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+Project Gutenberg's Rodman the Keeper, by Constance Fenimore Woolson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Rodman the Keeper
+       Southern Sketches
+
+Author: Constance Fenimore Woolson
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2010 [EBook #33813]
+[Last updated: February 8, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RODMAN THE KEEPER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+RODMAN THE KEEPER
+
+_SOUTHERN SKETCHES_
+
+CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON
+
+AUTHOR OF "EAST ANGELS" "ANNE" "FOR THE MAJOR" ETC.
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATED
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF
+
+MY MOTHER.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The sketches included in this volume were written during a residence in
+the South, which has embraced the greater part of the past six years. As
+far as they go they record real impressions; but they can never give the
+inward charm of that beautiful land which the writer has learned to
+love, and from which she now severs herself with true regret. Two of
+these sketches have appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly," four in
+"Appletons' Journal," and one each in "Scribner's Monthly," "The
+Galaxy," "Lippincott's Monthly," and "Harper's Magazine."
+
+C. F. W.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                          PAGE
+
+RODMAN THE KEEPER            9
+
+SISTER ST. LUKE             42
+
+MISS ELISABETHA             75
+
+OLD GARDISTON              105
+
+THE SOUTH DEVIL            139
+
+IN THE COTTON COUNTRY      178
+
+FELIPA                     197
+
+"BRO."                     221
+
+KING DAVID                 254
+
+UP IN THE BLUE RIDGE       276
+
+
+
+
+RODMAN THE KEEPER.
+
+    The long years come and go,
+          And the Past,
+    The sorrowful, splendid Past,
+    With its glory and its woe,
+      Seems never to have been.
+      --Seems never to have been?
+      O somber days and grand,
+      How ye crowd back once more,
+    Seeing our heroes' graves are green
+    By the Potomac and the Cumberland,
+    And in the valley of the Shenandoah!
+
+    When we remember how they died,--
+    In dark ravine and on the mountain-side,
+    In leaguered fort and fire-encircled town,
+    And where the iron ships went down,--
+    How their dear lives were spent
+    In the weary hospital-tent,
+    In the cockpit's crowded hive,
+              ----it seems
+    Ignoble to be alive!
+
+    THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+
+
+"Keeper of what? Keeper of the dead. Well, it is easier to keep the dead
+than the living; and as for the gloom of the thing, the living among
+whom I have been lately were not a hilarious set."
+
+John Rodman sat in the doorway and looked out over his domain. The
+little cottage behind him was empty of life save himself alone. In one
+room the slender appointments provided by Government for the keeper, who
+being still alive must sleep and eat, made the bareness doubly bare; in
+the other the desk and the great ledgers, the ink and pens, the
+register, the loud-ticking clock on the wall, and the flag folded on a
+shelf, were all for the kept, whose names, in hastily written, blotted
+rolls of manuscript, were waiting to be transcribed in the new red-bound
+ledgers in the keeper's best handwriting day by day, while the clock was
+to tell him the hour when the flag must rise over the mounds where
+reposed the bodies of fourteen thousand United States soldiers--who had
+languished where once stood the prison-pens, on the opposite slopes, now
+fair and peaceful in the sunset; who had fallen by the way in long
+marches to and fro under the burning sun; who had fought and died on the
+many battle-fields that reddened the beautiful State, stretching from
+the peaks of the marble mountains in the smoky west down to the
+sea-islands of the ocean border. The last rim of the sun's red ball had
+sunk below the horizon line, and the western sky glowed with deep
+rose-color, which faded away above into pink, into the salmon-tint, into
+shades of that far-away heavenly emerald which the brush of the earthly
+artist can never reproduce, but which is found sometimes in the
+iridescent heart of the opal. The small town, a mile distant, stood
+turning its back on the cemetery; but the keeper could see the pleasant,
+rambling old mansions, each with its rose-garden and neglected outlying
+fields, the empty negro quarters falling into ruin, and everything just
+as it stood when on that April morning the first gun was fired on
+Sumter; apparently not a nail added, not a brushful of paint applied,
+not a fallen brick replaced, or latch or lock repaired. The keeper had
+noted these things as he strolled through the town, but not with
+surprise; for he had seen the South in its first estate, when, fresh,
+strong, and fired with enthusiasm, he, too, had marched away from his
+village home with the colors flying above and the girls waving their
+handkerchiefs behind, as the regiment, a thousand strong, filed down the
+dusty road. That regiment, a weak, scarred two hundred, came back a year
+later with lagging step and colors tattered and scorched, and the girls
+could not wave their handkerchiefs, wet and sodden with tears. But the
+keeper, his wound healed, had gone again; and he had seen with his New
+England eyes the magnificence and the carelessness of the South, her
+splendor and negligence, her wealth and thriftlessness, as through
+Virginia and the fair Carolinas, across Georgia and into sunny Florida,
+he had marched month by month, first a lieutenant, then captain, and
+finally major and colonel, as death mowed down those above him, and he
+and his good conduct were left. Everywhere magnificence went hand in
+hand with neglect, and he had said so as chance now and then threw a
+conversation in his path.
+
+"We have no such shiftless ways," he would remark, after he had
+furtively supplied a prisoner with hard-tack and coffee.
+
+"And no such grand ones either," Johnny Reb would reply, if he was a man
+of spirit; and generally he was.
+
+The Yankee, forced to acknowledge the truth of this statement, qualified
+it by observing that he would rather have more thrift with a little less
+grandeur; whereupon the other answered that _he_ would not; and there
+the conversation rested. So now ex-Colonel Rodman, keeper of the
+national cemetery, viewed the little town in its second estate with
+philosophic eyes. "It is part of a great problem now working itself out;
+I am not here to tend the living, but the dead," he said.
+
+Whereupon, as he walked among the long mounds, a voice seemed to rise
+from the still ranks below: "While ye have time, do good to men," it
+said. "Behold, we are beyond your care." But the keeper did not heed.
+
+This still evening in early February he looked out over the level waste.
+The little town stood in the lowlands; there were no hills from whence
+cometh help--calm heights that lift the soul above earth and its cares;
+no river to lead the aspirations of the children outward toward the
+great sea. Everything was monotonous, and the only spirit that rose
+above the waste was a bitterness for the gained and sorrow for the lost
+cause. The keeper was the only man whose presence personated the former
+in their sight, and upon him therefore, as representative, the
+bitterness fell, not in words, but in averted looks, in sudden silences
+when he approached, in withdrawals and avoidance, until he lived and
+moved in a vacuum; wherever he went there was presently no one save
+himself; the very shop-keeper who sold him sugar seemed turned into a
+man of wood, and took his money reluctantly, although the shilling
+gained stood perhaps for that day's dinner. So Rodman withdrew himself,
+and came and went among them no more; the broad acres of his domain gave
+him as much exercise as his shattered ankle could bear; he ordered his
+few supplies by the quantity, and began the life of a solitary, his
+island marked out by the massive granite wall with which the United
+States Government has carefully surrounded those sad Southern cemeteries
+of hers; sad, not so much from the number of the mounds representing
+youth and strength cut off in their bloom, for that is but the fortune
+of war, as for the complete isolation which marks them. "Strangers in a
+strange land" is the thought of all who, coming and going to and from
+Florida, turn aside here and there to stand for a moment among the
+closely ranged graves which seem already a part of the past, that near
+past which in our hurrying American life is even now so far away. The
+Government work was completed before the keeper came; the lines of the
+trenches were defined by low granite copings, and the comparatively few
+single mounds were headed by trim little white boards bearing generally
+the word "Unknown," but here and there a name and an age, in most cases
+a boy from some far-away Northern State; "twenty-one," "twenty-two,"
+said the inscriptions; the dates were those dark years among the
+sixties, measured now more than by anything else in the number of
+maidens widowed in heart, and women widowed indeed, who sit still and
+remember, while the world rushes by. At sunrise the keeper ran up the
+stars and stripes; and so precise were his ideas of the accessories
+belonging to the place, that from his own small store of money he had
+taken enough, by stinting himself, to buy a second flag for stormy
+weather, so that, rain or not, the colors should float over the dead.
+This was not patriotism so called, or rather miscalled, it was not
+sentimental fancy, it was not zeal or triumph; it was simply a sense of
+the fitness of things, a conscientiousness which had in it nothing of
+religion, unless indeed a man's endeavor to live up to his own ideal of
+his duty be a religion. The same feeling led the keeper to spend hours
+in copying the rolls. "John Andrew Warren, Company G, Eighth New
+Hampshire Infantry," he repeated, as he slowly wrote the name, giving
+"John Andrew" clear, bold capitals and a lettering impossible to
+mistake; "died August 15, 1863, aged twenty-two years. He came from the
+prison-pen yonder, and lies somewhere in those trenches, I suppose. Now
+then, John Andrew, don't fancy I am sorrowing for you; no doubt you are
+better off than I am at this very moment. But none the less, John
+Andrew, shall pen, ink, and hand do their duty to you. For that I am
+here."
+
+Infinite pains and labor went into these records of the dead; one
+hair's-breadth error, and the whole page was replaced by a new one. The
+same spirit kept the grass carefully away from the low coping of the
+trenches, kept the graveled paths smooth and the mounds green, and the
+bare little cottage neat as a man-of-war. When the keeper cooked his
+dinner, the door toward the east, where the dead lay, was scrupulously
+closed, nor was it opened until everything was in perfect order again.
+At sunset the flag was lowered, and then it was the keeper's habit to
+walk slowly up and down the path until the shadows veiled the mounds on
+each side, and there was nothing save the peaceful green of earth. "So
+time will efface our little lives and sorrows," he mused, "and we shall
+be as nothing in the indistinguishable past." Yet none the less did he
+fulfill the duties of every day and hour with exactness. "At least they
+shall not say that I was lacking," he murmured to himself as he thought
+vaguely of the future beyond these graves. Who "they" were, it would
+have troubled him to formulate, since he was one of the many sons whom
+New England in this generation sends forth with a belief composed
+entirely of negatives. As the season advanced, he worked all day in the
+sunshine. "My garden looks well," he said. "I like this cemetery because
+it is the original resting-place of the dead who lie beneath. They were
+not brought here from distant places, gathered up by contract, numbered,
+and described like so much merchandise; their first repose has not been
+broken, their peace has been undisturbed. Hasty burials the prison
+authorities gave them; the thin bodies were tumbled into the trenches by
+men almost as thin, for the whole State went hungry in those dark days.
+There were not many prayers, no tears, as the dead-carts went the
+rounds. But the prayers had been said, and the tears had fallen, while
+the poor fellows were still alive in the pens yonder; and when at last
+death came, it was like a release. They suffered long; and I for one
+believe that therefore shall their rest be long--long and sweet."
+
+After a time began the rain, the soft, persistent, gray rain of the
+Southern lowlands, and he staid within and copied another thousand names
+into the ledger. He would not allow himself the companionship of a dog
+lest the creature should bark at night and disturb the quiet. There was
+no one to hear save himself, and it would have been a friendly sound as
+he lay awake on his narrow iron bed, but it seemed to him against the
+spirit of the place. He would not smoke, although he had the soldier's
+fondness for a pipe. Many a dreary evening, beneath a hastily built
+shelter of boughs, when the rain poured down and everything was
+comfortless, he had found solace in the curling smoke; but now it seemed
+to him that it would be incongruous, and at times he almost felt as if
+it would be selfish too. "_They_ can not smoke, you know, down there
+under the wet grass," he thought, as standing at the window he looked
+toward the ranks of the mounds stretching across the eastern end from
+side to side--"my parade-ground," he called it. And then he would smile
+at his own fancies, draw the curtain, shut out the rain and the night,
+light his lamp, and go to work on the ledgers again. Some of the names
+lingered in his memory; he felt as if he had known the men who bore
+them, as if they had been boys together, and were friends even now
+although separated for a time. "James Marvin, Company B, Fifth Maine.
+The Fifth Maine was in the seven days' battle. I say, do you remember
+that retreat down the Quaker church road, and the way Phil Kearney held
+the rear-guard firm?" And over the whole seven days he wandered with his
+mute friend, who remembered everything and everybody in the most
+satisfactory way. One of the little head-boards in the parade-ground
+attracted him peculiarly because the name inscribed was his own: "----
+Rodman, Company A, One Hundred and Sixth New York."
+
+"I remember that regiment; it came from the extreme northern part of the
+State. Blank Rodman must have melted down here, coming as he did from
+the half-arctic region along the St. Lawrence. I wonder what he thought
+of the first hot day, say in South Carolina, along those simmering
+rice-fields?" He grew into the habit of pausing for a moment by the side
+of this grave every morning and evening. "Blank Rodman. It might easily
+have been John. And then, where should _I_ be?"
+
+But Blank Rodman remained silent, and the keeper, after pulling up a
+weed or two and trimming the grass over his relative, went off to his
+duties again. "I am convinced that Blank is a relative," he said to
+himself; "distant, perhaps, but still a kinsman."
+
+One April day the heat was almost insupportable; but the sun's rays were
+not those brazen beams that sometimes in Northern cities burn the air
+and scorch the pavements to a white heat; rather were they soft and
+still; the moist earth exhaled her richness, not a leaf stirred, and the
+whole level country seemed sitting in a hot vapor-bath. In the early
+dawn the keeper had performed his outdoor tasks, but all day he remained
+almost without stirring in his chair between two windows, striving to
+exist. At high noon out came a little black bringing his supplies from
+the town, whistling and shuffling along, gay as a lark. The keeper
+watched him coming slowly down the white road, loitering by the way in
+the hot blaze, stopping to turn a somersault or two, to dangle over a
+bridge rail, to execute various impromptu capers all by himself. He
+reached the gate at last, entered, and, having come all the way up the
+path in a hornpipe step, he set down his basket at the door to indulge
+in one long and final double-shuffle before knocking. "Stop that!" said
+the keeper through the closed blinds. The little darkey darted back; but
+as nothing further came out of the window--a boot, for instance, or some
+other stray missile--he took courage, showed his ivories, and drew near
+again. "Do you suppose I am going to have you stirring up the heat in
+that way?" demanded the keeper.
+
+The little black grinned, but made no reply, unless smoothing the hot
+white sand with his black toes could be construed as such; he now
+removed his rimless hat and made a bow.
+
+"Is it, or is it not warm?" asked the keeper, as a naturalist might
+inquire of a salamander, not referring to his own so much as to the
+salamander's ideas on the subject.
+
+"Dunno, mars'," replied the little black.
+
+"How do _you_ feel?"
+
+"'Spects I feel all right, mars'."
+
+The keeper gave up the investigation, and presented to the salamander a
+nickel cent. "I suppose there is no such thing as a cool spring in all
+this melting country," he said.
+
+But the salamander indicated with his thumb a clump of trees on the
+green plain north of the cemetery. "Ole Mars' Ward's place--cole spring
+dah." He then departed, breaking into a run after he had passed the
+gate, his ample mouth watering at the thought of a certain chunk of
+taffy at the mercantile establishment kept by Aunt Dinah in a corner of
+her one-roomed cabin. At sunset the keeper went thirstily out with a tin
+pail on his arm, in search of the cold spring. "If it could only be like
+the spring down under the rocks where I used to drink when I was a boy!"
+he thought. He had never walked in that direction before. Indeed, now
+that he had abandoned the town, he seldom went beyond the walls of the
+cemetery. An old road led across to the clump of trees, through fields
+run to waste, and following it he came to the place, a deserted house
+with tumble-down fences and overgrown garden, the out-buildings
+indicating that once upon a time there were many servants and a
+prosperous master. The house was of wood, large on the ground, with
+encircling piazzas; across the front door rough bars had been nailed,
+and the closed blinds were protected in the same manner; from long want
+of paint the clapboards were gray and mossy, and the floor of the piazza
+had fallen in here and there from decay. The keeper decided that his
+cemetery was a much more cheerful place than this, and then he looked
+around for the spring. Behind the house the ground sloped down; it must
+be there. He went around and came suddenly upon a man lying on an old
+rug outside of a back door. "Excuse me. I thought nobody lived here," he
+said.
+
+"Nobody does," replied the man; "I am not much of a body, am I?"
+
+His left arm was gone, and his face was thin and worn with long illness;
+he closed his eyes after speaking, as though the few words had exhausted
+him.
+
+"I came for water from a cold spring you have here, somewhere," pursued
+the keeper, contemplating the wreck before him with the interest of one
+who has himself been severely wounded and knows the long, weary pain.
+The man waved his hand toward the slope without unclosing his eyes, and
+Rodman went off with his pail and found a little shady hollow, once
+curbed and paved with white pebbles, but now neglected, like all the
+place. The water was cold, however, deliciously cold. He filled his pail
+and thought that perhaps after all he would exert himself to make
+coffee, now that the sun was down; it would taste better made of this
+cold water. When he came up the slope the man's eyes were open.
+
+"Have some water?" asked Rodman.
+
+"Yes; there's a gourd inside."
+
+The keeper entered, and found himself in a large, bare room; in one
+corner was some straw covered with an old counterpane, in another a
+table and chair; a kettle hung in the deep fireplace, and a few dishes
+stood on a shelf; by the door on a nail hung a gourd; he filled it and
+gave it to the host of this desolate abode. The man drank with
+eagerness.
+
+"Pomp has gone to town," he said, "and I could not get down to the
+spring to-day, I have had so much pain."
+
+"And when will Pomp return?"
+
+"He should be here now; he is very late to-night."
+
+"Can I get you anything?"
+
+"No, thank you; he will soon be here."
+
+The keeper looked out over the waste; there was no one in sight. He was
+not a man of any especial kindliness--he had himself been too hardly
+treated in life for that--but he could not find it in his heart to leave
+this helpless creature all alone with night so near. So he sat down on
+the door-step. "I will rest awhile," he said, not asking but announcing
+it. The man had turned away and closed his eyes again, and they both
+remained silent, busy with their own thoughts; for each had recognized
+the ex-soldier, Northern and Southern, in portions of the old uniforms,
+and in the accent. The war and its memories were still very near to the
+maimed, poverty-stricken Confederate; and the other knew that they were,
+and did not obtrude himself.
+
+Twilight fell, and no one came.
+
+"Let me get you something," said Rodman; for the face looked ghastly as
+the fever abated. The other refused. Darkness came; still, no one.
+
+"Look here," said Rodman, rising, "I have been wounded myself, was in
+hospital for months; I know how you feel. You must have food--a cup of
+tea, now, and a slice of toast, brown and thin."
+
+"I have not tasted tea or wheaten bread for weeks," answered the man;
+his voice died off into a wail, as though feebleness and pain had drawn
+the cry from him in spite of himself. Rodman lighted a match; there was
+no candle, only a piece of pitch-pine stuck in an iron socket on the
+wall; he set fire to this primitive torch and looked around.
+
+"There is nothing there," said the man outside, making an effort to
+speak carelessly; "my servant went to town for supplies. Do not trouble
+yourself to wait; he will come presently, and--and I want nothing."
+
+But Rodman saw through proud poverty's lie; he knew that irregular
+quavering of the voice, and that trembling of the hand; the poor fellow
+had but one to tremble. He continued his search; but the bare room gave
+back nothing, not a crumb.
+
+"Well, if you are not hungry," he said, briskly, "I am, hungry as a
+bear; and I'll tell you what I am going to do. I live not far from here,
+and I live all alone too; I haven't a servant as you have. Let me take
+supper here with you, just for a change; and, if your servant comes, so
+much the better, he can wait upon us. I'll run over and bring back the
+things."
+
+He was gone without waiting for reply; the shattered ankle made good
+time over the waste, and soon returned, limping a little, but bravely
+hasting, while on a tray came the keeper's best supplies, Irish
+potatoes, corned beef, wheaten bread, butter, and coffee; for he would
+not eat the hot biscuits, the corn-cake, the bacon and hominy of the
+country, and constantly made little New England meals for himself in his
+prejudiced little kitchen. The pine-torch flared in the doorway; a
+breeze had come down from the far mountains and cooled the air. Rodman
+kindled a fire on the cavernous hearth, filled the kettle, found a
+saucepan, and commenced operations, while the other lay outside and
+watched every movement in the lighted room.
+
+"All ready; let me help you in. Here we are now; fried potatoes, cold
+beef, mustard, toast, butter, and tea. Eat, man; and the next time I am
+laid up you shall come over and cook for me."
+
+Hunger conquered, and the other ate, ate as he had not eaten for months.
+As he was finishing a second cup of tea, a slow step came around the
+house; it was the missing Pomp, an old negro, bent and shriveled, who
+carried a bag of meal and some bacon in his basket. "That is what they
+live on," thought the keeper.
+
+He took leave without more words. "I suppose now I can be allowed to go
+home in peace," he grumbled to conscience. The negro followed him across
+what was once the lawn. "Fin' Mars' Ward mighty low," he said
+apologetically, as he swung open the gate which still hung between its
+posts, although the fence was down, "but I hurred and hurred as fas' as
+I could; it's mighty fur to de town. Proud to see you, sah; hope you'll
+come again. Fine fambly, de Wards, sah, befo' de war."
+
+"How long has he been in this state?" asked the keeper.
+
+"Ever sence one ob de las' battles, sah; but he's worse sence we come
+yer, 'bout a mont' back."
+
+"Who owns the house? Is there no one to see him? has he no friends?"
+
+"House b'long to Mars' Ward's uncle; fine place once, befo' de war; he's
+dead now, and dah's nobuddy but Miss Bettina, an' she's gone off
+somewhuz. Propah place, sah, fur Mars' Ward--own uncle's house," said
+the old slave, loyally striving to maintain the family dignity even
+then.
+
+"Are there no better rooms--no furniture?"
+
+"Sartin; but--but Miss Bettina, she took de keys; she didn't know we was
+comin'--"
+
+"You had better send for Miss Bettina, I think," said the keeper,
+starting homeward with his tray, washing his hands, as it were, of any
+future responsibility in the affair.
+
+The next day he worked in his garden, for clouds veiled the sun and
+exercise was possible; but, nevertheless, he could not forget the white
+face on the old rug. "Pshaw!" he said to himself, "haven't I seen
+tumble-down old houses and battered human beings before this?"
+
+At evening came a violent thunderstorm, and the splendor of the heavens
+was terrible. "We have chained you mighty spirit," thought the keeper as
+he watched the lightning, "and some time we shall learn the laws of the
+winds and foretell the storms; then, prayers will no more be offered in
+churches to alter the weather than they would be offered now to alter an
+eclipse. Yet back of the lightning and the wind lies the power of the
+great Creator, just the same."
+
+But still into his musings crept, with shadowy persistence, the white
+face on the rug.
+
+"Nonsense!" he exclaimed; "if white faces are going around as ghosts,
+how about the fourteen thousand white faces that went under the sod down
+yonder? If they could arise and walk, the whole State would be filled
+and no more carpet-baggers needed." So, having balanced the one with the
+fourteen thousand, he went to bed.
+
+Daylight brought rain--still, soft, gray rain; the next morning showed
+the same, and the third likewise, the nights keeping up their part with
+low-down clouds and steady pattering on the roof. "If there was a river
+here, we should have a flood," thought the keeper, drumming idly on his
+window-pane. Memory brought back the steep New England hillsides
+shedding their rain into the brooks, which grew in a night to torrents
+and filled the rivers so that they overflowed their banks; then,
+suddenly, an old house in a sunken corner of a waste rose before his
+eyes, and he seemed to see the rain dropping from a moldy ceiling on the
+straw where a white face lay.
+
+"Really, I have nothing else to do to-day, you know," he remarked in an
+apologetic way to himself, as he and his umbrella went along the old
+road; and he repeated the remark as he entered the room where the man
+lay, just as he had fancied, on the damp straw.
+
+"The weather _is_ unpleasant," said the man. "Pomp, bring a chair."
+
+Pomp brought one, the only one, and the visitor sat down. A fire
+smoldered on the hearth and puffed out acrid smoke now and then, as if
+the rain had clogged the soot in the long-neglected chimney; from the
+streaked ceiling oozing drops fell with a dull splash into little pools
+on the decayed floor; the door would not close; the broken panes were
+stopped with rags, as if the old servant had tried to keep out the damp;
+in the ashes a corn-cake was baking.
+
+"I am afraid you have not been so well during these long rainy days,"
+said the keeper, scanning the face on the straw.
+
+"My old enemy, rheumatism," answered the man; "the first sunshine will
+drive it away."
+
+They talked awhile, or rather the keeper talked, for the other seemed
+hardly able to speak, as the waves of pain swept over him; then the
+visitor went outside and called Pomp out. "_Is_ there any one to help
+him, or not?" he asked impatiently.
+
+"Fine fambly, befo' de war," began Pomp.
+
+"Never mind all that; is there any one to help him now--yes or no?"
+
+"No," said the old black with a burst of despairing truthfulness. "Miss
+Bettina, she's as poor as Mars' Ward, an' dere's no one else. He's had
+noth'n but hard corn-cake for three days, an' he can't swaller it no
+more."
+
+The next morning saw Ward De Rosset lying on the white pallet in the
+keeper's cottage, and old Pomp, marveling at the cleanliness all around
+him, installed as nurse. A strange asylum for a Confederate soldier, was
+it not? But he knew nothing of the change, which he would have fought
+with his last breath if consciousness had remained; returning fever,
+however, had absorbed his senses, and then it was that the keeper and
+the slave had borne him slowly across the waste, resting many times, but
+accomplishing the journey at last.
+
+That evening John Rodman, strolling to and fro in the dusky twilight,
+paused alongside of the other Rodman. "I do not want him here, and that
+is the plain truth," he said, pursuing the current of his thoughts. "He
+fills the house; he and Pomp together disturb all my ways. He'll be
+ready to fling a brick at me too, when his senses come back; small
+thanks shall I have for lying on the floor, giving up all my comforts,
+and, what is more, riding over the spirit of the place with a
+vengeance!" He threw himself down on the grass beside the mound and lay
+looking up toward the stars, which were coming out, one by one, in the
+deep blue of the Southern night. "With a vengeance, did I say? That is
+it exactly--the vengeance of kindness. The poor fellow has suffered
+horribly in body and in estate, and now ironical Fortune throws him in
+my way, as if saying, 'Let us see how far your selfishness will yield.'
+This is not a question of magnanimity; there is no magnanimity about it,
+for the war is over, and you Northerners have gained every point for
+which you fought. This is merely a question between man and man; it
+would be the same if the sufferer was a poor Federal, one of the
+carpet-baggers, whom you despise so, for instance, or a pagan Chinaman.
+And Fortune is right; don't you think so, Blank Rodman? I put it to you,
+now, to one who has suffered the extreme rigor of the other side--those
+prison-pens yonder."
+
+Whereupon Blank Rodman answered that he had fought for a great cause,
+and that he knew it, although a plain man and not given to
+speech-making; he was not one of those who had sat safely at home all
+through the war, and now belittled it and made light of its issues.
+(Here a murmur came up from the long line of the trenches, as though all
+the dead had cried out.) But now the points for which he had fought
+being gained, and strife ended, it was the plain duty of every man to
+encourage peace. For his part he bore no malice; he was glad the poor
+Confederate was up in the cottage, and he did not think any the less of
+the keeper for bringing him there. He would like to add that he thought
+more of him; but he was sorry to say that he was well aware what an
+effort it was, and how almost grudgingly the charity began.
+
+If Blank Rodman did not say this, at least the keeper imagined that he
+did. "That is what he would have said," he thought. "I am glad you do
+not object," he added, pretending to himself that he had not noticed the
+rest of the remark.
+
+"We do not object to the brave soldier who honestly fought for his
+cause, even though he fought on the other side," answered Blank Rodman
+for the whole fourteen thousand. "But never let a coward, a double-face,
+or a flippant-tongued idler walk over our heads. It would make us rise
+in our graves!"
+
+And the keeper seemed to see a shadowy pageant sweep by--gaunt soldiers
+with white faces, arming anew against the subtle product of peace: men
+who said, "It was nothing! Behold, we saw it with our
+eyes!"--stay-at-home eyes.
+
+The third day the fever abated, and Ward De Rosset noticed his
+surroundings. Old Pomp acknowledged that he had been moved, but veiled
+the locality: "To a frien's house, Mars' Ward."
+
+"But I have no friends now, Pomp," said the weak voice.
+
+Pomp was very much amused at the absurdity of this. "No frien's! Mars'
+Ward, no frien's!" He was obliged to go out of the room to hide his
+laughter. The sick man lay feebly thinking that the bed was cool and
+fresh, and the closed green blinds pleasant; his thin fingers stroked
+the linen sheet, and his eyes wandered from object to object. The only
+thing that broke the rule of bare utility in the simple room was a
+square of white drawing-paper on the wall, upon which was inscribed in
+ornamental text the following verse:
+
+    "Toujours femme varie,
+     Bien fou qui s'y fie;
+     Une femme souvent
+     N'est qu'une plume au vent."
+
+With the persistency of illness the eyes and mind of Ward De Rosset went
+over and over this distich; he knew something of French, but was unequal
+to the effort of translating; the rhymes alone caught his vagrant
+fancy. "Toujours femme varie," he said to himself over and over again;
+and when the keeper entered, he said it to him.
+
+"Certainly," answered the keeper; "bien fou qui s'y fie. How do you find
+yourself this morning?"
+
+"I have not found myself at all, so far. Is this your house?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pomp told me I was in a friend's house," observed the sick man,
+vaguely.
+
+"Well, it isn't an enemy's. Had any breakfast? No? Better not talk,
+then."
+
+He went to the detached shed which served for a kitchen, upset all
+Pomp's clumsy arrangements, and ordered him outside; then he set to work
+and prepared a delicate breakfast with his best skill. The sick man
+eagerly eyed the tray as he entered. "Better have your hands and face
+sponged off, I think," said Rodman; and then he propped him up
+skillfully, and left him to his repast. The grass needed mowing on the
+parade-ground; he shouldered his scythe and started down the path,
+viciously kicking the gravel aside as he walked. "Wasn't solitude your
+principal idea, John Rodman, when you applied for this place?" he
+demanded of himself. "How much of it are you likely to have with sick
+men, and sick men's servants, and so forth?"
+
+The "and so forth," thrown in as a rhetorical climax, turned into
+reality and arrived bodily upon the scene--a climax indeed. One
+afternoon, returning late to the cottage, he found a girl sitting by the
+pallet--a girl young and dimpled and dewy; one of the creamy roses of
+the South that, even in the bud, are richer in color and luxuriance than
+any Northern flower. He saw her through the door, and paused; distressed
+old Pomp met him and beckoned him cautiously outside. "Miss Bettina," he
+whispered gutturally; "she's come back from somewhuz, an' she's awful
+mad 'cause Mars' Ward's here. I tole her all 'bout 'em--de leaks an' de
+rheumatiz an' de hard corn-cake, but she done gone scole me; and Mars'
+Ward, he know now whar he is, an' he mad too."
+
+"Is the girl a fool?" said Rodman. He was just beginning to rally a
+little. He stalked into the room and confronted her. "I have the honor
+of addressing--"
+
+"Miss Ward."
+
+"And I am John Rodman, keeper of the national cemetery."
+
+This she ignored entirely; it was as though he had said, "I am John
+Jones, the coachman." Coachmen were useful in their way; but their names
+were unimportant.
+
+The keeper sat down and looked at his new visitor. The little creature
+fairly radiated scorn; her pretty head was thrown back, her eyes, dark
+brown fringed with long dark lashes, hardly deigned a glance; she spoke
+to him as though he was something to be paid and dismissed like any
+other mechanic.
+
+"We are indebted to you for some days' board, I believe,
+keeper--medicines, I presume, and general attendance. My cousin will be
+removed to-day to our own residence; I wish to pay now what he owes."
+
+The keeper saw that her dress was old and faded; the small black shawl
+had evidently been washed and many times mended; the old-fashioned
+knitted purse she held in her hand was lank with long famine.
+
+"Very well," he said; "if you choose to treat a kindness in that way, I
+consider five dollars a day none too much for the annoyance, expense,
+and trouble I have suffered. Let me see: five days--or is it six? Yes.
+Thirty dollars, Miss Ward."
+
+He looked at her steadily; she flushed. "The money will be sent to you,"
+she began haughtily; then, hesitatingly, "I must ask a little time--"
+
+"O Betty, Betty, you know you can not pay it. Why try to disguise--But
+that does not excuse _you_ for bringing me here," said the sick man,
+turning toward his host with an attempt to speak fiercely, which ended
+in a faltering quaver.
+
+All this time the old slave stood anxiously outside of the door; in the
+pauses they could hear his feet shuffling as he waited for the decision
+of his superiors. The keeper rose and threw open the blinds of the
+window that looked out on the distant parade-ground. "Bringing you
+here," he repeated--"_here_; that is my offense, is it? There they lie,
+fourteen thousand brave men and true. Could they come back to earth they
+would be the first to pity and aid you, now that you are down. So would
+it be with you if the case were reversed; for a soldier is generous to a
+soldier. It was not your own heart that spoke then; it was the small
+venom of a woman, that here, as everywhere through the South, is playing
+its rancorous part."
+
+The sick man gazed out through the window, seeing for the first time the
+far-spreading ranks of the dead. He was very weak, and the keeper's
+words had touched him; his eyes were suffused with tears. But Miss Ward
+rose with a flashing glance. She turned her back full upon the keeper
+and ignored his very existence. "I will take you home immediately,
+Ward--this very evening," she said.
+
+"A nice, comfortable place for a sick man," commented the keeper,
+scornfully. "I am going out now, De Rosset, to prepare your supper; you
+had better have one good meal before you go."
+
+He disappeared, but as he went he heard the sick man say, deprecatingly:
+"It isn't very comfortable over at the old house now, indeed it isn't,
+Betty; I suffered"--and the girl's passionate outburst in reply. Then he
+closed his door and set to work.
+
+When he returned, half an hour later. Ward was lying back exhausted on
+the pillows, and his cousin sat leaning her head upon her hand; she had
+been weeping, and she looked very desolate, he noticed, sitting there in
+what was to her an enemy's country. Hunger is a strong master, however,
+especially when allied to weakness; and the sick man ate with
+eagerness.
+
+"I must go back," said the girl, rising. "A wagon will be sent out for
+you, Ward; Pomp will help you."
+
+But Ward had gained a little strength as well as obstinacy with the
+nourishing food. "Not to-night," he said.
+
+"Yes, to-night."
+
+"But I can not go to-night; you are unreasonable, Bettina. To-morrow
+will do as well, if go I must."
+
+"If go you must! You do not want to go, then--to go to our own home--and
+with me"--Her voice broke; she turned toward the door.
+
+The keeper stepped forward. "This is all nonsense, Miss Ward," he said,
+"and you know it. Your cousin is in no state to be moved. Wait a week or
+two, and he can go in safety. But do not dare to offer me your money
+again; my kindness was to the soldier, not to the man, and as such he
+can accept it. Come out and see him as often as you please. I shall not
+intrude upon you. Pomp, take the lady home."
+
+And the lady went.
+
+Then began a remarkable existence for the four: a Confederate soldier
+lying ill in the keeper's cottage of a national cemetery; a rampant
+little rebel coming out daily to a place which was to her
+anathema-maranatha; a cynical, misanthropic keeper sleeping on the floor
+and enduring every variety of discomfort for a man he never saw
+before--a man belonging to an idle, arrogant class he detested; and an
+old black freedman allowing himself to be taught the alphabet in order
+to gain permission to wait on his master--master no longer in law--with
+all the devotion of his loving old heart. For the keeper had announced
+to Pomp that he must learn his alphabet or go; after all these years of
+theory, he, as a New-Englander, could not stand by and see precious
+knowledge shut from the black man. So he opened it, and mighty dull work
+he found it.
+
+Ward De Rosset did not rally as rapidly as they expected. The
+white-haired doctor from the town rode out on horseback, pacing slowly
+up the graveled roadway with a scowl on his brow, casting, as he
+dismounted, a furtive glance down toward the parade-ground. His horse
+and his coat were alike old and worn, and his broad shoulders were bent
+with long service in the miserably provided Confederate hospitals, where
+he had striven to do his duty through every day and every night of those
+shadowed years. Cursing the incompetency in high places, cursing the
+mismanagement of the entire medical department of the Confederate army,
+cursing the recklessness and indifference which left the men suffering
+for want of proper hospitals and hospital stores, he yet went on
+resolutely doing his best with the poor means in his control until the
+last. Then he came home, he and his old horse, and went the rounds
+again, he prescribing for whooping-cough or measles, and Dobbin waiting
+outside; the only difference was that fees were small and good meals
+scarce for both, not only for the man but for the beast. The doctor sat
+down and chatted awhile kindly with De Rosset, whose father and uncle
+had been dear friends of his in the bright, prosperous days; then he
+left a few harmless medicines and rose to go, his gaze resting a moment
+on Miss Ward, then on Pomp, as if he were hesitating. But he said
+nothing until on the walk outside he met the keeper, and recognized a
+person to whom he could tell the truth. "There is nothing to be done; he
+may recover, he may not; it is a question of strength merely. He needs
+no medicines, only nourishing food, rest, and careful tendance."
+
+"He shall have them," answered the keeper briefly. And then the old
+gentleman mounted his horse and rode away, his first and last visit to a
+national cemetery.
+
+"National!" he said to himself--"national!"
+
+All talk of moving De Rosset ceased, but Miss Ward moved into the old
+house. There was not much to move: herself, her one trunk, and Mari, a
+black attendant, whose name probably began life as Maria, since the
+accent still dwelt on the curtailed last syllable. The keeper went there
+once, and once only, and then it was an errand for the sick man, whose
+fancies came sometimes at inconvenient hours--when Pomp had gone to
+town, for instance. On this occasion the keeper entered the mockery of a
+gate and knocked at the front door, from which the bars had been
+removed; the piazza still showed its decaying planks, but quick-growing
+summer vines had been planted, and were now encircling the old pillars
+and veiling all defects with their greenery. It was a woman's pathetic
+effort to cover up what can not be covered--poverty. The blinds on one
+side were open, and white curtains waved to and fro in the breeze; into
+this room he was ushered by Mari. Matting lay on the floor, streaked
+here and there ominously by the dampness from the near ground. The
+furniture was of dark mahogany, handsome in its day: chairs, a heavy
+pier-table with low-down glass, into which no one by any possibility
+could look unless he had eyes in his ankles, a sofa with a stiff round
+pillow of hair-cloth under each curved end, and a mirror with a
+compartment framed off at the top, containing a picture of shepherds and
+shepherdesses, and lambs with blue ribbons around their necks, all
+enjoying themselves in the most natural and life-like manner. Flowers
+stood on the high mantelpiece, but their fragrance could not overcome
+the faint odor of the damp straw-matting. On a table were books--a life
+of General Lee, and three or four shabby little volumes printed at the
+South during the war, waifs of prose and poetry of that highly wrought,
+richly colored style which seems indigenous to Southern soil.
+
+"Some way, the whole thing reminds me of a funeral," thought the keeper.
+
+Miss Ward entered, and the room bloomed at once; at least that is what a
+lover would have said. Rodman, however, merely noticed that she bloomed,
+and not the room, and he said to himself that she would not bloom long
+if she continued to live in such a moldy place. Their conversation in
+these days was excessively polite, shortened to the extreme minimum
+possible, and conducted without the aid of the eyes, at least on one
+side. Rodman had discovered that Miss Ward never looked at him, and so
+he did not look at her--that is, not often; he was human, however, and
+she was delightfully pretty. On this occasion they exchanged exactly
+five sentences, and then he departed, but not before his quick eyes had
+discovered that the rest of the house was in even worse condition than
+this parlor, which, by the way, Miss Ward considered quite a grand
+apartment; she had been down near the coast, trying to teach school, and
+there the desolation was far greater than here, both armies having
+passed back and forward over the ground, foragers out, and the torch at
+work more than once.
+
+"Will there ever come a change for the better?" thought the keeper, as
+he walked homeward. "What an enormous stone has got to be rolled up
+hill! But at least, John Rodman, _you_ need not go to work at it; _you_
+are not called upon to lend your shoulder."
+
+None the less, however, did he call out Pomp that very afternoon and
+sternly teach him "E" and "F" using the smooth white sand for a
+blackboard, and a stick for chalk. Pomp's primer was a Government
+placard hanging on the wall of the office. It read as follows:
+
+    IN THIS CEMETERY REPOSE THE REMAINS
+
+                     OF
+
+  FOURTEEN THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE
+             UNITED STATES SOLDIERS.
+
+    "Tell me not in mournful numbers
+      Life is but an empty dream;
+    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
+      And things are not what they seem.
+
+    "Life is real! Life is earnest!
+      And the grave is not its goal;
+    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
+      Was not written of the soul!"
+
+"The only known instance of the Government's condescending to poetry,"
+the keeper had thought, when he first read this placard. It was placed
+there for the instruction and edification of visitors; but, no visitors
+coming, he took the liberty of using it as a primer for Pomp. The large
+letters served the purpose admirably, and Pomp learned the entire
+quotation; what he thought of it has not transpired. Miss Ward came over
+daily to see her cousin. At first she brought him soups and various
+concoctions from her own kitchen--the leaky cavern, once the
+dining-room, where the soldier had taken refuge after his last dismissal
+from hospital; but the keeper's soups were richer, and free from the
+taint of smoke; his martial laws of neatness even disorderly old Pomp
+dared not disobey, and the sick man soon learned the difference. He
+thanked the girl, who came bringing the dishes over carefully in her own
+dimpled hands, and then, when she was gone, he sent them untasted away.
+By chance Miss Ward learned this, and wept bitter tears over it; she
+continued to come, but her poor little soups and jellies she brought no
+more.
+
+One morning in May the keeper was working near the flag-staff, when his
+eyes fell upon a procession coming down the road which led from the town
+and turning toward the cemetery. No one ever came that way: what could
+it mean? It drew near, entered the gate, and showed itself to be negroes
+walking two and two--old uncles and aunties, young men and girls, and
+even little children, all dressed in their best; a very poor best,
+sometimes gravely ludicrous imitations of "ole mars'" or "ole miss',"
+sometimes mere rags bravely patched together and adorned with a strip of
+black calico or rosette of black ribbon; not one was without a badge of
+mourning. All carried flowers, common blossoms from the little gardens
+behind the cabins that stretched around the town on the out-skirts--the
+new forlorn cabins with their chimneys of piled stones and ragged
+patches of corn; each little darkey had his bouquet and marched solemnly
+along, rolling his eyes around, but without even the beginning of a
+smile, while the elders moved forward with gravity, the bubbling,
+irrepressible gayety of the negro subdued by the new-born dignity of the
+freedman.
+
+"Memorial Day," thought the keeper; "I had forgotten it."
+
+"Will you do us de hono', sah, to take de head ob de processio', sah?"
+said the leader, with a ceremonious bow. Now, the keeper had not much
+sympathy with the strewing of flowers, North or South; he had seen the
+beautiful ceremony more than once turned into a political demonstration.
+Here, however, in this small, isolated, interior town, there was nothing
+of that kind; the whole population of white faces laid their roses and
+wept true tears on the graves of their lost ones in the village
+churchyard when the Southern Memorial Day came round, and just as
+naturally the whole population of black faces went out to the national
+cemetery with their flowers on the day when, throughout the North,
+spring blossoms were laid on the graves of the soldiers, from the little
+Maine village to the stretching ranks of Arlington, from Greenwood to
+the far Western burial-places of San Francisco. The keeper joined the
+procession and led the way to the parade-ground. As they approached the
+trenches, the leader began singing and all joined. "Swing low, sweet
+chariot," sang the freedmen, and their hymn rose and fell with strange,
+sweet harmony--one of those wild, unwritten melodies which the North
+heard with surprise and marveling when, after the war, bands of singers
+came to their cities and sang the songs of slavery, in order to gain for
+their children the coveted education. "Swing low, sweet chariot," sang
+the freedmen, and two by two they passed along, strewing the graves with
+flowers till all the green was dotted with color. It was a pathetic
+sight to see some of the old men and women, ignorant field-hands, bent,
+dull-eyed, and past the possibility of education even in its simplest
+forms, carefully placing their poor flowers to the best advantage. They
+knew dimly that the men who lay beneath those mounds had done something
+wonderful for them and for their children; and so they came bringing
+their blossoms, with little intelligence but with much love.
+
+The ceremony over, they retired. As he turned, the keeper caught a
+glimpse of Miss Ward's face at the window.
+
+"Hope we's not makin' too free, sah," said the leader, as the
+procession, with many a bow and scrape, took leave, "but we's kep' de
+day now two years, sah, befo' you came, sah, an we's teachin' de chil'en
+to keep it, sah."
+
+The keeper returned to the cottage. "Not a white face," he said.
+
+"Certainly not," replied Miss Ward, crisply.
+
+"I know some graves at the North, Miss Ward, graves of Southern
+soldiers, and I know some Northern women who do not scorn to lay a few
+flowers on the lonely mounds as they pass by with their blossoms on our
+Memorial Day."
+
+"You are fortunate. They must be angels. We have no angels here."
+
+"I am inclined to believe you are right," said the keeper.
+
+That night old Pomp, who had remained invisible in the kitchen during
+the ceremony, stole away in the twilight and came back with a few
+flowers. Rodman saw him going down toward the parade-ground, and
+watched. The old man had but a few blossoms; he arranged them hastily on
+the mounds with many a furtive glance toward the house, and then stole
+back, satisfied; he had performed his part.
+
+Ward De Rosset lay on his pallet, apparently unchanged; he seemed
+neither stronger nor weaker. He had grown childishly dependent upon his
+host, and wearied for him, as the Scotch say; but Rodman withstood his
+fancies, and gave him only the evenings, when Miss Bettina was not
+there. One afternoon, however, it rained so violently that he was forced
+to seek shelter; he set himself to work on the ledgers; he was on the
+ninth thousand now. But the sick man heard his step in the outer room,
+and called in his weak voice, "Rodman, Rodman." After a time he went in,
+and it ended in his staying; for the patient was nervous and irritable,
+and he pitied the nurse, who seemed able to please him in nothing. De
+Rosset turned with a sigh of relief toward the strong hands that lifted
+him readily, toward the composed manner, toward the man's voice that
+seemed to bring a breeze from outside into the close room; animated,
+cheered, he talked volubly. The keeper listened, answered once in a
+while, and quietly took the rest of the afternoon into his own hands.
+Miss Ward yielded to the silent change, leaned back, and closed her
+eyes. She looked exhausted and for the first time pallid; the loosened
+dark hair curled in little rings about her temples, and her lips were
+parted as though she was too tired to close them; for hers were not the
+thin, straight lips that shut tight naturally, like the straight line of
+a closed box. The sick man talked on. "Come, Rodman," he said, after a
+while, "I have read that lying verse of yours over at least ten thousand
+and fifty-nine times; please tell me its history; I want to have
+something definite to think of when I read it for the ten thousand and
+sixtieth."
+
+    "Toujours femme varie,
+     Bien fou qui s'y fie;
+     Une femme souvent
+     N'est qu'une plume au vent,"
+
+read the keeper slowly, with his execrable English accent. "Well, I
+don't know that I have any objection to telling the story. I am not sure
+but that it will do me good to hear it all over myself in plain language
+again."
