangled gown, whichfell away from her superb shoulders, there was something brilliant andbarbaric about her that went like strong wine to the head. A minutelater she passed on, surrounded by former discarded lovers; and beforeentering the drawing-room--where Sally was standing between GeorgeBolingbroke and a man whom I did not know--I paused behind a tub offlowering azalea, and watched the brightly coloured gowns of the womenas they flitted back and forth over the shining floor. It was a yearsince I had been out even to dine, and while I stood there, the music, the lights, and the gaily dressed, laughing women produced in me the oldboyish consciousness of the disadvantage of my size, of my awkwardness, of my increasing weight. I remembered suddenly the figure of Presidentas he had loomed on the night of our first dinner party between thefeathery palm branches in the brilliantly lighted hall; and a sense ofkinship with my own family, with my own past, awoke not in my thoughts, but in my body. Across the threshold, only a few steps away, I could seeSally receiving her guests in her gracious Fairfax manner, with Georgeand the man whom I did not know at her side; and whenever George turnedand spoke, as he did always at the right instant, I was struck by theperfect agreement, the fitness, in their appearance. These things thatshe valued--these adornments of the outside of existence--were not in mypower to bestow except when they could be bought with money. How large, how heavy, I should have appeared there in George's place, which wasmine. For the first time in my life a contempt for mere wealth, and forthe position which the amassment of wealth confers, entered my heart. Inseeking to give money had I, in reality, sacrificed the ability to givethe things that she valued far more? Surrounded by the flowers and thelights and the music of the stringed instruments, I saw her in my memoryframed in the long window of our bedroom on Church Hill, with the dimgrey garden behind her, and the breeze, fragrant with jessamine, blowingthe thin folds of her gown. Some clairvoyant insight, purchased, not bysuccess, but by the suffering of those months, opened my eyes. What Ihad lost, I saw now, was Sally herself--not the outward woman, but theinner spirit, the fineness of sympathy, the quickness of understanding. The things that she could have taught me were the finer beauties oflife--and these I had scorned to learn because they could not be graspedin the hands. The objective, the external, was what I had worshipped, and our real division had come, not from the accident of our differentbeginnings, but from the choice that had committed us to opposite ends. 

Some of the guests I knew, and these spoke to me as they passed; othersI had never seen, and these walked by with level abstracted eyes fixedon the little group surrounding Sally and George. It was not onlySally's "set"--the older aristocratic circle--that was represented, Iknew, for in the throng I recognised many of "the new people"--of the"mushrooms, " of whom Bonny's grandmama had spoken with scorn. OnceGeorge turned and came toward the doorway, and the General, startingsomewhere from a corner, observed in his loud hilarious voice, "I don'tknow what kind of husband you'd have made, George, but, by Jove, you domighty well as a 'hanger-on'!"

What George's response was I could not hear, but from the dark flushedlook of his features, I judged that he had not received the attack withhis accustomed amiability. Then, as he was about to pass into the hall, his eyes fell on me, standing behind the tub of azalea, and a lowwhistle of surprise broke from his lips. 

"So here you are, Ben! We'd given you up at least three hours ago. "

"There was a wreck, and the train was delayed. "

"Well, come in and do your duty, or what remains of it. It's no funacting host in another man's house, when you don't know where he keepshis cigars. Sally, Ben's turned up, after all, at the last minute, whenthe hard work is over. "

Crossing the threshold, I joined the little group, shaking hands hereand there, while Sally made running comments in a voice that soundedhopelessly animated and cheerful. She was looking very pale, there weredark violet circles under her eyes, and her gown of some faint sea-greenshade brought out the delicate sharpened lines of her face and throat. The flame, which had burnt so steadily for the last year, seemed to dieout slowly, in a waning flicker, while she stood there. 

George, pushing me aside, came back with a glass of wine and a biscuit. 

"Drink this, Sally, " he said. "No, don't shake your head, drink it. "

She held out her hand for the glass, but after she had taken it fromhim, before she could raise it to her lips, a tremor of anguish that wasalmost like a convulsion passed into her face. The glass fell from herhand, and the wine, splashing over her gown, stained it in a red streakfrom bosom to hem. Her figure swayed slightly, but when I reached out myarms to catch her, she gazed straight beyond me, with eyes which hadgrown wide and bright from some physical pain. 

"George!" she said, "George!" and the name as she uttered it was anappeal for help. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE BLOW THAT CLEARS

Until dawn the doctor was with her, but in the afternoon, when I wentinto her room, I found that she had got out of bed and was dressed formotoring. 

"Oh, I'm all right. There's nothing the matter with me except that I amsmothering for fresh air, " she said almost irritably, in reply to myremonstrances. 

"But you are ill, Sally. You are as pale as a ghost. "

She shook her head impatiently, and I noticed that the furs she woreseemed to drag down her slender figure. 

"The wind will bring back my colour. If I lie there and think all day, Ishall go out of my mind. " Her lips trembled and a quiver passed throughher face, but when I made a step toward her, she repulsed me with agesture which, gentle as it was, appeared to place me at a measureddistance. "I wish--oh, I wish Aunt Euphronasia wasn't dead, " she said ina whisper. 