+
+"Then it concerns yourself," said De Rosset; "so much the better. I hope
+it will be, as the children say, the truth, and long."
+
+"It will be the truth, but not long. When the war broke out I was
+twenty-eight years old, living with my mother on our farm in New
+England. My father and two brothers had died and left me the homestead;
+otherwise I should have broken away and sought fortune farther westward,
+where the lands are better and life is more free. But mother loved the
+house, the fields, and every crooked tree. She was alone, and so I staid
+with her. In the center of the village green stood the square, white
+meeting-house, and near by the small cottage where the pastor lived; the
+minister's daughter, Mary, was my promised wife. Mary was a slender
+little creature with a profusion of pale flaxen hair, large, serious
+blue eyes, and small, delicate features; she was timid almost to a
+fault; her voice was low and gentle. She was not eighteen, and we were
+to wait a year. The war came, and I volunteered, of course, and marched
+away; we wrote to each other often; my letters were full of the camp and
+skirmishes; hers told of the village, how the widow Brown had fallen
+ill, and how it was feared that Squire Stafford's boys were lapsing into
+evil ways. Then came the day when my regiment marched to the field of
+its slaughter, and soon after our shattered remnant went home. Mary
+cried over me, and came out every day to the farmhouse with her bunches
+of violets; she read aloud to me from her good little books, and I used
+to lie and watch her profile bending over the page, with the light
+falling on her flaxen hair low down against the small, white throat.
+Then my wound healed, and I went again, this time for three years; and
+Mary's father blessed me, and said that when peace came he would call me
+son, but not before, for these were no times for marrying or giving in
+marriage. He was a good man, a red-hot abolitionist, and a roaring lion
+as regards temperance; but nature had made him so small in body that no
+one was much frightened when he roared. I said that I went for three
+years; but eight years have passed and I have never been back to the
+village. First, mother died. Then Mary turned false. I sold the farm by
+letter and lost the money three months afterward in an unfortunate
+investment; my health failed. Like many another Northern soldier, I
+remembered the healing climate of the South; its soft airs came back to
+me when the snow lay deep on the fields and the sharp wind whistled
+around the poor tavern where the moneyless, half-crippled volunteer sat
+coughing by the fire. I applied for this place and obtained it. That is
+all."
+
+"But it is not all," said the sick man, raising himself on his elbow;
+"you have not told half yet, nor anything at all about the French
+verse."
+
+"Oh--that? There was a little Frenchman staying at the hotel; he had
+formerly been a dancing-master, and was full of dry, withered conceits,
+although he looked like a thin and bilious old ape dressed as a man. He
+taught me, or tried to teach me, various wise sayings, among them this
+one, which pleased my fancy so much that I gave him twenty-five cents to
+write it out in large text for me."
+
+"Toujours femme varie," repeated De Rosset; "but you don't really think
+so, do you, Rodman?"
+
+"I do. But they can not help it; it is their nature.--I beg your pardon,
+Miss Ward. I was speaking as though you were not here."
+
+Miss Ward's eyelids barely acknowledged his existence; that was all. But
+some time after she remarked to her cousin that it was only in New
+England that one found that pale flaxen hair.
+
+June was waning, when suddenly the summons came. Ward De Rosset died. He
+was unconscious toward the last, and death, in the guise of sleep, bore
+away his soul. They carried him home to the old house, and from there
+the funeral started, a few family carriages, dingy and battered,
+following the hearse, for death revived the old neighborhood feeling;
+that honor at least they could pay--the sonless mothers and the widows
+who lived shut up in the old houses with everything falling into ruin
+around them, brooding over the past. The keeper watched the small
+procession as it passed his gate on its way to the churchyard in the
+village. "There he goes, poor fellow, his sufferings over at last," he
+said; and then he set the cottage in order and began the old solitary
+life again.
+
+He saw Miss Ward but once.
+
+It was a breathless evening in August, when the moonlight flooded the
+level country. He had started out to stroll across the waste; but the
+mood changed, and climbing over the eastern wall he had walked back to
+the flag-staff, and now lay at its foot gazing up into the infinite sky.
+A step sounded on the gravel-walk; he turned his face that way, and
+recognized Miss Ward. With confident step she passed the dark cottage,
+and brushed his arm with her robe as he lay unseen in the shadow. She
+went down toward the parade-ground, and his eyes followed her. Softly
+outlined in the moonlight, she moved to and fro among the mounds,
+pausing often, and once he thought she knelt. Then slowly she returned,
+and he raised himself and waited; she saw him, started, then paused.
+
+"I thought you were away," she said; "Pomp told me so."
+
+"You set him to watch me?"
+
+"Yes. I wished to come here once, and I did not wish to meet you."
+
+"Why did you wish to come?"
+
+"Because Ward was here--and because--because--never mind. It is enough
+that I wished to walk once among those mounds."
+
+"And pray there?"
+
+"Well--and if I did!" said the girl defiantly.
+
+Rodman stood facing her, with his arms folded; his eyes rested on her
+face; he said nothing.
+
+"I am going away to-morrow," began Miss Ward again, assuming with an
+effort her old, pulseless manner. "I have sold the place, and I shall
+never return, I think; I am going far away."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To Tennessee."
+
+"That is not so very far," said the keeper, smiling.
+
+"There I shall begin a new existence," pursued the voice, ignoring the
+comment.
+
+"You have scarcely begun the old; you are hardly more than a child, now.
+What are you going to do in Tennessee?"
+
+"Teach."
+
+"Have you relatives there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"A miserable life--a hard, lonely, loveless life," said Rodman. "God
+help the woman who must be that dreary thing, a teacher from necessity!"
+
+Miss Ward turned swiftly, but the keeper kept by her side. He saw the
+tears glittering on her eyelashes, and his voice softened. "Do not leave
+me in anger," he said; "I should not have spoken so, although indeed it
+was the truth. Walk back with me to the cottage, and take your last look
+at the room where poor Ward died, and then I will go with you to your
+home."
+
+"No; Pomp is waiting at the gate," said the girl, almost inarticulately.
+
+"Very well; to the gate, then."
+
+They went toward the cottage in silence; the keeper threw open the door.
+"Go in," he said. "I will wait outside."
+
+The girl entered and went into the inner room, throwing herself down
+upon her knees at the bedside. "O Ward, Ward!" she sobbed; "I am all
+alone in the world now, Ward--all alone!" She buried her face in her
+hands and gave way to a passion of tears; and the keeper could not help
+but hear as he waited outside. Then the desolate little creature rose
+and came forth, putting on, as she did so, her poor armor of pride. The
+keeper had not moved from the door-step. Now he turned his face. "Before
+you go--go away for ever from this place--will you write your name in my
+register," he said--"the visitors' register? The Government had it
+prepared for the throngs who would visit these graves; but with the
+exception of the blacks, who can not write, no one has come, and the
+register is empty. Will you write your name? Yet do not write it unless
+you can think gently of the men who lie there under the grass. I believe
+you do think gently of them, else why have you come of your own accord
+to stand by the side of their graves?" As he said this, he looked
+fixedly at her.
+
+Miss Ward did not answer; but neither did she write.
+
+"Very well," said the keeper; "come away. You will not, I see."
+
+"I can not! Shall I, Bettina Ward, set my name down in black and white
+as a visitor to this cemetery, where lie fourteen thousand of the
+soldiers who killed my father, my three brothers, my cousins; who
+brought desolation upon all our house, and ruin upon all our
+neighborhood, all our State, and all our country?--for the South _is_
+our country, and not your North. Shall I forget these things? Never!
+Sooner let my right hand wither by my side! I was but a child; yet I
+remember the tears of my mother, and the grief of all around us. There
+was not a house where there was not one dead."
+
+"It is true," answered the keeper; "at the South, all went."
+
+They walked down to the gate together in silence.
+
+"Good-by," said John, holding out his hand; "you will give me yours or
+not as you choose, but I will not have it as a favor."
+
+She gave it.
+
+"I hope that life will grow brighter to you as the years pass. May God
+bless you!"
+
+He dropped her hand; she turned, and passed through the gateway; then he
+sprang after her.
+
+"Nothing can change you," he said; "I know it, I have known it all
+along; you are part of your country, part of the time, part of the
+bitter hour through which she is passing. Nothing can change you; if it
+could, you would not be what you are, and I should not--But you can not
+change. Good-by, Bettina, poor little child--good-by. Follow your path
+out into the world. Yet do not think, dear, that I have not seen--have
+not understood."
+
+He bent and kissed her hand; then he was gone, and she went on alone.
+
+A week later the keeper strolled over toward the old house. It was
+twilight, but the new owner was still at work. He was one of those
+sandy-haired, energetic Maine men, who, probably on the principle of
+extremes, were often found through the South, making new homes for
+themselves in the pleasant land.
+
+"Pulling down the old house, are you?" said the keeper, leaning idly on
+the gate, which was already flanked by a new fence.
+
+"Yes," replied the Maine man, pausing; "it was only an old shell, just
+ready to tumble on our heads. You're the keeper over yonder, an't you?"
+(He already knew everybody within a circle of five miles.)
+
+"Yes. I think I should like those vines if you have no use for them,"
+said Rodman, pointing to the uprooted greenery that once screened the
+old piazza.
+
+"Wuth about twenty-five cents, I guess," said the Maine man, handing
+them over.
+
+
+
+
+SISTER ST. LUKE.
+
+    She lived shut in by flowers and trees,
+    And shade of gentle bigotries;
+    On this side lay the trackless sea,
+    On that the great world's mystery;
+    But, all unseen and all unguessed,
+    They could not break upon her rest.
+    The world's far glories flamed and flashed,
+    Afar the wild seas roared and dashed;
+    But in her small dull paradise,
+    Safe housed from rapture or surprise,
+      Nor day nor night had power to fright
+    The peace of God within her eyes.
+
+    JOHN HAY.
+
+
+They found her there. "This is more than I expected," said Carrington as
+they landed--"seven pairs of Spanish eyes at once."
+
+"Three pairs," answered Keith, fastening the statement to fact and the
+boat to a rock in his calm way; "and one if not two of the pairs are
+Minorcan."
+
+The two friends crossed the broad white beach toward the little stone
+house of the light-keeper, who sat in the doorway, having spent the
+morning watching their sail cross over from Pelican reef, tacking lazily
+east and west--an event of more than enough importance in his isolated
+life to have kept him there, gazing and contented, all day. Behind the
+broad shoulders of swarthy Pedro stood a little figure clothed in black;
+and as the man lifted himself at last and came down to meet them, and
+his wife stepped briskly forward, they saw that the third person was a
+nun--a large-eyed, fragile little creature, promptly introduced by
+Melvyna, the keeper's wife, as "Sister St. Luke." For the keeper's
+wife, in spite of her black eyes, was not a Minorcan; not even a
+Southerner. Melvyna Sawyer was born in Vermont, and, by one of the
+strange chances of this vast, many-raced, motley country of ours, she
+had traveled south as nurse--and a very good, energetic nurse too,
+albeit somewhat sharp-voiced--to a delicate young wife, who had died in
+the sunny land, as so many of them die; the sun, with all his good will
+and with all his shining, not being able to undo in three months the
+work of long years of the snows and bleak east winds of New England.
+
+The lady dead, and her poor thin frame sent northward again to lie in
+the hillside churchyard by the side of bleak Puritan ancestors, Melvyna
+looked about her. She hated the lazy tropical land, and had packed her
+calf-skin trunk to go, when Pedro Gonsalvez surprised her by proposing
+matrimony. At least that is what she wrote to her aunt Clemanthy, away
+in Vermont; and, although Pedro may not have used the words, he at least
+meant the fact, for they were married two weeks later by a justice of
+the peace, whom Melvyna's sharp eyes had unearthed, she of course
+deeming the padre of the little parish and one or two attendant priests
+as so much dust to be trampled energetically under her shoes, Protestant
+and number six and a half double-soled mediums. The justice of the
+peace, a good-natured old gentleman who had forgotten that he held the
+office at all, since there was no demand for justice and the peace was
+never broken, married them as well as he could in a surprised sort of
+way; and, instead of receiving a fee, gave one, which Melvyna, however,
+promptly rescued from the bridegroom's willing hand, and returned with
+the remark that there was no "call for alms" (pronounced as if rhymed
+with hams), and that two shilling, or mebbe three, she guessed, would be
+about right for the job. This sum she deposited on the table, and then
+took leave, walking off with a quick, enterprising step, followed by her
+acquiescent and admiring bridegroom. He had remained acquiescent and
+admiring ever since, and now, as lighthouse-keeper on Pelican Island, he
+admired and acquiesced more than ever; while Melvyna kept the house in
+order, cooked his dinners, and tended his light, which, although only
+third-class, shone and glittered under her daily care in the old square
+tower which was founded by the Spaniards, heightened by the English, and
+now finished and owned by the United States, whose Lighthouse Board said
+to each other every now and then that really they must put a first-class
+Fresnel on Pelican Island and a good substantial tower instead of that
+old-fashioned beacon. They did so a year or two later; and a hideous
+barber's pole it remains to the present day. But when Carrington and
+Keith landed there the square tower still stood in its gray old age at
+the very edge of the ocean, so that high tides swept the step of the
+keeper's house. It was originally a lookout where the Spanish soldier
+stood and fired his culverin when a vessel came in sight outside the
+reef; then the British occupied the land, added a story, and placed an
+iron grating on the top, where their coastguardsman lighted a fire of
+pitch-pine knots that flared up against the sky, with the tidings, "A
+sail! a sail!" Finally the United States came into possession, ran up a
+third story, and put in a revolving light, one flash for the land and
+two for the sea--a proportion unnecessarily generous now to the land,
+since nothing came in any more, and everything went by, the little
+harbor being of no importance since the indigo culture had failed. But
+ships still sailed by on their way to the Queen of the Antilles, and to
+the far Windward and Leeward Islands, and the old light went on
+revolving, presumably for their benefit. The tower, gray and crumbling,
+and the keeper's house, were surrounded by a high stone wall with angles
+and loopholes--a small but regularly planned defensive fortification
+built by the Spaniards; and odd enough it looked there on that peaceful
+island, where there was nothing to defend. But it bore itself stoutly
+nevertheless, this ancient little fortress, and kept a sharp lookout
+still over the ocean for the damnable Huguenot sail of two centuries
+before.
+
+The sea had encroached greatly on Pelican Island, and sooner or later it
+must sweep the keeper's house away; but now it was a not unpleasant
+sensation to hear the water wash against the step--to sit at the narrow
+little windows and watch the sea roll up, roll up, nearer and nearer,
+coming all the way landless in long surges from the distant African
+coast, only to never quite get at the foundations of that stubborn
+little dwelling, which held its own against them, and then triumphantly
+watched them roll back, roll back, departing inch by inch down the
+beach, until, behold! there was a magnificent parade-ground, broad
+enough for a thousand feet to tread--a floor more fresh and beautiful
+than the marble pavements of palaces. There were not a thousand feet to
+tread there, however; only six. For Melvyna had more than enough to do
+within the house, and Pedro never walked save across the island to the
+inlet once in two weeks or so, when he managed to row over to the
+village, and return with supplies, by taking two entire days for it,
+even Melvyna having given up the point, tacitly submitting to loitering
+she could not prevent, but recompensing herself by a general cleaning on
+those days of the entire premises, from the top of the lantern in the
+tower to the last step in front of the house.
+
+You could not argue with Pedro. He only smiled back upon you as sweetly
+and as softly as molasses. Melvyna, endeavoring to urge him to energy,
+found herself in the position of an active ant wading through the downy
+recesses of a feather bed, which well represented his mind.
+
+Pedro was six feet two inches in height, and amiable as a dove. His wife
+sensibly accepted him as he was, and he had his two days in town--a very
+mild dissipation, however, since the Minorcans are too indolent to do
+anything more than smoke, lie in the sun, and eat salads heavily dressed
+in oil. They said, "The serene and august wife of our friend is well, we
+trust?" and, "The island--does it not remain lonely?" and then the
+salad was pressed upon him again. For they all considered Pedro a man of
+strange and varied experiences. Had he not married a woman of wonder--of
+an energy unfathomable? And he lived with her alone in a lighthouse, on
+an island; alone, mind you, without a friend or relation near!
+
+The six feet that walked over the beautiful beach of the southern ocean
+were those of Keith, Carrington, and Sister St. Luke.
+
+"Now go, Miss Luke," Melvyna had said, waving her energetically away
+with the skimmer as she stood irresolute at the kitchen door. "'Twill do
+you a power of good, and they're nice, quiet gentlemen who will see to
+you, and make things pleasant. Bless you, _I_ know what they are. They
+ain't none of the miserable, good-for-nothing race about here! Your
+convent is fifty miles off, ain't it? And besides, you were brought over
+here half dead for me to cure up--now, warn't you?"
+
+The Sister acknowledged that she was, and Melvyna went on:
+
+"You see, things is different up North, and I understand 'em, but you
+don't. Now you jest go right along and hev a pleasant walk, and I'll hev
+a nice bowl of venison broth ready for you when you come back. Go right
+along now." The skimmer waved again, and the Sister went.
+
+"Yes, she's taken the veil, and is a nun for good and all," explained
+Melvyna to her new guests the evening of their arrival, when the shy
+little Sister had retreated to her own room above. "They thought she was
+dying, and she was so long about it, and useless on their hands, that
+they sent her up here to the village for sea air, and to be red of her,
+I guess. 'Tany rate, there she was in one of them crowded, dirty old
+houses, and so--I jest brought her over here. To tell the truth,
+gentlemen--the real bottom of it--my baby died last year--and--and Miss
+Luke she was so good I'll never forget it. I ain't a Catholic--fur from
+it; I hate 'em. But she seen us coming up from the boat with our little
+coffin, and she came out and brought flowers to lay on it, and followed
+to the grave, feeble as she was; and she even put in her little black
+shawl, because the sand was wet--this miserable half-afloat land, you
+know--and I couldn't bear to see the coffin set down into it. And I said
+to myself then that I'd never hate a Catholic again, gentlemen. I don't
+love 'em yet, and don't know as I ever shell; but Miss Luke, she's
+different. Consumption? Well, I hardly know. She's a sight better than
+she was when she come. I'd like to make her well again, and, someway, I
+can't help a-trying to, for I was a nurse by trade once. But then what's
+the use? She'll only hev to go back to that old convent!" And Melvyna
+clashed her pans together in her vexation. "Is she a good Catholic, do
+you say? Heavens and earth, yes! She's _that_ religious--my! I couldn't
+begin to tell! She believes every word of all that rubbish those old
+nuns have told her. She thinks it's beautiful to be the bride of heaven;
+and, as far as that goes, I don't know but she's right: 'tain't much the
+other kind is wuth," pursued Melvyna, with fine contempt for mankind in
+general. "As to freedom, they've as good as shoved her off their hands,
+haven't they? And I guess I can do as I like any way on my own island.
+There wasn't any man about their old convent, as I can learn, and so
+Miss Luke, she hain't been taught to run away from 'em like most nuns.
+Of course, if they knew, they would be sending over here after her; but
+they don't know, and them priests in the village are too fat and lazy to
+earn their salt, let alone caring what has become of her. I guess, if
+they think of her at all, they think that she died, and that they buried
+her in their crowded, sunken old graveyard. They're so slow and sleepy
+that they forget half the time who they're burying! But Miss Luke, she
+ought to go out in the air, and she is so afraid of everything that it
+don't do her no good to go alone. I haven't got the time to go; and so,
+if you will let her walk along the beach with you once in a while, it
+will do her a sight of good, and give her an appetite--although what I
+want her to hev an appetite for I am sure I don't know; for, ef she gets
+well, of course she'll go back to the convent. Want to go? _That_ she
+does. She loves the place, and feels lost and strange anywhere else. She
+was taken there when she was a baby, and it is all the home she has.
+_She_ doesn't know they wanted to be red of her, and she wouldn't
+believe it ef I was to tell her forty times. She loves them all dearly,
+and prays every day to go back there. Spanish? Yes, I suppose so; she
+don't know herself what she is exactly. She speaks English well though,
+don't she? Yes, Sister St. Luke is her name; and a heathenish name it is
+for a woman, in my opinion. _I_ call her Miss Luke. Convert her?
+Couldn't any more convert her than you could convert a white gull, and
+make a land-bird of him. It's his nature to ride on the water and be wet
+all the time. Towels couldn't dry him--not if you fetched a thousand!"
+
+"Our good hostess is a woman of discrimination, and sorely perplexed,
+therefore, over her _protégée_" said Keith, as the two young men sought
+their room, a loft under the peaked roof, which was to be their abode
+for some weeks, when they were not afloat. "As a nurse she feels a
+professional pride in curing, while as a Calvinist she would almost
+rather kill than cure, if her patient is to go back to the popish
+convent. But the little Sister looks very fragile. She will probably
+save trouble all round by fading away."
+
+"She is about as faded now as a woman can be," answered Carrington.
+
+The two friends, or rather companions, plunged into all the phases of
+the southern ocean with a broad, inhaling, expanding delight which only
+a physique naturally fine, or carefully trained, can feel. George
+Carrington was a vigorous young Saxon, tall and broad, feeling his life
+and strength in every vein and muscle. Each night he slept his eight
+hours dreamlessly, like a child, and each day he lived four hours in
+one, counting by the pallid hours of other men. Andrew Keith, on the
+other hand, represented the physique cultured and trained up to a high
+point by years of attention and care. He was a slight man, rather
+undersized, but his wiry strength was more than a match for Carrington's
+bulk, and his finely cut face, if you would but study it, stood out like
+a cameo by the side of a ruddy miniature in oils. The trouble is that
+but few people study cameos. He was older than his companion, and "one
+of those quiet fellows, you know," said the world. The two had never
+done or been anything remarkable in their lives. Keith had a little
+money, and lived as he pleased, while Carrington, off now on a vacation,
+was junior member of a firm in which family influence had placed him.
+Both were city men.
+
+"You absolutely do not know how to walk, señora," said Keith. "I will be
+doctor now, and you must obey me. Never mind the crabs, and never mind
+the jelly-fish, but throw back your head and walk off briskly. Let the
+wind blow in your face, and try to stand more erect."
+
+"You are doctor? They told me, could I but see one, well would I be,"
+said the Sister. "At the convent we have only Sister Inez, with her
+small and old medicines."
+
+"Yes, I think I may call myself doctor," answered Keith gravely. "What
+do you say, Carrington?"
+
+"Knows no end, Miss, Miss--Miss Luke--I should say, Miss St. Luke. I am
+sure I do not know why I should stumble over it when St. John is a
+common enough name," answered Carrington, who generally did his thinking
+aloud.
+
+"No end?" repeated the little Sister inquiringly. "But there is an end
+in this evil world to all things."
+
+"Never mind what he says, señora," interrupted Keith, "but step out
+strongly and firmly, and throw back your head. There now, there are no
+crabs in sight, and the beach is hard as a floor. Try it with me: one,
+two; one, two."
+
+So they treated her, partly as a child, partly as a gentle being of an
+inferior race. It was a new amusement, although a rather mild one
+Carrington said, to instruct this unformed, timid mind, to open the
+blinded eyes, and train the ignorant ears to listen to the melodies of
+nature.
+
+"Do you not hear? It is like the roll of a grand organ," said Keith as
+they sat on the door-step one evening at sunset. The sky was dark; the
+wind had blown all day from the north to the south, and frightened the
+little Sister as she toiled at her lace-work, made on a cushion in the
+Spanish fashion, her lips mechanically repeating prayers meanwhile; for
+never had they such winds at the inland convent, embowered in its
+orange-trees. Now, as the deep, low roll of the waves sounded on the
+shore, Keith, who was listening to it with silent enjoyment, happened to
+look up and catch the pale, repressed nervousness of her face.
+
+"Oh, not like an organ," she murmured. "This is a fearful sound; but an
+organ is sweet--soft and sweet. When Sister Teresa plays the evening
+hymn it is like the sighing of angels."
+
+"But your organ is probably small, señora."
+
+"We have not thought it small. It remains in our chapel, by the window
+of arches, and below we walk, at the hour of meditation, from the
+lime-tree to the white-rose bush, and back again, while the music sounds
+above. We have not thought it small, but large--yes, very large."
+
+"Four feet long, probably," said Carrington, who was smoking an evening
+pipe, now listening to the talk awhile, now watching the movements of
+two white heron who were promenading down the beach. "I saw the one over
+in the village church. It was about as long as this step."
+
+"Yes," said the Sister, surveying the step, "it is about as long as
+that. It is a very large organ."
+
+"Walk with me down to the point," said Keith--"just once and back
+again."
+
+The docile little Sister obeyed; she always did immediately whatever
+they told her to do.
+
+"I want you to listen now; stand still and listen--listen to the sea,"
+said Keith, when they had turned the point and stood alone on the shore.
+"Try to think only of the pure, deep, blue water, and count how
+regularly the sound rolls up in long, low chords, dying away and then
+growing louder, dying away and then growing louder, as regular as your
+own breath. Do you not hear it?"
+
+"Yes," said the little Sister timorously.
+
+"Keep time, then, with your hand, and let me see whether you catch the
+measure."
+
+So the small brown hand, nerveless and slender, tried to mark and
+measure the roar of the great ocean surges, and at last succeeded, urged
+on by the alternate praises and rebukes of Keith, who watched with some
+interest a faint color rise in the pale oval face, and an intent
+listening look come into the soft, unconscious eyes, as, for the first
+time, the mind caught the mighty rhythm of the sea. She listened, and
+listened, standing mute, with head slightly bent and parted lips.
+
+"I want you to listen to it in that way every day," said Keith, as he
+led the way back. "It has different voices: sometimes a fresh, joyous
+song, sometimes a faint, loving whisper; but always something. You will
+learn in time to love it, and then it will sing to you all day long."
+
+"Not at the dear convent; there is no ocean there."
+
+"You want to go back to the convent?"
+
+"Oh, could I go! could I go!" said the Sister, not impatiently, but with
+an intense yearning in her low voice. "Here, so lost, so strange am I,
+so wild is everything. But I must not murmur"; and she crossed her hands
+upon her breast and bowed her head.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two young men led a riotous life; they rioted with the ocean, with
+the winds, with the level island, with the sunshine and the racing
+clouds. They sailed over to the reef daily and plunged into the surf;
+they walked for miles along the beach, and ran races over its white
+floor; they hunted down the center of the island, and brought back the
+little brown deer who lived in the low thicket on each side of the
+island's backbone. The island was twenty miles long and a mile or two
+broad, with a central ridge of shell-formed rock about twenty feet in
+height, that seemed like an Appalachian chain on the level waste; below,
+in the little hollows on each side, spread a low tangled thicket, a few
+yards wide; and all the rest was barren sand, with movable hills here
+and there--hills a few feet in height, blown up by the wind, and changed
+in a night. The only vegetation besides the thicket was a rope-like vine
+that crept over the sand, with few leaves far apart, and now and then a
+dull purple blossom--a solitary tenacious vine of the desert, satisfied
+with little, its growth slow, its life monotonous; yet try to tear it
+from the surface of the sand, where its barren length seems to lie
+loosely like an old brown rope thrown down at random, and behold, it
+resists you stubbornly. You find a mile or two of it on your hands,
+clinging and pulling as the strong ivy clings to a stone wall; a giant
+could not conquer it, this seemingly dull and half-dead thing; and so
+you leave it there to creep on in its own way, over the damp,
+shell-strewn waste. One day Carrington came home in great glory; he had
+found a salt marsh. "Something besides this sand, you know--a stretch of
+saw-grass away to the south, the very place for fat ducks. And somebody
+has been there before us, too, for I saw the mast of a sail-boat some
+distance down, tipped up against the sky."
+
+"That old boat is ourn, I guess," said Melvyna. "She drifted down there
+one high tide, and Pedro he never would go for her. She was a mighty
+nice little boat, too, ef she was cranky."
+
+Pedro smiled amiably back upon his spouse, and helped himself to another
+hemisphere of pie. He liked the pies, although she was obliged to make
+them, she said, of such outlandish things as figs, dried oranges, and
+pomegranates. "If you could only see a pumpkin, Pedro," she often
+remarked, shaking her head. Pedro shook his back in sympathy; but, in
+the mean time, found the pies very good as they were.
+
+"Let us go down after the boat," said Carrington. "You have only that
+old tub over at the inlet, Pedro, and you really need another boat."
+(Carrington always liked to imagine that he was a constant and profound
+help to the world at large.) "Suppose anything should happen to the one
+you have?" Pedro had not thought of that; he slowly put down his knife
+and fork to consider the subject.
+
+"We will go this afternoon," said Keith, issuing his orders, "and you
+shall go with us, señora."
+
+"And Pedro, too, to help you," said Melvyna. "I've always wanted that
+boat back, she was such a pretty little thing: one sail, you know, and
+decked over in front; you sat on the bottom. I'd like right well to go
+along myself; but I suppose I'd better stay at home and cook a nice
+supper for you."
+
+Pedro thought so, decidedly.
+
+When the February sun had stopped blazing down directly overhead, and a
+few white afternoon clouds had floated over from the east to shade his
+shining, so that man could bear it, the four started inland toward the
+backbone ridge, on whose summit there ran an old trail southward, made
+by the fierce Creeks three centuries before. Right up into the dazzling
+light soared the great eagles--straight up, up to the sun, their
+unshrinking eyes fearlessly fixed full on his fiery ball.
+
+"It would be grander if we did not know they had just stolen their
+dinners from the poor hungry fish-hawks over there on the inlet," said
+Carrington.
+
+Sister St. Luke had learned to walk quite rapidly now. Her little black
+gown trailed lightly along the sand behind her, and she did her best to
+"step out boldly," as Keith directed; but it was not firmly, for she
+only succeeded in making a series of quick, uncertain little paces over
+the sand like bird-tracks. Once Keith had taken her back and made her
+look at her own uneven footsteps. "Look--no two the same distance
+apart," he said. The little Sister looked and was very much mortified.
+"Indeed, I _will_ try with might to do better," she said. And she did
+try with might; they saw her counting noiselessly to herself as she
+walked, "One, two; one, two." But she had improved so much that Keith
+now devoted his energies to teaching her to throw back her head and
+look about her. "Do you not see those soft banks of clouds piled up in
+the west?" he said, constantly directing her attention to objects above
+her. But this was a harder task, for the timid eyes had been trained
+from childhood to look down, and the head was habitually bent, like a
+pendant flower on its stem. Melvyna had deliberately laid hands upon the
+heavy veil and white band that formerly encircled the small face. "You
+can not breathe in them," she said. But the Sister still wore a light
+veil over the short dark hair, which would curl in little rings upon her
+temples in spite of her efforts to prevent it; the cord and heavy beads
+and cross encircled her slight waist, while the wide sleeves of her
+nun's garb fell over her hands to the finger-tips.
+
+"How do you suppose she would look dressed like other women?" said
+Carrington one day. The two men were drifting in their small yacht,
+lying at ease on the cushions, and smoking.
+
+"Well," answered Keith slowly, "if she was well dressed--very well, I
+mean, say in the French style--and if she had any spirit of her own, any
+vivacity, you might, with that dark face of hers and those eyes--you
+_might_ call her piquant."
+
+"Spirit? She has not the spirit of a fly," said Carrington, knocking the
+ashes out of his pipe and fumbling in an embroidered velvet pouch, one
+of many offerings at his shrine, for a fresh supply of the strong
+aromatic tobacco he affected, Keith meanwhile smoking nothing but the
+most delicate cigarettes. "The other day I heard a wild scream; and
+rushing down stairs I found her half fainting on the steps, all in a
+little heap. And what do you think it was? She had been sitting there,
+lost in a dream--mystic, I suppose, like St. Agnes--
+
+    Deep on the convent roof the snows
+      Are sparkling to the moon:
+    My breath to heaven like vapor goes.
+      May my soul follow soon--
+
+and that sort of thing."
+
+"No," said Keith, "there is nothing mystical about the Luke maiden; she
+has never even dreamed of the ideal ecstasies of deeper minds. She says
+her little prayers simply, almost mechanically, so many every day, and
+dwells as it were content in the lowly valleys of religion."
+
+"Well, whatever she was doing," continued Carrington, "a great sea crab
+had crawled up and taken hold of the toe of her little shoe. Grand
+tableau--crab and Luke maiden! And the crab had decidedly the better of
+it."
+
+"She _is_ absurdly timid," admitted Keith.
+
+And absurdly timid she was now, when, having crossed the stretch of sand
+and wound in and out among the low hillocks, they came to the hollow
+where grew the dark green thicket, through which they must pass to reach
+the Appalachian range, the backbone of the island, where the trail gave
+them an easier way than over the sands. Carrington went first and hacked
+out a path with his knife; Keith followed, and held back the branches;
+the whole distance was not more than twelve feet; but its recesses
+looked dark and shadowy to the little Sister, and she hesitated.
+
+"Come," said Carrington; "we shall never reach the salt marsh at this
+rate."
+
+"There is nothing dangerous here, señora," said Keith. "Look, you can
+see for yourself. And there are three of us to help you."
+
+"Yes," said Pedro--"three of us." And he swung his broad bulk into the
+gap.
+
+Still she hesitated.
+
+"Of what are you afraid?" called out Carrington impatiently.
+
+"I know not, indeed," she answered, almost in tears over her own
+behavior, yet unable to stir. Keith came back, and saw that she was
+trembling--not violently, but in a subdued, helpless sort of way which
+was pathetic in its very causelessness.
+
+"Take her up, Pedro," he ordered; and, before she could object, the
+good-natured giant had borne her in three strides through the dreaded
+region, and set her down safely upon the ridge. She followed them humbly
+now, along the safe path, trying to step firmly, and walk with her head
+up, as Keith had directed. Carrington had already forgotten her again,
+and even Keith was eagerly looking ahead for the first glimpse of green.
+
+"There is something singularly fascinating in the stretch of a salt
+marsh," he said. "Its level has such a far sweep as you stand and gaze
+across it, and you have a dreamy feeling that there is no end to it. The
+stiff, drenched grasses hold the salt which the tide brings in twice a
+day, and you inhale that fresh, strong, briny odor, the rank, salt,
+invigorating smell of the sea; the breeze that blows across has a tang
+to it like the snap of a whip-lash across your face, bringing the blood
+to the surface, and rousing you to a quicker pace."
+
+"Ha!" said Carrington; "there it is. Don't you see the green? A little
+farther on, you will see the mast of the boat."
+
+"That is all that is wanted," said Keith. "A salt marsh is not complete
+without a boat tilted up aground somewhere, with its slender dark mast
+outlined against the sky. A boat sailing along in a commonplace way
+would blight the whole thing; what we want is an abandoned craft, aged
+and deserted, aground down the marsh with only its mast rising above the
+waste."
+
+"_Bien_! there it is," said Carrington; "and now the question is, how to
+get to it."
+
+"You two giants will have to go," said Keith, finding a comfortable
+seat. "I see a mile or two of tall wading before us, and up to your
+shoulders is over my head. I went duck-shooting with that man last year,
+señora. 'Come on,' he cried--'splendid sport ahead, old fellow; come
+on.'
+
+"'Is it deep?' I asked from behind. I was already up to my knees, and
+could not see bottom, the water was so dark.
+
+"'Oh, no, not at all; just right,' he answered, striding ahead. 'Come
+on.'
+
+"I came; and went in up to my eyes."
+
+But the señora did not smile.
+
+"You know Carrington is taller than I am," explained Keith, amused by
+the novelty of seeing his own stories fall flat.
+
+"Is he?" said the Sister vaguely.
+
+It was evident that she had not observed whether he was or not.
+
+Carrington stopped short, and for an instant stared blankly at her. What
+every one noticed and admired all over the country wherever he went,
+this little silent creature had not even seen!
+
+"He will never forgive you," said Keith laughing, as the two tall forms
+strode off into the marsh. Then, seeing that she did not comprehend in
+the least, he made a seat for her by spreading his light coat on the
+Appalachian chain, and, leaning back on his elbow, began talking to her
+about the marsh. "Breathe in the strong salt," he said, "and let your
+eyes rest on the green, reedy expanse. Supposing you were painting a
+picture, now--does any one paint pictures at your convent?"
+
+"Ah, yes," said the little nun, rousing to animation at once. "Sister
+St. James paints pictures the most beautiful on earth. She painted for
+us Santa Inez with her lamb, and Santa Rufina of Sevilla, with her palms
+and earthen vases."
+
+"And has she not taught you to paint also?"
+
+"Me! Oh, no. I am only a Sister young and of no gifts. Sister St. James
+is a great saint, and of age she has seventy years."
+
+"Not requisites for painting, either of them, that I am aware," said
+Keith. "However, if you were painting this marsh, do you not see how the
+mast of that boat makes the feature of the landscape the one human
+element; and yet, even that abandoned, merged as it were in the desolate
+wildness of the scene?"
+
+The Sister looked over the green earnestly, as if trying to see all that
+he suggested. Keith talked on. He knew that he talked well, and he did
+not confuse her with more than one subject, but dwelt upon the marsh;
+stories of men who had been lost in them, of women who had floated down
+in boats and never returned; descriptions clear as etchings; studies of
+the monotone of hues before them--one subject pictured over and over
+again, as, wishing to instruct a child, he would have drawn with a chalk
+one letter of the alphabet a hundred times, until the wandering eyes had
+learned at last to recognize and know it.
+
+"Do you see nothing at all, feel nothing at all?" he said. "Tell me
+exactly."
+
+Thus urged, the Sister replied that she thought she did feel the salt
+breeze a little.
+
+"Then take off that shroud and enjoy it," said Keith, extending his arm
+suddenly, and sweeping off the long veil by the corner that was nearest
+to him.
+
+"Oh!" said the little Sister--"oh!" and distressfully she covered her
+head with her hands, as if trying to shield herself from the terrible
+light of day. But the veil had gone down into the thicket, whither she
+dared not follow. She stood irresolute.
+
+"I will get it for you before the others come back," said Keith. "It is
+gone now, however, and, what is more, you could not help it; so sit
+down, like a sensible creature, and enjoy the breeze."
+
+The little nun sat down, and confusedly tried to be a sensible creature.
+Her head, with its short rings of dark hair, rose childlike from the
+black gown she wore, and the breeze swept freshly over her; but her eyes
+were full of tears, and her face so pleading in its pale, silent
+distress, that at length Keith went down and brought back the veil.
+
+"See the cranes flying home," he said, as the long line dotted the red
+of the west. "They always seem to be flying right into the sunset,
+sensible birds!"
+
+The little Sister had heard that word twice now; evidently the cranes
+were more sensible than she. She sighed as she fastened on the veil;
+there were a great many hard things out in the world, then, she thought.
+At the dear convent it was not expected that one should be as a crane.
+
+The other two came back at length, wet and triumphant, with their prize.
+They had stopped to bail it out, plug its cracks, mend the old sail
+after a fashion, and nothing would do but that the three should sail
+home in it, Pedro, for whom there was no room, returning by the way they
+had come. Carrington, having worked hard, was determined to carry out
+his plan; and said so.
+
+"A fine plan to give us all a wetting," remarked Keith.
+
+"You go down there and work an hour or two yourself, and see how _you_
+like it," answered the other, with the irrelevance produced by aching
+muscles and perspiration dripping from every pore.
+
+This conversation had taken place at the edge of the marsh where they
+had brought the boat up through one of the numerous channels.
+
+"Very well," said Keith. "But mind you, not a word about danger before
+the Sister. I shall have hard enough work to persuade her to come with
+us as it is."
+
+He went back to the ridge, and carelessly suggested returning home by
+water.
+
+"You will not have to go through the thicket then," he said.
+
+Somewhat to his surprise, Sister St. Luke consented immediately, and
+followed without a word as he led the way. She was mortally afraid of
+the water, but, during his absence, she had been telling her beads, and
+thinking with contrition of two obstinacies in one day--that of the
+thicket and that of the veil--she could not, she would not have three.
+So, commending herself to all the saints, she embarked.
+
+"Look here, Carrington, if ever you inveigle me into such danger again
+for a mere fool's fancy, I will show you what I think of it. You knew
+the condition of that boat, and I did not," said Keith, sternly, as the
+two men stood at last on the beach in front of the lighthouse. The
+Sister had gone within, glad to feel land underfoot once more. She had
+sat quietly in her place all the way, afraid of the water, of the wind,
+of everything, but entirely unconscious of the real danger that menaced
+them. For the little craft would not mind her helm; her mast slipped
+about erratically; the planking at the bow seemed about to give way
+altogether; and they were on a lee shore, with the tide coming in, and
+the surf beating roughly on the beach. They were both good sailors, but
+it had taken all they knew to bring the boat safely to the lighthouse.
+
+"To tell the truth, I did not think she was so crippled," said
+Carrington. "She really is a good boat for her size."
+
+"Very," said Keith sarcastically.
+
+But the younger man clung to his opinion; and, in order to verify it, he
+set himself to work repairing the little craft. You would have supposed
+his daily bread depended upon her being made seaworthy, by the way he
+labored. She was made over from stem to stern: a new mast, a new sail;
+and, finally, scarlet and green paint were brought over from the
+village, and out she came as brilliant as a young paroquet. Then
+Carrington took to sailing in her. Proud of his handy work, he sailed up
+and down, over to the reef, and up the inlet, and even persuaded Melvyna
+to go with him once, accompanied by the meek little Sister.
+
+"Why shouldn't you both learn how to manage her?" he said in his
+enthusiasm. "She's as easy to manage as a child--"
+
+"And as easy to tip over," replied Melvyna, screwing up her lips tightly
+and shaking her head. "You don't catch me out in her again, sure's as my
+name's Sawyer."
+
+For Melvyna always remained a Sawyer in her own mind, in spite of her
+spouse's name; she could not, indeed, be anything else--_noblesse
+oblige_. But the Sister, obedient as usual, bent her eyes in turn upon
+the ropes, the mast, the sail, and the helm, while Carrington, waxing
+eloquent over his favorite science, delivered a lecture upon their uses,
+and made her experiment a little to see if she comprehended. He used the
+simplest words for her benefit, words of one syllable, and unconsciously
+elevated his voice somewhat, as though that would make her understand
+better; her wits seemed to him always of the slowest. The Sister
+followed his directions, and imitated his motions with painstaking
+minuteness. She did very well until a large porpoise rolled up his dark,
+glistening back close alongside, when, dropping the sail-rope with a
+scream, she crouched down at Melvyna's feet and hid her face in her
+veil. Carrington from that day could get no more passengers for his
+paroquet boat. But he sailed up and down alone in his little craft, and,
+when that amusement palled, he took the remainder of the scarlet and
+green paint and adorned the shells of various sea-crabs and other
+crawling things, so that the little Sister was met one afternoon by a
+whole procession of unearthly creatures, strangely variegated,
+proceeding gravely in single file down the beach from the pen where they
+had been confined. Keith pointed out to her, however, the probability of
+their being much admired in their own circles as long as the hues
+lasted, and she was comforted.
+
+They strolled down the beach now every afternoon, sometimes two,
+sometimes three, sometimes four when Melvyna had no cooking to watch, no
+bread to bake; for she rejected with scorn the omnipresent hot biscuit
+of the South, and kept her household supplied with light loaves in spite
+of the difficulties of yeast. Sister St. Luke had learned to endure the
+crabs, but she still fled from the fiddlers when they strayed over from
+their towns in the marsh; she still went carefully around the great
+jelly-fish sprawling on the beach, and regarded from a safe distance the
+beautiful blue Portuguese men-of-war, stranded unexpectedly on the
+dangerous shore, all their fair voyagings over. Keith collected for her
+the brilliant sea-weeds, little flecks of color on the white sand, and
+showed her their beauties; he made her notice all the varieties of
+shells, enormous conches for the tritons to blow, and beds of wee pink
+ovals and cornucopias, plates and cups for the little web-footed
+fairies. Once he came upon a sea-bean.
+
+"It has drifted over from one of the West Indian islands," he said,
+polishing it with his handkerchief--"one of the islands--let us say
+Miraprovos--a palmy tropical name, bringing up visions of a volcanic
+mountain, vast cliffs, a tangled gorgeous forest, and the soft lapping
+wash of tropical seas. Is it not so, señora?"
+
+But the señora had never heard of the West Indian Islands. Being told,
+she replied: "As you say it, it is so. There is, then, much land in the
+world?"
+
+"If you keep the sea-bean for ever, good will come," said Keith, gravely
+presenting it; "but, if after having once accepted it you then lose it,
+evil will fall upon you."
+
+The Sister received the amulet with believing reverence. "I will lay it
+up before the shrine of Our Lady," she said, carefully placing it in the
+little pocket over her heart, hidden among the folds of her gown, where
+she kept her most precious treasures--a bead of a rosary that had
+belonged to some saint who lived somewhere some time, a little faded
+prayer copied in the handwriting of a young nun who had died some years
+before and whom she had dearly loved, and a list of her own most vicious
+faults, to be read over and lamented daily; crying evils such as a
+perverse and insubordinate bearing, a heart froward and evil, gluttonous
+desires of the flesh, and a spirit of murderous rage. These were her own
+ideas of herself, written down at the convent. Had she not behaved
+herself perversely to the Sister Paula, with whom one should be always
+mild on account of the affliction which had sharpened her tongue? Had
+she not wrongfully coveted the cell of the novice Felipa, because it
+looked out upon the orange walk? Had she not gluttonously longed for
+more of the delectable marmalade made by the aged Sanchita? And, worse
+than all, had she not, in a spirit of murderous rage, beat the yellow
+cat with a palm-branch for carrying off the young doves, her especial
+charge? "Ah, my sins are great indeed," she sighed daily upon her knees,
+and smote her breast with tears.
+
+Keith watched the sea-bean go into the little heart-pocket almost with
+compunction. Many of these amulets of the sea, gathered during his
+winter rambles, had he bestowed with formal warning of their magic
+powers, and many a fair hand had taken them, many a soft voice had
+promised to keep them "for ever." But he well knew they would be mislaid
+and forgotten in a day. The fair ones well knew it too, and each knew
+that the other knew, so no harm was done. But this sea-bean, he thought,
+would have a different fate--laid up in some little nook before the
+shrine, a witness to the daily prayers of the simple-hearted little
+Sister. "I hope they may do it good," he thought vaguely. Then,
+reflecting that even the most depraved bean would not probably be much
+affected by the prayers, he laughed off the fancy, yet did not quite
+like to think, after all, that the prayers were of no use. Keith's
+religion, however, was in the primary rocks.
+
+Far down the beach they came upon a wreck, an old and long hidden relic
+of the past. The low sand-bluff had caved away suddenly and left a clean
+new side, where, imbedded in the lower part, they saw a ponderous mast.
+"An old Spanish galleon," said Keith, stooping to examine the remains.
+"I know it by the curious bolts. They ran ashore here, broadside on, in
+one of those sudden tornadoes they have along this coast once in a
+while, I presume. Singular! This was my very place for lying in the sun
+and letting the blaze scorch me with its clear scintillant splendor. I
+never imagined I was lying on the bones of this old Spaniard."
+
+"God rest the souls of the sailors!" said the Sister, making the sign of
+the cross.
+
+"They have been in--wherever they are, let us say, for about three
+centuries now," observed Keith, "and must be used to it, good or bad."
+
+"Nay; but purgatory, señor."
+
+"True. I had forgotten that," said Keith.
+
+One morning there came up a dense, soft, southern-sea fog, "The kind you
+can cut with a knife," Carrington said. It lasted for days, sweeping out
+to sea at night on the land breeze, and lying in a gray bank low down on
+the horizon, and then rolling in again in the morning enveloping the
+water and the island in a thick white cloud which was not mist and did
+not seem damp even, so freshly, softly salt was the feeling it gave to
+the faces that went abroad in it. Carrington and Keith, of course, must
+needs be out in it every moment of the time. They walked down the beach
+for miles, hearing the muffled sound of the near waves, but not seeing
+them. They sailed in it not knowing whither they went, and they drifted
+out at sunset and watched the land breeze lift it, roll it up, and carry
+it out to sea, where distant ships on the horizon line, bound southward,
+and nearer ones, sailing northward with the Gulf Stream, found
+themselves enveloped and bothered by their old and baffling foe. They
+went over to the reef every morning, these two, and bathed in the fog,
+coming back by sense of feeling, as it were, and landing not
+infrequently a mile below or above the lighthouse; then what appetites
+they had for breakfast! And, if it was not ready, they roamed about,
+roaring like young lions. At least that is what Melvyna said one morning
+when Carrington had put his curly head into her kitchen door six times
+in the course of one half hour.
+
+The Sister shrank from the sea fog; she had never seen one before, and
+she said it was like a great soft white creature that came in on wings,
+and brooded over the earth. "Yes, beautiful, perhaps," she said in reply
+to Keith, "but it is so strange--and--and--I know not how to say it--but
+it seems like a place for spirits to walk, and not of the mortal kind."
+
+They were wandering down the beach, where Keith had lured her to listen
+to the sound of the hidden waves. At that moment Carrington loomed into
+view coming toward them. He seemed of giant size as he appeared, passed
+them, and disappeared again into the cloud behind, his voice sounding
+muffled as he greeted them. The Sister shrank nearer to her companion as
+the figure had suddenly made itself visible. "Do you know it is a wonder
+to me how you have ever managed to live so far," said Keith smiling.
+
+"But it was not far," said the little nun. "Nothing was ever far at the
+dear convent, but everything was near, and not of strangeness to make
+one afraid; the garden wall was the end. There we go not outside, but
+our walk is always from the lime-tree to the white rose-bush and back
+again. Everything we know there--not roar of waves, not strong wind, not
+the thick, white air comes to give us fear, but all is still and at
+peace. At night I dream of the organ, and of the orange-trees, and of
+the doves. I wake, and hear only the sound of the great water below."
+
+"You will go back," said Keith.
+
+He had begun to pity her lately, for her longing was deeper than he had
+supposed. It had its roots in her very being. He had studied her and
+found it so.
+
+"She will die of pure homesickness if she stays here much longer," he
+said to Carrington. "What do you think of our writing down to that old
+convent and offering--of course unknown to her--to pay the little she
+costs them, if they will take her back?"
+
+"All right," said Carrington. "Go ahead."
+
+He was making a larger sail for his paroquet boat. "If none of you will
+go out in her, I might as well have all the sport I can," he said.
+
+"Sport to consist in being swamped?" Keith asked.
+
+"By no means, croaker. Sport to consist in shooting over the water like
+a rocket; I sitting on the tilted edge, watching the waves, the winds,
+and the clouds, and hearing the water sing as we rush along."
+
+Keith took counsel with no one else, not even with Melvyna, but
+presently he wrote his letter and carried it himself over to the village
+to mail. He did good deeds like that once in a while, "to help
+humanity," he said. They were tangible always; like the primary rocks.
+
+At length one evening the fog rolled out to sea for good and all, at
+least as far as that shore was concerned. In the morning there stood the
+lighthouse, and the island, and the reef, just the same as ever. They
+had almost expected to see them altered, melted a little.
+
+"Let us go over to the reef, all of us, and spend the day," said Keith.
+"It will do us good to breathe the clear air, and feel the brilliant,
+dry, hot sunshine again."
+
+"Hear the man!" said Melvyna laughing. "After trying to persuade us all
+those days that he liked that sticky fog too!"
+
+"Mme. Gonsalvez, we like a lily; but is that any reason why we may not
+also like a rose?"
+
+"Neither of 'em grows on this beach as I'm aware of," answered Melvyna
+dryly.
+
+Then Carrington put in his voice, and carried the day. Women never
+resisted Carrington long, but yielded almost unconsciously to the
+influence of his height and his strength, and his strong, hearty will. A
+subtiler influence over them, however, would have waked resistance, and
+Carrington himself would have been conquered far sooner (and was
+conquered later) by one who remained unswayed by those influences, to
+which others paid involuntary obeisance.
+
+Pedro had gone to the village for his supplies and his two days of mild
+Minorcan dissipation, and Melvyna, beguiled and cajoled by the chaffing
+of the two young men, at last consented, and not only packed the
+lunch-basket with careful hand, but even donned for the occasion her
+"best bonnet," a structure trimmed in Vermont seven years before by the
+experienced hand of Miss Althy Spears, the village milliner, who had
+adorned it with a durable green ribbon and a vigorous wreath of
+artificial flowers. Thus helmeted, Mme. Gonsalvez presided at the stern
+of the boat with great dignity. For they were in the safe,
+well-appointed little yacht belonging to the two gentlemen, the daring
+paroquet having been left at home tied to the last of a low heap of
+rocks that jutted out into the water in front of the lighthouse, the
+only remains of the old stone dock built by the Spaniards long before.
+Sister St. Luke was with them of course, gentle and frightened as usual.
+Her breath came quickly as they neared the reef, and Carrington with a
+sure hand guided the little craft outside into the surf, and, rounding a
+point, landed them safely in a miniature harbor he had noted there.
+Keith had counted the days, and felt sure that the answer from the
+convent would come soon. His offer--for he had made it his alone without
+Carrington's aid--had been liberal; there could be but one reply. The
+little Sister would soon go back to the lime-tree, the white rose-bush,
+the doves, the old organ that was "so large"--all the quiet routine of
+the life she loved so well; and they would see her small oval face and
+timid dark eyes no more. So he took her for a last walk down the reef,
+while Melvyna made coffee, and Carrington, having noticed a dark line
+floating on the water, immediately went out in his boat, of course, to
+see what it was.
+
+The reef had its high backbone, like the island. Some day it would be
+the island, with another reef outside, and the lighthouse beach would
+belong to the mainland. Down the stretch of sand toward the sea the
+pelicans stood in rows, toeing a mark, solemn and heavy, by the
+hundreds--a countless number--for the reef was their gathering-place.
+
+"They are holding a conclave," said Keith. "That old fellow has the
+floor. See him wag his head."
+
+In and out among the pelicans, and paying no attention to them and their
+conclave, sped the sickle-bill curlews, actively probing everywhere with
+their long, grotesque, sickle-shaped bills; and woe be to the burrowing
+things that came in their way! The red-beaked oyster-bird flew by, and
+close down to the sea skimmed the razor-bill shear-water, with his head
+bent forward and his feet tilted up, just grazing the water with his
+open bill as he flew, and leaving a shining mark behind, as though he
+held a pencil in his mouth and was running a line. The lazy gulls, who
+had no work to do, and would not have done it if they had, rode at ease
+on the little wavelets close in shore. The Sister, being asked,
+confessed that she liked the lazy gulls best. Being pressed to say why,
+she thought it was because they were more like the white doves that sat
+on the old stone well-curb in the convent garden.
+
+Keith had always maintained that he liked to talk to women. He said that
+the talk of any woman was more piquant than the conversation of the most
+brilliant men. There was only one obstacle: the absolute inability of
+the sex to be sincere, or to tell the truth, for ten consecutive
+minutes. Today, however, as he wandered to and fro whither he would on
+the reef, he also wandered to and fro whither he would in the mind, and
+the absolutely truthful mind too, of a woman. Yet he found it dull! He
+sighed to himself, but was obliged to acknowledge that it _was_ dull.
+The lime-tree, the organ, the Sisters, the Sisters, the lime-tree, the
+organ; it grew monotonous after a while. Yet he held his post, for the
+sake of the old theory, until the high voice of Melvyna called them back
+to the little fire on the beach and the white cloth spread with her best
+dainties. They saw Carrington sailing in with an excited air, and
+presently he brought the boat into the cove and dragged ashore his
+prize, towed behind--nothing less than a large shark, wounded, dead,
+after a struggle with some other marine monster, a sword-fish probably.
+"A man-eater," announced the captor. "Look at him, will you? Look at
+him, Miss Luke!"
+
+But Miss Luke went far away, and would not look. In truth he was an ugly
+creature; even Melvyna kept at a safe distance. But the two men noted
+all his points; they measured him carefully; they turned him over, and
+discussed him generally in that closely confined and exhaustive way
+which marks the masculine mind. Set two women to discussing a shark, or
+even the most lovely little brook-trout, if you please, and see how far
+off they will be in five minutes!
+
+But the lunch was tempting, and finally its discussion called them away
+even from that of the shark. And then they all sailed homeward over the
+green and blue water, while the white sand-hills shone silvery before
+them, and then turned red in the sunset. That night the moon was at its
+full. Keith went out and strolled up and down on the beach. Carrington
+was playing fox-and-goose with Mme. Gonsalvez on a board he had
+good-naturedly constructed for her entertainment when she confessed one
+day to a youthful fondness for that exciting game. Up stairs gleamed the
+little Sister's light. "Saying her prayers with her lips, but thinking
+all the time of that old convent," said the stroller to himself, half
+scornfully. And he said the truth.
+
+The sea was still and radiant; hardly more than a ripple broke at his
+feet; the tide was out, and the broad beach silvery and fresh. "At home
+they are buried in snow," he thought, "and the wind is whistling around
+their double windows." And then he stretched himself on the sand, and
+lay looking upward into the deep blue of the night, bathed in the
+moonlight, and listening dreamily to the soft sound of the water as it
+returned slowly, slowly back from the African coast. He thought many
+thoughts, and deep ones too, and at last he was so far away on ideal
+heights, that, coming home after midnight, it was no wonder if, half
+unconsciously, he felt himself above the others; especially when he
+passed the little Sister's closed door, and thought, smiling not
+unkindly, how simple she was.
+
+The next morning the two men went off in their boat again for the day,
+this time alone. There were still a few more questions to settle about
+that shark, and, to tell the truth, they both liked a good day of
+unencumbered sailing better than anything else.
+
+About four o'clock in the afternoon Melvyna, happening to look out of
+the door, saw a cloud no bigger than a man's hand low down on the
+horizon line of the sea. Something made her stand and watch it for a few
+moments. Then, "Miss Luke! Miss Luke! Miss Luke! Miss Luke!" she called
+quickly. Down came the little Sister, startled at the cry, her lace-work
+still in her hand.
+
+"Look!" said Melvyna.
+
+The Sister looked, and this is what she saw: a line white as milk coming
+toward them on the water, and behind it a blackness.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"A tornader," said Melvyna with white lips. "I've only seen one, and
+then I was over in the town; but it's awful! We must run back to the
+thicket." Seizing her companion's arm, the strong Northern woman hurried
+her across the sand, through the belt of sand-hills, and into the
+thicket, where they crouched on its far side close down under the
+projecting backbone. "The bushes will break the sand, and the ridge will
+keep us from being buried in it," she said. "I dursn't stay on the
+shore, for the water'll rise."
+
+The words were hardly spoken before the tornado was upon them, and the
+air was filled with the flying sand, so that they could hardly breathe.
+Half choked, they beat with their hands before them to catch a breath.
+Then came a roar, and for an instant, distant as they were, they caught
+a glimpse of the crest of the great wave that followed the whirlwind. It
+seemed to them mountain-high, and ready to ingulf the entire land. With
+a rushing sound it plunged over the keeper's house, broke against the
+lower story of the tower, hissed across the sand, swallowed the
+sand-hills, and swept to their very feet, then sullenly receded with
+slow, angry muttering. A gale of wind came next, singularly enough from
+another direction, as if to restore the equipoise of the atmosphere. But
+the tornado had gone on inland, where there were trees to uproot, and
+houses to destroy, and much finer entertainment generally.
+
+As soon as they could speak, "Where are the two out in the sail-boat?"
+asked the Sister.
+
+"God knows!" answered Melvyna. "The last time I noticed their sail they
+were about a mile outside of the reef."
+
+"I will go and see."
+
+"Go and see! Are you crazy? You can never get through that water."
+
+"The saints would help me, I think," said the little Sister.
+
+She had risen, and now stood regarding the watery waste with the usual
+timid look in her gentle eyes. Then she stepped forward with her
+uncertain tread, and before the woman by her side comprehended her
+purpose she was gone, ankle-deep in the tide, knee-deep, and finally
+wading across the sand up to her waist in water toward the lighthouse.
+The great wave was no deeper, however, even there. She waded to the door
+of the tower, opened it with difficulty, climbed the stairway, and
+gained the light-room, where the glass of the windows was all shattered,
+and the little chamber half full of the dead bodies of birds, swept
+along by the whirlwind and dashed against the tower, none of them
+falling to the ground or losing an inch of their level in the air as
+they sped onward, until they struck against some high object, which
+broke their mad and awful journey. Holding on by the shattered casement,
+Sister St. Luke gazed out to sea. The wind was blowing fiercely, and the
+waves were lashed to fury. The sky was inky black. The reef was under
+water, save one high knob of its backbone, and to that two dark objects
+were clinging. Farther down she saw the wreck of the boat driving before
+the gale. Pedro was over in the village; the tide was coming in over the
+high sea, and night was approaching. She walked quickly down the rough
+stone stairs, stepped into the water again, and waded across where the
+paroquet boat had been driven against the wall of the house, bailed it
+out with one of Melvyna's pans, and then, climbing in from the window of
+the sitting-room, she hoisted the sail, and in a moment was out on the
+dark sea.
+
+Melvyna had ascended to the top of the ridge, and when the sail came
+into view beyond the house she fell down on her knees and began to pray
+aloud: "O Lord, save her; save the lamb! She don't know what's she is
+doing, Lord. She's as simple as a baby. Oh, save her, out on that
+roaring sea! Good Lord, good Lord, deliver her!" Fragments of prayers
+she had heard in her prayer-meeting days came confusedly back into her
+mind, and she repeated them all again and again, wringing her hands as
+she saw the little craft tilt far over under its all too large sail, so
+that several times, in the hollows of the waves, she thought it was
+gone. The wind was blowing hard but steadily, and in a direction that
+carried the boat straight toward the reef; no tacks were necessary, no
+change of course; the black-robed little figure simply held the
+sail-rope, and the paroquet drove on. The two clinging to the rock,
+bruised, exhausted, with the waves rising and falling around them, did
+not see the boat until it was close upon them.
+
+"By the great heavens!" said Keith.
+
+His face was pallid and rigid, and there was a ghastly cut across his
+forehead, the work of the sharp-edged rock. The next moment he was on
+board, brought the boat round just in time, and helped in Carrington,
+whose right arm was injured.
+
+"You have saved our lives, señora," he said abruptly.
+
+"By Jove, yes," said Carrington. "We could not have stood it long, and
+night was coming." Then they gave all their attention to the hazardous
+start.
+
+Sister St. Luke remained unconscious of the fact that she had done
+anything remarkable. Her black gown was spoiled, which was a pity, and
+she knew of a balm which was easily compounded and which would heal
+their bruises. Did they think Melvyna had come back to the house yet?
+And did they know that all her dishes were broken--yes, even the cups
+with the red flowers on the border? Then she grew timorous again, and
+hid her face from the sight of the waves.
+
+Keith said not a word, but sailed the boat, and it was a wild and
+dangerous voyage they made, tacking up and down in the gayly painted
+little craft, that seemed like a toy on that angry water. Once
+Carrington took the little Sister's hand in his, and pressed his lips
+fervently upon it. She had never had her hand kissed before, and looked
+at him, then at the place, with a vague surprise, which soon faded,
+however, into the old fear of the wind. It was night when at last they
+reached the lighthouse; but during the last two tacks they had a light
+from the window to guide them; and when nearly in they saw the lantern
+shining out from the shattered windows of the tower in a fitful,
+surprised sort of way, for Melvyna had returned, and, with the true
+spirit of a Yankee, had immediately gone to work at the ruins.
+
+The only sign of emotion she gave was to Keith. "I saw it all," she
+said. "That child went right out after you, in that terrible wind, as
+natural and as quiet as if she was only going across the room. And she
+so timid a fly could frighten her! Mark my words, Mr. Keith, the good
+Lord helped her to do it! And I'll go to that new mission chapel over in
+the town every Sunday after this, as sure's my name is Sawyer!" She
+ceased abruptly, and, going into her kitchen, slammed the door behind
+her. Emotion with Melvyna took the form of roughness.
+
+Sister St. Luke went joyfully back to her convent the next day, for
+Pedro, when he returned, brought the letter, written, as Keith had
+directed, in the style of an affectionate invitation. The little nun
+wept for happiness when she read it. "You see how they love me--love me
+as I love them," she repeated with innocent triumph again and again.
+
+"It is all we can do," said Keith. "She could not be happy anywhere
+else, and with the money behind her she will not be neglected. Besides,
+I really believe they do love her. The sending her up here was probably
+the result of some outside dictation."
+
+Carrington, however, was dissatisfied. "A pretty return we make for our
+saved lives!" he said. "I hate ingratitude." For Carrington was half
+disposed now to fall in love with his preserver.
+
+But Keith stood firm.
+
+"Addios," said the little Sister, as Pedro's boat received her. Her face
+had lighted so with joy and glad anticipation that they hardly knew her.
+"I wish you could to the convent go with me," she said earnestly to the
+two young men. "I am sure you would like it." Then, as the boat turned
+the point, "I am sure you would like it," she called back, crossing her
+hands on her breast. "It is very heavenly there--very heavenly."
+
+That was the last they saw of her.
+
+Carrington sent down the next winter from New York a large silver
+crucifix, superbly embossed and ornamented. It was placed on the high
+altar of the convent, and much admired and reverenced by all the nuns.
+Sister St. Luke admired it too. She spoke of the island occasionally,
+but she did not tell the story of the rescue. She never thought of it.
+Therefore, in the matter of the crucifix, the belief was that a special
+grace had touched the young man's heart. And prayers were ordered for
+him. Sister St. Luke tended her doves, and at the hour of meditation
+paced to and fro between the lime-tree and the bush of white roses. When
+she was thirty years old her cup was full, for then she was permitted to
+take lessons and play a little upon the old organ.
+
+Melvyna went every Sunday to the bare, struggling little Presbyterian
+mission over in the town, and she remains to this day a Sawyer.
+
+But Keith remembered. He bares his head silently in reverence to all
+womanhood, and curbs his cynicism as best he can, for the sake of the
+little Sister--the sweet little Sister St. Luke.
+
+
+
+
+MISS ELISABETHA.
+
+    In yonder homestead, wreathed with bounteous vines,
+    A lonely woman dwells, whose wandering feet
+    Pause oft amid one chamber's calm retreat,
+    Where an old mirror from its quaint frame shines.
+    And here, soft wrought in memory's vague designs,
+    Dim semblances her wistful gaze will greet
+    Of lost ones that inthrall phantasmally sweet
+    The mirror's luminous quietude enshrines.
+
+    But unto her these dubious forms that pass
+    With shadowy majesty or dreamy grace,
+    Wear nothing of ghostliness in mien or guise.
+    The only ghost that haunts this glimmering glass
+    Carries the sad reality in its face
+    Of her own haggard cheeks and desolate eyes!
+
+    EDGAR FAWCETT.
+
+
+Overlooking the tide-water river stands an old house, gleaming white in
+the soft moonlight; the fragrance of tropic flowers floats out to sea on
+the land-breeze, coming at sunset over the pine-barrens to take the
+place of the ocean winds that have blown all day long, bringing in the
+salt freshness to do battle with the hot shafts of the sun and conquer
+them. The side of the house toward the river shows stone arches,
+door-less, opening into a hall; beyond is a large room, lighted by two
+candles placed on an old-fashioned piano; and full in their yellow
+radiance sits Miss Elisabetha, playing, with clear, measured touch, an
+old-time minuet. The light falls upon her face, with its sharp,
+high-curved features, pale-blue eyes, and the three thin curls of blonde
+hair on each side. She is not young, our Elisabetha: the tall, spare
+form, stiffly erect, the little wisp of hair behind ceremoniously
+braided and adorned with a high comb, the long, thin hands, with the
+tell-tale wrist-bones prominent as she plays, and the fine network of
+wrinkles over her pellucid, colorless cheeks, tell this. But the boy who
+listens sees it not; to him she is a St. Cecilia, and the gates of
+heaven open as she plays. He leans his head against the piano, and his
+thoughts are lost in melody; they do not take the form of words, but
+sway to and fro with the swell and the ebb of the music. If you should
+ask him, he could not express what he feels, for his is no analytical
+mind; attempt to explain it to him, and very likely he would fall asleep
+before your eyes. Miss Elisabetha plays well--in a prim, old-fashioned
+way, but yet well; the ancient piano has lost its strength, but its
+tones are still sweet, and the mistress humors its failings. She tunes
+it herself, protects its strings from the sea-damps, dusts it carefully,
+and has embroidered for it a cover in cross-stitch, yellow tulips
+growing in straight rows out of a blue ground--an heirloom pattern
+brought from Holland. Yet entire happiness can not be ours in this
+world, and Miss Elisabetha sometimes catches herself thinking how
+delightful it would be to use E flat once more; but the piano's E flat
+is hopelessly gone.
+
+"Is not that enough for this evening, Theodore?" said Miss Elisabetha,
+closing the manuscript music-book, whose delicate little pen-and-ink
+notes were fading away with age.
+
+"Oh, no, dear aunt; sing for me, please, 'The Proud Ladye.'"
+
+And so the piano sounded forth again in a prim melody, and the thin
+voice began the ballad of the knight, who, scorned by his lady-love,
+went to the wars with her veil bound on his heart; he dies on the field,
+but a dove bears back the veil to the Proud Ladye, who straightway falls
+"a-weeping and a-weeping till she weeps her life away." The boy who
+listens is a slender stripling, with brown eyes, and a mass of brown
+curls tossed back from a broad, low forehead; he has the outlines of a
+Greek, and a dark, silken fringe just borders his boyish mouth. He is
+dressed in a simple suit of dark-blue cotton jacket and trousers, the
+broad white collar turned down, revealing his round young throat; on his
+slender feet he wears snowy stockings, knitted by Miss Elisabetha's own
+hands, and over them a low slipper of untanned leather. His brown hands
+are clasped over one knee, the taper fingers and almond-shaped nails
+betraying the artistic temperament--a sign which is confirmed by the
+unusually long, slender line of the eyebrows, curving down almost to the
+cheeks.
+
+"A-weeping and a-weeping till she weeps her life away," sang Miss
+Elisabetha, her voice in soft _diminuendo_ to express the mournful end
+of the Proud Ladye. Then, closing the piano carefully, and adjusting the
+tulip-bordered cover, she extinguished the candles, and the two went out
+under the open arches, where chairs stood ready for them nightly. The
+tide-water river--the Warra--flowed by, the moon-path shining goldenly
+across it; up in the north palmettos stood in little groups alongshore,
+with the single feathery pine-trees of the barrens coming down to meet
+them; in the south shone the long lagoon, with its low islands, while
+opposite lay the slender point of the mainland, fifteen miles in length,
+the Warra on one side, and on the other the ocean; its white sand-ridges
+gleamed in the moonlight, and the two could hear the sound of the waves
+on its outer beach.
+
+"It is so beautiful," said the boy, his dreamy eyes following the silver
+line of the lagoon.
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Elisabetha, "but we have no time to waste, Theodore.
+Bring your guitar and let me hear you sing that _romanza_ again;
+remember the pauses--three beats to the measure."
+
+Then sweetly sounded forth the soft tenor voice, singing an old French
+_romanza_, full of little quavers, and falls, and turns, which the boy
+involuntarily slurred into something like naturalness, or gave
+_staccato_ as the mocking-bird throws out his shower of short, round
+notes. But Miss Elisabetha allowed no such license: had she not learned
+that very _romanza_ from Monsieur Vocard himself forty years before? and
+had he not carefully taught her every one of those little turns and
+quavers? Taking the guitar from Theodore's hand, she executed all the
+flourishes slowly and precisely, making him follow her, note for note.
+Then he must sing it all over again while she beat the time with her
+long, slender foot, incased in a black-silk slipper of her own making.
+The ladies of the Daarg family always wore slippers--the heavy-sounding
+modern boot they considered a structure suitable only for persons of
+plebeian origin. A lady should not even step perceptibly; she should
+glide.
+
+"Miss 'Lisabeet, de toas' is ready. Bress de chile, how sweet he sings
+to-night! Mos' like de mock-bird's self, Mass' Doro."
+
+So spoke old Viny, the one servant of the house, a broad-shouldered,
+jet-black, comfortable creature, with her gray wool peeping from beneath
+a gay turban. She had belonged to Doro's Spanish mother, but, when Miss
+Elisabetha came South to take the house and care for the orphan-boy, she
+had purchased the old woman, and set her free immediately.
+
+"It don't make naw difference as I can see, Miss 'Lisabeet," said Viny,
+when the new mistress carefully explained to her that she was a free
+agent from that time forth. "'Pears harnsome in you to do it, but it
+arn't likely I'll leabe my chile, my Doro-boy, long as I lib--is it,
+now? When I die, he'll have ole Viny burred nice, wid de priests, an' de
+candles, an' de singing, an' all."
+
+"Replace your guitar, Theodore," said Miss Elisabetha, rising, "and then
+walk to and fro between here and the gate ten times. Walk briskly, and
+keep your mouth shut; after singing you should always guard against the
+damps."
+
+The boy obeyed in his dreamy way, pacing down the white path, made hard
+with pounded oyster-shells, to the high stone wall. The old iron-clamped
+gate, which once hung between the two pomegranate-topped pillars, was
+gone; for years it had leaned tottering half across the entrance-way,
+threatening to brain every comer, but Miss Elisabetha had ordered its
+removal in the twinkling of her Northern eye, and in its place now hung
+a neat, incongruous little wicket, whose latch was a standing bone of
+contention between the mistress and the entire colored population of the
+small village.
+
+"Go back and latch the gate," was her constantly repeated order; "the
+cows might enter and injure the garden."
+
+"But th' arn't no cows, Miss 'Lisabeet."
+
+"There should be, then," the ancient maiden would reply, severely.
+"Grass would grow with a little care and labor; look at our pasture. You
+are much too indolent, good people!"
+
+Theodore stood leaning over the little gate, his eyes fixed on the white
+sand-hills across the Warra; he was listening to the waves on the outer
+beach.
+
+"Theodore, Theodore!" called Miss Elisabetha's voice, "do not stand, but
+pace to and fro; and be sure and keep your mouth closed."
+
+Mechanically the boy obeyed, but his thoughts were following the sound
+of the water. Following a sound? Yes. Sounds were to him a language, and
+he held converse with the surf, the winds, the rustling marsh-grass, and
+the sighing pines of the barrens. The tale of the steps completed, he
+reëntered the house, and, following the light, went into a long, narrow
+room, one of three which, built out behind the main body of the house,
+formed with its back-wall a square, surrounding a little courtyard, in
+whose center stood the well, a ruined fountain, rose- and myrtle-bushes,
+and two ancient fig-trees, dwarfed and gnarled. Miss Elisabetha was
+standing at the head of the table; before her was a plate containing
+three small slices of dry toast, crisp and brown, and a decanter of
+orange-wine, made by her own hands. One slice of the toast was for
+herself, two were for the boy, who was still supposed to be growing; a
+Northerner would have said that he was over twenty, but Spanish blood
+hastens life, and Teodoro in years was actually not yet eighteen. In
+mind he was still younger, thanks to Miss Elisabetha's care and strict
+control. It had never even occurred to him that he need not so
+absolutely obey her; and, to tell the truth, neither had it occurred to
+her. Doro ate his simple supper standing--the Daarg family never sat
+down gluttonously to supper, but browsed lightly on some delicate
+fragments, moving about and chatting meanwhile as though half forgetting
+they were eating at all. Then Miss Elisabetha refilled his little glass,
+watched him drink the clear amber liquid to the last drop, and bade him
+good night in her even voice. He turned at the door and made her a
+formal bow, not without grace; she had carefully taught him this
+salutation, and required it of him every night.
+
+"I wish you a blessed rest, Theodore," she said, courtesying in reply;
+"do not keep the light burning."
+
+Half an hour later, when the ancient maiden glided out of her chamber,
+clad in a long frilled wrapper, the three curls in papers on each side
+of her head, she saw no gleam from under the low door of the little room
+across the hall; she listened, but there was no sound, and, satisfied,
+she retired to her high couch and closed the gayly flowered curtains
+around her. But, out on the small balcony which hung like a cage from
+his eastern window, Doro stood, leaning over the iron railing and
+listening, listening to the far sound of the sea.
+
+Such had been the life down in the old house for sixteen long,
+winterless years, the only changes being more difficult music and more
+toast, longer lessons in French, longer legs to the little blue
+trousers, increased attention to sea-baths and deportment, and always
+and ever a careful saving of every copper penny and battered shilling.
+What became of these coins old Viny did not know; she only knew how
+patiently they were collected, and how scrupulously saved. Miss
+Elisabetha attended to the orange-grove in person; not one orange was
+lost, and the annual waste of the other proprietors, an ancient and
+matter-of-course waste, handed down from father to son, represented in
+her purse not a few silver pieces. Pedro, the Minorcan, who brought her
+fish and sea-food, she had drilled from boyhood in his own art by sheer
+force of will, paying him by the day, and sending him into the town to
+sell from door to door all she did not need herself, to the very last
+clam. The lazy housewives soon grew into the habit of expecting Pedro
+and his basket, and stood in their doorways chatting in the sun and
+waiting for him, while the husbands let their black dugouts lie idle,
+and lounged on the sea-wall, smoking and discussing the last alligator
+they had shot, or the last ship, a coasting-schooner out of water, which
+had sailed up their crooked harbor six months before. Miss Elisabetha
+had learned also to braid palmetto, and her long fingers, once
+accustomed to the work, accomplished as much in a week as Zanita Perez
+and both her apprentices accomplished in two; she brought to the task
+also original ideas, original at least in Beata, where the rude hats and
+baskets were fac-similes of those braided there two hundred years before
+by the Spanish women, who had learned the art from the Indians. Thus
+Miss Elisabetha's wares found ready sale at increased prices, little
+enough to Northern ideas--sixpence for a hat--one shilling for a basket;
+but all down the coast, and inland toward the great river, there was a
+demand for her work, and the lines hung in the garden were almost
+constantly covered with the drying palmetto. Then she taught music. To
+whom, do you ask? To the black-eyed daughters of the richer townspeople,
+and to one or two demoiselles belonging to Spanish families down the
+coast, sent up to Beata to be educated by the nuns. The good Sisters did
+their best, but they knew little, poor things, and were glad to call in
+Miss Elisabetha with her trills and quavers; so the wiry organ in the
+little cathedral sounded out the ballads and _romanzas_ of Monsieur
+Vocard, and the demoiselles learned to sing them in their broken French,
+no doubt greatly to the satisfaction of the golden-skinned old fathers
+and mothers on the plantations down the coast. The _padre_ in charge of
+the parish had often importuned Miss Elisabetha to play this organ on
+Sundays, as the decorous celebration of high-mass suffered sadly, not to
+say ludicrously, from the blunders of poor Sister Paula. But Miss
+Elisabetha briefly refused; she must draw a line somewhere, and a pagan
+ceremonial she could not countenance. The Daarg family, while abhorring
+greatly the Puritanism of the New England colonies, had yet held
+themselves equally aloof from the image-worship of Rome; and they had
+always considered it one of the inscrutable mysteries of Providence that
+the French nation, so skilled in polite attitude, so versed in the
+singing of _romanzas_, should yet have been allowed to remain so long in
+ignorance of the correct religious mean.
+
+The old house was managed with the nicest care. Its thick coquina-walls
+remained solid still, and the weak spots in the roof were mended with a
+thatch of palmetto and tar, applied monthly under the mistress's
+superintendence by Viny, who never ceased to regard the performance as a
+wonder of art, accustomed as she was to the Beata fashion of letting
+roofs leak when they wanted to, the family never interfering, but
+encamping on the far side of the flow with calm undisturbed. The few
+pieces of furniture were dusted and rubbed daily, and the kitchen
+department was under martial law; the three had enough to eat--indeed,
+an abundance--oysters, fish, and clams, sweet potatoes from the garden,
+and various Northern vegetables forced to grow under the vigilant
+nursing they received, but hating it, and coming up as spindling as they
+could. The one precious cow gave them milk and butter, the
+well-conducted hens gave them eggs; flour and meal, coffee and tea,
+hauled across the barrens from the great river, were paid for in
+palmetto-work. Yes, Miss Elisabetha's household, in fact, lived well,
+better perhaps than any in Beata; but so measured were her quantities,
+so exact her reckonings, so long her look ahead, that sometimes, when
+she was away, old Viny felt a sudden wild desire to toss up fritters in
+the middle of the afternoon, to throw away yesterday's tea-leaves, to
+hurl the soured milk into the road, or even to eat oranges without
+counting them, according to the fashions of the easy old days when
+Doro's Spanish grandmother held the reins, and everything went to ruin
+comfortably. Every morning after breakfast Miss Elisabetha went the
+rounds through the house and garden; then English and French with Doro
+for two hours; next a sea-bath for him, and sailing or walking as he
+pleased, when the sun was not too hot. Luncheon at noon, followed by a
+_siesta_; then came a music-lesson, long and charming to both; and,
+after that, he had his choice from among her few books. Dinner at five,
+a stroll along the beach, music in the evenings--at first the piano in
+the parlor, then the guitar under the arches; last of all, the light
+supper, and good-night. Such was Doro's day. But Miss Elisabetha,
+meanwhile, had a hundred other duties which she never neglected, in
+spite of her attention to his welfare--first the boy, then his money,
+for it was earned and destined for him. Thus the years had passed,
+without change, without event, without misfortune; the orange-trees had
+not failed, the palmetto-work had not waned, and the little store of
+money grew apace. Doro, fully employed, indulged by Viny, amused with
+his dogs, his parrot, his mocking-birds, and young owls, all the variety
+of pets the tropical land afforded, even to young alligators
+clandestinely kept in a sunken barrel up the marsh, knew no _ennui_.
+But, most of all, the music filled his life, rounding out every empty
+moment, and making an undercurrent, as it were, to all other
+occupations; so that the French waltzed through his brain, the English
+went to marches, the sailing made for itself _gondelieds_, and even his
+plunges in the Warra were like crashes of fairy octaves, with
+_arpeggios_ of pearly notes in showers coming after.
+
+These were the _ante-bellum_ days, before the war had opened the
+Southern country to winter visitors from the North; invalids a few,
+tourists a few, came and went, but the great tide, which now sweeps
+annually down the Atlantic coast to Florida, was then unknown. Beata,
+lying by itself far down the peninsula, no more looked for winter
+visitors than it looked for angels; but one day an angel arrived
+unawares, and Doro saw her.
+
+Too simple-hearted to conceal, excited, longing for sympathy, he poured
+out his story to Miss Elisabetha, who sat copying from her music-book a
+certain ballad for the Demoiselle Xantez.
+
+"It was over on the north beach, aunt, and I heard the music and
+hastened thither. She was sitting on a tiger-skin thrown down on the
+white sand; purple velvet flowed around her, and above, from
+embroideries like cream, rose her flower-face set on a throat so white,
+where gleamed a star of brilliancy; her hair was like gold--yellow
+gold--and it hung in curls over her shoulders, a mass of radiance; her
+eyes were blue as the deepest sky-color; and oh! so white her skin, I
+could scarcely believe her mortal. She was playing on a guitar, with her
+little hands so white, so soft, and singing--aunt, it was like what I
+have dreamed."
+
+The boy stopped and covered his face with his hands. Miss Elisabetha had
+paused, pen in hand. What was this new talk of tiger-skins and golden
+hair? No one could sing in Beata save herself alone; the boy was
+dreaming!
+
+"Theodore," she said, "fancy is permitted to us under certain
+restrictions, but no well-regulated mind will make to itself realities
+of fancies. I am sorry to be obliged to say it, but the romances must be
+immediately removed from the shelf."
+
+These romances, three in number, selected and sanctioned by the
+governess of the Misses Daarg forty years before, still stood in Miss
+Elisabetha's mind as exemplars of the wildest flights of fancy.
+
+"But this is not fancy, dear aunt," said Doro eagerly, his brown eyes
+velvet with moisture, and his brown cheeks flushed. "I saw it all this
+afternoon over on the beach; I could show you the very spot where the
+tiger-skin lay, and the print of her foot, which had a little shoe so
+odd--like this," and rapidly he drew the outline of a walking-boot in
+the extreme of the Paris fashion.
+
+Miss Elisabetha put on her glasses.
+
+"Heels," she said slowly; "I have heard of them."
+
+"There is nothing in all the world like her," pursued the excited boy,
+"for her hair is of pure gold, not like the people here; and her eyes
+are so sweet, and her forehead so white! I never knew such people
+lived--why have you not told me all these years?"
+
+"She is a blonde," replied Miss Elisabetha primly. "I, too, am a blonde,
+Theodore."
+
+"But not like this, aunt. My lovely lady is like a rose."
+
+"A subdued monotone of coloring has ever been a characteristic of our
+family, Theodore. But I do not quite understand your story. Who is this
+person, and was she alone on the beach?"
+
+"There were others, but I did not notice them; I only looked at her."
+
+"And she sang?"
+
+"O aunt, so heavenly sweet--so strange, so new her song, that I was
+carried away up into the blue sky as if on strong wings--I seemed to
+float in melody. But I can not talk of it; it takes my breath away, even
+in thought!"
+
+Miss Elisabetha sat perplexed.
+
+"Was it one of our _romanzas_, Theodore, or a ballad?" she said, running
+over the list in her mind.
+
+"It was something I never heard before," replied Doro, in a low voice;
+"it was not like anything else--not even the mocking-bird, for, though
+it went on and on, the same strain floated back into it again and again;
+and the mocking-bird, you know, has a light and fickle soul. Aunt, I can
+not tell you what it was like, but it seemed to tell me a new story of a
+new world."
+
+"How many beats had it to the measure?" asked Miss Elisabetha, after a
+pause.
+
+"I do not know," replied the boy dreamily.
+
+"You do not know! All music is written in some set time, Theodore. At
+least, you can tell me about the words. Were they French?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor English?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"I know not; angel-words, perhaps.
+
+"Did she speak to you?"
+
+"Yes," replied Doro, clasping his hands fervently. "She asked me if I
+liked the song, and I said, 'Lady, it is of the angels.' Then she
+smiled, and asked my name, and I told her,'Doro'--"
+
+"You should have said, 'Theodore,'" interrupted Miss Elisabetha; "do I
+not always call you so?"
+
+"And she said it was a lovely name; and could I sing? I took her guitar,
+and sang to her--"
+
+"And she praised your method, I doubt not?"
+
+"She said, 'Oh, what a lovely voice!' and she touched my hair with her
+little hands, and I--I thought I should die, aunt, but I only fell at
+her feet."
+
+"And where--where is this person now?" said the perplexed maiden,
+catching at something definite.
+
+"She has gone--gone! I stood and watched the little flag on the mast
+until I could see it no more. She has gone! Pity me, aunt, dear aunt.
+What shall I do? How shall I live?"
+
+The boy broke into sobs, and would say no more. Miss Elisabetha was
+strangely stirred; here was a case beyond her rules; what should she do?
+Having no precedent to guide her, she fell back into her old beliefs
+gained from studies of the Daarg family, as developed in boys. Doro was
+excused from lessons, and the hours were made pleasant to him. She spent
+many a morning reading aloud to him; and old Viny stood amazed at the
+variety and extravagance of the dishes ordered for him.
+
+"What! chickens ebery day, Miss 'Lisabeet? 'Pears like Mass' Doro hab
+eberyting now!"
+
+"Theodore is ill, Lavinia," replied the mistress; and she really thought
+so.
+
+Music, however, there was none; the old charmed afternoons and evenings
+were silent.
+
+"I can not bear it," the boy had said, with trembling lips.
+
+But one evening he did not return: the dinner waited for him in vain;
+the orange after-glow faded away over the pine-barrens; and in the pale
+green of the evening sky arose the star of the twilight; still he came
+not.
+
+Miss Elisabetha could eat nothing.
+
+"Keep up the fire, Lavinia," she said, rising from the table at last.
+
+"Keep up de fire, Miss 'Lisabeet! Till when?"
+
+"Till Theodore comes!" replied the mistress shortly.
+
+"De worl' mus' be coming to de end," soliloquized the old black woman,
+carrying out the dishes; "sticks of wood no account!"
+
+Late in the evening a light footstep sounded over the white path, and
+the strained, watching eyes under the stone arches saw at last the face
+of the missing one.
+
+"O aunt, I have seen her--I have seen her! I thought her gone for ever.
+O aunt--dear, dear aunt, she has sung for me again!" said the boy,
+flinging himself down on the stones, and laying his flushed face on her
+knee. "This time it was over by the old lighthouse, aunt. I was sailing
+up and down in the very worst breakers I could find, half hoping they
+would swamp the boat, for I thought perhaps I could forget her down
+there under the water--when I saw figures moving over on the
+island-beach. Something in the outlines of one made me tremble; and I
+sailed over like the wind, the little boat tilted on its side within a
+hair's-breadth of the water, cutting it like a knife as it flew. It was
+she, aunt, and she smiled! 'What, my young Southern nightingale,' she
+said, 'is it you?' And she gave me her hand--her soft little hand."
+
+The thin fingers, hardened by much braiding of palmetto, withdrew
+themselves instinctively from the boy's dark curls. He did not notice
+it, but rushed on with his story unheeding:
+
+"She let me walk with her, aunt, and hold her parasol, decked with lace,
+and she took off her hat and hung it on my arm, and it had a long,
+curling plume. She gave me sweet things--oh, so delicious! See, I kept
+some," said Doro, bringing out a little package of bonbons. "Some are of
+sugar, you see, and some have nuts in them; those are chocolate. Are
+they not beautiful?"
+
+"Candies, I think," said Miss Elisabetha, touching them doubtfully with
+the end of her quill.
+
+"And she sang for me, aunt, the same angel's music; and then, when I was
+afar in heaven, she brought me back with a song about three fishermen
+who sailed out into the west; and I wept to hear her, for her voice then
+was like the sea when it feels cruel. She saw the tears, and, bidding me
+sit by her side, she struck a few chords on her guitar and sang to me of
+a miller's daughter who grew so dear, so dear. Do you know it, aunt?"
+
+"A miller's daughter? No; I have no acquaintance with any such person,"
+said Miss Elisabetha, considering.
+
+"Wait, I will sing it to you," said Doro, running to bring his guitar;
+"she taught it to me herself!"
+
+And then the tenor voice rose in the night air, bearing on the lovely
+melody the impassioned words of the poet. Doro sang them with all his
+soul, and the ancient maiden felt her heart disquieted within her--why,
+she knew not. It seemed as though her boy was drifting away whither she
+could not follow.
+
+"Is it not beautiful, aunt? I sang it after her line by line until I
+knew it all, and then I sang her all my songs; and she said I must come
+and see her the day after to-morrow, and she would give me her picture
+and something else. What do you suppose it is, aunt? She would not tell
+me, but she smiled and gave me her hand for good-by. And now I can live,
+for I am to see her at Martera's house, beyond the convent, the day
+after to-morrow, the day after to-morrow--oh, happy day, the day after
+to-morrow!"
+
+"Come and eat your dinner, Theodore," said Miss Elisabetha, rising. Face
+to face with a new world, whose possibilities she but dimly understood,
+and whose language was to her an unknown tongue, she grasped blindly at
+the old anchors riveted in years of habit; the boy had always been
+something of an epicure in his fastidious way, and one of his favorite
+dishes was on the table.
+
+"You may go, Lavinia," she said, as the old slave lingered to see if her
+darling enjoyed the dainties; she could not bear that even Viny's
+faithful eyes should notice the change, if change there was.
+
+The boy ate nothing.
+
+"I am not hungry, aunt," he said, "I had so many delicious things over
+on the beach. I do not know what they were, but they were not like our
+things at all." And, with a slight gesture of repugnance, he pushed
+aside his plate.
+
+"You had better go to bed," said Miss Elisabetha, rising. In her
+perplexity this was the first thing which suggested itself to her; a
+good night's rest had been known to work wonders; she would say no more
+till morning. The boy went readily; but he must have taken his guitar
+with him, for long after Miss Elisabetha had retired to her couch she
+heard him softly singing again and again the romance of the miller's
+daughter. Several times she half rose as if to go and stop him; then a
+confused thought came to her that perhaps his unrest might work itself
+off in that way, and she sank back, listening meanwhile to the fanciful
+melody with feelings akin to horror. It seemed to have no regular time,
+and the harmony was new and strange to her old-fashioned ears. "Truly,
+it must be the work of a composer gone mad," said the poor old maid,
+after trying in vain for the fifth time to follow the wild air. There
+was not one trill or turn in all its length, and the accompaniment,
+instead of being the decorous one octave in the bass, followed by two or
+three chords according to the time, seemed to be but a general sweeping
+over the strings, with long pauses, and unexpected minor harmony
+introduced, turning the air suddenly upside down, and then back again
+before one had time to comprehend what was going on. "Heaven help me!"
+said Miss Elisabetha, as the melody began again for the sixth time, "but
+I fear I am sinful enough to hate that miller's daughter." And it was
+very remarkable, to say the least, that a person in her position "was
+possessed of a jewel to tremble in her ear," she added censoriously,
+"not even to speak of a necklace." But the comfort was cold, and, before
+she knew it, slow, troubled tears had dampened her pillow.
+
+Early the next morning she was astir by candle-light, and, going into
+the detached kitchen, began preparing breakfast with her own hands,
+adding to the delicacies already ordered certain honey-cakes, an
+heirloom in the Daarg family. Viny could scarcely believe her eyes when,
+on coming down to her domain at the usual hour, she found the great
+fireplace glowing, and the air filled with the fragrance of spices;
+Christmas alone had heretofore seen these honey-cakes, and to-day was
+only a common day!
+
+"I do not care for anything, aunt," said Doro, coming listlessly to the
+table when all was ready. He drank some coffee, broke a piece of bread,
+and then went back to his guitar; the honey-cakes he did not even
+notice.
+
+One more effort remained. Going softly into the parlor during the
+morning, Miss Elisabetha opened the piano, and, playing over the prelude
+to "The Proud Ladye," began to sing in her very best style, giving the
+flourishes with elaborate art, scarcely a note without a little step
+down from the one next higher; these airy descents, like flights of
+fairy stairs, were considered very high art in the days of Monsieur
+Vocard. She was in the middle of "a-weeping and a-weeping," when Doro
+rushed into the room. "O aunt," he cried, "please, please do not sing!