"If you go, may I go with you?" I asked. 

For a minute she hesitated, then meeting my eyes with a glance in whichI read for the first time since I had known her, a gentle aversion, afaint hostility, she answered quietly:--

"I am sorry, but I've just telephoned Bonny that I'd call for her. "

The old bruise in my heart throbbed while I turned away; but the paininstead of melting my pride, only increased the terrible reticence whichI wore now as an armour. Her face, above the heavy furs that seemeddragging her down, had in it something of the soft, uncompromisingobstinacy of Miss Matoaca. So delicate she appeared that I could almosthave broken her body in my grasp; yet I knew that she would not yieldthough I brought the full strength of my will to bear in the struggle. In the old days, doubtless, Matoaca Bland, then in her pride and beauty, had faced the General with this same firmness which was as soft asvelvet yet as inflexible as steel. 

A few days after this, the great man, who had grown at last too feeblefor an active part in "affairs, " resigned the presidency of the SouthMidland, and retired, as he said, "to enjoy his second childhood. "

"It's about time for Theophilus to bring around his box of ants, Ireckon, " he observed, and added seriously after a moment, "Yes, there'sno use trying to prop up a fallen tree, Ben. I've had a long life and agood life, and I am willing to draw out. It's a losing game any way youplay it, when it comes to that. I've thought a lot about it, my boy, these last weeks, and I tell you the only thing that sticks by you tothe last is the love of a woman. If you need a woman when you are young, you need her ten thousand times more when you're old. If Miss Matoacahad married me, we'd both of us have been a long ways better off. "

That night I told Sally of the resignation, and repeated to her a partof the conversation. The sentimental allusion to Miss Matoaca shetreated with scorn, but after a few thoughtful moments she said:--

"You've always wanted to be president of the South Midland more thananything in the world?"

"More than anything in the world, " I admitted absently. 

"There's a chance now?"

"Yes, I suppose there's a chance now. "

She said nothing more, but the next morning as I was getting into myovercoat, she sent me word that she wished to speak to me again before Iwent out. 

"I'll be up in a minute, " I answered, and I had turned to follow themaid up the staircase, when a sharp ring at the telephone distracted myattention. 

"Come down in five minutes if you can, " said a voice. "You're wantedbadly about the B. And R. Deal. "

"Is your mistress ill?" I enquired, turning from the telephone to takeup my overcoat. 

"I think not, sir, " replied the woman, "she is dressing. "

"Then tell her I'm called away, but I will see her at luncheon, " Ianswered hurriedly, as I rushed out. 

Upon reaching my office, I found that my presence was required inWashington before two o'clock, and as I had not time to return home, Itelephoned Sally for my bag, which she sent down to the station byMicah, the coachman. 

"I hope to return early to-morrow, " I said to the negro from theplatform, as the train pulled out. 

In my anxiety over the possible collapse of the important B. And R. Deal, the message that Sally had sent me that morning was crowded forseveral hours out of my thoughts. When I remembered it later in theafternoon, I sent her a telegram explaining my absence; and myconscience, which had troubled me for a moment, was appeased by thisattention that would prove to her that even in the midst of my businessworries I had not forgotten her. There was, indeed, I assured myself, nocause for the sudden throb of anxiety, almost of apprehension, I hadfelt at the recollection of the message that I had disregarded. She hadlooked stronger yesterday; I had commented at dinner on the fine flushin her cheeks; and the pain, which had caused me such sharp distresswhile it lasted, had vanished entirely for the last thirty-six hours. Then the sound of her voice, with its note of appeal, of helplessness, of terror, when she had called upon George at the reception, returned tome as if it were spoken audibly somewhere in my brain. I saw her eyes, wide and bright, as they had been when they looked straight beyond me insearch of help, and her slender, swaying figure in its gown of a palesea-foam shade that was stained from bosom to hem with the red streak ofthe wine. "Yet there is nothing to worry about, " I thought, annoyedbecause I could not put this anxiety, this apprehension, out of my mind. "She is not ill. She is better. Only last night I heard her laughing asshe has not done for weeks. "

The afternoon was crowded with meetings, and it was three o'clock thenext day when I reached home and asked eagerly for Sally as I went upthe staircase. She had gone out, her maid informed me, but I would finda note she had left on my desk in the library. Turning hastily back, Itook up the note from the silver blotter beneath which it was lying, andas I opened it, I saw that the address looked tremulous and uncertain, as if it had been written in haste or excitement. 

 "Dear Ben (it read), I have been in trouble, and as I do not wish to disturb you at this time, I am going away for a few days to think it over. I shall be at Riverview, the old place on James River where mamma and I used to stay--but go ahead with the South Midland, and don't worry about me, it is all right. 

 "SALLY. "

"I have been in trouble, " I repeated slowly. "What trouble, and whyshould she keep it from me? Oh, because of the presidency of the SouthMidland! Damn the South Midland!" I said suddenly aloud. A time-tablewas on my desk, and looking into it, I found that a train left forRiverview in half an hour. I rang the bell and old Esdras appeared toannounce luncheon. 