+Indeed, I can not bear it. We have been all wrong about our music; I can
+not explain it, but I feel it--I know it. If you could only hear her!
+Come with me to-morrow and hear her, dear aunt, and then you will
+understand what I mean."
+
+Left to herself again, Miss Elisabetha felt a great resolve come to her.
+She herself would go and see this stranger, and grind her to powder! She
+murmured these words over several times, and derived much comfort from
+them.
+
+With firm hands she unlocked the cedar chest which had come with her
+from the city seventeen years before; but the ladies of the Daarg family
+had not been wont to change their attire every passing fashion, and the
+robe she now drew forth was made in the style of full twenty-five years
+previous--a stiff drab brocade flowered in white, two narrow flounces
+around the bottom of the scant skirt, cut half low in the neck with a
+little bertha, the material wanting in the lower part standing out
+resplendent in the broad leg-of-mutton sleeves, stiffened with buckram.
+Never had the full daylight of Beata seen this precious robe, and Miss
+Elisabetha herself considered it for a moment with some misgivings as to
+its being too fine for such an occasion. But had not Doro spoken of
+"velvet" and "embroideries"? So, with solemnity, she arrayed herself,
+adding a certain Canton-crape scarf of a delicate salmon color, and a
+Leghorn bonnet with crown and cape, which loomed out beyond her face so
+that the three curls slanted forward over the full ruche to get outside,
+somewhat like blinders. Thus clad, with her slippers, her bag on her
+arm, and lace mits on her hands, Miss Elisabetha surveyed herself in the
+glass. In the bag were her handkerchief, an ancient smelling-bottle, and
+a card, yellow indeed, but still a veritable engraved card, with these
+words upon it:
+
+    "MISS ELISABETHA DAARG,
+
+        DAARG'S BAY."
+
+The survey was satisfactory. "Certainly I look the gentlewoman," she
+thought, with calm pride, "and this person, whoever she is, can not fail
+to at once recognize me as such. It has never been our custom to visit
+indiscriminately; but in this case I do it for the boy's sake." So she
+sallied forth, going out by a side-door to escape observation, and
+walked toward the town, revolving in her mind the words she should use
+when face to face with the person. "I shall request her--with courtesy,
+of course--still I shall feel obliged to request her to leave the
+neighborhood," she thought. "I shall express to her--with kindness, but
+also with dignity--my opinion of the meretricious music she has taught
+my boy, and I shall say to her frankly that I really can not permit her
+to see him again. Coming from me, these words will, of course, have
+weight, and--"
+
+"Oh, see Miss 'Lisabeet!" sang out a child's voice. "Nita, do but come
+and see how fine she is!"
+
+Nita came, saw, and followed, as did other children--girls carrying
+plump babies, olive-skinned boys keeping close together, little blacks
+of all ages, with go-carts made of turtle-shells. It was not so much the
+splendor--though that was great, too--as it was the fact that Miss
+Elisabetha wore it. Had they not all known her two cotton gowns as far
+back as they could remember? Reaching the Martera house at last, her
+accustomed glide somewhat quickened by the presence of her escort (for,
+although she had often scolded them over her own gate, it was different
+now when they assumed the proportions of a body-guard), she gave her
+card to little Inez, a daughter of the household, and one of her pupils.
+
+"Bear this card to the person you have staying with you, my child, and
+ask her if she will receive me."
+
+"But there is more than one person, señora," replied Inez, lost in
+wonder over the brocade.
+
+"The one who sings, then."
+
+"They all sing, Miss 'Lisabeet."
+
+"Well, then, I mean the person who--who wears purple velvet and--and
+embroideries," said the visitor, bringing out these items reluctantly.
+
+"Ah! you mean the beautiful lady," cried Inez. "I run, I run, señora";
+and in a few minutes Miss Elisabetha was ushered up the stairs, and
+found herself face to face with "the person."
+
+"To whom have I the honor of speaking?" said a languid voice from the
+sofa.
+
+"Madame, my card--"
+
+"Oh, was that a card? Pray excuse me.--Lucille, my glasses." Then, as a
+French maid brought the little, gold-rimmed toy, the person scanned the
+name. "Ma'm'selle Dag?" she said inquiringly.
+
+"Daarg, madame," replied Miss Elisabetha. "If you have resided in New
+York at all, you are probably familiar with the name"; and majestically
+she smoothed down the folds of the salmon-colored scarf.
+
+"I have resided in New York, and I am not familiar with the name," said
+the person, throwing her head back indolently among the cushions.
+
+She wore a long, full robe of sea-green silk, opening over a mist of
+lace-trimmed skirts, beneath whose filmy borders peeped little feet
+incased in green-silk slippers, with heels of grotesque height; a cord
+and tassels confined the robe to her round waist; the hanging sleeves,
+open to the shoulders, revealed superb white arms; and the mass of
+golden hair was gathered loosely up behind, with a mere _soupçon_ of a
+cap perched on top, a knot of green ribbon contrasting with the low-down
+golden ripples over the forehead. Miss Elisabetha surveyed the attitude
+and the attire with disfavor; in her young days no lady in health wore a
+wrapper, or lolled on sofas. But the person, who was the pet prima donna
+of the day, English, with a world-wide experience and glory, knew
+nothing of such traditions.
+
+"I have called, madame," began the visitor, ignoring the slight with
+calm dignity (after all, how should "a person" know anything of the name
+of Daarg?), "on account of my--my ward, Theodore Oesterand."
+
+"Never heard of him," replied the diva. It was her hour for _siesta_,
+and any infringement of her rules told upon the carefully tended,
+luxuriant beauty.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Miss Elisabetha, with increased accentuation
+of her vowels. "Theodore has had the honor of seeing you twice, and he
+has also sung for you."
+
+"What! you mean my little bird of the tropics, my Southern nightingale!"
+exclaimed the singer, raising herself from the cushions.--"Lucille, why
+have you not placed a chair for this lady?--I assure you, I take the
+greatest interest in the boy, Miss Dag."
+
+"Daarg," replied Miss Elisabetha; and then, with dignity, she took the
+chair, and, seating herself, crossed one slipper over the other, in the
+attitude number one of her youth. Number one had signified "repose," but
+little repose felt she now; there was something in the attire of this
+person, something in her yellow hair and white arms, something in the
+very air of the room, heavy with perfumes, that seemed to hurt and
+confuse her.
+
+"I have never heard a tenor of more promise, never in my life; and
+consider how much that implies, ma'm'selle! You probably know who I am?"
+
+"I have not that pleasure."
+
+"_Bien_, I will tell you. I am Kernadi."
+
+Miss Elisabetha bowed, and inhaled salts from her smelling-bottle, her
+little finger elegantly separated from the others.
+
+"You do not mean to say that you have never heard of Kernadi--Cécile
+Kernadi?" said the diva, sitting fairly erect now in her astonishment.
+
+"Never," replied the maiden, not without a proud satisfaction in the
+plain truth of her statement.
+
+"Where have you lived, ma'm'selle?"
+
+"Here, Mistress Kernadi."
+
+The singer gazed at the figure before her in its ancient dress, and
+gradually a smile broke over her beautiful face.
+
+"Ma'm'selle," she said, dismissing herself and her fame with a wave of
+her white hand, "you have a treasure in Doro, a voice rare in a
+century; and, in the name of the world, I ask you for him."
+
+Miss Elisabetha sat speechless; she was never quick with words, and now
+she was struck dumb.
+
+"I will take him with me when I go in a few days," pursued Kernadi; "and
+I promise you he shall have the very best instructors. His method now is
+bad--insufferably bad. The poor boy has had, of course, no
+opportunities; but he is still young, and can unlearn as well as learn.
+Give him to me. I will relieve you of all expenses, so sure do I feel
+that he will do me credit in the end. I will even pass my word that he
+shall appear with me upon either the London or the Vienna stage before
+two years are out."
+
+Miss Elisabetha had found her words at last.
+
+"Madame," she said, "do you wish to make an opera-singer of the son of
+Petrus Oesterand?"
+
+"I wish to make an opera-singer of this pretty Doro; and, if this good
+Petrus is his father, he will, no doubt, give his consent."
+
+"Woman, he is dead."
+
+"So much the better; he will not interfere with our plans, then,"
+replied the diva, gayly.
+
+Miss Elisabetha rose; her tall form shook perceptibly.
+
+"I have the honor to bid you good day," she said, courtesying formally.
+
+The woman on the sofa sprang to her feet.
+
+"You are offended?" she asked; "and why?"
+
+"That you, a person of no name, of no antecedents, a public singer,
+should presume to ask for my boy, an Oesterand--should dare to speak of
+degrading him to your level!"
+
+Kernadi listened to these words in profound astonishment. Princes had
+bowed at her feet, blood-royal had watched for her smile. Who was this
+ancient creature, with her scarf and bag? Perhaps, poor thing! she did
+not comprehend! The diva was not bad-hearted, and so, gently enough, she
+went over her offer a second time, dwelling upon and explaining its
+advantages. "That he will succeed, I do not doubt," she said; "but in
+any case he shall not want."
+
+Miss Elisabetha was still standing.
+
+"Want?" she repeated; "Theodore want? I should think not."
+
+"He shall have the best instructors," pursued Kernadi, all unheeding. To
+do her justice, she meant all she said. It is ever a fancy of singers to
+discover singers--provided they sing other _rôles_.
+
+"Madame, I have the honor of instructing him myself."
+
+"Ah, indeed. Very kind of you, I am sure; but--but no doubt you will be
+glad to give up the task. And he shall see all the great cities of
+Europe, and hear their music. I am down here merely for a short
+change--having taken cold in your miserable New York climate; but I have
+my usual engagements in London, St. Petersburg, Vienna, and Paris, you
+know."
+
+"No, madame, I do not know," was the stiff reply.
+
+Kernadi opened her fine eyes still wider. It was true, then, and not a
+pretense. People really lived--white people, too--who knew nothing of
+her and her movements! She thought, in her vague way, that she really
+must give something to the missionaries; and then she went back to Doro.
+
+"It will be a great advantage to him to see artist-life abroad--" she
+began.
+
+"I intend him to see it," replied Miss Elisabetha.
+
+"But he should have the right companions--advisers--"
+
+"_I_ shall be with him, madame."
+
+The diva surveyed the figure before her, and amusement shone in her
+eyes.
+
+"But you will find it fatiguing," she said--"so much journeying, so much
+change! Nay, ma'm'selle, remain at home in your peaceful quiet, and
+trust the boy to me." She had sunk back upon her cushions, and, catching
+a glimpse of her face in the mirror, she added, smiling: "One thing
+more. You need not fear lest I should trifle with his young heart. I
+assure you I will not; I shall be to him like a sister."
+
+"You could scarcely be anything else, unless it was an aunt," replied
+the ancient maiden; "I should judge you fifteen years his senior,
+madame."
+
+Which was so nearly accurate that the beauty started, and for the first
+time turned really angry.
+
+"Will you give me the boy?" she said, shortly. "If he were here I might
+show you how easily--But, _ciel!_ you could never understand such
+things; let it pass. Will you give me the boy--yes or no?"
+
+"No."
+
+There was a silence. The diva lolled back on her cushions, and yawned.
+
+"You must be a very selfish woman--I think the most selfish I have ever
+known," she said coolly, tapping the floor with her little slippered
+feet, as if keeping time to a waltz.
+
+"I--selfish?"
+
+"Yes, you--selfish. And, by the by, what right have you to keep the boy
+at all? Certainly, he resembles you in nothing. What relation does he
+hold to you?"
+
+"He is--he is my ward," answered Miss Elisabetha, nervously rearranging
+her scarf. "I bid you, madame, good day."
+
+"Ward!" pursued Kernadi; "that means nothing. Was his mother your
+sister?"
+
+"Nay; his mother was a Spanish lady," replied the troubled one, who knew
+not how to evade or lie.
+
+"And the father--you spoke of him--was he a relative?"
+
+A sudden and painful blush dyed the thin old face, creeping up to the
+very temples.
+
+"Ah," said the singer, with scornful amusement in her voice, "if that is
+all, I shall take the boy without more ado"; and, lifting her glasses,
+she fixed her eyes full on the poor face before her, as though it was
+some rare variety of animal.
+
+"You shall not have him; I say you shall not!" cried the elder woman,
+rousing to the contest like a tigress defending her young.
+
+"Will you let him choose?" said Kernadi, with her mocking laugh. "See! I
+dare you to let him choose"; and, springing to her feet, she wheeled her
+visitor around suddenly, so that they stood side by side before the
+mirror. It was a cruel deed. Never before had the old eyes realized that
+their mild blue had faded; that the curls, once so soft, had grown gray
+and thin; that the figure, once sylph-like, was now but angles; and the
+throat, once so fair, yellow and sinewed. It came upon her suddenly--the
+face, the coloring, and the dress; a veil was torn away, and she saw it
+all. At the same instant gleamed the golden beauty of the other, the
+folds of her flowing robe, the mists of her laces. It was too much. With
+ashen face the stricken woman turned away, and sought the door-knob; she
+could not speak; a sob choked all utterance. Doro would choose.
+
+But Cécile Kernadi rushed forward; her better nature was touched.
+
+"No, no," she said impulsively, "you shall not go so. See! I will
+promise; you shall keep the boy, and I will let him go. He is all you
+have, perhaps, and I--I have so much! Do you not believe me? I will go
+away this very day and leave no trace behind. He will pine, but it will
+pass--a boy's first fancy. I promised him my picture, but you shall take
+it. There! Now go, go, before I regret what I do. He has such a
+voice!--but never mind, you shall not be robbed by me. Farewell, poor
+lady; I, too, may grow old some day. But hear one little word of advice
+from my lips: The boy has waked up to life; he will never be again the
+child you have known. Though I go, another will come; take heed!"
+
+That night, in the silence of her own room, Miss Elisabetha prayed a
+little prayer, and then, with firm hand, burned the bright picture to
+ashes.
+
+Wild was the grief of the boy; but the fair enchantress was gone. He
+wept, he pined; but she was gone. He fell ill, and lay feverish upon
+his narrow bed; but she was none the less gone, and nothing brought her
+back. Miss Elisabetha tended him with a great patience, and spoke no
+word. When he raved of golden hair, she never said, "I have seen it";
+when he cried, "Her voice, her angel-voice!" she never said, "I have
+heard it." But one day she dropped these words: "Was she not a false
+woman, Theodore, who went away not caring, although under promise to see
+you, and to give you her picture?" And then she walked quietly to her
+own room, and barred the door, and wept; for the first time in her pure
+life she had burdened her soul with falsehood--yet would she have done
+it ten times over to save the boy.
+
+Time and youth work wonders; it is not that youth forgets so soon; but
+this--time is then so long. Doro recovered, almost in spite of himself,
+and the days grew calm again. Harder than ever worked Miss Elisabetha,
+giving herself hardly time to eat or sleep. Doro studied a little
+listlessly, but he no longer cared for his old amusements. He had freed
+his pets: the mocking-birds had flown back to the barrens, and the young
+alligators, who had lived in the sunken barrel, found themselves
+unexpectedly obliged to earn their own living along the marshes and
+lagoons. But of music he would have none; the piano stood silent, and
+his guitar had disappeared.
+
+"It is wearing itself away," thought the old maid; "then he will come
+back to me." But nightly she counted her secret store, and, angered at
+its smallness, worked harder and harder, worked until her shoulders
+ached and her hands grew knotted. "One more year, only one more year,"
+she thought; "then he shall go!" And through all the weary toil these
+words echoed like a chant--"One more year--only one more!"
+
+Two months passed, and then the spring came to the winterless land--came
+with the yellow jasmine. "But four months now, and he shall go," said
+Miss Elisabetha, in her silent musings over the bag of coin. "I have
+shortened the time by double tasks." Lightly she stepped about the
+house, counted her orange-buds, and reckoned up the fish. She played
+the cathedral organ now on Sundays, making inward protest after every
+note, and sitting rigidly with her back toward the altar in the little
+high-up gallery during the sermon, as much as to say: "It is only my
+body which is here. Behold! I do not even bow down in the house of
+Rimmon." Thus laboring early and late, with heart, and hand, and
+strength, she saw but little of Doro, save at meals and through his one
+hour of listless study; but the hidden hope was a comforter, and she
+worked and trusted on. There was one little gleam of light: he had begun
+to play again on his guitar, softly, furtively, and as it were in
+secret. But she heard him, and was cheered.
+
+One evening, toiling home through the white sand after a late
+music-lesson, laden with a bag of flour which she would not trust Viny
+to buy, she heard a girl's voice singing. It was a plaintive, monotonous
+air that she sang, simple as a Gregorian chant; but her voice was a
+velvet contralto, as full of rich tones as a peach is full of
+lusciousness. The contralto voice is like the violoncello.
+
+"The voice is not bad," thought Miss Elisabetha, listening critically,
+"but there is a certain element of the _sauvage_ in it. No lady, no
+person of culture, would permit herself to sing in that way; it must be
+one of the Minorcans."
+
+Still, in spite of prejudices, the music in her turned her steps toward
+the voice; her slippers made no sound, and she found it. A young girl, a
+Minorcan, sat under a bower of jasmine, leaning back against her lover's
+breast; her dark eyes were fixed on the evening star, and she sang as
+the bird sings, naturally, unconsciously, for the pure pleasure of
+singing. She was a pretty child. Miss Elisabetha knew her
+well--Catalina, one of a thriftless, olive-skinned family down in the
+town. "Not fourteen, and a lover already," thought the old maid with
+horror. "Would it be of any use, I wonder, if I spoke to her mother?"
+Here the lover--the Paul of this Virginia--moved, and the shadows slid
+off his face; it was Doro!
+
+Alone in her chamber sat Miss Elisabetha. Days had passed, but of no
+avail. Even now the boy was gone to the tumble-down house in the village
+where Catalina's little brothers and sisters swarmed out of doors and
+windows, and the brown, broad mother bade him welcome with a hearty slap
+on the shoulder. She had tried everything--argument, entreaty, anger,
+grief--and failed; there remained now only the secret, the secret of
+years, of much toil and many pains. The money was not yet sufficient for
+two; so be it. She would stay herself, and work on; but he should go.
+Before long she would hear his step, perhaps not until late, for those
+people had no settled hours (here a remembrance of all their ways made
+her shudder), but come he would in time; this was still his home. At
+midnight she heard the footfall, and opening the door called gently,
+"Theodore, Theodore." The youth came, but slowly. Many times had she
+called him lately, and he was weary of the strife. Had he not told her
+all--the girl singing as she passed, her voice haunting him, his search
+for her, and her smile; their meetings in the _chaparral_, where she
+sang to him by the hour, and then, naturally as the bud opens, their
+love? It seemed to him an all-sufficient story, and he could not
+understand the long debates.
+
+"And the golden-haired woman," Miss Elisabetha had said; "she sang to
+you too, Theodore."
+
+"I had forgotten her, aunt," replied the youth simply.
+
+So he came but slowly. This time, however, the voice was gentle, and
+there was no anger in the waiting eyes. She told him all as he sat
+there: the story of his father, who was once her friend, she said with a
+little quiver in her voice, the death of the young widowed mother, her
+own coming to this far Southern land, and her long labors for him. Then
+she drew a picture of the bright future opening before him, and bringing
+forth the bag showed him its contents, the savings and earnings of
+seventeen years, tied in packages with the contents noted on their
+labels. "All is for you, dear child," she said, "for you are still but a
+child. Take it and go. I had planned to accompany you, but I give that
+up for the present. I will remain and see to the sale of everything
+here, and then I will join you--that is, if you wish it, dear. Perhaps
+you will enjoy traveling alone, and--and I have plenty of friends to
+whom I can go, and shall be quite content, dear--quite content."
+
+"Where is it that you wish me to go, aunt?" asked Doro coldly. They were
+going over the same ground, then, after all.
+
+"Abroad, dear--abroad, to all the great cities of the world," said the
+aunt, faltering a little as she met his eyes. "You are well educated,
+Theodore; I have taught you myself. You are a gentleman's son, and I
+have planned for you a life suited to your descent. I have written to my
+cousins in Amsterdam; they have never seen me, but for the sake of the
+name they will--O my boy, my darling, tell me that you will go!" she
+burst forth, breaking into entreaty as she read his face.
+
+But Doro shook off her hands. "Aunt," he said, rising, "why will you
+distress yourself thus? I shall marry Catalina, and you know it; have I
+not told you so? Let us speak no more on the subject. As to the money, I
+care not for it; keep it." And he turned toward the door as if to end
+the discussion. But Miss Elisabetha followed and threw herself on her
+knees before him.
+
+"Child!" she cried, "give me, give yourself a little delay; only that, a
+little delay. Take the money--go; and if at the end of the year your
+mind is still the same, I will say not one word, no, not one, against
+it. She is but young, too young to marry. O my boy, for whom I have
+labored, for whom I have planned, for whom I have prayed, will you too
+forsake me?"
+
+"Of course not, aunt," replied Doro; "I mean you to live with us
+always"; and with his strong young arms he half led, half carried her
+back to her arm-chair. She sat speechless. To live with them
+always--with _them!_ Words surged to her lips in a flood--then, as she
+met his gaze, surged back to her heart again. There was that in the
+expression of his face which told her all words were vain; the placid,
+far-away look, unmoved in spite of her trouble, silenced argument and
+killed hope. As well attack a creamy summer cloud with axes; as well
+attempt to dip up the ocean with a cup. She saw it all in a flash, as
+one sees years of past life in the moment before drowning; and she was
+drowning, poor soul! Yet Doro saw nothing, felt nothing, save that his
+aunt was growing into an old woman with foolish fancies, and that he
+himself was sleepy. And then he fell to thinking of his love, and all
+her enchanting ways--her little angers and quick repentances, the
+shoulder turned away in pretended scorn, and the sudden waves of
+tenderness that swept him into paradise. So he stood dreaming, while
+tearless, silent Miss Elisabetha sat before her broken hopes. At last
+Doro, coming back to reality, murmured, "Aunt, you will like her when
+you know her better, and she will take good care of you."
+
+But the aunt only shuddered.
+
+"Theodore, Theodore!" she cried, "will you break my heart? Shall the son
+of Petrus Oesterand marry so?"
+
+"I do not know what you mean by 'so,' aunt. All men marry, and why not
+I? I never knew my father; but, if he were here, I feel sure he would
+see Catalina with my eyes. Certainly, in all my life, I have never seen
+a face so fair, or eyes so lustrous."
+
+"Child, you have seen nothing--nothing. But I intended, Heaven knows I
+intended--"
+
+"It makes no difference now, aunt; do not distress yourself about it."
+
+"Theodore, I have loved you long--your youth has not been an unhappy
+one; will you, for my sake, go for this one year?" she pleaded, with
+quivering lips.
+
+The young man shook his head with a half smile.
+
+"Dear aunt," he said gently, "pray say no more. I do not care to see the
+world; I am satisfied here. As to Catalina, I love her. Is not that
+enough?" He bent and kissed her cold forehead, and then went away to his
+happy dreams; and, if he thought of her at all as he lingered in the
+soft twilight that comes before sleep, it was only to wonder over her
+distress--a wonder soon indolently comforted by the belief that she
+would be calm and reasonable in the morning. But, across the hall, a
+gray old woman sat, her money beside her, and the hands that had earned
+it idle in her lap. God keep us from such a vigil!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And did she leave him? No; not even when the "him" became "them."
+
+The careless young wife, knowing nothing save how to love, queened it
+right royally over the old house, and the little brown brothers and
+sisters ran riot through every room. The piano was soon broken by the
+ignorant hands that sounded its chords at random; but only Doro played
+on it now, and nothing pleased him so well as to improvise melodies from
+the plaintive Minorcan songs the little wife sang in her velvet voice.
+Years passed; the money was all spent, and the house full--a careless,
+idle, ignorant, happy brood, asking for nothing, planning not at all,
+working not at all, but loving each other in their own way, contented to
+sit in the sunshine, and laugh, and eat, and sing, all the day long. The
+tall, gaunt figure that came and went among them, laboring ceaselessly,
+striving always against the current, they regarded with tolerating eyes
+as a species differing from theirs, but good in its way, especially for
+work. The children loved the still silent old woman, and generously
+allowed her to take care of them until she tried to teach them; then
+away they flew like wild birds of the forest, and not one learned more
+than the alphabet.
+
+Doro died first, a middle-aged man; gently he passed away without pain,
+without a care. "You have been very good to me, aunt; my life has been a
+happy one; I have had nothing to wish for," he murmured, as she bent to
+catch the last look from his dying eyes.
+
+He was gone; and she bore on the burden he had left to her. I saw her
+last year--an old, old woman, but working still.
+
+
+
+
+OLD GARDISTON.
+
+    One by one they died--
+      Last of all their race;
+    Nothing left but pride,
+      Lace and buckled hose;
+    Their quietus made,
+      On their dwelling-place
+    Ruthless hands are laid:
+      Down the old house goes!
+
+    Many a bride has stood
+      In yon spacious room;
+    Here her hand was wooed
+      Underneath the rose;
+    O'er that sill the dead
+      Reached the family tomb;
+    All that were have fled--
+      Down the old house goes!
+
+    EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.
+
+
+Old Gardiston was a manor-house down in the ricelands, six miles from a
+Southern seaport. It had been called Old Gardiston for sixty or seventy
+years, which showed that it must have belonged to colonial days, since
+no age under that of a century could have earned for it that honorable
+title in a neighborhood where the Declaration of Independence was still
+considered an event of comparatively modern times. The war was over, and
+the mistress of the house, Miss Margaretta Gardiston, lay buried in St.
+Mark's churchyard, near by. The little old church had long been closed;
+the very road to its low stone doorway was overgrown, and a second
+forest had grown up around it; but the churchyard was still open to
+those of the dead who had a right there; and certainly Miss Margaretta
+had this right, seeing that father, grandfather, and great-grandfather
+all lay buried there, and their memorial tablets, quaintly emblazoned,
+formed a principal part of the decorations of the ancient little
+sanctuary in the wilderness. There was no one left at Old Gardiston now
+save Cousin Copeland and Gardis Duke, a girl of seventeen years, Miss
+Margaretta's niece and heir. Poor little Gardis, having been born a girl
+when she should have been a boy, was christened with the family name--a
+practice not uncommon in some parts of the South, where English customs
+of two centuries ago still retain their hold with singular tenacity; but
+the three syllables were soon abbreviated to two for common use, and the
+child grew up with the quaint name of Gardis.
+
+They were at breakfast now, the two remaining members of the family, in
+the marble-floored dining-room. The latticed windows were open; birds
+were singing outside, and roses blooming; a flood of sunshine lit up
+every corner of the apartment, showing its massive Chinese vases, its
+carved ivory ornaments, its hanging lamp of curious shape, and its
+spindle-legged sideboard, covered with dark-colored plates and platters
+ornamented with dark-blue dragons going out to walk, and crocodiles
+circling around fantastically roofed temples as though they were waiting
+for the worshipers to come out in order to make a meal of them. But, in
+spite of these accessories, the poor old room was but a forlorn place:
+the marble flooring was sunken and defaced, portions were broken into
+very traps for unwary feet, and its ancient enemy, the penetrating
+dampness, had finally conquered the last resisting mosaic, and climbed
+the walls, showing in blue and yellow streaks on the old-fashioned
+moldings. There had been no fire in the tiled fireplace for many years;
+Miss Margaretta did not approve of fires, and wood was costly: this last
+reason, however, was never mentioned; and Gardis had grown into a girl
+of sixteen before she knew the comfort of the sparkling little fires
+that shine on the hearths morning and evening during the short winters
+in well-appointed Southern homes. At that time she had spent a few days
+in the city with some family friends who had come out of the war with
+less impoverishment than their neighbors. Miss Margaretta did not
+approve of them exactly; it was understood that all Southerners of "our
+class" were "impoverished." She did not refuse the cordial invitation
+_in toto_, but she sent for Gardis sooner than was expected, and set
+about carefully removing from the girl's mind any wrong ideas that might
+have made a lodgment there. And Gardis, warmly loving her aunt, and
+imbued with all the family pride from her birth, immediately cast from
+her the bright little comforts she had met in the city as plebeian, and,
+going up stairs to the old drawing-room, dusted the relics enshrined
+there with a new reverence for them, glorifying herself in their
+undoubted antiquity. Fires, indeed! Certainly not.
+
+The breakfast-table was spread with snowy damask, worn thin almost to
+gossamer, and fairly embroidered with delicate darning; the cups and
+plates belonged to the crocodile set, and the meager repast was at least
+daintily served. Cousin Copeland had his egg, and Gardis satisfied her
+young appetite with fish caught in the river behind the house by Pompey,
+and a fair amount of Dinah's corn-bread. The two old slaves had refused
+to leave Gardiston House. They had been trained all their lives by Miss
+Margaretta; and now that she was gone, they took pride in keeping the
+expenses of the table, as she had kept them, reduced to as small a sum
+as possible, knowing better than poor Gardis herself the pitiful
+smallness of the family income, derived solely from the rent of an old
+warehouse in the city. For the war had not impoverished Gardiston House;
+it was impoverished long before. Acre by acre the land had gone, until
+nothing was left save a small corn-field and the flower-garden; piece by
+piece the silver had vanished, until nothing was left save three
+teaspoons, three tablespoons, and four forks. The old warehouse had
+brought in little rent during those four long years, and they had fared
+hardly at Gardiston. Still, in their isolated situation away from the
+main roads, their well-known poverty a safeguard, they had not so much
+as heard a drum or seen a uniform, blue or gray, and this was a rare and
+fortunate exemption in those troublous times; and when the war was at
+last ended, Miss Margaretta found herself no poorer than she was before,
+with this great advantage added, that now everybody was poor, and,
+indeed, it was despicable to be anything else. She bloomed out into a
+new cheerfulness under this congenial state of things, and even invited
+one or two contemporaries still remaining on the old plantations in the
+neighborhood to spend several days at Gardiston. Two ancient dames
+accepted the invitation, and the state the three kept together in the
+old drawing-room under the family portraits, the sweep of their
+narrow-skirted, old-fashioned silk gowns on the inlaid staircase when
+they went down to dinner, the supreme unconsciousness of the break-neck
+condition of the marble flooring and the mold-streaked walls, the airy
+way in which they drank their tea out of the crocodile cups, and told
+little stories of fifty years before, filled Gardis with admiring
+respect. She sat, as it were, in the shadow of their greatness, and
+obediently ate only of those dishes that required a fork, since the
+three spoons were, of course, in use. During this memorable visit Cousin
+Copeland was always "engaged in his study" at meal-times; but in the
+evening he appeared, radiant and smiling, and then the four played whist
+together on the Chinese table, and the ladies fanned themselves with
+stately grace, while Cousin Copeland dealt not only the cards, but
+compliments also--both equally old-fashioned and well preserved.
+
+But within this first year of peace Miss Margaretta had died--an old
+lady of seventy-five, but bright and strong as a winter apple. Gardis
+and Cousin Copeland, left alone, moved on in the same way: it was the
+only way they knew. Cousin Copeland lived only in the past, Gardis in
+the present; and indeed the future, so anxiously considered always by
+the busy, restless Northern mind, has never been lifted into the place
+of supreme importance at the South.
+
+When breakfast was over, Gardis went up stairs into the drawing-room.
+Cousin Copeland, remarking, in his busy little way, that he had
+important work awaiting him, retired to his study--a round room in the
+tower, where, at an old desk with high back full of pigeon-holes, he had
+been accustomed for years to labor during a portion of the day over
+family documents a century or two old, recopying them with minute care,
+adding foot-notes, and references leading back by means of red-ink stars
+to other documents, and appending elaborately phrased little comments
+neatly signed in flourishes with his initials and the date, such as
+"Truly a doughty deed. C. B. G. 1852."--"'Worthy,' quotha? Nay, it
+seemeth unto my poor comprehension a _marvelous_ kindness! C. B. G.
+1856."--"May we all profit by this! C. B. G. 1858."
+
+This morning, as usual, Gardis donned her gloves, threw open the heavy
+wooden shutters, and, while the summer morning sunshine flooded the
+room, she moved from piece to piece of the old furniture, carefully
+dusting it all. The room was large and lofty; there was no carpet on the
+inlaid floor, but a tapestry rug lay under the table in the center of
+the apartment; everything was spindle-legged, chairs, tables, the old
+piano, two cabinets, a sofa, a card-table, and two little tabourets
+embroidered in Scriptural scenes, reduced now to shadows, Joseph and his
+wicked brethren having faded to the same dull yellow hue, which Gardis
+used to think was not the discrimination that should have been shown
+between the just and the unjust. The old cabinets were crowded with
+curious little Chinese images and vases, and on the high mantel were
+candelabra with more crocodiles on them, and a large mirror which had so
+long been veiled in gauze that Gardis had never fairly seen the fat,
+gilt cherubs that surrounded it. A few inches of wax-candle still
+remained in the candelabra, but they were never lighted, a tallow
+substitute on the table serving as a nucleus during the eight months of
+warm weather when the evenings were spent in the drawing-room. When it
+was really cold, a fire was kindled in the boudoir--a narrow chamber in
+the center of the large rambling old mansion, where, with closed doors
+and curtained windows, the three sat together, Cousin Copeland reading
+aloud, generally from the "Spectator," often pausing to jot down little
+notes as they occurred to him in his orderly memorandum-book--"mere
+outlines of phrases, but sufficiently full to recall the desired train
+of thought," he observed. The ladies embroidered, Miss Margaretta
+sitting before the large frame she had used when a girl. They did all
+the sewing for the household (very little new material, and much
+repairing of old), but these domestic labors were strictly confined to
+the privacy of their own apartments; in the drawing-room or boudoir they
+always embroidered. Gardis remembered this with sadness as she removed
+the cover from the large frame, and glanced at "Moses in the Bulrushes,"
+which her inexperienced hand could never hope to finish; she was
+thinking of her aunt, but any one else would have thought of the
+bulrushes, which were now pink, now saffron, and now blue, after some
+mediæval system of floss-silk vegetation.
+
+Having gone all around the apartment and dusted everything, Chinese
+images and all, Gardis opened the old piano and gently played a little
+tune. Miss Margaretta had been her only teacher, and the young girl's
+songs were old-fashioned; but the voice was sweet and full, and before
+she knew it she was filling the house with her melody.
+
+    "Little Cupid one day in a myrtle-bough strayed.
+     And among the sweet blossoms he playfully played,
+     Plucking many a sweet from the boughs of the tree,
+     Till he felt that his finger was stung by a bee,"
+
+sang Gardis, and went on blithely through the whole, giving Mother
+Venus's advice archly, and adding a shower of improvised trills at the
+end.
+
+"Bravo!" said a voice from the garden below.
+
+Rushing to the casement, Miss Duke beheld, first with astonishment, then
+dismay, two officers in the uniform of the United States army standing
+at the front door. They bowed courteously, and one of them said, "Can I
+see the lady of the house?"
+
+"I--I am the lady," replied Gardis, confusedly; then drawing back, with
+the sudden remembrance that she should not have shown herself at all,
+she ran swiftly up to the study for Cousin Copeland. But Cousin Copeland
+was not there, and the little mistress remembered with dismay that old
+Dinah was out in the corn-field, and that Pompey had gone fishing. There
+was nothing for it, then, but to go down and face the strangers.
+Summoning all her self-possession, Miss Duke descended. She would have
+preferred to hold parley from the window over the doorway, like the
+ladies of olden time, but she feared it would not be dignified, seeing
+that the times were no longer olden, and therefore she went down to the
+entrance where the two were awaiting her. "Shall I ask them in?" she
+thought. "What would Aunt Margaretta have done?" The Gardiston spirit
+was hospitable to the core; but these--these were the Vandals, the
+despots, under whose presence the whole fair land was groaning. No; she
+would not ask them in.
+
+The elder officer, a grave young man of thirty, was spokesman. "Do I
+address Miss Gardiston?" he said.
+
+"I am Miss Duke. My aunt, Miss Gardiston, is not living," replied
+Gardis.
+
+"Word having been received that the yellow fever has appeared on the
+coast, we have been ordered to take the troops a few miles inland and go
+into camp immediately, Miss Duke. The grove west of this house, on the
+bank of the river, having been selected as camping-ground for a portion
+of the command, we have called to say that you need feel no alarm at the
+proximity of the soldiers; they will be under strict orders not to
+trespass upon your grounds."
+
+"Thanks," said Gardis mechanically; but she was alarmed; they both saw
+that.
+
+"I assure you, Miss Duke, that there is not the slightest cause for
+nervousness," said the younger officer, bowing as he spoke.
+
+"And your servants will not be enticed away, either," added the other.
+
+"We have only two, and they--would not go," replied Gardis, not
+aggressively, but merely stating her facts.
+
+The glimmer of a smile crossed the face of the younger officer, but the
+other remained unmoved.
+
+"My name, madam, is Newell--David Newell, captain commanding the company
+that will be encamped here. I beg you to send me word immediately if
+anything occurs to disturb your quiet," he said.
+
+Then the two saluted the little mistress with formal courtesy, and
+departed, walking down the path together with a quick step and soldierly
+bearing, as though they were on parade.
+
+"Ought I to have asked them in?" thought Gardis; and she went slowly up
+to the drawing-room again and closed the piano. "I wonder who said
+'bravo'? The younger one, I presume." And she presumed correctly.
+
+At lunch (corn-bread and milk) Cousin Copeland's old-young face appeared
+promptly at the dining-room door. Cousin Copeland, Miss Margaretta's
+cousin, was a little old bachelor, whose thin dark hair had not turned
+gray, and whose small bright eyes needed no spectacles; he dressed
+always in black, with low shoes on his small feet, and his clothes
+seemed never to wear out, perhaps because his little frame hardly
+touched them anywhere; the cloth certainly was not strained. Everything
+he wore was so old-fashioned, however, that he looked like the pictures
+of the high-collared, solemn little men who, accompanied by ladies all
+bonnet, are depicted in English Sunday-school books following funeral
+processions, generally of the good children who die young.
+
+"O Cousin Copeland, where were you this morning when I went up to your
+study?" began Gardis, full of the event of the morning.
+
+"You may well ask where I was, my child," replied the bachelor, cutting
+his toasted corn-bread into squares with mathematical precision. "A most
+interesting discovery--most interesting. Not being thoroughly satisfied
+as to the exact identity of the first wife of one of the second cousins
+of our grandfather, a lady who died young and left no descendants, yet
+none the less a Gardiston, at least by marriage, the happy idea occurred
+to me to investigate more fully the contents of the papers in barrel
+number two on the east side of the central garret--documents that I
+myself classified in 1849, as collateral merely, not relating to the
+main line. I assure you, my child, that I have spent there, over that
+barrel, a most delightful morning--most delightful. I had not realized
+that there was so much interesting matter in store for me when I shall
+have finished the main line, which will be, I think, in about a year and
+a half--a year and a half. And I have good hopes of finding there, too,
+valuable information respecting this first wife of one of the second
+cousins of our respected grandfather, a lady whose memory, by some
+strange neglect, has been suffered to fall into oblivion. I shall be
+proud to constitute myself the one to rescue it for the benefit of
+posterity," continued the little man, with chivalrous enthusiasm, as he
+took up his spoon. (There was one spoon to spare now; Gardis often
+thought of this with a saddened heart.) Miss Duke had not interrupted
+her cousin by so much as an impatient glance; trained to regard him with
+implicit respect, and to listen always to his gentle, busy little stream
+of talk, she waited until he had finished all he had to say about this
+"first wife of one of the second cousins of our grandfather" (who,
+according to the French phrase-books, she could not help thinking,
+should have inquired immediately for the green shoe of her aunt's
+brother-in-law's wife) before she told her story. Cousin Copeland shook
+his head many times during the recital. He had not the bitter feelings
+of Miss Margaretta concerning the late war; in fact, he had never come
+down much farther than the Revolution, having merely skirmished a
+little, as it were, with the war of 1812; but he knew his cousin's
+opinions, and respected their memory. So he "earnestly hoped" that some
+other site would be selected for the camp. Upon being told that the blue
+army-wagons had already arrived, he then "earnestly hoped" that the
+encampment would not be of long continuance. Cousin Copeland had hoped a
+great many things during his life; his capacity for hoping was cheering
+and unlimited; a hope carefully worded and delivered seemed to him
+almost the same thing as reality; he made you a present of it, and
+rubbed his little hands cheerfully afterward, as though now all had been
+said.
+
+"Do you think I should have asked them in?" said Gardis, hesitatingly.
+
+"Most certainly, most certainly. Hospitality has ever been one of our
+characteristics as a family," said Cousin Copeland, finishing the last
+spoonful of milk, which had come out exactly even with the last little
+square of corn-bread.
+
+"But I did not ask them."
+
+"Do I hear you aright? You did not ask them, Cousin Gardiston?" said the
+little bachelor, pausing gravely by the table, one hand resting on its
+shining mahogany, the other extended in the attitude of surprise.
+
+"Yes, Cousin Copeland, you do. But these are officers of the United
+States army, and you know Aunt Margaretta's feelings regarding them."
+
+"True," said Cousin Copeland, dropping his arm; "you are right; I had
+forgotten. But it is a very sad state of things, my dear--very sad. It
+was not so in the old days at Gardiston House: then we should have
+invited them to dinner."
+
+"We could not do that," said Gardis thoughtfully, "on account of forks
+and spoons; there would not be enough to go--But I would not invite
+them anyway," she added, the color rising in her cheeks, and her eyes
+flashing. "Are they not our enemies, and the enemies of our country?
+Vandals? Despots?"
+
+"Certainly," said Cousin Copeland, escaping from these signs of feminine
+disturbance with gentle haste. Long before, he was accustomed to remark
+to a bachelor friend that an atmosphere of repose was best adapted to
+his constitution and to his work. He therefore now retired to the first
+wife of the second cousin of his grandfather, and speedily forgot all
+about the camp and the officers. Not so Gardis. Putting on her straw
+hat, she went out into the garden to attend to her flowers and work off
+her annoyance. Was it annoyance, or excitement merely? She did not know.
+But she did know that the grove was full of men and tents, and she could
+see several of the blue-coats fishing in the river. "Very well," she
+said to herself hotly; "we shall have no dinner, then!" But the river
+was not hers, and so she went on clipping the roses, and tying back the
+vines all the long bright afternoon, until old Dinah came to call her to
+dinner. As she went, the bugle sounded from the grove, and she seemed to
+be obeying its summons; instantly she sat down on a bench to wait until
+its last echo had died away. "I foresee that I shall hate that bugle,"
+she said to herself.
+
+The blue-coats were encamped in the grove three long months. Captain
+Newell and the lieutenant, Roger Saxton, made no more visits at
+Gardiston House; but, when they passed by and saw the little mistress in
+the garden or at the window, they saluted her with formal courtesy. And
+the lieutenant looked back; yes, there was no doubt of that--the
+lieutenant certainly looked back. Saxton was a handsome youth; tall and
+finely formed, he looked well in his uniform, and knew it. Captain
+Newell was not so tall--a gray-eyed, quiet young man. "Commonplace,"
+said Miss Gardis. The bugle still gave forth its silvery summons. "It is
+insupportable," said the little mistress daily; and daily Cousin
+Copeland replied, "Certainly." But the bugle sounded on all the same.
+
+One day a deeper wrath came. Miss Duke discovered Dinah in the act of
+taking cakes to the camp to sell to the soldiers!
+
+"Well, Miss Gardis, dey pays me well for it, and we's next to not'ing
+laid up for de winter," replied the old woman anxiously, as the irate
+little mistress forbade the sale of so much as "one kernel of corn."
+
+"Dey don't want de corn, but dey pays well for de cakes, dearie Miss
+Gardis. Yer see, yer don't know not'ing about it; it's only ole Dinah
+makin' a little money for herself and Pomp," pleaded the faithful
+creature, who would have given her last crumb for the family, and died
+content. But Gardis sternly forbade all dealings with the camp from that
+time forth, and then she went up to her room and cried like a child.
+"They knew it, of course," she thought; "no doubt they have had many a
+laugh over the bakery so quietly carried on at Gardiston House. They are
+capable of supposing even that I sanctioned it." And with angry tears
+she fell to planning how she could best inform them of their mistake,
+and overwhelm them with her scorn. She prepared several crushing little
+speeches, and held them in reserve for use; but the officers never came
+to Gardiston House, and of course she never went to the camp--no, nor so
+much as looked that way; so there was no good opportunity for delivering
+them. One night, however, the officers did come to Gardiston House--not
+only the officers, but all the men; and Miss Duke was very glad to see
+them.
+
+It happened in this way. The unhappy State had fallen into the hands of
+double-faced, conscienceless whites, who used the newly enfranchised
+blacks as tools for their evil purposes. These leaders were sometimes
+emigrant Northerners, sometimes renegade Southerners, but always
+rascals. In the present case they had inflamed their ignorant followers
+to riotous proceedings in the city, and the poor blacks, fancying that
+the year of jubilee had come, when each man was to have a plantation,
+naturally began by ejecting the resident owners before the grand
+division of spoils. At least this was their idea. During the previous
+year, when the armies were still marching through the land, they had
+gone out now and then in a motiveless sort of way and burned the fine
+plantation residences near the city; and now, chance having brought
+Gardiston to their minds, out they came, inconsequent and reasonless as
+ever, to burn Gardiston. But they did not know the United States troops
+were there.
+
+There was a siege of ten minutes, two or three volleys from the
+soldiers, and then a disorderly retreat; one or two wounded were left on
+the battle-field (Miss Duke's flower-garden), and the dining-room
+windows were broken. Beyond this there was no slaughter, and the victors
+drew off their forces in good order to the camp, leaving the officers to
+receive the thanks of the household--Cousin Copeland, enveloped in a
+mammoth dressing-gown that had belonged to his grandfather, and Gardis,
+looking distractingly pretty in a hastily donned short skirt and a
+little white sack (she had no dressing-gown), with her brown hair waving
+over her shoulders, and her cheeks scarlet from excitement. Roger Saxton
+fell into love on the spot: hitherto he had only hovered, as it were, on
+the border.
+
+"Had you any idea she was so exquisitely beautiful?" he exclaimed, as
+they left the old house in the gray light of dawn.
+
+"Miss Duke is not exquisitely beautiful; she is not even beautiful,"
+replied the slow-voiced Newell. "She has the true Southern colorless, or
+rather cream-colored, complexion, and her features are quite irregular."
+
+"Colorless! I never saw more beautiful coloring in my life than she had
+to-night," exclaimed Saxton.
+
+"To-night, yes; I grant that. But it took a good-sized riot to bring it
+to the surface," replied the impassive captain.
+
+A guard was placed around the house at night and pickets sent down the
+road for some time after this occurrence. Gardis, a prey to conflicting
+feelings, deserted her usual haunts and shut herself up in her own
+room, thinking, thinking what she ought to do. In the mean time, beyond
+a formal note of inquiry delivered daily by a wooden-faced son of Mars,
+the two officers made no effort toward a further acquaintance; the
+lieutenant was on fire to attempt it, but the captain held him back. "It
+is her place to make the advances now," he said. It was; and Gardis knew
+it.
+
+One morning she emerged from her retreat, and with a decided step sought
+Cousin Copeland in his study. The little man had been disquieted by the
+night attack; it had come to him vaguely once or twice since then that
+perhaps there might be other things to do in the world besides copying
+family documents; but the nebula--it was not even a definite
+thought--had faded, and now he was at work again with more ardor than
+ever.
+
+"Cousin Copeland," said Gardis, appearing at the door of the study, "I
+have decided at last to yield to your wishes, and--and invite the
+officers to dinner."
+
+"By all means," said Cousin Copeland, putting down his pen and waving
+his hands with a hearty little air of acquiescence--"by all means." It
+was not until long afterward that he remembered he had never expressed
+any wish upon the subject whatever. But it suited Gardis to imagine that
+he had done so; so she imagined it.
+
+"We have little to work with," continued the little mistress of the
+house; "but Dinah is an excellent cook, and--and--O cousin, I do not
+wish to do it; I can not bear the mere thought of it; but oh! we must,
+we must." Tears stood in her eyes as she concluded.
+
+"They are going soon," suggested Cousin Copeland, hesitatingly, biting
+the end of his quill.
+
+"That is the very reason. They are going soon, and we have done nothing
+to acknowledge their aid, their courtesy--we Gardistons, both of us.
+They have saved our home, perhaps our lives; and we--we let them go
+without a word! O cousin, it must not be. Something we must do;
+_noblesse oblige!_ I have thought and thought, and really there is
+nothing but this: we must invite them to dinner," said Miss Duke,
+tragically.
+
+"I--I always liked little dinners," said Cousin Copeland, in a gentle,
+assenting murmur.
+
+Thus it happened that the officers received two formal little notes with
+the compliments of Miss Gardiston Duke inclosed, and an invitation to
+dinner. "Hurrah!" cried Saxton. "At last!"
+
+The day appointed was at the end of the next week; Gardis had decided
+that that would be more ceremonious. "And they are to understand," she
+said proudly, "that it is a mere dinner of ceremony, and not of
+friendship."
+
+"Certainly," said Cousin Copeland.
+
+Old Dinah was delighted. Gardis brought out some of the half-year rent
+money, and a dinner was planned, of few dishes truly, but each would be
+a marvel of good cooking, as the old family servants of the South used
+to cook when time was nothing to them. It is not much to them now; but
+they have heard that it ought to be, and that troubles the perfection of
+their pie-crust. There was a little wine left in the wine-room--a queer
+little recess like a secret chamber; and there was always the crocodile
+china and the few pieces of cut glass. The four forks would be enough,
+and Gardis would take no jelly, so that the spoons would serve also; in
+fact, the dinner was planned to accommodate the silver. So far, so good.
+But now as to dress; here the poor little mistress was sadly pinched.
+She knew this; but she hoped to make use of a certain well-worn
+changeable silk that had belonged to Miss Margaretta, in hue a dull
+green and purple. But, alas! upon inspection she discovered that the
+faithful garment had given way at last, after years of patient service,
+and now there was nothing left but mildew and shreds. The invitation had
+been formally accepted; the dinner was in course of preparation: what
+should she do? She had absolutely nothing, poor child, save the two
+faded old lawns which she wore ordinarily, and the one shabby woolen
+dress for cooler weather. "If they were anything but what they are," she
+said to herself, after she had again and again turned over the contents
+of her three bureau drawers, "I would wear my every-day dress without a
+moment's thought or trouble. But I will not allow these men, belonging
+to the despot army of the North, these aliens forced upon us by a strong
+hand and a hard fate, to smile at the shabby attire of a Southern lady."
+She crossed the hall to Miss Margaretta's closed room: she would search
+every corner; possibly there was something she did not at the moment
+recall. But, alas! only too well did she know the contents of the closet
+and the chest of drawers, the chest of drawers and the closet; had she
+not been familiar with every fold and hue from her earliest childhood?
+Was there nothing else? There was the cedar chamber, a little cedar
+cupboard in the wall, where Miss Margaretta kept several stately old
+satin bonnets, elaborate structures of a past age. Mechanically Gardis
+mounted the steps, and opened the little door half-way up the wall. The
+bonnets were there, and with them several packages; these she took down
+and opened. Among various useless relics of finery appeared, at last,
+one whole dress; narrow-skirted, short, with a scantily fashioned waist,
+it was still a complete robe of its kind, in color a delicate blue, the
+material clinging and soft like Canton crape. Folded with the dress were
+blue kid slippers and a silk belt with a broad buckle. The package bore
+a label with this inscription, "The gown within belonged to my respected
+mother, Pamela Gardiston," in the handwriting of Miss Margaretta; and
+Gardis remembered that she had seen the blue skirt once, long ago, in
+her childhood. But Miss Margaretta allowed no prying, and her niece had
+been trained to ask permission always before entering her apartment, and
+to refrain from touching anything, unless asked to do so while there.
+Now the poverty-stricken little hostess carried the relics carefully
+across to her own room, and, locking the door, attired herself, and
+anxiously surveyed the effect. The old-fashioned gown left her
+shoulders and arms bare, the broad belt could not lengthen the short
+waist, and the skirt hardly covered her ankles. "I can wear my old
+muslin cape, but my arms will have to show, and my feet too," she
+thought, with nervous distress. The creased blue kid slippers were full
+of little holes and somewhat mildewed, but the girl mended them bravely;
+she said to herself that she need only walk down to the dining-room and
+back; and, besides, the rooms would not be brightly lighted. If she had
+had anything to work with, even so much as one yard of material, she
+would have made over the old gown; but she had absolutely nothing, and
+so she determined to overcome her necessities by sheer force of will.
+
+"How do I look, cousin?" she said, appearing at the study-door on the
+afternoon of the fatal day. She spoke nervously, and yet proudly, as
+though defying criticism. But Cousin Copeland had no thought of
+criticism.
+
+"My child," he said, with pleased surprise, "you look charming. I am
+very glad you have a new gown, dear, very glad."
+
+"Men are all alike," thought Gardis exultingly. "The others will think
+it is new also."
+
+Cousin Copeland possessed but one suit of clothes; consequently he had
+not been able to honor the occasion by a change of costume; but he wore
+a ruffled shirt and a flower in his buttonhole, and his countenance was
+sedately illumined by the thought of the festal board below. He was not
+at work, but merely dabbling a little on the outer edges--making
+flourishes at the ends of the chapters, numbering pages, and so forth.
+Gardis had gone to the drawing-room; she longed to see herself from head
+to foot, but, with the exception of the glasses in two old pier-tables,
+there was no large mirror save the gauze-veiled one in the drawing-room.
+Should she do it? Eve listened to the tempter, and fell. Likewise
+Gardis. A scissors, a chair, a snip, and lo! it was done. There she was,
+a little figure in a quaint blue gown, the thick muslin cape hiding the
+neck, but the dimpled arms bare almost to the shoulder, since the sleeve
+was but a narrow puff; the brown hair of this little image was braided
+around the head like a coronet; the wistful face was colorless and sad;
+in truth, there seemed to be tears in the brown eyes. "I will not cry,"
+said Gardis, jumping down from her chair, "but I _do_ look odd; there is
+no doubt of that." Then she remembered that she should not have jumped,
+on account of the slippers, and looked anxiously down; but the kid still
+held its place over the little feet, and, going to the piano, the young
+mistress of the manor began playing a gay little love-song, as if to
+defy her own sadness. Before it was finished, old Pompey, his every-day
+attire made majestic by a large, stiffly starched collar, announced the
+guests, and the solemnities began.
+
+Everything moved smoothly, however. Cousin Copeland's conversation was
+in its most flowing vein, the simple little dinner was well cooked and
+served, Pompey was statuesque, and the two guests agreeable. They
+remained at the table some time, according to the old Gardiston custom,
+and then, the ends of wax-candles having been lighted in the
+drawing-room, coffee was served there in the crocodile cups, and Miss
+Duke sang one or two songs. Soon after the officers took leave. Captain
+Newell bowed as he said farewell, but Roger Saxton, younger and more
+impulsive, extended his hand. Miss Duke made a stately courtesy, with
+downcast eyes, as though she had not observed it; but by her heightened
+color the elder guest suspected the truth, and smiled inwardly at the
+proud little reservation. "The _hand_ of Douglas is his own," he said to
+himself.
+
+The dreaded dinner was over, and the girl had judged correctly: the two
+visitors had no suspicion of the antiquity of the blue gown.
+
+"Did you ever see such a sweet little picture, from the pink rose in the
+hair down to the blue slipper!" said Saxton enthusiastically.
+
+"She looked well," replied Newell; "but as for cordiality--"
+
+"I'll win that yet. I like her all the better for her little ways," said
+the lieutenant. "I suppose it is only natural that Southern girls should
+cherish bitterness against us; although, of course, _she_ is far too
+young to have lost a lover in the war--far too young."
+
+"Which is a comfort," said Newell dryly.
+
+"A great comfort, old man. Don't be bearish, now, but just wait a while
+and see."
+
+"Precisely what I intend to do," said Newell.
+
+In the mean time Gardis, in the privacy of her own room, was making a
+solemn funeral pyre on the hearth, composed of the blue gown, the
+slippers, and the pink rose, and watching the flame as it did its work.
+"So perish also the enemies of my country!" she said to herself. (She
+did not mean exactly that they should be burned on funeral pyres, but
+merely consigned them on this, as on all occasions, to a general
+perdition.) The old dress was but a rag, and the slippers were
+worthless; but, had they been new and costly, she would have done the
+same. Had they not been desecrated? Let them die!
+
+It was, of course, proper that the guests should call at Gardiston House
+within a day or two; and Roger Saxton, ignoring the coldness of his
+reception, came again and again. He even sought out Cousin Copeland in
+his study, and won the heart of the old bachelor by listening a whole
+morning to extracts from the documents. Gardis found that her reserve
+was of no avail against this bold young soldier, who followed her into
+all her little retreats, and paid no attention to her stinging little
+speeches. Emboldened and also angered by what she deemed his
+callousness, she every day grew more and more open in her tone, until
+you might have said that she, as a unit, poured out upon his head the
+whole bitterness of the South. Saxton made no answer until the time came
+for the camp to break up, the soldiers being ordered back to the city.
+Then he came to see her one afternoon, and sat for some time in
+silence; the conversation of the little mistress was the same as usual.
+
+"I forgive this, and all the bitter things you have said to me, Gardis,"
+he remarked abruptly.
+
+"Forgive! And by what right, sir--"
+
+"Only this: I love you, dear." And then he poured out all the tide of
+his young ardor, and laid his heart and his life at her feet.
+
+But the young girl, drawing her slight figure up to its full height,
+dismissed him with haughty composure. She no longer spoke angrily, but
+simply said, "That you, a Northerner and a soldier, should presume to
+ask for the hand of a Southern lady, shows, sir, that you have not the
+least comprehension of us or of our country." Then she made him a
+courtesy and left the room. The transformation was complete; it was no
+longer the hot-tempered girl flashing out in biting little speeches, but
+the woman uttering the belief of her life. Saxton rode off into town
+that same night, dejected and forlorn.
+
+Captain Newell took his leave a day later in a different fashion; he
+told Miss Duke that he would leave a guard on the premises if she wished
+it.
+
+"I do not think it will be necessary," answered the lady.
+
+"Nor do I; indeed, I feel sure that there will be no further trouble,
+for we have placed the whole district under military rule since the last
+disturbance. But I thought possibly you might feel timid."
+
+"I am not timid, Captain Newell."
+
+The grave captain stroked his mustache to conceal a smile, and then, as
+he rose to go, he said: "Miss Duke, I wish to say to you one thing. You
+know nothing of us, of course, but I trust you will accept my word when
+I say that Mr. Saxton is of good family, that he is well educated, and
+that he is heir to a fair fortune. What he is personally you have seen
+for yourself--a frank, kind-hearted, manly young fellow."
+
+"Did you come here to plead his cause?" said the girl scornfully.
+
+"No; I came here to offer you a guard, Miss Duke, for the protection of
+your property. But at the same time I thought it only my duty to make
+you aware of the real value of the gift laid at your feet."
+
+"How did you know--" began Gardis.
+
+"Roger tells me everything," replied the officer. "If it were not so,
+I--" Here he paused; and then, as though he had concluded to say no
+more, he bowed and took leave.
+
+That night Gardiston House was left to itself in the forest stillness.
+"I am glad that bugle is silenced for ever," said Gardis.
+
+"And yet it was a silvern sound," said Cousin Copeland.
+
+The rains began, and there was no more walking abroad; the excitement of
+the summer and the camp gone, in its place came the old cares which had
+been half forgotten. (Care always waits for a cold or a rainy day.)
+Could the little household manage to live--live with their meager
+comforts--until the next payment of rent came in? That was the question.
+
+Bitterly, bitterly poor was the whole Southern country in those dreary
+days after the war. The second year was worse than the first; for the
+hopes that had buoyed up the broken fortunes soon disappeared, and
+nothing was left. There was no one to help Gardis Duke, or the hundreds
+of other women in like desolate positions. Some of the furniture and
+ornaments of the old house might have been sold, could they have been
+properly brought forward in New York City, where there were people with
+purses to buy such things; but in the South no one wanted Chinese
+images, and there was nothing of intrinsic value. So the little
+household lived along, in a spare, pinched way, until, suddenly, final
+disaster overtook them: the tenant of the warehouse gave up his lease,
+declaring that the old building was too ruinous for use; and, as no one
+succeeded him, Gardiston House beheld itself face to face with
+starvation.
+
+"If we wasn't so old, Pomp and me, Miss Gardis, we could work for yer,"
+said Dinah, with great tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks; "but we's
+just good for not'ing now."
+
+Cousin Copeland left his manuscripts and wandered aimlessly around the
+garden for a day or two; then the little man rose early one morning and
+walked into the city, with the hopeful idea of obtaining employment as a
+clerk. "My handwriting is more than ordinarily ornate, I think," he said
+to himself, with proud confidence.
+
+Reaching the town at last, he walked past the stores several times and
+looked timidly within; he thought perhaps some one would see him, and
+come out. But no one came; and at last he ventured into a
+clothing-store, through a grove of ticketed coats and suspended
+trousers. The proprietor of the establishment, a Northern Hebrew whose
+venture had not paid very well, heard his modest request, and asked what
+he could do.
+
+"I can write," said Cousin Copeland, with quiet pride; and in answer to
+a sign he climbed up on a tall stool and proceeded to cover half a sheet
+of paper in his best style. As he could not for the moment think of
+anything else, he wrote out several paragraphs from the last family
+document.
+
+"Richard, the fourth of the name, a descendant on the maternal side from
+the most respected and valorous family--"
+
+"Oh, we don't care for that kind of writing; it's old-fashioned," said
+Mr. Ottenheimer, throwing down the paper, and waving the applicant
+toward the door with his fat hand. "I don't want my books frescoed."
+
+Cousin Copeland retired to the streets again with a new sensation in his
+heart. Old-fashioned? Was it old-fashioned? And even if so, was it any
+the less a rarely attained and delicately ornate style of writing? He
+could not understand it. Weary with the unaccustomed exercise, he sat
+down at last on the steps of a church--an old structure whose spire bore
+the marks of bomb-shells sent in from the blockading fleet outside the
+bar during those months of dreary siege--and thought he would refresh
+himself with some furtive mouthfuls of the corn-bread hidden in his
+pocket for lunch.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said a voice, just as he had drawn forth his little
+parcel and was opening it behind the skirt of his coat. "When did you
+come in from Gardiston?"
+
+It was Captain Newell. With the rare courtesy which comes from a kind
+heart, he asked no questions regarding the fatigue and the dust-powdered
+clothes of the little bachelor, and took a seat beside him as though a
+church-step on a city street was a customary place of meeting.
+
+"I was about to--to eat a portion of this corn-bread," said Cousin
+Copeland, hesitatingly; "will you taste it also?"
+
+The young officer accepted a share of the repast gravely, and then
+Cousin Copeland told his story. He was a simple soul. Miss Margaretta
+would have made the soldier believe she had come to town merely for her
+own lofty amusement or to buy jewels. It ended, however, in the
+comfortable eating of a good dinner at the hotel, and a cigar in Captain
+Newell's own room, which was adorned with various personal appliances
+for comfort that astonished the eyes of the careful little bachelor, and
+left him in a maze of vague wonderings. Young men lived in that way,
+then, nowadays? They could do so, and yet not be persons of--of
+irregular habits?
+
+David Newell persuaded his guest to abandon, for the present, all idea
+of obtaining employment in the city. "These shopkeepers are not capable
+of appreciating qualifications such as yours, sir," he said. "Would it
+not be better to set about obtaining a new tenant for the warehouse?"
+
+Cousin Copeland thought it would; but repairs were needed, and--
+
+"Will you give me the charge of it? I am in the city all the time, and I
+have acquaintances among the Northerners who are beginning to come down
+here with a view of engaging in business."
+
+Cousin Copeland gladly relinquished the warehouse, and then, after an
+hour's rest, he rode gallantly back to Gardiston House on one of the
+captain's horses; he explained at some length that he had been quite a
+man of mettle in his youth as regards horse-flesh--"often riding, sir,
+ten and fifteen miles a day."
+
+"I will go in for a moment, I think," said the young officer, as they
+arrived at the old gate.
+
+"Most certainly," said Cousin Copeland cordially; "Gardis will be
+delighted to see you."
+
+"Will she?" said the captain.
+
+Clouds had gathered, a raw wind from the ocean swept over the land, and
+fine rain was beginning to fall. The house seemed dark and damp as the
+two entered it. Gardis listened to Cousin Copeland's detailed little
+narrative in silence, and made no comments while he was present; but
+when he left the room for a moment she said abruptly:
+
+"Sir, you will make no repairs, and you will take no steps toward
+procuring a tenant for our property in the city. I will not allow it."
+
+"And why may I not do it as well as any other person?" said Captain
+Newell.
+
+"You are not 'any other person,' and you know it," said Gardis, with
+flushed cheeks. "I do not choose to receive a favor from your hands."
+
+"It is a mere business transaction, Miss Duke."
+
+"It is not. You know you intend to make the repairs yourself," cried the
+girl passionately.
+
+"And if I do so intend? It will only be advancing the money, and you can
+pay me interest if you like. The city will certainly regain her old
+position in time; my venture is a sure one. But I _wish_ to assist you,
+Miss Duke; I do not deny it."
+
+"And I--will not allow it!"
+
+"What will you do, then?"
+
+"God knows," said Gardis. "But I would rather starve than accept
+assistance from you." Her eyes were full of tears as she spoke, but she
+held her head proudly erect.
+
+"And from Saxton? He has gone North, but he would be so proud to help
+you."
+
+"From him least of all."
+
+"Because of his love for you?"
+
+Gardis was silent.
+
+"Miss Duke, let me ask you one question. If you had loved Roger Saxton,
+would you have married him?"
+
+"Never!"
+
+"You would have sacrificed your whole life, then, for the sake of--"
+
+"My country, sir."
+
+"We have a common country, Gardis," answered the young man gravely.
+Then, as he rose, "Child," he said, "I shall not relinquish the charge
+of your property, given into my hands by Mr. Copeland Gardiston, and,
+for your own sake, I beg you to be more patient, more gentle, as becomes
+a woman. A few weeks will no doubt see you released from even your
+slight obligation to me: you will have but a short time to wait."
+
+Poor Gardis! Her proud scorn went for nothing, then? She was overridden
+as though she had been a child, and even rebuked for want of gentleness.
+The drawing-room was cheerless and damp in the rainy twilight; the girl
+wore a faded lawn dress, and her cheeks were pale; the old house was
+chilly through and through, and even the soldier, strong as he was, felt
+himself shivering. At this instant enter Cousin Copeland. "Of course you
+will spend the night here," he said heartily. "It is raining, and I must
+insist upon your staying over until to-morrow--must really insist."
+
+Gardis looked up quickly; her dismayed face said plainly, "Oh no, no."
+Thereupon the young officer immediately accepted Cousin Copeland's
+invitation, and took his seat again with quiet deliberation. Gardis sank
+down upon the sofa. "Very well," she thought desperately, "this time it
+is hopeless. Nothing can be done."
+
+And hopeless it was. Pompey brought in a candle, and placed it upon the
+table, where its dim light made the large apartment more dismal than
+before; the rain poured down outside, and the rising wind rattled the
+loose shutters. Dinner was announced--one small fish, potatoes, and
+corn-bread. Pale Gardis sat like a statue at the head of the table, and
+made no effort to entertain the guest; but Cousin Copeland threw himself
+bravely into the breach, and, by way of diversion, related the whole
+story of the unchronicled "wife of one of our grandfather's second
+cousins," who had turned out to be a most remarkable personage of Welsh
+descent, her golden harp having once stood in the very room in which
+they were now seated.
+
+"Do you not think, my child, that a--a little fire in your aunt
+Margaretta's boudoir would--would be conducive to our comfort?"
+suggested the little bachelor, as they rose from the table.
+
+"As you please," said Gardis.
+
+So the three repaired thither, and when the old red curtains were drawn,
+and the fire lighted, the little room had at least a semblance of
+comfort, whatever may have been in the hearts of its occupants. Gardis
+embroidered. Cousin Copeland chatted on in a steady little stream, and
+the guest listened. "I will step up stairs to my study, and bring down
+that file of documents," said the bachelor, rising. He was gone, and
+left only silence behind him. Gardis did not raise her head, but went
+steadily on with the embroidered robe of the Queen of Sheba.
+
+"I am thinking," began David Newell, breaking the long pause at last,
+"how comfortable you would be, Miss Duke, as the wife of Roger Saxton.
+He would take you North, away from this old house, and he would be so
+proud and so fond of you."
+
+No answer.
+
+"The place could be put in order if you did not care to sell it, and
+your cousin Copeland could live on here as usual; indeed, I could
+scarcely imagine him in any other home."
+
+"Nor myself."
+
+"Oh yes, Miss Duke; I can easily imagine you in New York, Paris, or
+Vienna. I can easily imagine you at the opera, in the picture-galleries,
+or carrying out to the full your exquisite taste in dress."
+
+Down went the embroidery. "Sir, do you mean to insult me?" said the
+pale, cotton-robed little hostess.
+
+"By no means."
+
+"Why do you come here? Why do you sneer at my poor clothes? Why--" Her
+voice trembled, and she stopped abruptly.
+
+"I was not aware that they were poor or old, Miss Duke. I have never
+seen a more exquisite costume than yours on the evening when we dined
+here by invitation; it has been like a picture in my memory ever since."
+
+"An old robe that belonged to my grandmother, and I burned it, every
+shred, as soon as you had gone," said Gardis hotly.
+
+Far from being impressed as she had intended he should be, David Newell
+merely bowed; the girl saw that he set the act down as "temper."
+
+"I suppose your Northern ladies never do such things?" she said
+bitterly.
+
+"You are right; they do not," he answered.
+
+"Why do you come here?" pursued Gardis. "Why do you speak to me of Mr.
+Saxton? Though he had the fortune of a prince, he is nothing to me."
+
+"Roger's fortune is comfortable, but not princely, Miss Duke--by no
+means princely. We are not princely at the North," added Newell, with a
+slight smile, "and neither are we 'knightly.' We must, I fear, yield all
+claim to those prized words of yours."
+
+"I am not aware that I have used the words," said Miss Duke, with lofty
+indifference.
+
+"Oh, I did not mean you alone--you personally--but all Southern women.
+However, to return to our subject: Saxton loves you, and has gone away
+with a saddened heart."
+
+This was said gravely. "As though," Miss Duke remarked to
+herself--"really as though a heart was of consequence!"
+
+"I presume he will soon forget," she said carelessly, as she took up her
+embroidery again.
+
+"Yes, no doubt," replied Captain Newell. "I remember once on Staten
+Island, and again out in Mississippi, when he was even more--Yes, as you
+say, he will soon forget."
+
+"Then why do you so continually speak of him?" said Miss Duke sharply.
+Such prompt corroboration was not, after all, as agreeable as it should
+have been to a well-regulated mind.
+
+"I speak of him, Miss Duke, because I wish to know whether it is only
+your Southern girlish pride that speaks, or whether you really, as would
+be most natural, love him as he loves you; for, in the latter case, you
+would be able, I think, to fix and retain his somewhat fickle fancy. He
+is a fine fellow, and, as I said before, it would be but natural, Miss
+Duke, that you should love him."
+
+"I do not love him," said Gardis, quickly and angrily, putting in her
+stitches all wrong. Who was this person, daring to assume what would or
+would not be natural for her to do?
+
+"Very well; I believe you. And now that I know the truth, I will tell
+you why I come here: you have asked me several times. I too love you,
+Miss Duke."
+
+Gardis had risen. "You?" she said--"you?"
+
+"Yes, I; I too."
+
+He was standing also, and they gazed at each other a moment in silence.
+
+"I will never marry you," said the girl at last--"never! never! You do
+not, can not, understand the hearts of Southern women, sir."
+
+"I have not asked you to marry me, Miss Duke," said the young soldier
+composedly; "and the hearts of Southern women are much like those of
+other women, I presume." Then, as the girl opened the door to escape,
+"You may go away if you like, Gardis," he said, "but I shall love you
+all the same, dear."
+
+She disappeared, and in a few moments Cousin Copeland reëntered, with
+apologies for his lengthened absence. "I found several other documents I
+thought you might like to see," he said eagerly. "They will occupy the
+remainder of our evening delightfully."
+
+They did. But Gardis did not return; neither did she appear at the
+breakfast-table the next morning. Captain Newell rode back to the city
+without seeing her.
+
+Not long afterward Cousin Copeland received a formal letter from a city
+lawyer. The warehouse had found a tenant, and he, the lawyer, acting for
+the agent, Captain Newell, had the honor to inclose the first
+installment of rent-money, and remained an obedient servant, and so
+forth. Cousin Copeland was exultant. Gardis said to herself, "He is
+taking advantage of our poverty," and, going to her room, she sat down
+to plan some way of release. "I might be a governess," she thought. But
+no one at the South wanted a governess now, and how could she go North?
+She was not aware how old-fashioned were her little accomplishments--her
+music, her embroidery, her ideas of literature, her prim drawings, and
+even her deportment. No one made courtesies at the North any more, save
+perhaps in the Lancers. As to chemistry, trigonometry, physiology, and
+geology, the ordinary studies of a Northern girl, she knew hardly more
+than their names. "We might sell the place," she thought at last, "and
+go away somewhere and live in the woods."
+
+This, indeed, seemed the only way open to her. The house was an actual
+fact; it was there; it was also her own. A few days later an
+advertisement appeared in the city newspaper: "For sale, the residence
+known as Gardiston House, situated six miles from the city, on Green
+River. Apply by letter, or on the premises, to Miss Gardiston Duke."
+Three days passed, and no one came. The fourth day an applicant
+appeared, and was ushered into the dining-room. He sent up no name; but
+Miss Duke descended hopefully to confer with him, and found--Captain
+Newell.
+
+"You!" she said, paling and flushing. Her voice faltered; she was sorely
+disappointed.
+
+"It will always be myself, Gardis," said the young man gravely. "So you
+wish to sell the old house? I should not have supposed it."
+
+"I wish to sell it in order to be freed from obligations forced upon us,
+sir."
+
+"Very well. But if _I_ buy it, then what?"
+
+"You will not buy it, for the simple reason that I will not sell it to
+you. You do not wish the place; you would only buy it to assist us."
+
+"That is true."
+
+"Then there is nothing more to be said, I believe," said Miss Duke,
+rising.
+
+"_Is_ there nothing more, Gardis?"
+
+"Nothing, Captain Newell."
+
+And then, without another word, the soldier bowed, and rode back to
+town.
+
+The dreary little advertisement remained in a corner of the newspaper a
+month longer, but no purchaser appeared. The winter was rainy, with raw
+east winds from the ocean, and the old house leaked in many places. If
+they had lived in one or two of the smaller rooms, which were in better
+condition and warmer than the large apartments, they might have escaped;
+but no habit was changed, and three times a day the table was spread in
+the damp dining-room, where the atmosphere was like that of a tomb, and
+where no fire was ever made. The long evenings were spent in the somber
+drawing-room by the light of the one candle, and the rain beat against
+the old shutters so loudly that Cousin Copeland was obliged to elevate
+his gentle little voice as he read aloud to his silent companion. But
+one evening he found himself forced to pause; his voice had failed.
+Four days afterward he died, gentle and placid to the last. He was an
+old man, although no one had ever thought so.
+
+The funeral notice appeared in the city paper, and a few old family
+friends came out to Gardiston House to follow the last Gardiston to his
+resting-place in St. Mark's forest churchyard. They were all sad-faced
+people, clad in mourning much the worse for wear. Accustomed to sorrow,
+they followed to the grave quietly, not a heart there that had not its
+own dead. They all returned to Gardiston House, sat a while in the
+drawing-room, spoke a few words each in turn to the desolate little
+mistress, and then took leave. Gardis was left alone.
+
+Captain Newell did not come to the funeral; he could not come into such
+a company in his uniform, and he would not come without it. He had his
+own ideas of duty, and his own pride. But he sent a wreath of beautiful
+flowers, which must have come from some city where there was a
+hot-house. Miss Duke would not place the wreath upon the coffin, neither
+would she leave it in the drawing-room; she stood a while with it in her
+hand, and then she stole up stairs and laid it on Cousin Copeland's open
+desk, where daily he had worked so patiently and steadily through so
+many long years. Uselessly? Who among us shall dare to say that?
+
+A week later, at twilight, old Dinah brought up the young officer's
+card.
+
+"Say that I see no one," replied Miss Duke.
+
+A little note came back, written on a slip of paper: "I beg you to see
+me, if only for a moment; it is a business matter that has brought me
+here to-day." And certainly it was a very forlorn day for a pleasure
+ride: the wind howled through the trees, and the roads were almost
+impassable with deep mire. Miss Duke went down to the dining-room. She
+wore no mourning garments; she had none. She had not worn mourning for
+her aunt, and for the same reason. Pale and silent, she stood before the
+young officer waiting to hear his errand. It was this: some one wished
+to purchase Gardiston House--a real purchaser this time, a stranger.
+Captain Newell did not say that it was the wife of an army contractor, a
+Northern woman, who had taken a fancy for an old family residence, and
+intended to be herself an old family in future; he merely stated the
+price offered for the house and its furniture, and in a few words placed
+the business clearly before the listener.
+
+Her face lighted with pleasure.
+
+"At last!" she said.
+
+"Yes, at last, Miss Duke." There was a shade of sadness in his tone, but
+he spoke no word of entreaty. "You accept?"
+
+"I do," said Gardis.
+
+"I must ride back to the city," said David Newell, taking up his cap,
+"before it is entirely dark, for the roads are very heavy. I came out as
+soon as I heard of the offer, Miss Duke, for I knew you would be glad,
+very glad."
+
+"Yes," said Gardis, "I am glad; very glad." Her cheeks were flushed now,
+and she smiled as she returned the young officer's bow. "Some time,
+Captain Newell--some time I trust I shall feel like thanking you for
+what was undoubtedly intended, on your part, as kindness," she said.
+
+"It was never intended for kindness at all," said Newell bluntly. "It
+was never but one thing, Gardis, and you know it; and that one thing is,
+and always will be, love. Not 'always will be,' though; I should not say
+that. A man can conquer an unworthy love if he chooses."
+
+"Unworthy?" said Gardis involuntarily.
+
+"Yes, unworthy; like this of mine for you. A woman should be gentle,
+should be loving; a woman should have a womanly nature. But
+you--you--you do not seem to have anything in you but a foolish pride. I
+verily believe, Gardis Duke, that, if you loved me enough to die for me,
+you would still let me go out of that door without a word, so deep, so
+deadly is that pride of yours. What do I want with such a wife? No. My
+wife must love me--love me ardently, as I shall love her. Farewell, Miss
+Duke; I shall not see you again, probably. I will send a lawyer out to
+complete the sale."
+
+He was gone, and Gardis stood alone in the darkening room. Gardiston
+House, where she had spent her life--Gardiston House, full of the
+memories and associations of two centuries--Gardiston House, the living
+reminder and the constant support of that family pride in which she had
+been nurtured, her one possession in the land which she had so loved,
+the beautiful, desolate South--would soon be hers no longer. She began
+to sob, and then when the sound came back to her, echoing through the
+still room, she stopped suddenly, as though ashamed. "I will go abroad,"
+she said; "there will be a great deal to amuse me over there." But the
+comfort was dreary; and, as if she must do something, she took a candle,
+and slowly visited every room in the old mansion, many of them long
+unused. From garret to cellar she went, touching every piece of the
+antique furniture, folding back the old curtains, standing by the
+dismantled beds, and softly pausing by the empty chairs; she was saying
+farewell. On Cousin Copeland's desk the wreath still lay; in that room
+she cried from sheer desolation. Then, going down to the dining-room,
+she found her solitary repast awaiting her, and, not to distress old
+Dinah, sat down in her accustomed place. Presently she perceived smoke,
+then a sound, then a hiss and a roar. She flew up stairs; the house was
+on fire. Somewhere her candle must have started the flame; she
+remembered the loose papers in Cousin Copeland's study, and the wind
+blowing through the broken window-pane; it was there that she had cried
+so bitterly, forgetting everything save her own loneliness.
+
+Nothing could be done; there was no house within several miles--no one
+to help. The old servants were infirm, and the fire had obtained strong
+headway; then the high wind rushed in, and sent the flames up through
+the roof and over the tops of the trees. When the whole upper story was
+one sheet of red and yellow, some one rode furiously up the road and
+into the garden, where Gardis stood alone, her little figure illumined
+by the glare; nearer the house the two old servants were at work, trying
+to save some of the furniture from the lower rooms.
+
+"I saw the light and hurried back, Miss Duke," began Captain Newell.
+Then, as he saw the wan desolation of the girl's face: "O Gardis! why
+will you resist me longer?" he cried passionately. "You shall be
+anything you like, think anything you like--only love me, dear, as I
+love you."
+
+And Gardis burst into tears. "I can not help it," she sobbed;
+"everything is against me. The very house is burning before my eyes. O
+David, David! it is all wrong; everything is wrong. But what can I do
+when--when you hold me so, and when--Oh, do not ask me any more."
+
+"But I shall," said Newell, his face flushing with deep happiness. "When
+what, dear?"
+
+"When I--"
+
+"Love me?" said Newell. He would have it spoken.
+
+"Yes," whispered Gardis, hanging her head.
+
+"And I have adored the very shoe-tie of my proud little love ever since
+I first saw her sweet face at the drawing-room window," said Newell,
+holding her close and closer, and gazing down into her eyes with the
+deep gaze of the quiet heart that loves but once.
+
+And the old house burned on, burned as though it knew a contractor's
+wife was waiting for it. "I see our Gardis is provided for," said the
+old house. "She never was a real Gardiston--only a Duke; so it is just
+as well. As for that contractor's wife, she shall have nothing; not a
+Chinese image, not a spindle-legged chair, not one crocodile cup--no,
+not even one stone upon another."
+
+It kept its word: in the morning there was nothing left. Old Gardiston
+was gone!
+
+
+
+
+THE SOUTH DEVIL.
+
+    The trees that lean'd in their love unto trees,
+      That lock'd in their loves, and were made so strong,
+    Stronger than armies; ay, stronger than seas
+      That rush from their caves in a storm of song.
+
+    The cockatoo swung in the vines below,
+      And muttering hung on a golden thread,
+    Or moved on the moss'd bough to and fro,
+      In plumes of gold and array'd in red.
+
+    The serpent that hung from the sycamore bough,
+      And sway'd his head in a crescent above,
+    Had folded his head to the white limb now,
+      And fondled it close like a great black love.
+
+    JOAQUIN MILLER.
+
+
+On the afternoon of the 23d of December, the thermometer marked
+eighty-six degrees in the shade on the outside wall of Mark Deal's
+house. Mark Deal's brother, lying on the white sand, his head within the
+line of shadow cast by a live-oak, but all the remainder of his body
+full in the hot sunshine, basked liked a chameleon, and enjoyed the
+heat. Mark Deal's brother spent much of his time basking. He always took
+the live-oak for a head-protector; but gave himself variety by trying
+new radiations around the tree, his crossed legs and feet stretching
+from it in a slightly different direction each day, as the spokes of a
+wheel radiate from the hub. The live-oak was a symmetrical old tree,
+standing by itself; having always had sufficient space, its great arms
+were straight, stretching out evenly all around, densely covered with
+the small, dark, leathery leaves, unnotched and uncut, which are as
+unlike the Northern oak-leaf as the leaf of the willow is unlike that
+of the sycamore. Behind the live-oak, two tall, ruined chimneys and a
+heap of white stones marked where the mansion-house had been. The old
+tree had watched its foundations laid; had shaded its blank, white front
+and little hanging balcony above; had witnessed its destruction, fifty
+years before, by the Indians; and had mounted guard over its remains
+ever since, alone as far as man was concerned, until this year, when a
+tenant had arrived, Mark Deal, and, somewhat later, Mark Deal's brother.
+
+The ancient tree was Spanish to the core; it would have resented the
+sacrilege to the tips of its small acorns, if the new-comer had laid
+hands upon the dignified old ruin it guarded. The new-comer, however,
+entertained no such intention; a small out-building, roofless, but
+otherwise in good condition, on the opposite side of the circular space,
+attracted his attention, and became mentally his residence, as soon as
+his eyes fell upon it, he meanwhile standing with his hands in his
+pockets, surveying the place critically. It was the old Monteano
+plantation, and he had taken it for a year.
+
+The venerable little out-building was now firmly roofed with new, green
+boards; its square windows, destitute of sash or glass, possessed new
+wooden shutters hung by strips of deer's hide; new steps led up to its
+two rooms, elevated four feet above the ground. But for a door it had
+only a red cotton curtain, now drawn forward and thrown carelessly over
+a peg on the outside wall, a spot of vivid color on its white.
+Underneath the windows hung flimsy strips of bark covered with
+brightly-hued flowers.
+
+"They won't live," said Mark Deal.
+
+"Oh, I shall put in fresh ones every day or two," answered his brother.
+It was he who had wanted the red curtain.
+
+As he basked, motionless, in the sunshine, it could be noted that this
+brother was a slender youth, with long, pale-yellow hair--hair fine,
+thin, and dry, the kind that crackles if the comb is passed rapidly
+through it. His face in sleep was pale and wizened, with deep purple
+shadows under the closed eyes; his long hands were stretched out on the
+white, hot sand in the blaze of the sunshine, which, however, could not
+alter their look of blue-white cold. The sunken chest and blanched
+temples told of illness; but, if cure were possible, it would be gained
+from this soft, balmy, fragrant air, now soothing his sore lungs. He
+slept on in peace; and an old green chameleon came down from the tree,
+climbed up on the sleeve of his brown sack-coat, occupied himself for a
+moment in changing his own miniature hide to match the cloth, swelled
+out his scarlet throat, caught a fly or two, and then, pleasantly
+established, went to sleep also in company. Butterflies, in troops of
+twenty or thirty, danced in the golden air; there was no sound.
+Everything was hot and soft and brightly colored. Winter? Who knew of
+winter here? Labor? What was labor? This was the land and the sky and
+the air of never-ending rest.
+
+Yet one man was working there, and working hard, namely, Mark Deal. His
+little central plaza, embracing perhaps an acre, was surrounded when he
+first arrived by a wall of green, twenty feet high. The sweet
+orange-trees, crape-myrtles, oleanders, guavas, and limes planted by the
+Spaniards had been, during the fifty years, conquered and partially
+enslaved by a wilder growth--andromedas, dahoons, bayberries, and the
+old field loblollies, the whole bound together by the tangled vines of
+the jessamine and armed smilax, with bear-grass and the dwarf palmetto
+below. Climbing the central live-oak, Deal had found, as he expected,
+traces of the six paths which had once led from this little plaza to the
+various fields and the sugar plantation, their course still marked by
+the tops of the bitter-sweet orange-trees, which showed themselves
+glossily, in regular lines, amid the duller foliage around them. He took
+their bearings and cut them out slowly, one by one. Now the low-arched
+aisles, eighty feet in length, were clear, with the thick leaves
+interlacing overhead, and the daylight shining through at their far
+ends, golden against the green. Here, where the north path terminated,
+Deal was now working.
+
+He was a man slightly below middle height, broad-shouldered, and
+muscular, with the outlines which are called thick-set. He appeared
+forty-five, and was not quite thirty-five. Although weather-beaten and
+bronzed, there was yet a pinched look in his face, which was peculiar.
+He was working in an old field, preparing it for sweet potatoes--those
+omnipresent, monotonous vegetables of Florida which will grow anywhere,
+and which at last, with their ugly, gray-mottled skins, are regarded
+with absolute aversion by the Northern visitor.
+
+The furrows of half a century before were still visible in the field. No
+frost had disturbed the winterless earth; no atom had changed its place,
+save where the gopher had burrowed beneath, or the snake left its waving
+trail above in the sand which constitutes the strange, white, desolate
+soil, wherever there is what may be called by comparison solid ground,
+in the lake-dotted, sieve-like land. There are many such traces of
+former cultivation in Florida: we come suddenly upon old tracks,
+furrows, and drains in what we thought primeval forest; rose-bushes run
+wild, and distorted old fig-trees meet us in a jungle where we supposed
+no white man's foot had ever before penetrated; the ruins of a chimney
+gleam whitely through a waste of thorny _chaparral_. It is all natural
+enough, if one stops to remember that fifty years before the first
+settlement was made in Virginia, and sixty-three before the Mayflower
+touched the shores of the New World, there were flourishing Spanish
+plantations on this Southern coast--more flourishing, apparently, than
+any the indolent peninsula has since known. But one does not stop to
+remember it; the belief is imbedded in all our Northern hearts that,
+because the narrow, sun-bathed State is far away and wild and empty, it
+is also new and virgin, like the lands of the West; whereas it is
+old--the only gray-haired corner our country holds.
+
+Mark Deal worked hard. Perspiration beaded his forehead and cheeks, and
+rolled from his short, thick, red-brown hair. He worked in this way
+every day from daylight until dusk, and was probably the only white man
+in the State who did. When his task was finished, he made a circuit
+around the belt of thicket through which the six paths ran to his
+orange-grove on the opposite side. On the way he skirted an edge of the
+sugar-plantation, now a wide, empty waste, with the old elevated
+causeway still running across it. On its far edge loomed the great
+cypresses of South Devil, a swamp forty miles long; there was a sister,
+West Devil, not far away, equally beautiful, dark, and deadly. Beyond
+the sugar waste were the indigo-fields, still fenced by their old
+ditches. Then came the orange-grove; luxuriant, shady word--the
+orange-grove!
+
+It was a space of level white sand, sixty feet square, fertilized a
+century before with pounded oyster-shells, in the Spanish fashion.
+Planted in even rows across it, tied to stakes, were slips of green
+stem, each with three leaves--forlorn little plants, five or six inches
+in height. But the stakes were new and square and strong, and rose to
+Deal's shoulder; they were excellent stakes, and made quite a grove of
+themselves, firm, if somewhat bare.
+
+Deal worked in his grove until sunset; then he shouldered his tools and
+went homeward through one of the arched aisles to the little plaza
+within, where stood his two-roomed house with its red cotton door. His
+brother was still sleeping on the sand, at least, his eyes were closed.
+Deal put his tools in a rack behind the house, and then crossed to where
+he lay.
+
+"You should not sleep here after sunset, Carl," he said, somewhat
+roughly. "You know better; why do you do it?"
+
+"I'm not asleep," answered the other, sitting up, and then slowly
+getting on his feet. "Heigh-ho! What are you going to have for dinner?"
+
+"You are tired, Carl; and I see the reason. You have been in the swamp."
+Deal's eyes as he spoke were fixed upon the younger man's shoes, where
+traces of the ink-black soil of South Devil were plainly visible.
+
+Carl laughed. "Can't keep anything from your Yankee eyes, can I, Mark?"
+he said. "But I only went a little way."
+
+"It isn't the distance, it's the folly," said Mark, shortly, going
+toward the house.
+
+"I never pretended to be wise," answered Carl, slouching along behind
+him, with his hands wrapped in his blue cotton handkerchief, arranged
+like a muff.
+
+Although Deal worked hard in his fields all day, he did not cook. In a
+third out-building lived a gray-headed old negro with one eye, who
+cooked for the new tenant--and cooked well. His name was Scipio, but
+Carl called him Africanus; he said it was equally appropriate, and
+sounded more impressive. Scip's kitchen was out-of-doors--simply an old
+Spanish chimney. His kettle and few dishes, when not in use, hung on the
+sides of this chimney, which now, all alone in the white sand, like an
+obelisk, cooked solemnly the old negro's messes, as half a century
+before it had cooked the more dignified repasts of the dead hidalgos.
+The brothers ate in the open air also, sitting at a rough board table
+which Mark had made behind the house. They had breakfast soon after
+daylight, and at sunset dinner; in the middle of the day they took only
+fruit and bread.
+
+"Day after to-morrow will be Christmas," said Carl, leaving the table
+and lighting his long pipe. "What are you going to do?"
+
+"I had not thought of doing anything in particular."
+
+"Well, at least don't work on Christmas day."
+
+"What would you have me do?"
+
+Carl took his pipe from his mouth, and gazed at his brother in silence
+for a moment. "Go into the swamp with me," he urged, with sudden
+vehemence. "Come--for the whole day!"
+
+Deal was smoking, too, a short clay pipe, very different from the huge,
+fantastic, carved bowl with long stem which weighed down Carl's thin
+mouth. "I don't know what to do with you, boy. You are mad about the
+swamp," he said, smoking on calmly.
+
+They were sitting in front of the house now, in two chairs tilted back
+against its wall. The dark, odorous earth looked up to the myriad stars,
+but was not lighted by them; a soft, languorous gloom lay over the land.
+Carl brushed away the ashes from his pipe impatiently.
+
+"It's because you can't understand," he said. "The swamp haunts me. I
+_must_ see it once; you will be wise to let me see it once. We might go
+through in a canoe together by the branch; the branch goes through."
+
+"The water goes, no doubt, but a canoe couldn't."
+
+"Yes, it could, with an axe. It has been done. They used to go up to San
+Miguel that way sometimes from here; it shortens the distance more than
+half."
+
+"Who told you all this--Scip? What does he know about it?"
+
+"Oh, Africanus has seen several centuries; the Spaniards were living
+here only fifty years ago, you know, and that's nothing to him. He
+remembers the Indian attack."
+
+"Ponce de Leon, too, I suppose; or, to go back to the old country,
+Cleopatra. But you must give up the swamp, Carl. I positively forbid it.
+The air inside is thick and deadly, to say nothing of the other dangers.
+How do you suppose it gained its name?"
+
+"Diabolus is common enough as a title among Spaniards and Italians; it
+don't mean anything. The prince of darkness never lives in the places
+called by his name; he likes baptized cities better."
+
+"Death lives there, however; and I brought you down here to cure you."
+
+"I'm all right. See how much stronger I am! I shall soon be quite well
+again, old man," answered Carl, with the strange, sanguine faith of the
+consumptive.