"I want nothing to eat. Bring me a cup of coffee. I must catch a trainin a few minutes. "

"Fur de Lawd's sake, Marse Ben, " exclaimed the old negro, "you ain'never gwineter res' at home agin. "

Still grumbling he brought the coffee, and I was standing by the deskwith the cup raised to my lips, when the front door opened and shutsharply, and the General came into the room, leaning upon twogold-headed walking-sticks. He looked old and tired, and more than ever, in his fur-lined overcoat, like a wounded eagle. 

"Ben, " he said, "what's this Hatty tells me about George taking Sallyout motoring with him yesterday, and not bringing her back? Has therebeen an accident?"

My arteries drummed in my ears, and for a minute the noise shut out allother sounds. Then I heard a carriage roll by in the street, and thefaint regular ticking of the small clock on the mantel. 

"Sally is at Riverview, " I answered, "I am going down to her on the nexttrain. "

"Then where in the devil is George? He went off with her. "

"George may be there, too. I hope he is. She needs somebody with her. "

A purple flush rose to the General's face, and the expression in hissmall, watery grey eyes held me speechless. 

"Confound you, Ben!" he exclaimed, in a burst of temper, "do you mean totell me you don't know that George's blamed foolishness is the talk ofthe town? Why, he hasn't let Sally out of his sight for the last twoyears. "

"No, I didn't know it, " I replied. 

"Great Scott! Where are your wits?"

"In the stock market, " I answered bitterly. Then something in me, out ofthe chaos and the darkness, rose suddenly, as if with wings, into thelight. "Of course Sally is an angel, General, we both know that--but howshe could have helped seeing that George is the better man of us, Idon't for a minute pretend to understand. "

"Well, I never had much opinion of George, " responded the General. "Italways seemed to me that he ought to have made a great deal more ofhimself than he has done. "

"What he has made of himself, " I answered, and my voice sounded harsh inmy ears, "is the man that Sally ought to have married. "

I went out hurriedly, forgetting to assist him, and limping painfully, he followed me to the porch, and called after me as I ran down into thestreet. Looking back, as I turned the corner, I saw him getting withdifficulty into his buggy, which waited beside the curbing, and itseemed to me that his great bulky figure, in his fur-lined overcoat, wasunreal and intangible like the images that one sees in sleep. 

The train was about to pull out as I entered the station, and swingingon to the rear coach, I settled myself into the first chair I came to, which happened to be directly behind the shining bald head and red neckof a man I knew. As I shrank back, he turned, caught sight of me, andheld out his hand with an easy air of good-fellowship. 

"So General Bolingbroke has retired from the South Midland and AtlanticRailroad, I hear, " he remarked. "Well, there's a big job waiting forsomebody, but he'll have to be a big man to fit it. "

A sudden ridiculous annoyance took possession of me; the General, theSouth Midland Railroad, and the bald-headed man before me, all appearedto enter my consciousness like small, stinging gnats that swarmed aboutlarger bodies. What was the railroad to me, if I had lost Sally? Had Ilost her? Was it possible to win her again? "I am in trouble, " the wordswhirled in my thoughts, "and as I do not wish to disturb you at thistime, I have gone off for a few days to think it over. " Was the troubleassociated with George Bolingbroke? Did she mind the gossip? Did shethink I should mind it? Whatever it was, why didn't she come to me andweep it out on my breast? "I didn't want to disturb you at this time. "At this time? That was because of the South Midland and AtlanticRailroad. "Damn the South Midland and Atlantic Railroad!" I said againunder my breath. 

The red neck of the bald-headed man in front of me suddenly turned. 

"Going down for a little hunting?" he enquired genially, "there isn'tmuch else, I reckon, to take a man like you down into this half-bakedcountry. I hear the partridges are getting scarce, and they are going tobring a bill into the Legislature forbidding the sending of them outsideof the state. Now, that's a direct slap, I say, at the small farmer. Abird is a bird, ain't it, even if it's a Virginia partridge?"

I rose and took up my overcoat. "I'll go into the smoking-car. They keepit too hot here. "

He nodded cheerfully. "I was in there myself, but it's like an oven, too, so I came out. " Then he unfolded his newspaper, and I passedhurriedly down the aisle of the coach. 

In the smoking-car the air was like the fumes in the stemming room of atobacco factory, but lighting a cigar, I leaned back on one of the hard, plush-covered seats, and stared out at the low, pale landscape beyondthe window. It was late November, and the sombre colours of the fieldsand of the leafless trees showed through a fine autumnal mist, whichlent an atmosphere of melancholy to the stretches of fallow land, to theharvested corn-fields, in which the stubble stood in rows, like aheadless army, and to the long red-clay road winding, deep in mud, tothe distant horizon. 

"I am in trouble--I am in trouble, " I heard always above the roar of thetrain, above the shrill whistle of the engine, as it rounded a curve, above the thin, drawling voices of my fellow-passengers, disputing aquestion in politics. "I am in trouble, " ran the words. "What trouble?What trouble? What trouble?" I repeated passionately, while my teeth bitinto my cigar, and the flame went out. "So George hasn't let her out ofhis sight for two years, and I did not know it. For two years! And inthese two years how much have I seen of her--of Sally, my wife? We havebeen living separate lives under the same roof, and when she asked mefor bread, I have given her--pearls!" A passion of remorse gripped me atthe throat like the spring of a beast. Pearls for bread, and that toSally--to my wife, whom I loved! The melancholy landscape at which Ilooked appeared to divide and dissolve, and she came back to me, not asI had last seen her, weighed down by the furs which were too heavy, butin her blue gingham apron with the jagged burn on her wrist, and thepatient, divine smile hovering about her lips. If she went from me now, it would be always the Sally of that year of poverty, of suffering, thatI had lost. In the future she would haunt me, not in her sea-green gown, with the jewels on her bosom, but in her gingham apron with the sleevesrolled back from her reddened arms and the jagged scar from the burndisfiguring her flesh. 

"I'll see him in hell, before I'll vote for him!" called out a voice atmy back, in a rage. 

The train pulled into the little wayside station of Riverview, andgetting out, I started on the walk of two miles through the flat, brownfields to the house. The road was heavy with mud, and it was likeploughing to keep straight on in the single red-clay furrow which thewheels of passing wagons had left. All was desolate, all was deserted, and the only living things I saw between the station and the house werea few lonely sheep browsing beside a stream, and the brown-winged birdsthat flew, with wet plumage, across the road. 

When I reached the ruined gateway of Riverview, the old estate of theBlands', I quickened my pace, and went rapidly up the long drive to thefront of the house, where I saw the glimmer of red firelight on theivied window-panes in the west wing. As I ascended the steps, there wasa sound on the gravel, and George Bolingbroke came around the corner ofthe house, in hunting clothes, with a setter dog at his heels. 

"Hello, Ben!" he remarked, half angrily. "So you've turned up, have you?Has there been another panic in the market?"

"Is Sally here?" I asked. "I'm anxious about her. "

"Well, it's time you were, " he answered. "Yes, she's inside. "

He stopped in the centre of the walk, and turning from the door, I cameback and faced him in a silence that seemed alive with the beating ofinnumerable wings in the air. 

"Something's wrong, George, " I said at last, breaking through myrestraint. 

He looked at me with a calm, enquiring gaze while I was speaking, and bythat look I understood, in an inspiration, he had condemned me. 

"Yes, something's wrong, " he answered quietly, "but have you just foundit out?"

"I haven't found it out yet. What is it? What is the matter?"

At the question his calmness deserted him and the dark flush of angerbroke suddenly in his face. 

"The matter is, Ben, " he replied, holding himself in with an effort, "that you've missed being a fool only by being a genius instead. "

Then turning away, as if his temper had got the better of him, he strodeback through a clump of trees on the lawn, while I went up the stepsagain, and crossing the cold hall, entered the dismantled drawing-room, where a bright log fire was burning. 

Sally was sitting on the hearth, half hidden by the high arms of thechair, and as I closed the door behind me, she rose and stood looking atme with an expression of surprise. So had Miss Mitty and Miss Matoacalooked in the firelight on that November afternoon when Sally and I hadgone in together. 

"Why, Ben!" she said quietly, "I thought you were in Washington!"

"I got home this morning and found your note. Sally, what is thetrouble?"

"You came after me?"

"I came after you. The General went wild and imagined that there hadbeen an accident, or George had run off with you. "

"Then the General sent you?"

"Nobody sent me. I was leaving the house when he found me. "

She had not moved toward me, and for some reason, I still stood where Ihad stopped short in the centre of the room, kept back by the reserve, the detachment in her expression. 

"You came believing that George and I had gone off together?" she asked, and there was a faint hostility in her voice. 

"Of course I didn't believe it. I'm not a fool if I am an ass. But if Ihad believed it, " I added passionately, "it would have made nodifference. I'd have come after you if you'd gone off with twentyGeorges. "

"Well, there's only one, " she said, "and I did go off with him. "

"It makes no difference. "

"We left Richmond at ten o'clock yesterday, and we've been here eversince. "

"What does that matter?"

"You mean it doesn't matter that I came away with George and spenttwenty-four hours?"

"I mean that nothing matters--not if you'd spent twenty-four years. "

"I suppose it doesn't, " she responded quietly, and there was a curiousremoteness, a hollowness in the sound of the words. "When one comes tosee things as they are, nothing really matters. It is all just thesame. "

Her face looked unsubstantial and wan in the firelight, and so ethereal, so fleshless, appeared her figure, that it seemed to me I could seethrough it to the shining of the flames before which she stood. 

"I can't talk, Sally, " I said, "I am not good at words, I believe I'mmore than half a fool as George has just told me--but--but--I wantyou--I've always wanted you--I've never in my heart wanted anything inthe world but you--"

"I don't suppose even that matters much, " she answered wearily, "but ifyou care to know, Ben, George and Bonny found me when I was aloneand--and very unhappy, and they brought me with them when they came downto hunt. They are hunting now. "

"You were alone and unhappy?" I said, for George Bolingbroke and BonnyMarshall had faded from me into the region of utterly indifferentthings. 