+
+The next day Deal worked very hard. He had a curious, inflexible,
+possibly narrow kind of conscience, which required him to do double duty
+to-day in order to make up for the holiday granted to Carl to-morrow.
+There was no task-master over him; even the seasons were not
+task-masters here. But so immovable were his own rules for himself that
+nothing could have induced him to abate one jot of the task he had laid
+out in his own mind when he started afield at dawn.
+
+When he returned home at sunset, somewhat later than usual, Carl was
+absent. Old Scipio could give no information; he had not seen "young
+marse" since early morning. Deal put up his tools, ate something, and
+then, with a flask in his pocket, a fagot of light-wood torches bound on
+his back, and one of these brilliant, natural flambeaux in his hand, he
+started away on his search, going down one of the orange-aisles, the
+light gleaming back through the arch till he reached the far end, when
+it disappeared. He crossed an old indigo-field, and pushed his way
+through its hedge of Spanish-bayonets, while the cacti sown along the
+hedge--small, flat green plates with white spines, like hideous tufted
+insects--fastened themselves viciously on the strong leather of his high
+boots. Then, reaching the sugar waste, he advanced a short distance on
+the old causeway, knelt down, and in the light of the torch examined its
+narrow, sandy level. Yes, there were the footprints he had feared to
+find. Carl had gone again into the poisonous swamp--the beautiful,
+deadly South Devil. And this time he had not come back.
+
+The elder brother rose, and with the torch held downward slowly traced
+the footmarks. There was a path, or rather trail, leading in a short
+distance. The footprints followed it as far as it went, and the brother
+followed the footprints, the red glare of the torch foreshortening each
+swollen, gray-white cypress-trunk, and giving to the dark, hidden pools
+below bright gleamings which they never had by day. He soon came to the
+end of the trail; here he stopped and shouted loudly several times, with
+pauses between for answer. No answer came.
+
+"But I know the trick of this thick air," he said to himself. "One can't
+hear anything in a cypress-swamp."
+
+He was now obliged to search closely for the footprints, pausing at each
+one, having no idea in which direction the next would tend. The soil did
+not hold the impressions well; it was not mud or mire, but wet, spongy,
+fibrous, black earth, thinly spread over the hard roots of trees, which
+protruded in distorted shapes in every direction. He traced what seemed
+footmarks across an open space, and then lost them on the brink of a
+dark pool. If Carl had kept on, he must have crossed this pool; but how?
+On the sharp cypress-knees standing sullenly in the claret-colored
+water? He went all around the open space again, seeking for footmarks
+elsewhere; but no, they ended at the edge of the pool. Cutting a long
+stick, he made his way across by its aid, stepping from knee-point to
+knee-point. On the other side he renewed his search for the trail, and
+after some labor found it, and went on again.
+
+He toiled forward slowly in this way a long time, his course changing
+often; Carl's advance seemed to have been aimless. Then, suddenly, the
+footprints ceased. There was not another one visible anywhere, though he
+searched in all directions again and again. He looked at his watch; it
+was midnight. He hallooed; no reply. What could have become of the lad?
+He now began to feel his own fatigue; after the long day of toil in the
+hot sun, these hours of laboring over the ground in a bent position,
+examining it inch by inch, brought on pains in his shoulders and back.
+Planting the torch he was carrying in the soft soil of a little knoll,
+he placed another one near it, and sat down between the two flames to
+rest for a minute or two, pouring out for himself a little brandy in the
+bottom of the cup belonging to his flask. He kept strict watch as he did
+this. Venomous things, large and small, filled the vines above, and
+might drop at any moment upon him. But he had quick eyes and ears, and
+no intention of dying in the South Devil; so, while he watched keenly,
+he took the time to swallow the brandy. After a moment or two he was
+startled by a weak human voice saying, with faint decision, "_That's_
+brandy!"
+
+"I should say it was," called Deal, springing to his feet "Where are
+you, then?"
+
+"Here."
+
+The rescuer followed the sound, and, after one or two errors, came upon
+the body of his brother lying on a dank mat of water-leaves and
+ground-vines at the edge of a pool. In the red light of the torch he
+looked as though he was dead; his eyes only were alive.
+
+"Brandy," he said again, faintly, as Deal appeared.
+
+After he had swallowed a small quantity of the stimulant, he revived
+with unexpected swiftness.
+
+"I have been shouting for you not fifty feet away," said Deal; "how is
+it that you did not hear?" Then in the same breath, in a soft undertone,
+he added, "Ah-h-h-h!" and without stirring a hair's breadth from where
+he stood, or making an unnecessary motion, he slowly drew forth his
+pistol, took careful aim, and fired. He was behind his brother, who lay
+with closed eyes, not noticing the action.
+
+"What have you killed?" asked Carl languidly. "I've seen nothing but
+birds; and the most beautiful ones, too."
+
+"A moccasin, that's all," said Deal, kicking the dead creature into the
+pool. He did not add that the snake was coiled for a spring. "Let us get
+back to the little knoll where I was, Carl; it's drier there."
+
+"I don't think I can walk, old man. I fell from the vines up there, and
+something's the matter with my ankles."
+
+"Well, I can carry you that distance," said Deal. "Put your arms around
+my neck, and raise yourself as I lift you--so."
+
+The burning flambeau on the knoll served as a guide, and, after one or
+two pauses, owing to the treacherous footing, the elder brother
+succeeded in carrying the other thither. He then took off the light
+woolen coat he had put on before entering the swamp, spread it over the
+driest part of the little knoll, and laid Carl upon it.
+
+"If you can not walk," he said, "we shall have to wait here until
+daylight. I could not carry you and the torch also; and the footing is
+bad--there are twenty pools to cross, or go around. Fortunately, we have
+light-wood enough to burn all night."
+
+He lit fresh torches and arranged them at the four corners of their
+little knoll; then he began to pace slowly to and fro, like a picket
+walking his beat.
+
+"What were you doing up among those vines?" he asked. He knew that it
+would be better for them both if they could keep themselves awake; those
+who fell asleep in the night air of South Devil generally awoke the next
+morning in another world.
+
+"I climbed up a ladder of vines to gather some of the great red blossoms
+swinging in the air; and, once up, I went along on the mat to see what I
+could find. It's beautiful there--fairy-land. You can't see anything
+down below, but above the long moss hangs in fine, silvery lines like
+spray from ever so high up, and mixed with it air-plants, sheafs, and
+bells of scarlet and cream-colored blossoms. I sat there a long time
+looking, and I suppose I must have dozed; for I don't know when I fell."
+
+"You did not hear me shout?"
+
+"No. The first consciousness I had was the odor of brandy."
+
+"The odor reached you, and the sound did not; that is one of the tricks
+of such air as this! You must have climbed up, I suppose, at the place
+where I lost the trail. What time did you come in?"
+
+"I don't know," murmured Carl drowsily.
+
+"Look here! you _must_ keep awake!"
+
+"I can't," answered the other.
+
+Deal shook him, but could not rouse him even to anger. He only opened
+his blue eyes and looked reproachfully at his brother, but as though he
+was a long distance off. Then Deal lifted him up, uncorked the flask,
+and put it to his lips.
+
+"Drink!" he said, loudly and sternly; and mechanically Carl obeyed. Once
+or twice his head moved aside, as if refusing more; but Deal again said,
+"Drink!" and without pity made the sleeper swallow every drop the flask
+contained. Then he laid him down upon the coat again, and covered his
+face and head with his own broad-brimmed palmetto hat, Carl's hat having
+been lost. He had done all he could--changed the lethargy of the South
+Devil into the sleep of drunkenness, the last named at least a human
+slumber. He was now left to keep the watch alone.
+
+During the first half hour a dozen red and green things, of the
+centipede and scorpion kind, stupefied by the glare of the torches, fell
+from the trees; and he dispatched them. Next, enormous grayish-white
+spiders, in color exactly like the bark, moved slowly one furred leg
+into view, and then another, on the trunks of the cypresses near by,
+gradually coming wholly into the light--creatures covering a
+circumference as large as that of a plate. At length the cypresses all
+around the knoll were covered with them; and they all seemed to be
+watching him. He was not watching the spiders, however; he cared very
+little for the spiders. His eyes were upon the ground all the time,
+moving along the borders of his little knoll-fort. It was bounded on two
+sides by pools, in whose dark depths he knew moccasins were awake,
+watching the light, too, with whatever of curiosity belongs to a snake's
+cold brain. His torches aroused them; and yet darkness would have been
+worse. In the light he could at least see them, if they glided forth and
+tried to ascend the brilliant knoll. After a while they began to rise to
+the surface; he could distinguish portions of their bodies in waving
+lines, moving noiselessly hither and thither, appearing and disappearing
+suddenly, until the pools around seemed alive with them. There was not a
+sound; the soaked forest stood motionless. The absolute stillness made
+the quick gliding motions of the moccasins even more horrible. Yet Deal
+had no instinctive dread of snakes. The terrible "coach-whip," the
+deadly and grotesque spread-adder, the rattlesnake of the barrens, and
+these great moccasins of the pools were endowed with no imaginary
+horrors in his eyes. He accepted them as nature made them, and not as
+man's fancy painted them; it was only their poison-fangs he feared.
+
+"If the sea-crab could sting, how hideous we should think him! If the
+lobster had a deadly venom, how devilish his shape would seem to us!" he
+said.
+
+But now no imagination was required to make the moccasins terrible. His
+revolver carried six balls; and he had already used one of them. Four
+hours must pass before dawn; there could be no unnecessary shooting. The
+creatures might even come out and move along the edge of his knoll; only
+when they showed an intention of coming up the slope must their gliding
+life be ended. The moccasin is not a timorous or quick-nerved snake; in
+a place like the South Devil, when a human foot or boat approaches,
+generally he does not stir. His great body, sometimes over six feet in
+length, and thick and fat in the middle, lies on a log or at the edge of
+a pool, seemingly too lazy to move. But none the less, when roused, is
+his coil sudden and his long spring sure; his venom is deadly. After a
+time one of the creatures did come out and glide along the edge of the
+knoll. He went back into the water; but a second came out on the other
+side. During the night Deal killed three; he was an excellent marksman,
+and picked them off easily as they crossed his dead-line.
+
+"Fortunately they come one by one," he said to himself. "If there was
+any concert of action among them, I couldn't hold the place a minute."
+
+As the last hour began, the long hour before dawn, he felt the swamp
+lethargy stealing into his own brain; he saw the trees and torches
+doubled. He walked to and fro more quickly, and sang to keep himself
+awake. He knew only a few old-fashioned songs, and the South Devil
+heard that night, probably for the first time in its tropical life, the
+ancient Northern strains of "Gayly the Troubadour touched his Guitar."
+Deal was no troubadour, and he had no guitar. But he sang on bravely,
+touching that stringed instrument, vocally at least, and bringing
+himself "home from the war" over and over again, until at last faint
+dawn penetrated from above down to the knoll where the four torches were
+burning. They were the last torches, and Deal was going through his
+sixtieth rehearsal of the "Troubadour"; but, instead of "Lady-love,
+lady-lo-o-o-ve," whom he apostrophized, a large moccasin rose from the
+pool, as if in answer. She might have been the queen of the moccasins,
+and beautiful--to moccasin eyes; but to Deal she was simply the largest
+and most hideous of all the snake-visions of the night. He gave her his
+fifth ball, full in her mistaken brain; and, if she had admired him (or
+the "Troubadour"), she paid for it with her life.
+
+This was the last. Daylight appeared. The watchman put out his torches
+and roused the sleeper. "Carl! Carl! It's daylight. Let us get out of
+this confounded crawling hole, and have a breath of fresh air."
+
+Carl stirred, and opened his eyes; they were heavy and dull. His brother
+lifted him, told him to hold on tightly, and started with his burden
+toward home. The snakes had disappeared, the gray spiders had vanished;
+he could see his way now, and he followed his own trail, which he had
+taken care to make distinct when he came in the night before. But,
+loaded down as he was, and obliged to rest frequently, and also to go
+around all the pools, hours passed before he reached the last cypresses
+and came out on the old causeway across the sugar-waste.
+
+It was Christmas morning; the thermometer stood at eighty-eight.
+
+Carl slept off his enforced drunkenness in his hammock. Mark, having
+bandaged his brother's strained ankles, threw himself upon his rude
+couch, and fell into a heavy slumber also. He slept until sunset; then
+he rose, plunged his head into a tub of the limpid, pure, but never cold
+water of Florida, drawn from his shallow well, and went out to the
+chimney to see about dinner. The chimney was doing finely: a fiery plume
+of sparks waved from its white top, a red bed of coals glowed below.
+Scip moved about with as much equanimity as though he had a row of
+kitchen-tables upon which to arrange his pans and dishes, instead of
+ruined blocks of stone, under the open sky. The dinner was good. Carl,
+awake at last, was carried out to the table to enjoy it, and then
+brought back to his chair in front of the house to smoke his evening
+pipe.
+
+"I must make you a pair of crutches," said Deal.
+
+"One will do; my right ankle is not much hurt, I think."
+
+The fall, the air of the swamp, and the inward drenching of brandy had
+left Carl looking much as usual; the tenacious disease that held him
+swallowed the lesser ills. But for the time, at least, his wandering
+footsteps were staid.
+
+"I suppose there is no use in my asking, Carl, _why_ you went in there?"
+said Deal, after a while.
+
+"No, there isn't. I'm haunted--that's all."
+
+"But what is it that haunts you?"
+
+"Sounds. _You_ couldn't understand, though, if I was to talk all night."
+
+"Perhaps I could; perhaps I can understand more than you imagine. I'll
+tell you a story presently; but first you must explain to me, at least
+as well as you can, what it is that attracts you in South Devil."
+
+"Oh--well," said Carl, with a long, impatient sigh, closing his eyes
+wearily. "I am a musician, you know, a musician _manqué_; a musician who
+can't play. Something's the matter; I _hear_ music, but can not bring it
+out. And I know so well what it ought to be, ought to be and isn't, that
+I've broken my violin in pieces a dozen times in my rages about it. Now,
+other fellows in orchestras, who _don't_ know, get along very well. But
+I couldn't. I've thought at times that, although I can not sound what I
+hear with my own hands, perhaps I could _write_ it out so that other men
+could sound it. The idea has never come to anything definite yet--that
+is, what _you_ would call definite; but it haunts me persistently, and
+_now_ it has got into that swamp. The wish," here Carl laid down his
+great pipe, and pressed his hand eagerly upon his brother's knee--"the
+wish that haunts me--drives me--is to write out the beautiful music of
+the South Devil, the sounds one hears in there"--
+
+"But there are no sounds."
+
+"No sounds? You must be deaf! The air fairly reeks with sounds, with
+harmonies. But there--I told you you couldn't understand." He leaned
+back against the wall again, and took up the great pipe, which looked as
+though it must consume whatever small store of strength remained to him.
+
+"Is it what is called an opera you want to write, like--like the
+'Creation,' for instance?" asked Deal. The "Creation" was the only long
+piece of music he had ever heard.
+
+Carl groaned. "Oh, _don't_ talk of it!" he said; then added, irritably,
+"It's a song, that's all--the song of a Southern swamp."
+
+"Call it by it's real name, Devil," said the elder brother, grimly.
+
+"I would, if I was rich enough to have a picture painted--the Spirit of
+the Swamp--a beautiful woman, falsely called a devil by cowards, dark,
+languorous, mystical, sleeping among the vines I saw up there, with the
+great red blossoms dropping around her."
+
+"And the great mottled snakes coiling over her?"
+
+"I didn't see any snakes."
+
+"Well," said Mark, refilling his pipe, "now I'm going to tell you _my_
+story. When I met you on that windy pier at Exton, and proposed that you
+should come down here with me, I was coming myself, in any case, wasn't
+I? And why? I wanted to get to a place where I could be warm--warm, hot,
+baked; warm through and through; warm all the time. I wanted to get to
+a place where the very ground was warm. And _now_--I'll tell you why."
+
+He rose from his seat, laid down his pipe, and, extending his hand,
+spoke for about fifteen minutes without pause. Then he turned, went back
+hastily to the old chimney, where red coals still lingered, and sat down
+close to the glow, leaving Carl wonder-struck in his tilted chair. The
+elder man leaned over the fire and held his hands close to the coals;
+Carl watched him. It was nine o'clock, and the thermometer marked
+eighty.
+
+For nearly a month after Christmas, life on the old plantation went on
+without event or disaster. Carl, with his crutch and cane, could not
+walk far; his fancy now was to limp through the east orange-aisle to the
+place of tombs, and sit there for hours, playing softly, what might be
+called crooning, on his violin. The place of tombs was a small, circular
+space surrounded by wild orange-trees in a close, even row, like a
+hedge; here were four tombs, massive, oblong blocks of the white
+conglomerate of the coast, too coarse-grained to hold inscription or
+mark of any kind. Who the old Spaniards were whose bones lay beneath,
+and what names they bore in the flesh, no one knew; all record was lost.
+Outside in the wild thicket was a tomb still more ancient, and of
+different construction: four slabs of stone, uncovered, about three feet
+high, rudely but firmly placed, as though inclosing a coffin. In the
+earth between these low walls grew a venerable cedar; but, old as it
+was, it must have been planted by chance or by hand after the human body
+beneath had been laid in its place.
+
+"Why do you come here?" said Deal, pausing and looking into the place of
+tombs, one morning, on his way to the orange-grove. "There are plenty of
+pleasanter spots about."
+
+"No; I like this better," answered Carl, without stopping the low chant
+of his violin. "Besides, they like it too."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"The old fellows down below. The chap outside there, who must have been
+an Aztec, I suppose, and the original proprietor, catches a little of
+it; but I generally limp over and give him a tune to himself before
+going home. I have to imagine the Aztec style."
+
+Mark gave a short laugh, and went on to his work. But he knew the real
+reason for Carl's fancy for the place; between the slim, clean trunks of
+the orange-trees, the long green line of South Devil bounded the
+horizon, the flat tops of the cypresses far above against the sky, and
+the vines and silver moss filling the space below--a luxuriant wall
+across the broad, thinly-treed expanses of the pine barrens.
+
+One evening in January Deal came homeward as usual at sunset, and found
+a visitor. Carl introduced him. "My friend Schwartz," he said. Schwartz
+merited his name; he was dark in complexion, hair, and eyes, and if he
+had any aims they were dark also. He was full of anecdotes and jests,
+and Carl laughed heartily; Mark had never heard him laugh in that way
+before. The elder brother ordered a good supper, and played the host as
+well as he could; but, in spite of the anecdotes, he did not altogether
+like friend Schwartz. Early the next morning, while the visitor was
+still asleep, he called Carl outside, and asked in an undertone who he
+was.
+
+"Oh, I met him first in Berlin, and afterward I knew him in New York,"
+said Carl. "All the orchestra fellows know Schwartz."
+
+"Is he a musician, then?"
+
+"Not exactly; but he used to be always around, you know."
+
+"How comes he down here?"
+
+"Just chance. He had an offer from a sort of a--of a restaurant, up in
+San Miguel, a new place recently opened. The other day he happened to
+find out that I was here, and so came down to see me."
+
+"How did he find out?"
+
+"I suppose you gave our names to the agent when you took the place,
+didn't you?"
+
+"I gave mine; and--yes, I think I mentioned you."
+
+"If you didn't, I mentioned myself. I was at San Miguel, two weeks you
+remember, while you were making ready down here; and I venture to say
+almost everybody remembers Carl Brenner."
+
+Mark smiled. Carl's fixed, assured self-conceit in the face of the utter
+failure he had made of his life did not annoy, but rather amused him; it
+seemed part of the lad's nature.
+
+"I don't want to grudge you your amusement, Carl," he said; "but I don't
+much like this Schwartz of yours."
+
+"He won't stay; he has to go back to-day. He came in a cart with a man
+from San Miguel, who, by some rare chance, had an errand down this
+forgotten, God-forsaken, dead-alive old road. The man will pass by on
+his way home this afternoon, and Schwartz is to meet him at the edge of
+the barren."
+
+"Have an early dinner, then; there are birds and venison, and there is
+lettuce enough for a salad. Scip can make you some coffee."
+
+But, although he thus proffered his best, none the less did the elder
+brother take with him the key of the little chest which contained his
+small store of brandy and the two or three bottles of orange wine which
+he had brought down with him from San Miguel.
+
+After he had gone, Schwartz and Carl strolled around the plantation in
+the sunshine. Schwartz did not care to sit down among Carl's tombs; he
+said they made him feel moldy. Carl argued the point with him in vain,
+and then gave it up, and took him around to the causeway across the
+sugar-waste, where they stretched themselves out in the shade cast by
+the ruined wall of the old mill.
+
+"What brought this brother of yours away down here?" asked the visitor,
+watching a chameleon on the wall near by. "See that little beggar
+swelling out his neck!"
+
+"He's catching flies. In a storm they will come and hang themselves by
+one paw on our windows, and the wind will blow them out like dead
+leaves, and rattle them about, and they'll never move. But, when the
+sun shines out, there they are all alive again."
+
+"But about your brother?"
+
+"He isn't my brother."
+
+"What?"
+
+"My mother, a widow, named Brenner, with one son, Carl, married his
+father, a widower, named Deal, with one son, Mark. There you have the
+whole."
+
+"He is a great deal older than you. I suppose he has been in the habit
+of assisting you?"
+
+"Never saw him in my life until this last October, when, one windy day,
+he found me coughing on the Exton pier; and, soon afterward, he brought
+me down here."
+
+"Came, then, on your account?"
+
+"By no means; he was coming himself. It's a queer story; I'll tell it to
+you. It seems he went with the Kenton Arctic expedition--you remember
+it? Two of the ships were lost; his was one. But I'll have to get up and
+say it as he did." Here Carl rose, put down his pipe, extended one hand
+stiffly in a fixed position, and went on speaking, his very voice, by
+force of the natural powers of mimicry he possessed, sounding like
+Mark's:
+
+"We were a company of eight when we started away from the frozen hulk,
+which would never see clear water under her bows again. Once before we
+had started, thirty-five strong, and had come back thirteen. Five had
+died in the old ship, and now the last survivors were again starting
+forth. We drew a sledge behind us, carrying our provisions and the
+farcical records of the expedition which had ended in death, as they
+must all end. We soon lose sight of the vessel. It was our only shelter,
+and we look back; then, at each other. 'Cheer up!' says one. 'Take this
+extra skin, Mark; I am stronger than you.' It's Proctor's voice that
+speaks. Ten days go by. There are only five of us now, and we are
+walking on doggedly across the ice, the numbing ice, the killing ice,
+the never-ending, gleaming, taunting, devilish ice. We have left the
+sledge behind. No trouble now for each to carry his share of food, it is
+so light. Now we walk together for a while; now we separate, sick of
+seeing one another's pinched faces, but we keep within call. On the
+eleventh day a wind rises; bergs come sailing into view. One moves down
+upon us. Its peak shining in the sunshine far above is nothing to the
+great mass that moves on under the water. Our ice-field breaks into a
+thousand pieces. We leap from block to block; we cry aloud in our
+despair; we call to each other, and curse, and pray. But the strips of
+dark water widen between us; our ice-islands grow smaller; and a current
+bears us onward. We can no longer keep in motion, and freeze as we
+stand. Two float near each other as darkness falls; 'Cheer up, Mark,
+cheer up!' cries one, and throws his flask across the gap between. Again
+it is Proctor's voice that speaks.
+
+"In the morning only one is left alive. The others are blocks of ice,
+and float around in the slow eddy, each solemnly staring, one foot
+advanced, as if still keeping up the poor cramped steps with which he
+had fought off death. The one who is still alive floats around and
+around, with these dead men standing stiffly on their islands, all day,
+sometimes so near them that the air about him is stirred by their icy
+forms as they pass. At evening his cake drifts away through an opening
+toward the south, and he sees them no more, save that after him follows
+his dead friend, Proctor, at some distance behind. As night comes, the
+figure seems to wave its rigid hand in the distance, and cry from its
+icy throat, 'Cheer up, Mark, and good-by!'"
+
+Here Carl stopped, rubbed his hands, shivered, and looked to see how his
+visitor took the narrative.
+
+"It's a pretty cold story," said Schwartz, "even in this broiling sun.
+So he came down here to get a good, full warm, did he? He's got the
+cash, I suppose, to pay for his fancies."
+
+"I don't call that a fancy, exactly," said Carl, seating himself on the
+hot white sand in the sunshine, with his thin hands clasped around his
+knees. "As to cash--I don't know. He works very hard."
+
+"He works because he likes it," said Schwartz, contemptuously; "he looks
+like that sort of a man. But, at any rate, he don't make _you_ work
+much!"
+
+"He _is_ awfully good to me," admitted Carl.
+
+"It isn't on account of your beauty."
+
+"Oh, I'm good looking enough in my way," replied the youth. "I
+acknowledge it isn't a common way; like yours, for instance." As he
+spoke, he passed his hand through his thin light hair, drew the ends of
+the long locks forward, and examined them admiringly.
+
+"As he never saw you before, it couldn't have been brotherly love,"
+pursued the other. "I suppose it was pity."
+
+"No, it wasn't pity, either, you old blockhead," said Carl, laughing.
+"He _likes_ to have me with him; he _likes_ me."
+
+"I see that myself, and that's exactly the point. Why should he? You
+haven't any inheritance to will to him, have you?"
+
+"My violin, and the clothes on my back. I believe that's all," answered
+Carl, lightly. He took off his palmetto hat, made a pillow of it, and
+stretched himself out at full length, closing his eyes.
+
+"Well, give _me_ a brother with cash, and I'll go to sleep, too," said
+Schwartz. When Deal came home at sunset, the dark-skinned visitor was
+gone.
+
+But he came again; and this time stayed three days. Mark allowed it, for
+Carl's sake. All he said was, "He can not be of much use in the
+restaurant up there. What is he? Cook? Or waiter?"
+
+"Oh, Schwartz isn't a servant, old fellow. He helps entertain the
+guests."
+
+"Sings, I suppose."
+
+Carl did not reply, and Deal set Schwartz down as a lager-beer-hall
+ballad-singer, borne southward on the tide of winter travel to Florida.
+One advantage at least was gained--when Schwartz was there, Carl was
+less tempted by the swamp.
+
+And now, a third time, the guest came. During the first evening of this
+third visit, he was so good-tempered, so frankly lazy and amusing, that
+even Deal was disarmed. "He's a good-for-nothing, probably; but there's
+no active harm in him," he said to himself.
+
+The second evening was a repetition of the first.
+
+When he came home at sunset on the third evening, Carl was lying coiled
+up close to the wall of the house, his face hidden in his arms.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said Deal, as he passed by, on his way to
+put up the tools.
+
+No answer. But Carl had all kinds of whims, and Deal was used to them.
+He went across to Scip's chimney.
+
+"Awful time, cap'en," said the old negro, in a low voice. "Soon's you's
+gone, dat man make young marse drink, and bot' begin to holler and
+fight."
+
+"Drink? They had no liquor."
+
+"Yes, dey hab. Mus' hab brought 'em 'long."
+
+"Where is the man?"
+
+"Oh, he gone long ago--gone at noon."
+
+Deal went to his brother. "Carl," he said, "get up. Dinner is ready."
+But the coiled form did not stir.
+
+"Don't be a fool," continued Deal. "I know you've been drinking; Scip
+told me. It's a pity. But no reason why you should not eat."
+
+Carl did not move. Deal went off to his dinner, and sent some to Carl.
+But the food remained untasted. Then Deal passed into the house to get
+some tobacco for his pipe. Then a loud cry was heard. The hiding-place
+which his Yankee fingers had skillfully fashioned in the old wall had
+been rifled; all his money was gone. No one knew the secret of the spot
+but Carl.
+
+"Did he overpower you and take it?" he asked, kneeling down and lifting
+Carl by force, so that he could see his face.
+
+"No; I gave it to him," Carl answered, thickly and slowly.
+
+"You _gave_ it to him?"
+
+"I lost it--at cards."
+
+"_Cards_!"
+
+Deal had never thought of that. All at once the whole flashed upon him:
+the gambler who was always "around" with the "orchestra fellows"; the
+"restaurant" at San Miguel where he helped "entertain" the guests; the
+probability that business was slack in the ancient little town,
+unaccustomed to such luxuries; and the treasure-trove of an old
+acquaintance within a day's journey--an old acquaintance like Carl, who
+had come also into happy possession of a rich brother. A rich
+brother!--probably that was what Schwartz called him!
+
+At any rate, rich or poor, Schwartz had it all. With the exception of
+one hundred dollars which he had left at San Miguel as a deposit, he had
+now only five dollars in the world; Carl had gambled away his all.
+
+It was a hard blow.
+
+He lifted his brother in his arms and carried him in to his hammock. A
+few minutes later, staff in hand, he started down the live-oak avenue
+toward the old road which led northward to San Miguel. The moonlight was
+brilliant; he walked all night. At dawn he was searching the little
+city.
+
+Yes, the man was known there. He frequented the Esmeralda Parlors. The
+Esmeralda Parlors, however, represented by an attendant, a Northern
+mulatto, with straight features, long, narrow eyes, and pale-golden
+skin, a bronze piece of insolence, who was also more faultlessly dressed
+than any one else in San Miguel, suavely replied that Schwartz was no
+longer one of their "guests"; he had severed his connection with the
+Parlors several days before. Where was he? The Parlors had no idea.
+
+But the men about the docks knew. Schwartz had been seen the previous
+evening negotiating passage at the last moment on a coasting schooner
+bound South--one of those nondescript little craft engaged in smuggling
+and illegal trading, with which the waters of the West Indies are
+infested. The schooner had made her way out of the harbor by moonlight.
+Although ostensibly bound for Key West, no one could say with any
+certainty that she would touch there; bribed by Schwartz, with all the
+harbors, inlets, and lagoons of the West Indies open to her, pursuit
+would be worse than hopeless. Deal realized this. He ate the food he had
+brought with him, drank a cup of coffee, called for his deposit, and
+then walked back to the plantation.
+
+When he came into the little plaza, Carl was sitting on the steps of
+their small house. His head was clear again; he looked pale and wasted.
+
+"It's all right," said Deal. "I've traced him. In the mean time, don't
+worry, Carl. If I don't mind it, why should you?"
+
+Without saying more, he went inside, changed his shoes, then came out,
+ordered dinner, talked to Scip, and when the meal was ready called Carl,
+and took his place at the table as though nothing had happened. Carl
+scarcely spoke; Deal approved his silence. He felt so intensely for the
+lad, realized so strongly what he must be feeling--suffering and
+feeling--that conversation on the subject would have been at that early
+moment unendurable. But waking during the night, and hearing him
+stirring, uneasy, and apparently feverish, he went across to the
+hammock.
+
+"You are worrying about it, Carl, and you are not strong enough to stand
+worry. Look here--I have forgiven you; I would forgive you twice as
+much. Have you no idea why I brought you down here with me?"
+
+"Because you're kind-hearted. And perhaps, too, you thought it would be
+lonely," answered Carl.
+
+"No, I'm not kind-hearted, and I never was lonely in my life. I didn't
+intend to tell you, but--you _must not_ worry. It is your name, Carl,
+and--and your blue eyes. I was fond of Eliza."
+
+"Fond of Leeza--Leeza Brenner? Then why on earth didn't you marry her?"
+said Carl, sitting up in his hammock, and trying to see his
+step-brother's face in the moonlight that came through the chinks in the
+shutters.
+
+Mark's face was in shadow. "She liked some one else better," he said.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Never mind. But--yes, I will tell you--Graves."
+
+"John Graves? That dunce? No, she didn't."
+
+"As it happens, I know she did. But we won't talk about it. I only told
+you to show you why I cared for you."
+
+"_I_ wouldn't care about a girl that didn't care for me," said Carl,
+still peering curiously through the checkered darkness. The wizened
+young violin-player fancied himself an omnipotent power among women. But
+Deal had gone to his bed, and would say no more.
+
+Carl had heard something now which deeply astonished him. He had not
+been much troubled about the lost money; it was not in his nature to be
+much troubled about money at any time. He was sorry; but what was gone
+was gone; why waste thought upon it? This he called philosophy. Mark,
+out of regard for Carl's supposed distress, had forbidden conversation
+on the subject; but he was not shutting out, as he thought, torrents of
+shame, remorse, and self-condemnation. Carl kept silence willingly
+enough; but, even if the bar had been removed, he would have had little
+to say. During the night his head had ached, and he had had some fever;
+but it was more the effect of the fiery, rank liquor pressed upon him by
+Schwartz than of remorse. But _now_ he had heard what really interested
+and aroused him. Mark in love!--hard-working, steady, dull old Mark,
+whom he had thought endowed with no fancies at all, save perhaps that of
+being thoroughly warmed after his arctic freezing. Old Mark fond of
+Leeza--in love with Leeza!
+
+Leeza wasn't much. Carl did not even think his cousin pretty; his fancy
+was for something large and Oriental. But, pretty or not, she had
+evidently fascinated Mark Deal, coming, a poor little orphan maid, with
+her aunt, Carl's mother, to brighten old Abner Deal's farm-house, one
+mile from the windy Exton pier. Carl's mother could not hope to keep her
+German son in this new home; but she kept little Leeza, or Eliza, as the
+neighbors called her. And Mark, a shy, awkward boy, had learned to love
+the child, who had sweet blue eyes, and thick braids of flaxen hair
+fastened across the back of her head.
+
+"To care all that for Leeza!" thought Carl, laughing silently in his
+hammock. "And then to fancy that she liked that Graves! And then to
+leave her, and come away off down here, just on the suspicion!"
+
+But Carl was mistaken. A man, be he never so awkward and silent, will
+generally make at least one effort to get the woman he loves. Mark had
+made two, and failed. After his first, he had gone North; after his
+second, he had come South, bringing Leeza's cousin with him.
+
+In the morning a new life began on the old plantation. First, Scipio was
+dismissed; then the hunter who had kept the open-air larder supplied
+with game, an old man of unknown, or rather mixed descent, having
+probably Spanish, African, and Seminole blood in his veins, was told
+that his services were required no more.
+
+"But are you going to starve us, then?" asked Carl, with a comical
+grimace.
+
+"I am a good shot, myself," replied Deal; "and a fair cook, too."
+
+"But _why_ do you do it?" pursued the other. He had forgotten all about
+the money.
+
+The elder man looked at his brother. Could it be possible that he had
+forgotten? And, if he had, was it not necessary, in their altered
+circumstances, that the truth should be brought plainly before his
+careless eyes?
+
+"I am obliged to do it," he answered, gravely. "We must be very saving,
+Carl. Things will be easier, I hope, when the fields begin to yield."
+
+"Good heavens, you don't mean to say I took all you had!" said Carl,
+with an intonation showing that the fact that the abstracted sum was
+"all" was impressing him more than any agency of his own in the matter.
+
+"I told you I did not mind it," answered Mark, going off with his gun
+and game-bag.
+
+"But _I_ do, by Jove!" said Carl to himself, watching him disappear.
+
+Musicians, in this world's knowledge and wisdom, are often fools, or
+rather they remain always children. The beautiful gift, the divine gift,
+the gift which is the nearest to heaven, is accompanied by lacks of
+another sort. Carl Brenner, like a child, could not appreciate poverty
+unless his dinner was curtailed, his tobacco gone. The petty changes now
+made in the small routine of each day touched him acutely, and roused
+him at last to the effort of connected, almost practical thought. Old
+Mark was troubled--poor. The cook was going, the hunter discharged; the
+dinners would be good no longer. This was because he, Carl, had taken
+the money. There was no especial harm in the act _per se_; but, as the
+sum happened to be all old Mark had, it was unfortunate. Under the
+circumstances, what could he, Carl, do to help old Mark?
+
+Mark loved that light-headed little Leeza. Mark had brought him down
+here and taken care of him on Leeza's account. Mark, therefore, should
+have Leeza. He, Carl, would bring it about. He set to work at once to be
+special providence in Mark's affairs. He sat down, wrote a long letter,
+sealed it with a stern air, and then laid it on the table, got up, and
+surveyed it with decision. There it was--done! Gone! But no; not "gone"
+yet. And how could it go? He was now confronted by the difficulty of
+mailing it without Mark's knowledge. San Miguel was the nearest
+post-office; and San Miguel was miles away. Africanus was half
+crippled; the old hunter would come no more; he himself could not walk
+half the distance. Then an idea came to him: Africanus, although
+dismissed, was not yet gone. He went out to find him.
+
+Mark came home at night with a few birds. "They will last us over one
+day," he said, throwing down the spoil. "You still here, Scip? I thought
+I sent you off."
+
+"He's going to-morrow," interposed Carl. Scip sat up all night cooking.
+
+"What in the world has got into him?" said Deal, as the light from the
+old chimney made their sleeping-room bright.
+
+"He wants to leave us well supplied, I suppose," said Carl, from his
+hammock. "Things keep better down here when they're cooked, you know."
+This was true; but it was unusual for Carl to interest himself in such
+matters.
+
+The next morning Deal started on a hunting expedition, intending to be
+absent two days. Game was plenty in the high lands farther west. He had
+good luck, and came back at the end of the second day loaded, having
+left also several caches behind to be visited on the morrow. But there
+was no one in the house, or on the plantation; both Scip and Carl were
+gone.
+
+A slip of paper was pinned to the red cotton door. It contained these
+words: "It's all right, old fellow. If I'm not back at the end of three
+days, counting this as one, come into South Devil after me. You'll find
+a trail."
+
+"Confound the boy!" said Deal, in high vexation. "He's crazy." He took a
+torch, went to the causeway, and there saw from the foot-prints that two
+had crossed. "Scip went with him," he thought, somewhat comforted. "The
+old black rascal used to declare that he knew every inch of the swamp."
+He went back, cooked his supper, and slept. In the matter of provisions,
+there was little left save what he kept under lock and key. Scipio had
+started with a good supply. At dawn he rose, made a fire under the old
+chimney, cooked some venison, baked some corn-bread, and, placing them
+in his bag, started into South Devil, a bundle of torches slung on his
+back as before, his gun in his hand, his revolver and knife in his belt.
+"They have already been gone two days," he said to himself; "they must
+be coming toward home, now." He thought Carl was carrying out his
+cherished design of exploring the swamp. There was a trail--hatchet
+marks on the trees, and broken boughs. "That's old Scip. Carl would
+never have been so systematic," he thought.
+
+He went on until noon, and then suddenly found himself on the bank of a
+sluggish stream. "The Branch," he said--"South Devil Branch. It joins
+West Devil, and the two make the San Juan Bautista (a queer origin for a
+saint!) three miles below Miguel. But where does the trail go now?" It
+went nowhere. He searched and searched, and could not find it. It ended
+at the Branch. Standing there in perplexity, he happened to raise his
+eyes. Small attention had he hitherto paid to the tangled vines and
+blossoms swinging above him. He hated the beauty of South Devil. But now
+he saw a slip of paper hanging from a vine, and, seizing it, he read as
+follows: "We take boat here; wait for me if not returned."
+
+Mark stood, the paper in his hand, thinking. There was only one boat in
+the neighborhood, a canoe belonging to the mongrel old hunter, who
+occasionally went into the swamp. Carl must have obtained this in some
+way; probably the mongrel had brought it in by the Branch, or one of its
+tributaries, and this was the rendezvous. One comfort--the old hunter
+must then be of the party, too. But why should he, Mark, wait, if Carl
+had two persons with him? Still, the boy had asked. It ended in his
+waiting.
+
+He began to prepare for the night. There was a knoll near by, and here
+he made a camp-fire, spending the time before sunset in gathering the
+wood by the slow process of climbing the trees and vines, and breaking
+off dead twigs and branches; everything near the ground was wet and
+sogged. He planted his four torches, ate his supper, examined his gun
+and revolver, and then, as darkness fell, having nothing else to do, he
+made a plot on the ground with twigs and long splinters of light-wood,
+and played, one hand against the other, a swamp game of fox-and-geese.
+He played standing (his fox-and-geese were two feet high), so that he
+could keep a lookout for every sort of creature. There were wild-cats
+and bears in the interior of South Devil, and in the Branch, alligators.
+He did not fear the large creatures, however; his especial guard, as
+before, was against the silent snakes. He lighted the fire and torches
+early, so that whatever uncanny inhabitants there might be in the near
+trees could have an opportunity of coming down and seeking
+night-quarters elsewhere. He played game after game of fox-and-geese;
+and this time he sang "Sweet Afton." He felt that he had exhausted the
+"Troubadour" on the previous occasion. He shot five snakes, and saw (or
+rather it seemed to him that he saw) five thousand others coiling and
+gliding over the roots of the cypresses all around. He made a rule not
+to look at them if he could help it, as long as they did not approach.
+"Otherwise," he thought, "I shall lose my senses, and think the very
+trees are squirming."
+
+It was a long, long night. The knoll was dented all over with holes made
+by the long splinters representing his fox-and-geese. Dizziness was
+creeping over him at intervals. His voice, singing "Sweet Afton," had
+become hoarse and broken, and his steps uneven, as he moved to and fro,
+still playing the game dully, when at last dawn came. But, although the
+flat tops of the great cypresses far above were bathed in the golden
+sunshine, it was long before the radiance penetrated to the dark glades
+below. The dank, watery aisles were still in gray shadow, when the
+watcher heard a sound--a real sound now, not an imaginary one--and at
+the same moment his glazed eyes saw a boat coming up the Branch. It was
+a white canoe, and paddled by a wraith; at least, the creature who sat
+within looked so grayly pale, and its eyes in its still, white face so
+large and unearthly, that it seemed like a shade returned from the halls
+of death.
+
+"Why, Carl!" said Mark, in a loud, unsteady voice, breaking through his
+own lethargy by main force. "It's you, Carl, isn't it?"
+
+He tramped down to the water's edge, each step seeming to him a rod
+long, and now a valley, and now a hill. The canoe touched the bank, and
+Carl fell forward; not with violence, but softly, and without strength.
+What little consciousness he had kept was now gone.
+
+Dawn was coming down from above; the air was slightly stirred. The elder
+man's head grew more steady, as he lifted his step-brother, gave him
+brandy, rubbed his temples and chest, and then, as he came slowly back
+to life again, stood thinking what he should do. They were a half-day's
+journey from home, and Carl could not walk. If he attempted to carry
+him, he was fearful that they should not reach pure air outside before
+darkness fell again, and a second night in the thick air might be death
+for both of them; but there was the boat. It had come into South Devil
+in some way; by that way it should go out again. He laid Carl in one
+end, putting his own coat under his head for a pillow, and then stepped
+in himself, took the paddle, and moved off. Of course he must ascend the
+Branch; as long as there were no tributaries, he could not err. But
+presently he came to an everglade--a broadening of the stream with
+apparently twenty different outlets, all equally dark and tangled. He
+paddled around the border, looking first at one, then at another. The
+matted water-vines caught at his boat like hundreds of hands; the great
+lily-leaves slowly sank and let the light bow glide over them. Carl
+slept; there was no use trying to rouse him; but probably he would
+remember nothing, even if awake. The elder brother took out his compass,
+and had decided by it which outlet to take, when his eye rested upon the
+skin of a moccasin nailed to a cypress on the other side of the pond. It
+was the mongrel's way of making a guide-post. Without hesitation,
+although the direction was the exact opposite of the one he had
+selected, Deal pushed the canoe across and entered the stream thus
+indicated. At the next pool he found another snake-skin; and so on out
+of the swamp. Twenty-five snakes had died in the cause. He came to firm
+land at noon, two miles from the plantation. Carl was awake now, but
+weak and wandering. Deal lifted him on shore, built a fire, heated some
+meat, toasted corn-bread, and made him eat. Then, leaning upon his
+brother's arm, walking slowly, and often pausing to rest, the blue-eyed
+ghost reached home at sunset--two miles in five hours.
+
+Ten days now passed; the mind of the young violin player did not regain
+its poise. He rose and dressed himself each morning, and slept in the
+sunshine as before. He went to the place of tombs, carrying his violin,
+but forgot to play. Instead, he sat looking dreamily at the swamp. He
+said little, and that little was disconnected. The only sentence which
+seemed to have meaning, and to be spoken earnestly, was, "It's all
+right, old fellow. Just you wait fifteen days--fifteen days!" But, when
+Mark questioned him, he could get no definite reply, only a repetition
+of the exhortation to "wait fifteen days."
+
+Deal went over to one of the mongrel's haunts, and, by good luck, found
+him at home. The mongrel had a number of camps, which he occupied
+according to convenience. The old man acknowledged that he had lent his
+canoe, and that he had accompanied Carl and Scip part of the way through
+South Devil. But only part of the way; then he left them, and struck
+across to the west. Where were they going? Why, straight to San Miguel;
+the Branch brought them to the King's Road crossing, and the rest of the
+way they went on foot. What were they going to do in San Miguel? The
+mongrel had no idea; he had not many ideas. Scip was to stay up there;
+Brenner was to return alone in the canoe, they having made a trail all
+the way.
+
+Deal returned to the plantation. He still thought that Carl's idea had
+been merely to explore the swamp.
+
+Twelve days had passed, and had grown to fourteen; Carl was no stronger.
+He was very gentle now, like a sick child. Deal was seized with a fear
+that this soft quiet was the peace that often comes before the last to
+the poor racked frame of the consumptive. He gave up all but the
+necessary work, and stayed with Carl all day. The blue-eyed ghost
+smiled, but said little; into its clouded mind penetrated but one
+ray--"Wait fifteen days." Mark had decided that the sentence meant
+nothing but some wandering fancy. Spring in all her superb luxuriance
+was now wreathing Florida with flowers; the spring flowers met the old
+flowers, the spring leaves met the old leaves. The yellow jessamine
+climbed over miles of thicket; the myriad purple balls of the
+sensitive-plant starred the ground; the atamasco lilies grew whitely,
+each one shining all alone, in the wet woods; chocolate-hued orchids
+nodded, and the rose-colored ones rang their bells, at the edge of the
+barren. The old causeway across the sugar waste was blue with violets,
+and Mark carried Carl thither; he would lie there contentedly in the
+sunshine for hours, his pale fingers toying with the blue blossoms, his
+eyes lifted to the green line of South Devil across the sapphire sky.
+
+One afternoon he fell asleep there, and Mark left him, to cook their
+dinner. When he came back, his step-brother's eyes had reason in them
+once more, or rather remembrance.
+
+"Old fellow," he said, as Mark, surprised and somewhat alarmed at the
+change, sat down beside him, "you got me out of the swamp, I suppose? I
+don't remember getting myself out. Now I want to ask something. I'm
+going to leave this world in a few days, and try it in another; better
+luck next time, you know. What I want to ask is that you'll take me up
+and bury me at San Miguel in a little old burying-ground they have
+there, on a knoll overlooking the ocean. I don't want to lie here with
+the Dons and the Aztecs; and, besides, I particularly want to be carried
+through the swamp. Take me through in the canoe, as I went the last
+time; it's the easiest way, and there's a trail. And I want to go. And
+do not cover my face, either; I want to see. Promise."
+
+Mark promised, and Carl closed his eyes. Then he roused himself again.
+
+"Inquire at the post-office in San Miguel for a letter," he said
+drowsily. "Promise." Again Mark promised. He seemed to sleep for some
+minutes; then he spoke again.