"It was that I wanted to tell you the morning you couldn't wait, " shereturned gently; "I had kept it from you the night before because I sawthat you were so tired and needed sleep. But--but I had seen twodoctors, both had told me that I was ill, that I had some trouble of thespine, that I might be an invalid--a useless invalid, if I lived, that--that there would never be another child--that--"

Her voice faltered and ceased, for crossing the room with a bound, I hadgathered her to my breast, and was bending over her in an intensity, aviolence of love, crushing back her hands on her bosom, while I kissedher face, her throat, her hair, her dress even, as I had never kissedher in the early days of our marriage. The passion of happiness in thatradiant prime was pale and bloodless beside the passion of sorrow whichshook me now. 

"Stop, stop, Ben, " she said, struggling to be free, "let me go. You arehurting me. "

"I shall never stop, I shall never let you go, " I answered, "I shallhold you forever, even if it hurts you. "

CHAPTER XXXV

THE ULTIMATE CHOICE

We carried her home next day in George's motor car, ploughing withdifficulty over the heavy roads, which in a month's time would havebecome impassable. A golden morning had followed the rain; the sun shoneclear, the wind sang in the bronzed tree-tops, and on the low hills tothe right of us, the harvested corn ricks stood out illuminated againsta deep blue sky. When the brown-winged birds flew, as they sometimesdid, across the road, her eyes measured their flight with a look inwhich there was none of the radiant impulse I had seen on that afternoonwhen she gazed after the flying swallows. She spoke but seldom, and thenit was merely to thank me when I wrapped the fur rug about her, or toreply to a question of George's with a smile that had in it a touchinghelplessness, a pathetic courage. And this helplessness, this courage, brought to my memory the sound of her voice when she had called George'sname aloud in her terror. Even after we had reached home, and when sheand I stood alone, for a minute, before the fire in her room, I feltstill that something within her--something immaterial and flamelike thatwas her soul--turned from me, seeking always a clearer and a divinerair. 

"Are you in pain now, Sally? What can I do for you?" I asked. 

"No, I am better. Don't worry, " she answered. 

Then, because there seemed nothing further to say, I stood in silence, while she moved from me, as if the burden of her weight was too much forher, and sank down on the couch, hiding her face in the pillows. 

Two days later there came down a great specialist from New York for aconsultation; and while he was upstairs in her closed bedroom, I walkedup and down the floor of the library, over the Turkish rugs, between theblack oak bookcases, as I had walked in that other house on the night ofmy failure. How small a thing that seemed to me now compared with this!What I remembered best from that night was the look in her face when shehad turned and run back to me with her arms outstretched, and the warm, flattened braid of her hair that had brushed my cheek. I understood atlast, as I walked restlessly back and forth, waiting for the verdictfrom the closed room, that I had been happy then--if I had only knownit! The warmth stifled me, and going to the window, I flung it open, andleaned out into the mild November weather. In the street below leaveswere burning, and while the odour floated up to me I saw again her redshoes dancing over the sunken graves in the churchyard. 

The door opened above, there was the sound of a slow heavy tread on thestaircase, and I went forward to meet the great specialist as he cameinto the room. 

For a minute he looked at me enquiringly over a pair of black-rimmedglasses, while I stood there neither thinking nor feeling, but waiting. Something in my brain, which until then had seemed to tick the slowmovement of time, came suddenly to a stop like a clock that has rundown. 

"In my opinion an operation is unnecessary, Mr. Starr, " he said, drawingout his watch as he spoke, "and in your wife's present condition Iseriously advise against it. The injury to the spine may not bepermanent, but there is only one cure for it--time--time and rest. Tomake recovery possible she should have absolute quiet, absolute freedomfrom care. She must be taken to a milder climate, --I would suggestsouthern California, --and she must be kept free from mental disturbancefor a number of years. "

"In that case there is hope of recovery?"

For an instant he stared at me blankly, his gaze wandering from hiswatch to the clock on the mantel, as if there were a discrepancy in thetime, which he would like to correct. 

"Ah, yes, hope, " he replied suddenly, in a cheerful voice, "there isalways hope. " Then having uttered his confession of faith, he appearedto grow nervous. "Have you a time-table on your desk?" he enquired. "I'dlike to look up an earlier train than the Florida special. "

Having looked up his train, he turned to shake hands with me, while theabstracted and preoccupied expression in his face grew a trifle morehuman, as if he had found what he wanted. 

"What your wife needs, my dear sir, " he remarked, as he went out, "isnot medical treatment, but daily and hourly care. "

A minute later, when the front door had closed after him, and the motorcar had borne him on his way to the station, I stood alone in the room, repeating his words with a kind of joy, as if they contained the secretof happiness for which I had sought. "Daily and hourly care, daily andhourly care. " I tried to think clearly of what it meant--of the love, the sacrifice, the service that would go into it. I tried, too, to thinkof her as she was lying now, still and pale in the room upstairs, withthe expression of touching helplessness, of pathetic courage, about hermouth; but even as I made the effort, the scent of burning leavesfloated again through the window and I could see her only in her redshoes dancing over the sunken graves. "Daily and hourly care, " Irepeated aloud. 

The words were still on my lips when old Esdras, stepping softly, camein and put a telegram into my hands, and as I tore it open, I said overslowly, like one who impresses a fact on the memory, "What your wifeneeds is daily and hourly care. " Ah, she should have it. How she shouldhave it! Then my eyes fell on the paper, and before I read the words, Iknew that it was the offer of the presidency of the Great South Midlandand Atlantic Railroad. The end of my ambition, the great adventure of myboyhood, lay in my grasp. 

With the telegram still in my hand, I went up the staircase, and enteredthe bedroom where Sally was lying, with wide, bright eyes, in thedimness. 

"It's good news, " I said, as I bent over her, "there's only good newsto-day. "

She looked up at me with that searching brightness I had seen when shegazed straight beyond me for the help that I could not give. 

"It means going away from everything I have ever known, " she saidslowly; "it means leaving you, Ben. "

"It means never leaving me again in your life, " I replied; "not for aday--not for an hour. "

"You will go, too?" she asked, and the faint wonder in her face piercedto my heart. 

"Do you think I'd be left?" I demanded. 

Her eyes filled and as she turned from me, a tear fell on my hand. 

"But your work, your career--oh, no, no, Ben, no. "

"You are my career, darling, I have never in my heart had any career butyou. What I am, I am yours, Sally, but there are things that I cannotgive you because they are not mine, because they are not in me. Theseare the things that were George's. "

Lifting my hand she kissed it gently and let it fall with a gesture thatexpressed an acquiescence in life rather than a surrender to love. 

"I've sometimes thought that if I hadn't loved you first, Ben--if Icould ever have changed, I should have loved George, " she said, andadded very softly, like one who seeks to draw strength from a radiantmemory, "but I had already loved you once for all, I suppose, in thebeginning. "

"I am yours, such as I am, " I returned. "Plain I shall always be--plainand rough sometimes, and forgetful to the end of the little things--butthe big things are there as you know, Sally, as you know. "

"As I know, " she repeated, a little sadly, yet with the pathetic couragein her voice; "and it is the big things, after all, that I've wantedmost all my life. "

Then she shook her head with a smile that brought me to my knees at herside. 

"You've forgotten the railroad, " she said. "You've forgotten thepresidency of the South Midland--that's what _you_ wanted most. "

My laugh answered her. "Hang the presidency of the South Midland!" Iresponded gaily. 

Her brows went up, and she looked at me with the shadow of her oldcharming archness. By this look I knew that the spirit of the Blandswould fight on, though always with that faint wonder. Then her eyes fellon the crumpled telegram I still held in my hand, and she reached totake it. 

"What is that, dear?" she asked. 

Breaking away from her, I walked to the fireplace and tossed the offerof the presidency of the South Midland and Atlantic Railroad into thegrate. It caught slowly, and I stood there while it flamed up, and thencrumbled with curled fiery ends among the ashes. When it was quite gone, I turned and came back to her. 

"Only a bit of waste paper, " I answered. 

Mr. JAMES LANE ALLEN'S NOVELS

The Choir Invisible

 "One reads the story for the story's sake, and then re-reads the book out of pure delight in its beauty. The story is American to the very core. .. . Mr. Allen stands to-day in the front rank of American novelists. _The Choir Invisible_ will solidify a reputation already established and bring into clear light his rare gifts as an artist. For this latest story is as genuine a work of art as has come from an American hand. "--Hamilton Mabie in _The Outlook_. 

The Reign of Law. A Tale of the Kentucky Hempfields

 "Mr. Allen has a style as original and almost as perfectly finished as Hawthorne's, and he has also Hawthorne's fondness for spiritual suggestion that makes all his stories rich in the qualities that are lacking in so many novels of the period. .. . If read in the right way, it cannot fail to add to one's spiritual possessions. "--_San Francisco Chronicle. _

The Mettle of the Pasture

 "It may be that _The Mettle of the Pasture_ will live and become a part of our literature; it certainly will live far beyond the allotted term of present-day fiction. Our principal concern is that it is a notable novel, that it ranks high in the range of American and English fiction, and that it is worth the reading, the re-reading, and the continuous appreciation of those who care for modern literature at its best. "--By E. F. E. In the _Boston Transcript_. 

Summer in Arcady. A Tale of Nature

 "This story by James Lane Allen is one of the gems of the season. It is artistic in its setting, realistic and true to nature and life in its descriptions, dramatic, pathetic, tragic, in its incidents; indeed, a veritable masterpiece that must become classic. It is difficult to give an outline of the story; it is one of the stories which do not outline; it must be read. "--_Boston Daily Advertiser. _

_Shorter Stories_

 The Blue Grass Region of Kentucky Flute and Violin, and Other Kentucky Tales The Bride of the Mistletoe A Kentucky Cardinal. Aftermath. A Sequel to "A Kentucky Cardinal"

Mr. F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS

Mr. Crawford has no equal as a writer of brilliant cosmopolitan fiction, in which the characters really belong to the chosen scene and the storyinterest is strong. His novels possess atmosphere in a high degree. 