+
+"I heard that music, you know--heard it all out plainly and clearly," he
+said, looking quietly at his brother. "I know the whole, and have sung
+it over to myself a thousand times since. I can not write it down _now_.
+But it will not be lost."
+
+"Music is never lost, I suppose," answered Mark, somewhat at random.
+
+"Certainly not," said Carl, with decision. "My song will be heard some
+time. I'm sure of that. And it will be much admired."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"You try to be kind always, don't you, old fellow, whether you
+comprehend or not?" said the boy, with his old superior smile--the smile
+of the artist, who, although he be a failure and a pauper, yet always
+pities the wise. Then he slept again. At dawn, peacefully and with a
+smile, he died.
+
+It should not have been expected, perhaps, that he could live. But in
+some way Mark had expected it.
+
+A few hours later a canoe was floating down the Branch through South
+Devil. One man was paddling at the stern; another was stretched on a
+couch, with his head on a pillow placed at the bow, where he could see
+the blossoming network above through his closed eyes. As Carl had said,
+Scipio had left a trail all the way--a broken branch, a bent reed, or a
+shred of cloth tied to the lily-leaves. All through the still day they
+glided on, the canoe moving without a sound on the bosom of the dark
+stream. They passed under the gray and solemn cypresses, rising without
+branches to an enormous height, their far foliage hidden by the moss,
+which hung down thickly in long flakes, diffusing the sunshine and
+making it silvery like mist; in the silver swung the air-plants, great
+cream-colored disks, and wands of scarlet, crowded with little buds,
+blossoms that looked like butterflies, and blossoms that looked like
+humming-birds, and little dragon-heads with grinning faces. Then they
+came to the region of the palms; these shot up, slender and graceful,
+and leaned over the stream, the great aureum-ferns growing on their
+trunks high in the air. Beneath was a firmer soil than in the domain of
+the cypresses, and here grew a mat of little flowers, each less than a
+quarter of an inch wide, close together, pink, blue, scarlet, yellow,
+purple, but never white, producing a hue singularly rich, owing to the
+absence of that colorless color which man ever mingles with his floral
+combinations, and strangely makes sacred alike to the bridal and to
+death. Great vines ran up the palms, knotted themselves, and came down
+again, hand over hand, wreathed in little fresh leaves of exquisite
+green. Birds with plumage of blush-rose pink flew slowly by; also some
+with scarlet wings, and the jeweled paroquets. The great Savannah cranes
+stood on the shore, and did not stir as the boat moved by. And, as the
+spring was now in its prime, the alligators showed their horny heads
+above water, and climbed awkwardly out on the bank; or else, swimming by
+the side of the canoe, accompanied it long distances, no doubt moved by
+dull curiosity concerning its means of locomotion, and its ideas as to
+choice morsels of food. The air was absolutely still; no breeze reached
+these blossoming aisles; each leaf hung motionless. The atmosphere was
+hot, and heavy with perfumes. It was the heart of the swamp, a riot of
+intoxicating, steaming, swarming, fragrant, beautiful, tropical life,
+without man to make or mar it. All the world was once so, before man was
+made.
+
+Did Deal appreciate this beauty? He looked at it, because he could not
+get over the feeling that Carl was looking at it too; but he did not
+admire it. The old New England spirit was rising within him again at
+last, after the crushing palsy of the polar ice, and the icy looks of a
+certain blue-eyed woman.
+
+He came out of the swamp an hour before sunset, and, landing, lifted his
+brother in his arms, and started northward toward San Miguel. The little
+city was near; but the weight of a dead body grown cold is strange and
+mighty, and it was late evening before he entered the gate, carrying his
+motionless burden. He crossed the little plaza, and went into the
+ancient cathedral, laying it down on the chancel-step before the high
+altar. It was the only place he could think of; and he was not repelled.
+A hanging lamp of silver burned dimly; in a few moments kind hands came
+to help him. And thus Carl, who never went to church in life, went there
+in death, and, with tapers burning at his head and feet, rested all
+night under the picture of the Madonna, with nuns keeping watch and
+murmuring their gentle prayers beside him.
+
+The next morning he was buried in the dry little burial-ground on the
+knoll overlooking the blue Southern ocean.
+
+When all was over, Deal, feeling strangely lonely, remembered his
+promise, and turned toward the post-office. He expected nothing; it was
+only one of the poor lad's fancies; still, he would keep his word. There
+was nothing for him.
+
+He went out. Then an impulse made him turn back and ask if there was a
+letter for Carl. "For Carl Brenner," he said, and thought how strange it
+was that there was now no Carl. There was a letter; he put it into his
+pocket and left the town, going homeward by the King's Road on foot; the
+South Devil should see _him_ no more. He slept part of the night by the
+roadside, and reached home the next morning; everything was as he had
+left it. He made a fire and boiled some coffee; then he set the little
+house in order, loaded his gun, and went out mechanically after game.
+The routine of daily life had begun again.
+
+"It's a pleasant old place," he said to himself, as he went through one
+of the orange-aisles and saw the wild oranges dotting the ground with
+their golden color. "It's a pleasant old place," he repeated, as he
+went out into the hot, still sunshine beyond. He filled his game-bag,
+and sat down to rest a while before returning. Then for the first time
+he remembered the letter, and drew it forth. This was the letter Carl
+meant; Carl asked him to get it after he was dead; he must have
+intended, then, that he, Mark, should read it. He opened it, and looked
+at the small, slanting handwriting without recognizing it. Then from the
+inside a photograph fell out, and he took it up; it was Leeza. On the
+margin was written, "For Mark."
+
+She had written; but, womanlike, not, as Carl expected, to Mark.
+Instead, she had written to Carl, and commissioned _him_ to tell
+Mark--what? Oh, a long story, such as girls tell, but with the point
+that, after all, she "liked" (liked?) Mark best. Carl's letter had been
+blunt, worded with unflattering frankness. Leeza was tired of her own
+coquetries, lonely, and poor; she wrote her foolish little apologizing,
+confessing letter with tears in her blue eyes--those blue eyes that
+sober, reticent Mark Deal could not forget.
+
+Carl had gone to San Miguel, then, to mail a letter--a letter which had
+brought this answer! Mark, with his face in his hands, thanked God that
+he had not spoken one harsh word to the boy for what had seemed
+obstinate disobedience, but had tended him gently to the last.
+
+Then he rose, stretched his arms, drew a long breath, and looked around.
+Everything seemed altered. The sky was brassy, the air an oven. He
+remembered the uplands where the oats grew, near Exton; and his white
+sand-furrows seemed a ghastly mockery of fields. He went homeward and
+drew water from his well to quench his burning thirst; it was tepid, and
+he threw it away, recalling as he did so the spring under the cool,
+brown rocks where he drank when a boy. A sudden repugnance came over him
+when his eyes fell on the wild oranges lying on the ground, over-ripe
+with rich, pulpy decay; he spurned them aside with his foot, and thought
+of the firm apples in the old orchard, a fruit cool and reticent, a
+little hard, too, not giving itself to the first comer. Then there came
+over him the hue of Northern forests in spring, the late, reluctant
+spring of Exton; and the changeless olive-green of the pine barrens grew
+hideous in his eyes. But, most of all, there seized him a horror of the
+swamp--a horror of its hot steaming air, and its intoxicating perfume,
+which reached him faintly even where he stood; it seemed to him that if
+he staid long within their reach his brain would be affected as Carl's
+had been, and that he should wander within and die. For there would be
+no one to rescue _him_.
+
+So strong was this new feeling, like a giant full armed, that he started
+that very night, carrying his gun and Carl's violin, and a knapsack of
+clothes on his back, and leaving his other possessions behind. Their
+value was not great, but they made a princely home for the mongrel, who
+came over after he had departed, looked around stealthily, stole several
+small articles, and hastened away; came back again after a day or two,
+and stole a little more; and finally, finding the place deserted,
+brought back all his spoil and established himself there permanently,
+knowing full well that it would be long before Monteano's would find
+another tenant from the North.
+
+As Mark Deal passed across the King's Road Bridge over the Branch (now
+soon to be sainted), he paused, and looked down into the north border of
+South Devil. Then he laid aside his gun and the violin, went off that
+way, and gathered a large bunch of swamp blossoms. Coming into San
+Miguel, he passed through the town and out to the little burial-ground
+beyond. Here he found the new-made grave, and laid the flowers upon it.
+
+"He will like them because they come from _there_," was his thought.
+
+Then, with a buoyant step, he started up the long, low, white peninsula,
+set with its olive-woods in a sapphire sea; and his face was turned
+northward.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE COTTON COUNTRY.
+
+    The loveliest land that smiles beneath the sky,
+    The coast-land of our western Italy.
+    I view the waters quivering; quaff the breeze,
+    Whose briny raciness keeps an under taste
+    Of flavorous tropic sweets, perchance swept home
+    From Cuba's perfumed groves and garden spiceries.
+
+    PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE.
+
+    Call on thy children of the hill,
+    Wake swamp and river, coast and rill,
+    Rouse all thy strength, and all thy skill,
+                                Carolina!
+    Tell how the patriot's soul was tried,
+    And what his dauntless breast defied;
+    How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died,
+                                Carolina!
+
+    HENRY TIMROD.
+
+
+Do you know the cotton country--the country of broad levels open to the
+sun, where the ungainly, ragged bushes stand in long rows, bearing the
+clothing of a nation on their backs? Not on their backs either, for the
+white wool is scattered over the branches and twigs, looking, not as if
+it grew there, but as if it had been blown that way, and had caught and
+clung at random. When I first came to the cotton country, I used to
+stand with my chin on the top-rail of the fences, trying to rid my eyes
+of that first impression. I saw the fields only when the cotton was
+white, when there were no green leaves left, and the fleecy down did not
+seem to me a vegetable at all. Starved cows passed through the
+half-plucked rows untempted, and I said to myself: "Of course. Cows do
+not eat cotton any more than they eat wool; but what bush is there at
+the North that they would not nibble if starving?" Accustomed to the
+trim, soldierly ranks of the Western corn-fields, or the billowy grace
+of the wheat, I could think of nothing save a parade of sturdy beggarmen
+unwillingly drawn up in line, when I gazed upon the stubborn, uneven
+branches, and generally lop-sided appearance of these plants--plants,
+nevertheless, of wealth, usefulness, and historic importance in the
+annals of our land. But after a while I grew accustomed to their
+contrary ways, and I even began to like their defiant wildness, as a
+contrast, perhaps, to the languorous sky above, the true sky of the
+cotton country, with its soft heat, its hazy air, and its divine
+twilight that lingers so long. I always walked abroad at sunset, and it
+is in the sunset-light that I always see the fields now when far away.
+No doubt there was plenty of busy, prosaic reality down there in the
+mornings, but I never saw it; I only saw the beauty and the fancies that
+come with the soft after-glow and the shadows of the night.
+
+Down in the cotton country the sun shines steadily all day long, and the
+earth is hot under your feet. There are few birds, but at nightfall the
+crows begin to fly home in a long line, going down into the red west as
+though they had important messages to deliver to some imprisoned
+princess on the edge of the horizon. One day I followed the crows. I
+said to myself: "The princess is a _ruse_; they probably light not far
+from here, and I am going to find their place. The crows at home--that
+would be something worth seeing." Turning from the path, I went
+westward. "What!" said a country-woman, meeting Wordsworth on the road,
+"are ye stepping westward, sir?" I, too, stepped westward.
+
+Field after field I crossed; at last the fences ceased, and only old
+half-filled ditches marked the boundary-lines. The land sloped downward
+slightly, and after a while the ridge behind me seemed like a line of
+heights, the old cotton-plants on its top standing out as distinctly as
+single pine-trees on a mountain-summit outlined against the sky; so
+comparative is height. The crows still flew westward as I came out upon
+a second level lower down than the first, and caught a golden gleam
+through the fringe of bushes in the middle of the plain. I had
+unwittingly found the river at last, that broad, brown river that I knew
+was down there somewhere, although I had not seen it with my bodily
+eyes. I had full knowledge of what it was, though, farther south toward
+the ocean; I knew the long trestles over the swamps and dark canebrakes
+that stretched out for miles on each side of the actual stream--trestles
+over which the trains passed cautiously every day, the Northern
+passengers looking nervously down at the quaking, spongy surface below,
+and prophesying accidents as certain some time--when they were not on
+board. Up here in the cotton country, however, the river was more
+docile; there were no tides to come up and destroy the banks, and with
+the exception of freshets the habits of the stream were orderly. The
+levels on each side might have been, should have been, rich with plenty.
+Instead, they were uncultivated and desolate. Here and there a wild,
+outlawed cotton-bush reared its head, and I could trace the old line of
+the cart-road and cross-tracks; but the soil was spongy and
+disintegrated, and for a long time evidently no care had been bestowed
+upon it. I crossed over to the river, and found that the earth-bank
+which had protected the field was broken down and washed away in many
+places; the low trees and bushes on shore still held the straws and
+driftwood that showed the last freshet's high-water mark.
+
+The river made an irregular bend a short distance below, and I strolled
+that way, walking now on the thick masses of lespedeza that carpeted the
+old road-track, and now on the singularly porous soil of the level, a
+soil which even my inexperienced eyes recognized as worthless, all its
+good particles having been drained out of it and borne away on the
+triumphant tide of the freshets. The crows still evaded me, crossing the
+river in a straight line and flying on toward the west, and, in that
+arbitrary way in which solitary pedestrians make compacts with
+themselves, I said, "I will go to that tree at the exact turn of the
+bend, and not one step farther." I went to that tree at the exact turn
+of the bend, and then I went--farther; for I found there one solemn,
+lonely old house. Now, if there had been two, I should not have gone on;
+I should not have broken my compact. Two houses are sociable and
+commonplace; but one all alone on a desolate waste like that inspired me
+with--let us call it interest, and I went forward.
+
+It was a lodge rather than a house; in its best day it could never have
+been more than a very plain abode, and now, in its worst, it seemed to
+have fallen into the hands of Giant Despair. "Forlorn" was written over
+its lintels, and "without hope" along its low roof-edge. Raised high
+above the ground, in the Southern fashion, on wooden supports, it seemed
+even more unstable than usual to Northern eyes, because the
+lattice-work, the valance, as it were, which generally conceals the
+bare, stilt-like underpinning, was gone, and a thin calf and some
+melancholy chickens were walking about underneath, as though the place
+was an arbor. There was a little patch of garden, but no grass, no
+flowers; everything was gray, the unpainted house, the sand of the
+garden-beds, and the barren waste stretching away on all sides. At first
+I thought the place was uninhabited, but as I drew nearer a thin smoke
+from one of the chimneys told of life within, and I said to myself that
+the life would be black-skinned life, of course. For I was quite
+accustomed now to finding the families of the freedmen crowded into just
+such old houses as this, hidden away in unexpected places; for the
+freedmen hardly ever live up on the even ground in the broad sunshine as
+though they had a right there, but down in the hollows or out into the
+fringes of wood, where their low-roofed cabins, numerous though they may
+be, are scarcely visible to the passer-by. There was no fence around
+this house; it stood at large on the waste as though it belonged there.
+Take away the fence from a house, and you take away its respectability;
+it becomes at once an outlaw. I ascended the crazy, sunken steps that
+led to the front door, and lifted the knocker that hung there as if in
+mockery; who ever knocked there now save perhaps a river-god with his
+wet fingers as he hurried by, mounted on the foaming freshet, to ravage
+and lay waste again the poor, desolate fields? But no spirit came to the
+door, neither came the swarm of funny little black faces I had expected;
+instead, I saw before me a white woman, tall, thin, and gray-haired.
+Silently she stood there, her great, dark eyes, still and sad, looking
+at me as much as to say, "By what right are you here?"
+
+"Excuse me, madam," was my involuntary beginning; then I somewhat
+stupidly asked for a glass of water.
+
+"I would not advise you to drink the water we have here; it is not
+good," replied the woman. I knew it was not; the water is never good
+down on the levels. But I was very stupid that day.
+
+"I should like to rest a while," was my next attempt. It brought out a
+wooden chair, but no cordiality. I tried everything I could think of in
+the way of subjects for conversation, but elicited no replies beyond
+monosyllables. I could not very well say, "Who are you, and how came you
+here?" and yet that was exactly what I wanted to know. The woman's face
+baffled me, and I do not like to be baffled. It was a face that was old
+and at the same time young; it had deep lines, it was colorless, and the
+heavy hair was gray; and still I felt that it was not old in years, but
+that it was like the peaches we find sometimes on the ground, old,
+wrinkled, and withered, yet showing here and there traces of that
+evanescent bloom which comes before the ripeness. The eyes haunted me;
+they haunt me now, the dry, still eyes of immovable, hopeless grief. I
+thought, "Oh, if I could only help her!" but all I said was, "I fear I
+am keeping you standing"; for that is the senseless way we human
+creatures talk to each other.
+
+Her answer was not encouraging.
+
+"Yes," she replied, in her brief way, and said no more.
+
+I felt myself obliged to go.
+
+But the next afternoon I wandered that way again, and the next, and the
+next. I used to wait impatiently for the hour when I could enter into
+the presence of her great silence. How still she was! If she had wept,
+if she had raved, if she had worked with nervous energy, or been
+resolutely, doggedly idle, if she had seemed reckless, or callous, or
+even pious; but no, she was none of these. Her old-young face was ever
+the same, and she went about her few household tasks in a steady,
+nerveless manner, as though she could go on doing them for countless
+ages, and yet never with the least increase of energy. She swept the
+room, for instance, every day, never thoroughly, but in a gentle,
+incompetent sort of way peculiarly her own; yet she always swept it and
+never neglected it, and she took as much time to do it as though the
+task was to be performed with microscopic exactness.
+
+She lived in her old house alone save for the presence of one child, a
+boy of six or seven years--a quiet, grave-eyed little fellow, who played
+all by himself hour after hour with two little wooden soldiers and an
+empty spool. He seldom went out of the house; he did not seem to care
+for the sunshine or the open air as other children care, but gravely
+amused himself in-doors in his own quiet way. He did not make his wooden
+soldiers talk or demolish each other triumphantly, according to the
+manner of boys; but he marshaled them to and fro with slow
+consideration, and the only sound was the click of their little muskets
+as he moved them about. He seemed never to speak of his own accord; he
+was strangely silent always. I used to wonder if the two ever talked
+together playfully as mother and child should talk; and one day,
+emboldened by a welcome, not warmer, for it was never warm, but not
+quite so cold perhaps, I said:
+
+"Your little son is very quiet, madam."
+
+"He is not my son."
+
+"Ah!" I replied, somewhat disconcerted. "He is a pretty child; what is
+his name?"
+
+"His name is John."
+
+The child heard us in his barren corner, but did not look up or speak;
+he made his two soldiers advance solemnly upon the spool in silence,
+with a flank movement. I have called the corner barren, because it
+seemed doubly so when the boy sat there. The poorest place generally
+puts on something of a homelike air when a little child is in it; but
+the two bare walls and angle of bare floor remained hopelessly empty and
+desolate. The room was large, but there was nothing in it save the two
+wooden chairs and a table; there was no womanly attempt at a rag-carpet,
+curtains for the windows, or newspaper pictures for the walls--none of
+those little contrivances for comfort with which women generally adorn
+even the most miserable abiding-places, showing a kind of courage which
+is often pathetic in its hopefulness. Here, however, there was nothing.
+A back-room held a few dishes, some boxes and barrels, and showed on its
+cavernous hearth the ashes of a recent fire. "I suppose they sleep in a
+third bare room somewhere, with their two beds, no doubt, standing all
+alone in the center of the chamber; for it would be too human, of
+course, to put them up snugly against the wall, as anybody else would
+do," I said to myself.
+
+In time I succeeded in building up a sort of friendship with this
+solitary woman of the waste, and in time she told me her story. Let me
+tell it to you. I have written stories of imagination, but this is a
+story of fact, and I want you to believe it. It is true, every word of
+it, save the names given, and, when you read it, you whose eyes are now
+upon these lines, stop and reflect that it is only one of many
+life-stories like unto it. "War is cruelty," said our great general. It
+is. It must be so. But shall we not, we women, like Sisters of Charity,
+go over the field when the battle is done, bearing balm and wine and oil
+for those who suffer?
+
+"Down here in the cotton country we were rich once, madam; we were
+richer than Northerners ever are, for we toiled not for our money,
+neither took thought for it; it came and we spent it; that was all. My
+father was Clayton Cotesworth, and our home was twenty miles from here,
+at the Sand Hills. Our cotton-lands were down on these river-levels;
+this was one of our fields, and this house was built for the overseer;
+the negro-quarters that stood around it have been carried off piecemeal
+by the freedmen." (Impossible to put on paper her accentuation of this
+title.) "My father was an old man; he could not go to battle himself,
+but he gave first his eldest son, my brother James. James went away from
+earth at Fredericksburg. It was in the winter, and very cold. How often
+have I thought of that passage, 'And pray ye that your flight be not in
+the winter,' when picturing his sufferings before his spirit took
+flight! Yes, it was very cold for our Southern boys; the river was full
+of floating ice, and the raw wind swept over them as they tried to throw
+up intrenchments on the heights. They had no spades, only pointed
+sticks, and the ground was frozen hard. Their old uniforms, worn thin by
+hard usage, hung in tatters, and many of them had no shoes; the skin of
+their poor feet shone blue, or glistening white, like a dead man's skin,
+through the coverings of rags they made for themselves as best they
+could. They say it was a pitiful sight to see the poor fellows sitting
+down in the mornings, trying to adjust these rag-wrappings so that they
+would stay in place, and fastening them elaborately with their carefully
+saved bits of string. He was an honored man who invented a new way. My
+brother was one of the shoe-less; at the last, too, it seems that he had
+no blanket, only a thin counterpane. When night came, hungry and tired
+as he was, he could only wrap himself in that and lie down on the cold
+ground to wait for morning. When we heard all this afterward, we said,
+'Blessed be the bullet that put him out of his misery!' for poor James
+was a delicate boy, and had been accustomed to loving, watchful care all
+his life. Yet, oh, if I could only know that he was warm once, just
+once, before he died! They told us he said nothing after he was shot
+save 'How cold! How cold!' They put his poor, stiff body hastily down
+under the sod, and then the brigade moved on; 'no man knoweth his
+sepulchre unto this day.'
+
+"Next John went, my second brother. He said good-by, and marched away
+northward--northward, northward, always northward--to cold,
+corpse-strewed Virginia, who cried aloud to us continually, 'More!
+more!' Her roads are marked with death from her Peaks of Otter to the
+sea, and her great valley ran red. We went to her from all over the
+South, from Alabama, Florida, and Georgia, and from our own Carolina. We
+died there by thousands, and by tens of thousands. O Virginia, our dead
+lie thick in thy tidewater plains, in thy tangled Wilderness, and along
+thy river-shores, with faces upturned, and hearts still for ever.
+
+"John came back to us once, and wedded the fair girl to whom he was
+betrothed. It was a sad bridal, although we made it as gay as we could;
+for we had come to the times of determined gayety then. The tone of
+society was like the determinedly gay quicksteps which the regimental
+bands play when returning from a funeral, as much as to say, 'Le roi est
+mort, vive le roi!' So we turned our old silk dresses, and made a brave
+appearance; if our shoes were shabby, we hid them under our skirts as
+well as we could, and held our heads the higher. Maum Sally made a big
+wedding-cake, as of old, and we went without meat to pay for the spices
+in it; such luxuries we obtained from the blockade-runners now and then,
+but they were worth almost their weight in gold. Then John, too, left
+us. In four months he also was taken--killed by guerrillas, it is
+supposed, as he rode through a lonely mountain-defile. He was not found
+for weeks; the snow fell and covered him, mercifully giving the burial
+the frozen earth denied. After a while the tidings came to us, and poor
+Mabel slowly wept herself into the grave. She was a loving-hearted
+little creature, and her life was crushed. She looked at her baby once,
+called his name John, and then died. The child, that boy yonder, seems
+to have inherited her grief. He sheds no tears, however; his girl-mother
+shed them all, both for him and for herself, before ever he saw the
+light. My turn came next.
+
+"You have been married, madam? Did you love, too? I do not mean regard,
+or even calm affection; I do not mean sense of duty, self-sacrifice, or
+religious goodness. I mean love--love that absorbs the entire being.
+Some women love so; I do not say they are the happiest women. I do not
+say they are the best. I am one of them. But God made us all; he gave us
+our hearts--we did not choose them. Let no woman take credit to herself
+for her even life, simply because it has been even. Doubtless, if he had
+put her out in the breakers, she would have swayed too. Perhaps she
+would have drifted from her moorings also, as I have drifted. I go to no
+church; I can not pray. But do not think I am defiant; no. I am only
+dead. I seek not the old friends, few and ruined, who remain still
+above-ground; I have no hope, I might almost say no wish. Torpidly I
+draw my breath through day and night, nor care if the rain falls or the
+sun shines. You Northern women would work; I can not. Neither have I the
+courage to take the child and die. I live on as the palsied animal
+lives, and if some day the spring fails, and the few herbs within his
+reach, he dies. Nor do I think he grieves much about it; he only eats
+from habit. So I.
+
+"It was in the third year of the war that I met Ralph Kinsolving. I was
+just eighteen. Our courtship was short; indeed, I hardly knew that I
+loved him until he spoke and asked me to give him myself. 'Marry me,
+Judith,' he pleaded ardently; 'marry me before I go; let it be my wife I
+leave behind me, and not my sweetheart. For sweethearts, dear, can not
+come to us in camp when we send, as we shall surely send soon, that you
+may all see our last grand review.' So spoke Rafe, and with all his
+heart he believed it. We all believed it. Never for a moment did we
+doubt the final triumph of our arms. We were so sure we were right!
+
+"'Our last grand review,' said Rafe; but he did not dream of that last
+review at Appomattox, when eight thousand hungry, exhausted men stacked
+their muskets in the presence of the enemy, whose glittering ranks,
+eighty thousand strong, were drawn up in line before them, while in the
+rear their well-filled wagons stood--wagons whose generous plenty
+brought tears to the eyes of many a poor fellow that day, thinking, even
+while he eagerly ate, of his desolated land, and his own empty fields at
+home.
+
+"I did marry my soldier, and, although it was in haste, I had my
+wedding-dress, my snowy veil; lace and gauze were not needed at the
+hospitals! But we went without the wedding-cake this time, and my satin
+slippers were made at home, looking very like a pair of white moccasins
+when finished.
+
+"In the middle of the ceremony there was an alarm; the slaves had risen
+at Latto's down the river, and were coming to the village armed with
+clubs, and, worse still, infuriated with liquor they had found. Even our
+good old rector paused. There were but few white men at home. It seemed
+indeed a time for pausing. But Rafe said, quietly,'Go on!' and,
+unsheathing his sword, he laid it ready on the chancel-rail. 'To have
+and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for
+poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us
+do part,' repeated Rafe, holding my hand in his firm clasp, and looking
+down into my frightened face so tenderly that I forgot my
+alarm--everything, indeed, save his love. But when the last word was
+spoken, and the blessing pronounced over our bowed heads, the shining
+sword seeming a silent witness, Rafe left me like a flash. The little
+church was empty when I rose from my knees; the women had hurried home
+with blanched faces to bar their doors and barricade their windows, and
+the men had gone for their horses and guns; only my old father waited to
+give me his blessing, and then we, too, hastened homeward. Our little
+band of defenders assembled in the main street, and rode gallantly out
+to meet the negroes, who were as fifty to their one. Rafe was the
+leader, by virtue of his uniform, and he waved his hand to me as he
+rode by. 'Cheer up, Judith,' he cried; 'I will soon return.'
+
+"I never saw him again.
+
+"They dispersed the negroes without much difficulty; Latto's slaves had
+been badly treated for months, they had not the strength to fight long.
+But Rafe rode to the next town with the prisoners under his charge, and
+there he met an imploring summons to the coast; the Federal ships had
+appeared unexpectedly off the harbor, and the little coast-city lay
+exposed and helpless at the mouth of the river. All good men and true
+within reach were summoned to the defense. So my soldier went, sending
+back word to me a second time, 'I will soon return.' But the siege was
+long, long--one of those bitterly contested little sieges of minor
+importance, with but small forces engaged on each side, which were so
+numerous during the middle times of the war--those middle times after
+the first high hopes had been disappointed, and before the policy of
+concentration had been adopted by the North--that slow, dogged North of
+yours that kept going back and beginning over again, until at last it
+found out how to do it. This little siege was long and weary, and when
+at last the Federal vessels went suddenly out beyond the bar again, and
+the town, unconquered, but crippled and suffering, lay exhausted on the
+shore, there was not much cause for rejoicing. Still I rejoiced; for I
+thought that Rafe would come. I did not know that his precious furlough
+had expired while he was shut up in the beleaguered city, and that his
+colonel had sent an imperative summons, twice repeated. Honor, loyalty,
+commanded him to go, and go immediately. He went.
+
+"The next tidings that came to me brought word that he loved me and was
+well; the next, that he loved me and was well; the next, that he loved
+me and was--dead. Madam, my husband, Ralph Kinsolving, was shot--as a
+spy!
+
+"You start--you question--you doubt. But spies were shot in those days,
+were they not? That is a matter of history. Very well; you are face to
+face now with the wife of one of them.
+
+"You did not expect such an ending, did you? You have always thought of
+spies as outcasts, degraded wretches, and, if you remembered their wives
+at all, it was with the idea that they had not much feeling, probably,
+being so low down in the scale of humanity. But, madam, in those bitter,
+hurrying days men were shot as spies who were no spies. Nay, let me
+finish; I know quite well that the shooting was not confined to one
+side; I acknowledge that; but it was done, and mistakes were made. Now
+and then chance brings a case to light, so unmistakable in its proof
+that those who hear it shudder--as now and then also chance brings a
+coffin to light whose occupant was buried alive, and came to himself
+when it was too late. But what of the cases that chance does _not_ bring
+to light?
+
+"My husband was no spy; but it had been a trying time for the Northern
+commanders: suspicion lurked everywhere; the whole North clamored to
+them to advance, and yet their plans, as fast as they made them, were
+betrayed in some way to the enemy. An example was needed--my husband
+fell in the way.
+
+"He explained the suspicious circumstances of his case, but a cloud of
+witnesses rose up against him, and he proudly closed his lips. They gave
+him short shrift; that same day he was led out and met his death in the
+presence of thousands. They told me that he was quite calm, and held
+himself proudly; at the last he turned his face to the south, as if he
+were gazing down, down, into the very heart of that land for whose sake
+he was about to die. I think he saw the cotton-fields then, and our
+home; I think he saw me, also, for the last time.
+
+"By the end of that year, madam, my black hair was gray, as you see it
+now; I was an old woman at nineteen.
+
+"My father and I and that grave-eyed baby lived on in the old house. Our
+servants had left us, all save one, old Cassy, who had been my nurse or
+'maumee,' as we called her. We suffered, of course. We lived as very
+poor people live. The poorest slaves in the old time had more than we
+had then. But we did not murmur; the greater griefs had swallowed up the
+less. I said, 'Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?' But the end was
+not yet.
+
+"You have heard the story of the great march, the march to the sea? But
+there was another march after that, a march of which your own writers
+have said that its route was marked by a pillar of smoke by day and of
+flame by night--the march through South Carolina. The Northern soldiers
+shouted when they came to the yellow tide of the Savannah, and looked
+across and knew that the other shore was South Carolina soil. They
+crossed, and Carolina was bowed to the dust. Those were the days we
+cried in the morning, 'O God, that it were night!' and in the night, 'O
+God, that it were morning!' Retribution, do you say? It may be so. But
+love for our State seemed loyalty to us; and slavery was the sin of our
+fathers, not ours. Surely we have expiated it now.
+
+"'Chile, chile, dey is come!' cried old Cassy, bursting into my room one
+afternoon, her withered black face grayly pale with fear. I went out.
+Cavalrymen were sweeping the village of all it contained, the meager
+little that was left to us in our penury. My father was asleep; how I
+prayed that he might not waken! Although an old man, he was fiery as a
+boy, and proudly, passionately rebellious against the fate which had
+come upon us. Our house was some distance back from the road, and broad
+grounds separated us from the neighboring residences. Cassy and I softly
+piled our pillows and cushions against the doors and windows that opened
+from his room to the piazza, hoping to deaden the sounds outside, for
+some of our people were resisting, and now and then I heard shouts and
+oaths. But it was of no use. My dear old father woke, heard the sounds,
+and rushed out into the street sword in hand; for he had been a soldier
+too, serving with honor through the Mexican War. Made desperate by my
+fears for him, I followed. There was a _mêlée_ in the road before our
+house; a high wind blew the thick dust in my eyes and half blinded me,
+so that I only saw struggling forms on foot and on horseback, and could
+not distinguish friend or foe. Into this group my father rushed. I never
+knew the cause of the contest; probably it was an ill-advised attack by
+some of our people, fiery and reasonless always. But, whatever it was,
+at length there came one, two, three shots, and then the group broke
+apart. I rushed forward and received my old father in my arms,
+dying--dead. His head lay on my shoulder as I knelt in the white road,
+and his silver hair was dabbled with blood; he had been shot through the
+head and breast, and lived but a moment.
+
+"We carried him back to the house, old Cassy and I, slowly, and with
+little regard for the bullets which now whistled through the air; for
+the first shots had brought together the scattered cavalrymen, who now
+rode through the streets firing right and left, more at random, I think,
+than with direct aim, yet still determined to 'frighten the rebels,' and
+avenge the soldier, one of their number, who had been killed at the
+beginning of the fray. We laid my father down in the center of the hall,
+and prepared him for his long sleep. No one came to help us; no one came
+to sorrow with us; each household gathered its own together and waited
+with bated breath for what was still to come. I watched alone beside my
+dead that night, the house-doors stood wide open, and lights burned at
+the head and foot of the couch. I said to myself, 'Let them come now and
+take their fill.' But no one disturbed me, and I kept my vigil from
+midnight until dawn; then there came a sound of many feet, and when the
+sun rose our streets were full of blue-coated soldiers, thousands upon
+thousands; one wing of the great army was marching through. There was
+still hot anger against us for our resistance, and when the commanding
+officers arrived they ordered guards to be stationed at every house,
+with orders to shoot any man or boy who showed himself outside of his
+doorway. All day and night the Federal soldiers would be passing
+through, and the guards gave notice that if another man was injured
+twenty rebel lives should answer for it.
+
+"'We must bury my father, you and I together, Cassy,' I said; 'there is
+no one to help us. Come!'
+
+"The old woman followed me without a word. Had I bidden her go alone,
+even as far as the door-step, she would have cowered at my feet in
+abject terror; but, following me, she would have gone unquestioning to
+the world's end. The family burial-place was on our own grounds,
+according to the common custom of the South; thither we turned our
+steps, and in silence hollowed out a grave as best we could. The guard
+near by watched us with curiosity for some time; at last he approached:
+
+"'What are you two women doing there?'
+
+"'Digging a grave.'
+
+"'For whom?'
+
+"'For my father, who lies dead in the house.'
+
+"He withdrew a short distance, but still watched us closely, and when
+all was ready, and we returned to the house for our burden, I saw him
+signal the next guard. 'They will not interrupt us,' I said; 'we are
+only two women and a dead man.'
+
+"I wrapped my dear father in his cloak, and covered his face; then we
+bore the lounge on which he lay out into the sunshine down toward the
+open grave. The weight of this poor frame of ours when dead is
+marvelous, and we moved slowly; but at length we reached the spot. I had
+lined the grave with coverlids and a fine linen sheet, and now, with the
+aid of blankets, we lowered the clay to its last resting-place. Then,
+opening my prayer-book, I read aloud the service for the burial of the
+dead, slowly, and without tears, for I was thinking of the meeting above
+of the old father and his two boys: 'Lord, thou hast been our refuge
+from one generation to another. Before the mountains were brought forth,
+or ever the earth and the world were made, thou art God from
+everlasting.' I took a clod and cast it upon the shrouded breast below.
+'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' I said, and old Cassy,
+kneeling opposite, broke forth into low wailing, and rocked her body to
+and fro. Then we filled the grave. I remember that I worked with
+feverish strength; if it was not done quickly, I knew I could never do
+it at all. Can you realize what it would be to stand and shovel the
+earth with your own hands upon your dead?--to hear the gravel fall and
+strike?--to see the last shrouded outline disappear under the stifling,
+heavy clods? All this it was mine to do. When it was over I turned to
+go, and for the first time lifted my eyes. There at the fence-corner
+stood a row of Federal soldiers, silent, attentive, and with bared
+heads; my father was buried with military honors after all.
+
+"During all that day and night the blue-coated ranks marched by; there
+seemed to be no end to the line of glittering muskets. I watched them
+passively, holding the orphan-boy on my knee; I felt as though I should
+never move or speak again. But after the army came the army-followers
+and stragglers, carrion-birds who flew behind the conquerors and
+devoured what they had left. They swept the town clean of food and
+raiment; many houses they wantonly burned; what they could not carry
+with them they destroyed. My own home did not escape: rude men ransacked
+every closet and drawer, and cut in ribbons the old portraits on the
+wall. A German, coming in from the smoke-house, dripping with
+bacon-juice, wiped his hands upon my wedding-veil, which had been
+discovered and taken from its box by a former intruder. It was a little
+thing; but, oh, how it hurt me! At length the last straggler left us,
+and we remained in the ashes. We could not sit down and weep for
+ourselves and for our dead; the care of finding wherewithal to eat
+thrust its coarse necessity upon us, and forced us to our feet. I had
+thought that all the rest of my life would be but a bowed figure at the
+door of a sepulchre; but the camp-followers came by, took the bowed
+figure by the arm, and forced it back to every-day life. We could no
+longer taste the luxury of tears. For days our people lived on the
+refuse left by the army, the bits of meat and bread they had thrown
+aside from their plenty; we picked up the corn with which they had fed
+their horses, kernel by kernel, and boiled it for our dinner; we groped
+in the ashes of their camp-fires; little children learned the sagacity
+of dogs seeking for bones, and quarreled over their findings. The
+fortune of war, do you say? Yes, the fortune of war! But it is one thing
+to say, and another thing to feel!
+
+"We came away, madam, for our home was in ashes--old Cassy, the child,
+and I; we came on foot to this place, and here we have staid. No, the
+fields are never cultivated now. The dike has been broken down in too
+many places, and freshets have drained all the good out of the soil; the
+land is worthless. It was once my father's richest field. Yes, Cassy is
+dead. She was buried by her own people, who forgave her at the last for
+having been so spiritless as to stay with 'young missis,' when she might
+have tasted the glories of freedom over in the crowded hollow where the
+blacks were enjoying themselves and dying by the score. In six months
+half of them were gone. They had their freedom--oh, yes, plenty of it;
+they were quite free--to die! For, you see, madam, their masters, those
+villainous old masters of theirs, were no longer there to feed and
+clothe them. Oh! it was a great deliverance for the enfranchised people!
+Bitter, am I? Put yourself in my place.
+
+"What am I going to do? Nothing. The boy? He must take his chances. Let
+him grow up under the new _régime_; I have told him nothing of the old.
+It may be that he will prosper; people do prosper, they tell me. It
+seems we were wrong, all wrong; then we must be very right now, for the
+blacks are our judges, councilors, postmasters, representatives, and
+law-makers. That is as it should be, isn't it? What! not so? But how can
+it be otherwise? Ah, you think that a new king will arise who knows not
+Joseph--that is, that a new generation will come to whom these
+questions will be things of the past. It may be so; I do not know. I do
+not know anything certainly any more, for my world has been torn
+asunder, and I am uprooted and lost. No, you can not help me, no one can
+help me. I can not adjust myself to the new order of things; I can not
+fit myself in new soil; the fibers are broken. Leave me alone, and give
+your help to the young; they can profit by it. The child? Well, if--if
+you really wish it, I will not oppose you. Take him, and bring him up in
+your rich, prosperous North; the South has no place for him. Go, and God
+speed you! But, as for me, I will abide in mine own country. It will not
+be until such as I have gone from earth that the new blood can come to
+her. Let us alone; we will watch the old life out with her, and when her
+new dawning comes we shall have joined our dead, and all of us, our
+errors, our sins, and our sufferings will be forgotten."
+
+
+
+
+FELIPA.
+
+    Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
+    With intricate shades of the vines that, myriad cloven,
+    Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs.
+                                              ... Green colonnades
+    Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,
+    Of the heavenly woods and glades,
+    That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
+                The wide sea-marshes of Glynn.
+                                              ... Free
+    By a world of marsh that borders a world of sea.
+    Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the shimmering band
+    Of the sand-beach fastens the fringe of the marsh to the folds
+      of the land.
+
+    Inward and outward to northward and southward the beach-lines linger
+      and curl
+    As a silver-wrought garment that clings to and follows the firm, sweet
+      limbs of a girl.
+    A league and a league of marsh-grass, waist-high, broad in the blade,
+    Green, and all of a height, and unflecked with a light or a shade.
+
+    SIDNEY LANIER.
+
+
+Christine and I found her there. She was a small, dark-skinned,
+yellow-eyed child, the offspring of the ocean and the heats, tawny,
+lithe and wild, shy yet fearless--not unlike one of the little brown
+deer that bounded through the open reaches of the pine-barren behind the
+house. She did not come to us--we came to her; we loomed into her life
+like genii from another world, and she was partly afraid and partly
+proud of us. For were we not her guests? proud thought! and, better
+still, were we not women? "I have only seen three women in all my life,"
+said Felipa, inspecting us gravely, "and I like women. I am a woman too,
+although these clothes of the son of Pedro make me appear as a boy; I
+wear them on account of the boat and the hauling in of the fish. The
+son of Pedro being dead at a convenient age, and his clothes fitting me,
+what would you have? It was a chance not to be despised. But when I am
+grown I shall wear robes long and beautiful like the señora's." The
+little creature was dressed in a boy's suit of dark-blue linen, much the
+worse for wear, and torn.
+
+"If you are a girl, why do you not mend your clothes?" I said.
+
+"Do you mend, señora?"
+
+"Certainly: all women sew and mend."
+
+"The other lady?"
+
+Christine laughed as she lay at ease upon the brown carpet of
+pine-needles, warm and aromatic after the tropic day's sunshine. "The
+child has divined me already, Catherine," she said.
+
+Christine was a tall, lissome maid, with an unusually long stretch of
+arm, long sloping shoulders, and a long fair throat; her straight hair
+fell to her knees when unbound, and its clear flaxen hue had not one
+shade of gold, as her clear gray eyes had not one shade of blue. Her
+small, straight, rose-leaf lips parted over small, dazzlingly white
+teeth, and the outline of her face in profile reminded you of an etching
+in its distinctness, although it was by no means perfect according to
+the rules of art. Still, what a comfort it was, after the blurred
+outlines and smudged profiles many of us possess--seen to best
+advantage, I think, in church on Sundays, crowned with flower-decked
+bonnets, listening calmly serene to favorite ministers, unconscious of
+noses! When Christine had finished her laugh--and she never hurried
+anything--she stretched out her arm carelessly and patted Felipa's curly
+head. The child caught the descending hand and kissed the long white
+fingers.
+
+It was a wild place where we were, yet not new or crude--the coast of
+Florida, that old-new land, with its deserted plantations, its skies of
+Paradise, and its broad wastes open to the changeless sunshine. The old
+house stood on the edge of the dry land, where the pine-barren ended
+and the salt-marsh began; in front curved the tide-water river that
+seemed ever trying to come up close to the barren and make its
+acquaintance, but could not quite succeed, since it must always turn and
+flee at a fixed hour, like Cinderella at the ball, leaving not a silver
+slipper behind, but purple driftwood and bright seaweeds, brought in
+from the Gulf Stream outside. A planked platform ran out into the marsh
+from the edge of the barren, and at its end the boats were moored; for,
+although at high tide the river was at our feet, at low tide it was far
+away out in the green waste somewhere, and if we wanted it we must go
+and seek it. We did not want it, however; we let it glide up to us twice
+a day with its fresh salt odors and flotsam of the ocean, and the rest
+of the time we wandered over the barrens or lay under the trees looking
+up into the wonderful blue above, listening to the winds as they rushed
+across from sea to sea. I was an artist, poor and painstaking. Christine
+was my kind friend. She had brought me South because my cough was
+troublesome, and here because Edward Bowne recommended the place. He and
+three fellow sportsmen were down at the Madre Lagoon, farther south; I
+thought it probable we should see him, without his three fellow
+sportsmen, before very long.
+
+"Who were the three women you have seen, Felipa?" said Christine.
+
+"The grandmother, an Indian woman of the Seminoles who comes sometimes
+with baskets, and the wife of Miguel of the island. But they are all
+old, and their skins are curled: I like better the silver skin of the
+señora."
+
+Poor little Felipa lived on the edge of the great salt-marsh alone with
+her grandparents, for her mother was dead. The yellow old couple were
+slow-witted Minorcans, part pagan, part Catholic, and wholly ignorant;
+their minds rarely rose above the level of their orange-trees and their
+fish-nets. Felipa's father was a Spanish sailor, and, as he had died
+only the year before, the child's Spanish was fairly correct, and we
+could converse with her readily, although we were slow to comprehend the
+patois of the old people, which seemed to borrow as much from the
+Italian tongue and the Greek as from its mother Spanish. "I know a great
+deal," Felipa remarked confidently, "for my father taught me. He had
+sailed on the ocean out of sight of land, and he knew many things. These
+he taught to me. Do the gracious ladies think there is anything else to
+know?"
+
+One of the gracious ladies thought not, decidedly. In answer to my
+remonstrance, expressed in English, she said, "Teach a child like that,
+and you ruin her."
+
+"Ruin her?"
+
+"Ruin her happiness--the same thing."
+
+Felipa had a dog, a second self--a great gaunt yellow creature of
+unknown breed, with crooked legs, big feet, and the name Drollo. What
+Drollo meant, or whether it was an abbreviation, we never knew; but
+there was a certain satisfaction in it, for the dog was droll: the fact
+that the Minorcan title, whatever it was, meant nothing of that sort,
+made it all the better. We never saw Felipa without Drollo. "They look a
+good deal alike," observed Christine--"the same coloring."
+
+"For shame!" I said.
+
+But it was true. The child's bronzed yellow skin and soft eyes were not
+unlike the dog's, but her head was crowned with a mass of short black
+curls, while Drollo had only his two great flapping ears and his low
+smooth head. Give him an inch or two more of skull, and what a creature
+a dog would be! For love and faithfulness even now what man can match
+him? But, although ugly, Felipa was a picturesque little object always,
+whether attired in boy's clothes or in her own forlorn bodice and skirt.
+Olive-hued and meager-faced, lithe and thin, she flew over the
+pine-barrens like a creature of air, laughing to feel her short curls
+toss and her thin childish arms buoyed up on the breeze as she ran, with
+Drollo barking behind. For she loved the winds, and always knew when
+they were coming--whether down from the north, in from the ocean, or
+across from the Gulf of Mexico: she watched for them, sitting in the
+doorway, where she could feel their first breath, and she taught us the
+signs of the clouds. She was a queer little thing: we used to find her
+sometimes dancing alone out on the barren in a circle she had marked out
+with pine-cones, and once she confided to us that she talked to the
+trees. "They hear," she said in a whisper; "you should see how knowing
+they look, and how their leaves listen."