Mr. Isaacs (India)

Its scenes are laid in Simla, chiefly. This is the work which firstplaced its author among the most brilliant novelists of his day. 

Greifenstein (The Black Forest)

". .. Another notable contribution to the literature of the day. Itpossesses originality in its conception and is a work of unusualability. Its interest is sustained to the close, and it is an advanceeven on the previous work of this talented author. Like all Mr. Crawford's work, this novel is crisp, clear, and vigorous, and will beread with a great deal of interest. "--_New York Evening Telegram. _

Zoroaster (Persia)

"It is a drama in the force of its situations and in the poetry anddignity of its language; but its men and women are not men and women ofa play. By the naturalness of their conversation and behavior they seemto live and lay hold of our human sympathy more than the same characterson a stage could possibly do. "--_The New York Times. _

The Witch of Prague (Bohemia)

"_A fantastic tale, " illustrated by W. J. Hennessy. _

"The artistic skill with which this extraordinary story is constructedand carried out is admirable and delightful. .. . Mr. Crawford has scoreda decided triumph, for the interest of the tale is sustainedthroughout. .. . A very remarkable, powerful, and interestingstory. "--_New York Tribune. _

Paul Patoff (Constantinople)

"Mr. Crawford has a marked talent for assimilating local color, not tomake mention of a broader historical sense. Even though he may adopt, asit is the romancer's right to do, the extreme romantic view of history, it is always a living and moving picture that he evolves for us, variedand stirring. "--_New York Evening Post. _

Marietta (Venice)

"No living writer can surpass Mr. Crawford in the construction of acomplicated plot and the skilful unravelling of the tangledskein. "--_Chicago Record-Herald. _

"He has gone back to the field of his earlier triumphs, and has, perhaps, scored the greatest triumph of them all. "--_New York Herald. _

THE SARACINESCA SERIES

Saracinesca

"The work has two distinct merits, either of which would serve to makeit great, --that of telling a perfect story in a perfect way, and ofgiving a graphic picture of Roman society in the last days of the Pope'stemporal power. .. . The story is exquisitely told. "--_Boston Traveler. _

Sant' Ilario. A Sequel to "Saracinesca"

"A singularly powerful and beautiful story. .. . It fulfils everyrequirement of artistic fiction. It brings out what is most impressivein human action, without owing any of its effectiveness tosensationalism or artifice. It is natural, fluent in evolution, accordant with experience, graphic in description, penetrating inanalysis, and absorbing in interest. "--_New York Tribune. _

Don Orsino. A Sequel to "Sant' Ilario"

"Perhaps the cleverest novel of the year. .. . There is not a dullparagraph in the book, and the reader may be assured that once begun, the story of _Don Orsino_ will fascinate him until its close. "--_TheCritic. _

Taquisara

"To Mr. Crawford's Roman novels belongs the supreme quality of unitingsubtly drawn characters to a plot of uncommon interest. "--_ChicagoTribune. _

Corleone

"Mr. Crawford is the novelist born . .. A natural story-teller, with wit, imagination, and insight added to a varied and profound knowledge ofsocial life. "--_The Inter-Ocean_, Chicago. 

Casa Braccio. _In two volumes, $2. 00. _ Illustrated by A. Castaigne. 

"Mr. Crawford's books have life, pathos, and insight; he tells adramatic story with many exquisite touches. "--_New York Sun. _

The White Sister

NOVELS OF ROMAN SOCIAL LIFE

A Roman Singer

"One of the earliest and best works of this famous novelist. .. . None buta genuine artist could have made so true a picture of human life, crossed by human passions and interwoven with human weakness. It is aperfect specimen of literary art. "--_The Newark Advertiser. _

Marzio's Crucifix

"We have repeatedly had occasion to say that Mr. Crawford possesses inan extraordinary degree the art of constructing a story. It is as if itcould not have been written otherwise, so naturally does the storyunfold itself, and so logical and consistent is the sequence of incidentafter incident. As a story, _Marzio's Crucifix_ is perfectlyconstructed. "--_New York Commercial Advertiser. _

Heart of Rome. A Tale of the Lost Water

"Mr. Crawford has written a story of absorbing interest, a story with agenuine thrill in it; he has drawn his characters with a sure andbrilliant touch, and he has said many things surpassingly well. "--_NewYork Times Saturday Review. _

Cecilia. A Story of Modern Rome

"That F. Marion Crawford is a master of mystery needs no new telling. .. . His latest novel, _Cecilia_, is as weird as anything he has done sincethe memorable _Mr. Isaacs_. .. . A strong, interesting, dramatic story, with the picturesque Roman setting beautifully handled as only amaster's touch could do it. "--_Philadelphia Evening Telegraph. _

Whosoever Shall Offend

"It is a story sustained from beginning to end by an ever increasingdramatic quality. "--_New York Evening Post. _

Pietro Ghisleri

"The imaginative richness, the marvellous ingenuity of plot, the powerand subtlety of the portrayal of character, the charm of the romanticenvironment, --the entire atmosphere, indeed, --rank this novel at onceamong the great creations. "--_The Boston Budget. _

To Leeward

"The four characters with whose fortunes this novel deals are, perhaps, the most brilliantly executed portraits in the whole of Mr. Crawford'slong picture gallery, while for subtle insight into the springs of humanpassion and for swift dramatic action none of the novels surpasses thisone. "--_The News and Courier. _

A Lady of Rome

Via Crucis. A Romance of the Second Crusade. 

"_Via Crucis. .. . _ A tale of former days, possessing an air of realityand an absorbing interest such as few writers since Scott have been ableto accomplish when dealing with historical characters. "--_BostonTranscript. _

In the Palace of the King (Spain)

"_In the Palace of the King_ is a masterpiece; there is apicturesqueness, a sincerity which will catch all readers in anagreeable storm of emotion, and even leave a hardened reviewer impressedand delighted. "--_Literature_, London. 

With the Immortals

"The strange central idea of the story could have occurred only to awriter whose mind was very sensitive to the current of modern thoughtand progress, while its execution, the setting it forth in properliterary clothing, could be successfully attempted only by one whoseactive literary ability should be fully equalled by his power ofassimilative knowledge both literary and scientific, and no less by hiscourage and capacity for hard work. The book will be found to have afascination entirely new for the habitual reader of novels. Indeed, Mr. Crawford has succeeded in taking his readers quite above the ordinaryplane of novel interest. "--_Boston Advertiser. _

Children of the King (Calabria)

"One of the most artistic and exquisitely finished pieces of work thatCrawford has produced. The picturesque setting, Calabria and itssurroundings, the beautiful Sorrento and the Gulf of Salerno, with thebewitching accessories that climate, sea, and sky afford, give Mr. Crawford rich opportunities to show his rare descriptive powers. As awhole the book is strong and beautiful through its simplicity, and ranksamong the choicest of the author's many fine productions. "--_PublicOpinion. _

A Cigarette Maker's Romance (Munich)

and Khaled, a Tale of Arabia

"Two gems of subtle analysis of human passion and motive. "--_Times. _

"The interest is unflagging throughout. Never has Mr. Crawford done morebrilliant realistic work than here. But his realism is only the case andcover for those intense feelings which, placed under no matter whathumble conditions, produce the most dramatic and the most tragicsituations. .. . This is a secret of genius, to take the most coarse andcommon material, the meanest surroundings, the most sordid materialprospects, and out of the vehement passions which sometimes dominate allhuman beings to build up with these poor elements, scenes and passagesthe dramatic and emotional power of which at once enforce attention andawaken the profoundest interest. "--_New York Tribune. _

Arethusa (Constantinople)

Dr. Cooper, in _The Bookman_, once gave to Mr. Crawford the title whichbest marks his place in modern fiction: "the prince of storytellers. "

A Tale of a Lonely Parish

"It is a pleasure to have anything so perfect of its kind as this briefand vivid story. .. . It is doubly a success, being full of humansympathy, as well as thoroughly artistic in its nice balancing of theunusual with the commonplace, the clever juxtaposition of innocence andguilt, comedy and tragedy, simplicity and intrigue. "--_Critic. _

Dr. Claudius. A True Story

The scene changes from Heidelberg to New York, and much of the storydevelops during the ocean voyage. 

"There is a satisfying quality in Mr. Crawford's strong, vital, forcefulstories. "--_Boston Herald. _

An American Politician. The scenes are laid in Boston

"It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and picturesquelywritten, portraying sharply individual characters in well-definedsurroundings. "--_New York Commercial Advertiser. _

The Three Fates

"Mr. Crawford has manifestly brought his best qualities as a student ofhuman nature and his finest resources as a master of an original andpicturesque style to bear upon this story. Taken for all in all, it isone of the most pleasing of all his productions in fiction, and itaffords a view of certain phases of American, or perhaps we should sayof New York, life that have not hitherto been treated with anything likethe same adequacy and felicity. "--_Boston Beacon. _

Marion Darche

"Full enough of incident to have furnished material for three or fourstories. .. . A most interesting and engrossing book. Every page unfoldsnew possibilities, and the incidents multiply rapidly. "--_Detroit FreePress. _

"We are disposed to rank _Marion Darche_ as the best of Mr. Crawford'sAmerican stories. "--_The Literary World. _

Katharine Lauderdale

The Ralstons. A Sequel to "Katharine Lauderdale"

"Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in _KatharineLauderdale_ we have him at his best. "--_Boston Daily Advertiser. _

"A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with humor, andfull of the ripest and wisest reflections upon men and women. "--_TheWestminster Gazette. _

"It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that any suchbreadth of view has shown itself in the study of our socialframework. "--_Life. _