+
+Once we came upon her most secret lair in a dense thicket of
+thorn-myrtle and wild smilax--a little bower she had made, where was
+hidden a horrible-looking image formed of the rough pieces of
+saw-palmetto grubbed up by old Bartolo from his garden. She must have
+dragged these fragments thither one by one, and with infinite pains
+bound them together with her rude withes of strong marsh-grass, until at
+last she had formed a rough trunk with crooked arms and a sort of a
+head, the red hairy surface of the palmetto looking not unlike the skin
+of some beast, and making the creature all the more grotesque. This
+fetich was kept crowned with flowers, and after this we often saw the
+child stealing away with Drollo to carry to it portions of her meals or
+a new-found treasure--a sea-shell, a broken saucer, or a fragment of
+ribbon. The food always mysteriously disappeared, and my suspicion is
+that Drollo used to go back secretly in the night and devour it, asking
+no questions and telling no lies: it fitted in nicely, however, Drollo
+merely performing the ancient part of the priests of Jupiter, men who
+have been much admired. "What a little pagan she is!" I said.
+
+"Oh, no, it is only her doll," replied Christine.
+
+I tried several times to paint Felipa during these first weeks, but
+those eyes of hers always evaded me. They were, as I have said before,
+yellow--that is, they were brown with yellow lights--and they stared at
+you with the most inflexible openness. The child had the full-curved,
+half-open mouth of the tropics, and a low Greek forehead. "Why isn't
+she pretty?" I said.
+
+"She is hideous," replied Christine; "look at her elbows."
+
+Now Felipa's arms _were_ unpleasant: they were brown and lean, scratched
+and stained, and they terminated in a pair of determined little paws
+that could hold on like grim Death. I shall never forget coming upon a
+tableau one day out on the barren--a little Florida cow and Felipa, she
+holding on by the horns, and the beast with its small fore feet
+stubbornly set in the sand; girl pulling one way, cow the other; both
+silent and determined. It was a hard contest, but the girl won.
+
+"And if you pass over her elbows, there are her feet," continued
+Christine languidly. For she was a sybaritic lover of the fine linens of
+life, that friend of mine--a pre-Raphaelite lady with clinging draperies
+and a mediæval clasp on her belt. Her whole being rebelled against
+ugliness, and the mere sight of a sharp-nosed, light-eyed woman on a
+cold day made her uncomfortable.
+
+"Have we not feet too?" I replied sharply.
+
+But I knew what she meant. Bare feet are not pleasant to the eye
+nowadays, whatever they may have been in the days of the ancient Greeks;
+and Felipa's little brown insteps were half the time torn or bruised by
+the thorns of the chaparral. Besides, there was always the disagreeable
+idea that she might step upon something cold and squirming when she
+prowled through the thickets knee-deep in the matted grasses. Snakes
+abounded, although we never saw them; but Felipa went up to their very
+doors, as it were, and rang the bell defiantly.
+
+One day old Grandfather Bartolo took the child with him down to the
+coast: she was always wild to go to the beach, where she could gather
+shells and sea-beans, and chase the little ocean-birds that ran along
+close to the waves with that swift gliding motion of theirs, and where
+she could listen to the roar of the breakers. We were several miles up
+the salt-marsh, and to go down to the ocean was quite a voyage to
+Felipa. She bade us good-by joyously; then ran back to hug Christine a
+second time, then to the boat again; then back.
+
+"I thought you wanted to go, child?" I said, a little impatiently; for I
+was reading aloud, and these small irruptions were disturbing.
+
+"Yes," said Felipa, "I want to go; and still--Perhaps if the gracious
+señora would kiss me again--"
+
+Christine only patted her cheek and told her to run away: she obeyed,
+but there was a wistful look in her eyes, and, even after the boat had
+started, her face, watching us from the stem, haunted me.
+
+"Now that the little monkey has gone, I may be able at last to catch and
+fix a likeness of her," I said; "in this case a recollection is better
+than the changing quicksilver reality."
+
+"You take it as a study of ugliness?"
+
+"Do not be hard upon the child, Christine."
+
+"Hard? Why, she adores me," said my friend, going off to her hammock
+under the tree.
+
+Several days passed, and the boat returned not. I accomplished a fine
+amount of work, and Christine a fine amount of swinging in the hammock
+and dreaming. At length one afternoon I gave my final touch, and carried
+my sketch over to the pre-Raphaelite lady for criticism. "What do you
+see?" I said.
+
+"I see a wild-looking child with yellow eyes, a mat of curly black hair,
+a lank little bodice, her two thin brown arms embracing a gaunt old dog
+with crooked legs, big feet, and turned-in toes."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"All."
+
+"You do not see latent beauty, courage, and a possible great gulf of
+love in that poor wild little face?"
+
+"Nothing of the kind," replied Christine decidedly. "I see an ugly
+little girl; that is all."
+
+The next day the boat returned, and brought back five persons, the old
+grandfather, Felipa, Drollo, Miguel of the island, and--Edward Bowne.
+
+"Already?" I said.
+
+"Tired of the Madre, Kitty; thought I would come up here and see you for
+a while. I knew you must be pining for me."
+
+"Certainly," I replied; "do you not see how I have wasted away?"
+
+He drew my arm through his and raced me down the plank-walk toward the
+shore, where I arrived laughing and out of breath.
+
+"Where is Christine?" he asked.
+
+I came back into the traces at once. "Over there in the hammock. You
+wish to go to the house first, I suppose?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"But she did not come to meet you, Edward, although she knew you had
+landed."
+
+"Of course not, also."
+
+"I do not understand you two."
+
+"And of course not, a third time," said Edward, looking down at me with
+a smile. "What do peaceful little artists know about war?"
+
+"Is it war?"
+
+"Something very like it, Kitty. What is that you are carrying?"
+
+"Oh! my new sketch. What do you think of it?"
+
+"Good, very good. Some little girl about here, I suppose?"
+
+"Why, it is Felipa!"
+
+"And who is Felipa? Seems to me I have seen that old dog, though."
+
+"Of course you have; he was in the boat with you, and so was Felipa; but
+she was dressed in boy's clothes, and that gives her a different look."
+
+"Oh! that boy? I remember him. His name is Philip. He is a funny little
+fellow," said Edward calmly.
+
+"Her name is Felipa, and she is not a boy or a funny little fellow at
+all," I replied.
+
+"Isn't she? I thought she was both," replied Ned carelessly; and then he
+went off toward the hammock. I turned away, after noting Christine's
+cool greeting, and went back to the boat.
+
+Felipa came bounding to meet me. "What is his name?" she demanded.
+
+"Bowne."
+
+"Buon--Buona; I can not say it."
+
+"Bowne, child--Edward Bowne."
+
+"Oh! Eduardo; I know that. Eduardo--Eduardo--a name of honey."
+
+She flew off singing the name, followed by Drollo carrying his
+mistress's palmetto basket in his big patient mouth; but when I passed
+the house a few moments afterward she was singing, or rather talking
+volubly of, another name--"Miguel," and "the wife of Miguel," who were
+apparently important personages on the canvas of her life. As it
+happened, I never really saw that wife of Miguel, who seemingly had no
+name of her own; but I imagined her. She lived on a sand-bar in the
+ocean not far from the mouth of our salt-marsh; she drove pelicans like
+ducks with a long switch, and she had a tame eagle; she had an old horse
+also, who dragged the driftwood across the sand on a sledge, and this
+old horse seemed like a giant horse always, outlined as he was against
+the flat bar and the sky. She went out at dawn, and she went out at
+sunset, but during the middle of the burning day she sat at home and
+polished sea-beans, for which she obtained untold sums; she was very
+tall, she was very yellow, and she had but one eye. These items, one by
+one, had been dropped by Felipa at various times, and it was with
+curiosity that I gazed upon the original Miguel, the possessor of this
+remarkable spouse. He was a grave-eyed, yellow man, who said little and
+thought less, applying _cui bono?_ to mental much as the city man
+applies it to bodily exertion, and therefore achieving, I think, a
+finer degree of inanition. The tame eagle, the pelicans, were nothing to
+him; and, when I saw his lethargic, gentle countenance, my own curiosity
+about them seemed to die away in haze, as though I had breathed in an
+invisible opiate. He came, he went, and that was all; exit Miguel.
+
+Felipa was constantly with us now. She and Drollo followed the three of
+us wherever we went--followed the two also whenever I staid behind to
+sketch, as I often staid, for in those days I was trying to catch the
+secret of the salt-marsh; a hopeless effort--I know it now. "Stay with
+me, Felipa," I said; for it was natural to suppose that the lovers might
+like to be alone. (I call them lovers for want of a better name, but
+they were more like haters; however, in such cases it is nearly the same
+thing.) And then Christine, hearing this, would immediately call
+"Felipa!" and the child would dart after them, happy as a bird. She wore
+her boy's suit now all the time, because the señora had said she "looked
+well in it." What the señora really said was, that in boy's clothes she
+looked less like a grasshopper. But this had been translated as above by
+Edward Bowne when Felipa suddenly descended upon him one day and
+demanded to be instantly told what the gracious lady was saying about
+her; for she seemed to know by intuition when we spoke of her, although
+we talked in English and mentioned no names. When told, her small face
+beamed, and she kissed Christine's hand joyfully and bounded away.
+Christine took out her handkerchief and wiped the spot.
+
+"Christine," I said, "do you remember the fate of the proud girl who
+walked upon bread?"
+
+"You think that I may starve for kisses some time?" said my friend,
+going on with the wiping.
+
+"Not while I am alive," called out Edward from behind. His style of
+courtship _was_ of the sledge-hammer sort sometimes. But he did not get
+much for it on that day; only lofty tolerance, which seemed to amuse him
+greatly.
+
+Edward played with Felipa very much as if she was a rubber toy or a
+little trapeze performer. He held her out at arm's length in mid-air, he
+poised her on his shoulder, he tossed her up into the low myrtle-trees,
+and dangled her by her little belt over the claret-colored pools on the
+barren; but he could not frighten her; she only laughed and grew wilder
+and wilder, like a squirrel. "She has muscles and nerves of steel," he
+said admiringly.
+
+"Do put her down; she is too excitable for such games." I said in
+French, for Felipa seemed to divine our English now. "See the color she
+has."
+
+For there was a trail of dark red over the child's thin oval cheeks
+which made her look unlike herself. As she caught our eyes fixed upon
+her, she suddenly stopped her climbing and came and sat at Christine's
+feet. "Some day I shall wear robes like the señora's," she said, passing
+her hand over the soft fabric; "and I think," she added after some slow
+consideration, "that my face will be like the señora's too."
+
+Edward burst out laughing. The little creature stopped abruptly and
+scanned his face.
+
+"Do not tease her," I said.
+
+Quick as a flash she veered around upon me. "He does not tease me," she
+said angrily in Spanish; "and, besides, what if he does? I like it." She
+looked at me with gleaming eyes and stamped her foot.
+
+"What a little tempest!" said Christine.
+
+Then Edward, man-like, began to explain. "You could not look much like
+this lady, Felipa," he said, "because you are so dark, you know."
+
+"Am I dark?"
+
+"Very dark; but many people are dark, of course; and for my part I
+always liked dark eyes," said this mendacious person.
+
+"Do you like my eyes" asked Felipa anxiously.
+
+"Indeed I do: they are like the eyes of a dear little calf I once owned
+when I was a boy."
+
+The child was satisfied, and went back to her place beside Christine.
+"Yes, I shall wear robes like this," she said dreamily, drawing the
+flowing drapery over her knees clad in the little linen trousers, and
+scanning the effect; "they would trail behind me--so." Her bare feet
+peeped out below the hem, and again we all laughed, the little brown
+toes looked so comical coming out from the silk and the snowy
+embroideries. She came down to reality again, looked at us, looked at
+herself, and for the first time seemed to comprehend the difference.
+Then suddenly she threw herself down on the ground like a little animal,
+and buried her head in her arms. She would not speak, she would not look
+up: she only relaxed one arm a little to take in Drollo, and then lay
+motionless. Drollo looked at us out of one eye solemnly from his
+uncomfortable position, as much as to say: "No use; leave her to me." So
+after a while we went away and left them there.
+
+That evening I heard a low knock at my door. "Come in," I said, and
+Felipa entered. I hardly knew her. She was dressed in a flowered muslin
+gown which had probably belonged to her mother, and she wore her
+grandmother's stockings and large baggy slippers; on her mat of curly
+hair was perched a high-crowned, stiff white cap adorned with a ribbon
+streamer; and her lank little neck, coming out of the big gown, was
+decked with a chain of large sea-beans, like exaggerated lockets. She
+carried a Cuban fan in her hand which was as large as a parasol, and
+Drollo, walking behind, fairly clanked with the chain of sea-shells
+which she had wound around him from head to tail. The droll tableau and
+the supreme pride on Felipa's countenance overcame me, and I laughed
+aloud. A sudden cloud of rage and disappointment came over the poor
+child's face: she threw her cap on the floor and stamped on it; she tore
+off her necklace and writhed herself out of her big flowered gown, and,
+running to Drollo, nearly strangled him in her fierce efforts to drag
+off his shell chains. Then, a half-dressed, wild little phantom, she
+seized me by the skirts and dragged me toward the looking-glass. "You
+are not pretty either," she cried. "Look at yourself! look at yourself!"
+
+"I did not mean to laugh at you, Felipa," I said gently; "I would not
+laugh at any one; and it is true I am not pretty, as you say. I can
+never be pretty, child; but, if you will try to be more gentle, I could
+teach you how to dress yourself so that no one would laugh at you again.
+I could make you a little bright-barred skirt and a scarlet bodice: you
+could help, and that would teach you to sew. But a little girl who wants
+all this done for her must be quiet and good."
+
+"I am good," said Felipa; "as good as everything."
+
+The tears still stood in her eyes, but her anger was forgotten: she
+improvised a sort of dance around my room, followed by Drollo dragging
+his twisted chain, stepping on it with his big feet, and finally winding
+himself up into a knot around the chair-legs.
+
+"Couldn't we make Drollo something too? dear old Drollo!" said Felipa,
+going to him and squeezing him in an enthusiastic embrace. I used to
+wonder how his poor ribs stood it: Felipa used him as a safety-valve for
+her impetuous feelings.
+
+She kissed me good night, and then asked for "the other lady."
+
+"Go to bed, child," I said; "I will give her your good night."
+
+"But I want to kiss her too," said Felipa.
+
+She lingered at the door and would not go; she played with the latch,
+and made me nervous with its clicking; at last I ordered her out. But on
+opening my door half an hour afterward there she was sitting on the
+floor outside in the darkness, she and Drollo, patiently waiting.
+Annoyed, but unable to reprove her, I wrapped the child in my shawl and
+carried her out into the moonlight, where Christine and Edward were
+strolling to and fro under the pines. "She will not go to bed,
+Christine, without kissing you," I explained. "Funny little monkey!"
+said my friend, passively allowing the embrace.
+
+"Me too," said Edward, bending down. Then I carried my bundle back
+satisfied.
+
+The next day Felipa and I in secret began our labors; hers consisted in
+worrying me out of my life and spoiling material--mine in keeping my
+temper and trying to sew. The result, however, was satisfactory, never
+mind how we got there. I led Christine out one afternoon: Edward
+followed. "Do you like tableaux?" I said. "There is one I have arranged
+for you."
+
+Felipa sat on the edge of the low, square-curbed Spanish well, and
+Drollo stood behind her, his great yellow body and solemn head serving
+as a background. She wore a brown petticoat barred with bright colors,
+and a little scarlet bodice fitting her slender waist closely; a
+chemisette of soft cream-color with loose sleeves covered her neck and
+arms, and set off the dark hues of her cheeks and eyes; and around her
+curly hair a red scarf was twisted, its fringed edges forming a drapery
+at the back of the head, which, more than anything else, seemed to bring
+out the latent character of her face. Brown moccasins, red stockings,
+and a quantity of bright beads completed her costume.
+
+"By Jove!" cried Edward, "the little thing is almost pretty."
+
+Felipa understood this, and a great light came into her face: forgetting
+her pose, she bounded forward to Christine's side. "I am pretty, then?"
+she said with exultation; "I _am_ pretty, then, after all? For now you
+yourself have said it--have said it."
+
+"No, Felipa," I interposed, "the gentleman said it." For the child had a
+curious habit of confounding the two identities which puzzled me then as
+now. But this afternoon, this happy afternoon, she was content, for she
+was allowed to sit at Christine's feet and look up into her fair face
+unmolested. I was forgotten, as usual. "It is always so," I said to
+myself. But cynicism, as Mr. Aldrich says, is a small brass field-piece
+that eventually bursts and kills the artilleryman. I knew this, having
+been blown up myself more than once; so I went back to my painting and
+forgot the world. Our world down there on the edge of the salt-marsh,
+however, was a small one: when two persons went out of it there was a
+vacuum.
+
+One morning Felipa came sadly to my side. "They have gone away," she
+said.
+
+"Yes, child."
+
+"Down to the beach to spend all the day."
+
+"Yes, I know it."
+
+"And without me!"
+
+This was the climax. I looked up. Her eyes were dry, but there was a
+hollow look of disappointment in her face that made her seem old; it was
+as though for an instant you caught what her old-woman face would be
+half a century on.
+
+"Why did they not take me?" she said. "I am pretty now: she herself said
+it."
+
+"They can not always take you, Felipa," I replied, giving up the point
+as to who had said it.
+
+"Why not? I am pretty now: she herself said it," persisted the child.
+"In these clothes, you know: she herself said it. The clothes of the son
+of Pedro you will never see more: they are burned."
+
+"Burned?"
+
+"Yes, burned," replied Felipa composedly. "I carried them out on the
+barren and burned them. Drollo singed his paw. They burned quite nicely.
+But they are gone, and I am pretty now, and yet they did not take me!
+What shall I do?"
+
+"Take these colors and make me a picture," I suggested. Generally, this
+was a prized privilege, but to-day it did not attract; she turned away,
+and a few moments after I saw her going down to the end of the
+plank-walk, where she stood gazing wistfully toward the ocean. There she
+staid all day, going into camp with Drollo, and refusing to come to
+dinner in spite of old Dominga's calls and beckonings. At last the
+patient old grandmother went down herself to the end of the long walk
+where they were, with some bread and venison on a plate. Felipa ate but
+little, but Drollo, after waiting politely until she had finished,
+devoured everything that was left in his calmly hungry way, and then sat
+back on his haunches with one paw on the plate, as though for the sake
+of memory. Drollo's hunger was of the chronic kind; it seemed impossible
+either to assuage it or to fill him. There was a gaunt leanness about
+him which I am satisfied no amount of food could ever fatten. I think he
+knew it too, and that accounted for his resignation. At length, just
+before sunset, the boat returned, floating up the marsh with the tide,
+old Bartolo steering and managing the brown sails. Felipa sprang up
+joyfully; I thought she would spring into the boat in her eagerness.
+What did she receive for her long vigil? A short word or two; that was
+all. Christine and Edward had quarreled.
+
+How do lovers quarrel ordinarily? But I should not ask that, for these
+were no ordinary lovers: they were extraordinary.
+
+"You should not submit to her caprices so readily," I said the next day
+while strolling on the barren with Edward. (He was not so much cast
+down, however, as he might have been.)
+
+"I adore the very ground her foot touches, Kitty."
+
+"I know it. But how will it end?"
+
+"I will tell you: some of these days I shall win her, and then--she will
+adore me."
+
+Here Felipa came running after us, and Edward immediately challenged her
+to a race: a game of romps began. If Christine had been looking from her
+window she might have thought he was not especially disconsolate over
+her absence; but she was not looking. She was never looking out of
+anything or for anybody. She was always serenely content where she was.
+Edward and Felipa strayed off among the pine-trees, and gradually I lost
+sight of them. But as I sat sketching an hour afterward Edward came into
+view, carrying the child in his arms. I hurried to meet them.
+
+"I shall never forgive myself," he said; "the little thing has fallen
+and injured her foot badly, I fear."
+
+"I do not care at all," said Felipa; "I like to have it hurt. It is _my_
+foot, isn't it?"
+
+These remarks she threw at me defiantly, as though I had laid claim to
+the member in question. I could not help laughing.
+
+"The other lady will not laugh," said the child proudly. And in truth
+Christine, most unexpectedly, took up the _rôle_ of nurse. She carried
+Felipa to her own room--for we each had a little cell opening out of the
+main apartment--and as white-robed Charity she shone with new radiance,
+"Shone" is the proper word; for through the open door of the dim cell,
+with the dark little face of Felipa on her shoulder, her white robe and
+skin seemed fairly to shine, as white lilies shine on a dark night. The
+old grandmother left the child in our care and watched our proceedings
+wistfully, very much as a dog watches the human hands that extract the
+thorn from the swollen foot of her puppy. She was grateful and asked no
+questions; in fact, thought was not one of her mental processes. She did
+not think much; she felt. As for Felipa, the child lived in rapture
+during those days in spite of her suffering. She scarcely slept at
+all--she was too happy: I heard her voice rippling on through the night,
+and Christine's low replies. She adored her beautiful nurse.
+
+The fourth day came: Edward Bowne walked into the cell. "Go out and
+breathe the fresh air for an hour or two," he said in the tone more of a
+command than a request.
+
+"The child will never consent," replied Christine sweetly.
+
+"Oh, yes, she will; I will stay with her," said the young man, lifting
+the feverish little head on his arm and passing his hand softly over the
+bright eyes. "Felipa, do you not want me?" said Christine, bending
+down.
+
+"He stays; it is all the same," murmured the child.
+
+"So it is.--Go, Christine," said Edward with a little smile of triumph.
+
+Without a word Christine left the cell. But she did not go to walk; she
+came to my room, and, throwing herself on my bed, fell in a moment into
+a deep sleep, the reaction after her three nights of wakefulness. When
+she awoke it was long after dark, and I had relieved Edward in his
+watch.
+
+"You will have to give it up," he said as our lily came forth at last
+with sleep-flushed cheeks and starry eyes shielded from the light. "The
+spell is broken; we have all been taking care of Felipa, and she likes
+one as well as the other."
+
+Which was not true, in my case at least, since Felipa had openly derided
+my small strength when I lifted her, and beat off the sponge with which
+I attempted to bathe her hot face, "They" used no sponges, she said,
+only their nice cool hands; and she wished "they" would come and take
+care of her again. But Christine had resigned _in toto_. If Felipa did
+not prefer her to all others, then Felipa should not have her; she was
+not a common nurse. And indeed she was not. Her fair face, ideal grace,
+cooing voice, and the strength of her long arms and flexible hands, were
+like magic to the sick, and--distraction to the well; the well in this
+case being Edward Bowne looking in at the door.
+
+"You love them very much, do you not, Felipa?" I said one day when the
+child was sitting up for the first time in a cushioned chair.
+
+"Ah, yes; it is so strong when they carry me," she replied. But it was
+Edward who carried her.
+
+"He is very strong," I said.
+
+"Yes; and their long soft hair, with the smell of roses in it too," said
+Felipa dreamily. But the hair was Christine's.
+
+"I shall love them for ever, and they will love me for ever," continued
+the child. "Drollo too." She patted the dog's head as she spoke, and
+then concluded to kiss him on his little inch of forehead; next she
+offered him all her medicines and lotions in turn, and he smelled at
+them grimly. "He likes to know what I am taking," she explained.
+
+I went on: "You love them, Felipa, and they are fond of you. They will
+always remember you, no doubt."
+
+"Remember!" cried Felipa, starting up from her cushions like a
+Jack-in-a-box. "They are not going away? Never! never!"
+
+"But of course they must go some time, for--"
+
+But Felipa was gone. Before I could divine her intent she had flung
+herself out of her chair down on the floor, and was crawling on her
+hands and knees toward the outer room. I ran after her, but she reached
+the door before me, and, dragging her bandaged foot behind her, drew
+herself toward Christine. "You are _not_ going away! You are not! you
+are not!" she sobbed, clinging to her skirts.
+
+Christine was reading tranquilly; Edward stood at the outer door mending
+his fishing-tackle. The coolness between them remained, unwarmed by so
+much as a breath. "Run away, child; you disturb me," said Christine,
+turning over a leaf. She did not even look at the pathetic little bundle
+at her feet. Pathetic little bundles must be taught some time what
+ingratitude deserves.
+
+"How can she run, lame as she is?" said Edward from the doorway.
+
+"You are not going away, are you? Tell me you are not," sobbed Felipa in
+a passion of tears, beating on the floor with one hand, and with the
+other clinging to Christine.
+
+"I am not going," said Edward. "Do not sob so, you poor little thing!"
+
+She crawled to him, and he took her up in his arms and soothed her into
+stillness again; then he carried her out on the barren for a breath of
+fresh air.
+
+"It is a most extraordinary thing how that child confounds you two," I
+said. "It is a case of color-blindness, as it were--supposing you two
+were colors."
+
+"Which we are not," replied Christine carelessly. "Do not stray off into
+mysticism, Catherine."
+
+"It is not mysticism; it is a study of character--"
+
+"Where there is no character," replied my friend.
+
+I gave it up, but I said to myself: "Fate, in the next world make me one
+of those long, lithe, light-haired women, will you? I want to see how it
+feels."
+
+Felipa's foot was well again, and spring had come. Soon we must leave
+our lodge on the edge of the pine-barren, our outlook over the
+salt-marsh, with the river sweeping up twice a day, bringing in the
+briny odors of the ocean; soon we should see no more the eagles far
+above us or hear the night-cry of the great owls, and we must go without
+the little fairy flowers of the barren, so small that a hundred of them
+scarcely made a tangible bouquet, yet what beauty! what sweetness! In my
+portfolio were sketches and studies of the salt-marsh, and in my heart
+were hopes. Somebody says somewhere: "Hope is more than a blessing; it
+is a duty and a virtue." But I fail to appreciate preserved hope--hope
+put up in cans and served out in seasons of depression. I like it fresh
+from the tree. And so when I hope it _is_ hope, and not that well-dried,
+monotonous cheerfulness which makes one long to throw the persistent
+smilers out of the window. Felipa danced no more on the barrens; her
+illness had toned her down; she seemed content to sit at our feet while
+we talked, looking up dreamily into our faces, but no longer eagerly
+endeavoring to comprehend. We were there; that was enough.
+
+"She is growing like a reed," I said; "her illness has left her weak."
+
+"--Minded," suggested Christine.
+
+At this moment Felipa stroked the lady's white hand tenderly and laid
+her brown cheek against it.
+
+"Do you not feel reproached?" I said.
+
+"Why? Must we give our love to whoever loves us? A fine parcel of
+paupers we should all be, wasting our inheritance in pitiful small
+change! Shall I give a thousand beggars a half hour's happiness, or
+shall I make one soul rich his whole life long?"
+
+"The latter," remarked Edward, who had come up unobserved.
+
+They gazed at each other unflinchingly. They had come to open battle
+during those last days, and I knew that the end was near. Their words
+had been cold as ice, cutting as steel, and I said to myself, "At any
+moment." There would be a deadly struggle, and then Christine would
+yield. Even I comprehended something of what that yielding would be.
+
+"Why do they hate each other so?" Felipa said to me sadly.
+
+"Do they hate each other?"
+
+"Yes, for I feel it here," she answered, touching her breast with a
+dramatic little gesture.
+
+"Nonsense! Go and play with your doll, child." For I had made her a
+respectable, orderly doll to take the place of the ungainly fetich out
+on the barren.
+
+Felipa gave me a look and walked away. A moment afterward she brought
+the doll out of the house before my very eyes, and, going down to the
+end of the dock, deliberately threw it into the water; the tide was
+flowing out, and away went my toy-woman out of sight, out to sea.
+
+"Well!" I said to myself. "What next?"
+
+I had not told Felipa we were going; I thought it best to let it take
+her by surprise. I had various small articles of finery ready as
+farewell gifts, which should act as sponges to absorb her tears. But
+Fate took the whole matter out of my hands. This is how it happened: One
+evening in the jasmine arbor, in the fragrant darkness of the warm
+spring night, the end came; Christine was won. She glided in like a
+wraith, and I, divining at once what had happened, followed her into her
+little room, where I found her lying on her bed, her hands clasped on
+her breast, her eyes open and veiled in soft shadows, her white robe
+drenched with dew. I kissed her fondly--I never could help loving her
+then or now--and next I went out to find Edward. He had been kind to me
+all my poor gray life; should I not go to him now? He was still in the
+arbor, and I sat down by his side quietly; I knew that the words would
+come in time. They came; what a flood! English was not enough for him.
+He poured forth his love in the rich-voweled Spanish tongue also; it has
+sounded doubly sweet to me ever since.
+
+    "Have you felt the wool of the beaver?
+     Or swan's down ever?
+     Or have smelt the bud o' the brier?
+     Or the nard in the fire?
+     Or ha' tasted the bag o' the bee?
+     Oh so white, oh so soft, oh so sweet is she!"
+
+said the young lover; and I, listening there in the dark fragrant night,
+with the dew heavy upon me, felt glad that the old simple-hearted love
+was not entirely gone from our tired metallic world.
+
+It was late when we returned to the house. After reaching my room I
+found that I had left my cloak in the arbor. It was a strong fabric; the
+dew could not hurt it, but it could hurt my sketching materials and
+various trifles in the wide inside pockets--_objets de luxe_ to me,
+souvenirs of happy times, little artistic properties that I hang on the
+walls of my poor studio when in the city. I went softly out into the
+darkness again and sought the arbor; groping on the ground I found, not
+the cloak, but--Felipa! She was crouched under the foliage, face
+downward; she would not move or answer.
+
+"What is the matter, child?" I said, but she would not speak. I tried to
+draw her from her lair, but she tangled herself stubbornly still farther
+among the thorny vines, and I could not move her. I touched her neck; it
+was cold. Frightened, I ran back to the house for a candle.
+
+"Go away," she said in a low hoarse voice when I flashed the light over
+her. "I know all, and I am going to die. I have eaten the poison things
+in your box, and just now a snake came on my neck and I let him. He has
+bitten me, and I am glad. Go away; I am going to die."
+
+I looked around; there was my color-case rifled and empty, and the other
+articles were scattered on the ground. "Good Heavens, child!" I cried,
+"what have you eaten?"
+
+"Enough," replied Felipa gloomily. "I knew they were poisons; you told
+me so. And I let the snake stay."
+
+By this time the household, aroused by my hurried exit with the candle,
+came toward the arbor. The moment Edward appeared Felipa rolled herself
+up like a hedgehog again and refused to speak. But the old grandmother
+knelt down and drew the little crouching figure into her arms with
+gentle tenderness, smoothing its hair and murmuring loving words in her
+soft dialect.
+
+"What is it?" said Edward; but even then his eyes were devouring
+Christine, who stood in the dark vine-wreathed doorway like a picture in
+a frame. I explained.
+
+Christine smiled. "Jealousy," she said in a low voice. "I am not
+surprised."
+
+But at the first sound of her voice Felipa had started up, and,
+wrenching herself free from old Dominga's arms, threw herself at
+Christine's feet. "Look at _me_ so," she cried--"me too; do not look at
+him. He has forgotten poor Felipa; he does not love her any more. But
+_you_ do not forget, señora; _you_ love me--_you_ love me. Say you do,
+or I shall die!"
+
+We were all shocked by the pallor and the wild, hungry look of her
+uplifted face. Edward bent down and tried to lift her in his arms; but
+when she saw him a sudden fierceness came into her eyes; they shot out
+yellow light and seemed to narrow to a point of flame. Before we knew it
+she had turned, seized something, and plunged it into his encircling
+arm. It was my little Venetian dagger.
+
+We sprang forward; our dresses were spotted with the fast-flowing blood;
+but Edward did not relax his hold on the writhing, wild little body he
+held until it lay exhausted in his arms. "I am glad I did it," said the
+child, looking up into his face with her inflexible eyes. "Put me
+down--put me down, I say, by the gracious señora, that I may die with
+the trailing of her white robe over me." And the old grandmother with
+trembling hands received her and laid her down mutely at Christine's
+feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ah, well! Felipa did not die. The poisons racked but did not kill her,
+and the snake must have spared the little thin brown neck so
+despairingly offered to him. We went away; there was nothing for us to
+do but to go away as quickly as possible and leave her to her kind. To
+the silent old grandfather I said: "It will pass; she is but a child."
+
+"She is nearly twelve, señora. Her mother was married at thirteen."
+
+"But she loved them both alike, Bartolo. It is nothing; she does not
+know."
+
+"You are right, lady; she does not know," replied the old man slowly;
+"but _I_ know. It was two loves, and the stronger thrust the knife."
+
+
+
+
+"BRO."
+
+    To him that hath, we are told,
+    Shall be given. Yes, by the Cross!
+    To the rich man Fate sends gold,
+    To the poor man loss on loss.
+
+    THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
+
+
+Two houses, a saw-mill, and a tide-water marsh, with a railroad-track
+crossing it from northeast to southwest; on the other side the sea. One
+of the houses was near the drawbridge, and there the keeper lived, old
+Mr. Vickery. Not at all despised was old Mr. Vickery on account of his
+lowly occupation: the Vickerys had always lived on Vickery Island, and,
+although they were poor now, they had once been rich, and their name was
+still as well known as the sun in Port Wilbarger, and all Wilbarger
+district. Fine sea-island cotton was theirs once, and black hands to sow
+and gather it; salt-air made the old house pleasant. The air was still
+there, but not the cotton or the hands; and, when a keeper was wanted
+for the drawbridge of the new railroad, what more natural than that one
+should be selected who lived on the spot rather than a resident of Port
+Wilbarger, two miles away?
+
+The other house was on Wilbarger Island, at the edge of the town, and,
+in itself uninteresting and unimportant, was yet accepted, like the
+plain member of a handsome family, because of its associations; for here
+lived Mrs. Manning and her daughter Marion.
+
+The saw-mill was on the one point of solid mainland which ran down into
+the water cleanly and boldly, without any fringe of marsh; the
+river-channel was narrow here, and a row-boat brought the saw-miller
+across to the Manning cottage opposite three times each day. His name
+was Cranch, Ambrose Cranch, but everybody called him "Bro." He took his
+meals at the cottage, and had taken them there for years. New-comers at
+Wilbarger, and those persons who never have anything straight in their
+minds, supposed he was a relative; but he was not--only a friend. Mrs.
+Manning was a widow, fat, inefficient, and amiable. Her daughter Marion
+was a slender, erect young person of twenty-five years of age, with
+straight eyebrows, gray eyes, a clearly cut, delicate profile, and the
+calmness of perfect but unobtrusive health. She was often spoken of as
+an unmoved sort of girl, and certainly there were few surface-ripples;
+but there is a proverb about still waters which sometimes came to the
+minds of those who noticed physiognomy when they looked at her, although
+it is but fair to add that those who noticed anything in particular were
+rare in Wilbarger, where people were either too indolent or too
+good-natured to make those conscientious studies of their neighbors
+which are demanded by the code of morals prevailing on the coast farther
+north.
+
+Port Wilbarger was a very small seaport, situated on the inland side of
+a narrow island; the coastwise steamers going north and south touched
+there, coming in around the water-corner, passing the Old Town, the
+mile-long foot-bridge, and stopping at the New Town for a few moments;
+then backing around with floundering and splashing, and going away
+again. The small inside steamers, which came down from the last city in
+the line of sea-cities south of New York by an anomalous route
+advertised as "strictly inland all the way," also touched there, as if
+to take a free breath before plunging again into the narrow, grassy
+channels, and turning curves by the process of climbing the bank with
+the bow and letting the stern swing round, while men with poles pushed
+off again. It was the channel of this inside route which the
+railroad-drawbridge crossed in the midst of a broad, sea-green prairie
+below the town. As there was but one locomotive, and, when it had gone
+down the road in the morning, nothing could cross again until it came
+back at night, one would suppose that the keeper might have left the
+bridge turned for the steamers all day. But no: the superintendent was a
+man of spirit, and conducted his railroad on the principle of what it
+should be rather than what it was. He had a hand-car of his own, and
+came rolling along the track at all hours, sitting with dignity in an
+arm-chair while two red-shirted negroes worked at the crank. There were
+several drawbridges on his route, and it was his pleasure that they
+should all be exactly in place, save when a steamer was actually passing
+through; he would not even allow the keepers to turn the bridges a
+moment before it was necessary, and timed himself sometimes so as to
+pass over on his hand-car when the bow of the incoming boat was not ten
+yards distant.
+
+But, even with its steamers, its railroad, and railroad superintendent
+of the spirit above described, Port Wilbarger was but a sleepy,
+half-alive little town. Over toward the sea it had a lighthouse and a
+broad, hard, silver-white beach, which would have made the fortune of a
+Northern village; but when a Northern visitor once exclaimed,
+enthusiastically, "Why, I understand that you can walk for twenty miles
+down that beach!" a Wilbarger citizen looked at him slowly, and
+answered, "Yes, you can--if you _want_ to." There was, in fact, a kind
+of cold, creeping east wind, which did not rise high enough to stir the
+tops of the trees to and fro, but which, nevertheless, counted for a
+good deal over on that beach.
+
+Mrs. Manning was poor; but everybody was poor at Wilbarger, and nobody
+minded it much. Marion was the housekeeper and house-provider, and
+everything went on like clock-work. Marion was like her father, it was
+said; but nobody remembered him very clearly. He was a Northerner, who
+had come southward seeking health, and finding none. But he found Miss
+Forsythe instead, and married her. How it happened that Ambrose Cranch,
+not a relative but a nondescript, should be living in a household
+presided over by Forsythe blood, was as follows: First, he had put out
+years before a fire in Mrs. Manning's kitchen which would otherwise have
+burned the wooden house to the ground; that began the acquaintance.
+Second, learning that her small property was in danger of being swept
+away entirely, owing to unpaid taxes and mismanagement, he made a
+journey to the capital of the State in her behalf, and succeeded after
+much trouble in saving a part of it for her. It was pure kindness on his
+part in a time of general distress, and from another man would have been
+called remarkable; but nothing could be called remarkable in Ambrose
+Cranch: he had never been of any consequence in Wilbarger or his life.
+Mrs. Manning liked him, and, after a while, asked him to come and take
+his meals at the cottage: the saw-mill was directly opposite, and it
+would be neighborly. Ambrose, who had always eaten his dinners at the
+old Wilbarger Hotel, in the dark, crooked dining-room, which had an air
+of mystery not borne out by anything, unless it might be its soups,
+gladly accepted, and transferred his life to the mainland point and the
+cottage opposite, with the row-boat as a ferry between. He was so
+inoffensive and willing, and so skillful with his hands, that he was
+soon as much a part of the household as old Dinah herself; he mended and
+repaired, praised the good dishes, watered the flowers, and was an
+excellent listener. It would be amusing to know how much the fact of
+being, or securing, a good listener has to do with our lives. Mrs.
+Manning, fond of reminiscence and long narratives which were apt to run
+off at random, so that, whereas you began with the Browns, you ended
+with something about the Smiths, and never heard the Brown story at all,
+actually retained Ambrose Cranch at her table for eleven years because
+he listened well. But she did not realize it; neither did he. A simpler,
+more unplotting soul never existed than that in the saw-miller's body. A
+word now as to that body: it had a good deal to do with its owner's
+life, and our story. (O brothers and sisters, if Justice holds the
+balance, how handsome some of us are going to be in the next life!)
+Ambrose Cranch was tall and thin, what is called rawboned; all his
+joints were large and prominent, from his knuckles to his ankles. He had
+large, long feet and hands, and large, long ears; his feet shambled when
+he walked, his arms dangled from the shoulders like the arms of a wooden
+doll, and he had a long, sinewed throat, which no cravat or collar could
+hide, though he wore them up to his ears. Not that he did so wear them,
+however: he had no idea that his throat was ugly; he never thought about
+it at all. He had a long face, small, mild blue eyes, thin, lank brown
+hair, a large mouth, and long, narrow nose; he was, also, the most
+awkward man in the world. Was there no redeeming point? Hardly. His
+fingers were nicely finished at the ends, and sometimes he had rather a
+sweet smile. But in the contemplation of his joints, shoulders, elbows,
+wrists, and knuckles, even the student of anatomy hardly got as far as
+his finger-ends; and as to the smile, nobody saw it but the Mannings,
+who did not care about it. In origin he was, as before mentioned, a
+nondescript, having come from the up-country, where Southern ways shade
+off into mountain roughness; which again gives place to the
+river-people, and they, farther on, to the Hoosiers and Buckeyes, who
+are felicitously designated by the expressive title of "Western
+Yankees." He had inherited the saw-mill from an uncle, who had tried to
+make something of it, failed, and died. Ambrose, being a patient man,
+and one of smallest possible personal expenditure, managed to live, and
+even to save a little money--but only a little. He had been there twelve
+years, and was now thirty-eight years old. All this the whole town of
+Wilbarger knew, or might have known; it was no secret. But the saw-mill
+had a secret of its own, besides. Up stairs, in the back part, was a
+small room with a lock on the door, and windows with red cloth nailed
+over them in place of glass. Here Ambrose spent many moments of his day,
+and all of his evenings, quite alone. His red lights shone across the
+marsh, and could be seen from Vickery Island and the drawbridge; but
+they were not visible on the Wilbarger side, and attracted, therefore,
+no attention. However, it is doubtful whether they would have attracted
+attention anyway. Wilbarger people did not throw away their somewhat
+rarely excited interest upon Ambrose Cranch, who represented to them the
+flattest commonplace. They knew when his logs came, they knew the
+quantity and quality of his boards, they saw him superintending the
+loading of the schooner that bore them away, and that was all. Even the
+two negroes who worked in the mill--one bright, young, and yellow; the
+other old, slow, and black--felt no curiosity about the locked room and
+Cranch's absences; it was but a part of his way.
+
+What was in this room, then? Nothing finished as yet, save dreams.
+Cranch had that strong and singular bias of mind which makes, whether
+successful or unsuccessful, the inventor.
+
+It was a part of his unconsequence in every way that all persons called
+him "Bro"--even his negro helpers at the mill. When he first came to
+live with Mrs. Manning, she had tried hard to speak of him as "Mr.
+Cranch," and had taught her daughter to use the title; but, as time wore
+on, she had dropped into Bro again, and so had Marion. But, now that
+Marion was twenty-five and her own mistress, she had taken up the custom
+of calling him "Ambrose," the only person in the whole of Wilbarger who
+used, or indeed knew, the name. This she did, not on his account at all,
+but on her own; she disliked nicknames, and did not consider it
+dignified to use them. Cranch enjoyed her "Ambrose" greatly, and felt an
+inward pride every time she spoke it; but he said nothing.
+
+There was a seminary at Wilbarger--a forlorn, ill-supported institution,
+under the charge of the Episcopal Church of the diocese. But the
+Episcopal Church of the diocese was, for the time being, extremely poor,
+and its missions and schools were founded more in a spirit of hope than
+in any certainty of support; with much the same faith, indeed, which its
+young deacons show when they enter (as they all do at the earliest
+possible moment) into the responsibilities of matrimony. But in this
+seminary was, by chance, an excellent though melancholy-minded
+teacher--a Miss Drough, equally given to tears and arithmetic. Miss
+Drough was an adept at figures, and, taking a fancy to Marion Manning,
+she taught her all she knew up to trigonometry, with chess problems and
+some astronomy thrown in. Marion had no especial liking for mathematics
+in the beginning, but her clear mind had followed her ardent teacher
+willingly: at twenty-five she was a skilled arithmetician, passably well
+educated in ordinary branches, well read in strictly old-fashioned
+literature, and not very pious, because she had never liked the reverend
+gentleman in charge of the seminary and the small church--a thin man who
+called himself "a worm," and always ate all the best bits of meat,
+pressing, meanwhile, with great cordiality, the pale, watery
+sweet-potatoes upon the hungry schoolgirls. She was also exceedingly
+contemptuous in manner as to anything approaching flirtation with the
+few cavaliers of Wilbarger. It is rather hard to call them cavaliers,
+since they no longer had any good horses; but they came from a race of
+cavaliers, the true "armed horsemen" of America, if ever we had any. The
+old-time Southerners went about on horseback much more than on foot or
+in carriages; and they went armed.
+
+"Bro, will you mend the gate-latch?" said Mrs. Manning at the
+breakfast-table. They did not breakfast early; Mrs. Manning had never
+been accustomed to early breakfasts: the work at the saw-mill began and
+went on for three hours before the saw-miller broke his fast. Bro mended
+the latch, and then, after a survey of the garden, went up to the open
+window of the dining-room and said:
+
+"Shall I water the flowers, Miss Marion? They look sadly this morning."
+
+"Yes, if you please, Ambrose," replied the erect young person within,
+who was washing the cups, and the few old spoons and forks she called
+"the silver." The flowers were a link between them; they would not grow,
+and everybody told her they would not save Bro, who believed in them to
+the last, and watched even their dying struggles with unfailing hope.
+The trouble was that she set her mind upon flowers not suited to the
+soil; she sent regularly for seeds and slips, and would have it that
+they must grow whether they wished to or not. Whatever their wishes
+were, floral intentions necessarily escaping our grosser senses, one
+thing was certain--grow they did not, in spite of Bro's care. He now
+watered the consumptives of the day tenderly; he coaxed straggling
+branches and gently tied up weak ones, saw with concern that the latest
+balsam was gone, and, after looking at it for a while, thought it his
+duty to tell its mistress.
+
+"I am sorry, Miss Marion," he said, going to the window-sill, "but the
+pink balsam is dead again."
+
+"What can you mean by 'dead again'"? said a vexed but clear voice
+within. "It can not be dead but once, of course."
+
+"We have had a good many balsams," replied Bro apologetically, "and even
+a good many pink ones, like this; I forget sometimes."
+
+"That is because you have no _real_ love for flowers," said the irate
+young mistress from her dish-pan: she was provoked at the loss of the
+balsam--it was her last one.
+
+Bro, who could not see her from where he stood, waited a moment or two,
+shuffled his feet to and fro on the sand, and noiselessly drummed on the
+sill with his long fingers; then he went slowly down to the shore, where
+his boat was drawn up, and rowed himself across to the saw-mill. He felt
+a sort of guilt about that pink balsam, as though he had not perhaps
+taken enough care of it; but, in truth, he had watched every
+hair's-breadth of its limp, reluctant growth, knew its moist veining
+accurately, and even the habits and opinions, as it were, of two minute
+green inhabitants, with six legs, of the size, taken both together, of a
+pin's point, who considered the stalk quite a prairie.
+
+When she was eighteen and nineteen years old, Marion Manning had refused
+several suitors, giving as a reason to her mother that they were all
+detestable; since then, she had not been troubled with suitors to
+refuse. There were girls with more coloring and brighter eyes in
+Wilbarger, and girls with warmer hearts: so said the gossips. And,
+certainly, the calm reserve, the incisive words, and clear gray eyes
+that looked straight at you of Marion Manning were not calculated to
+encourage the embarrassed but at the same time decidedly
+favor-conferring attentions of the youths of the town. Mrs. Manning, in
+the course of the years they had been together, had gradually taken Bro
+as a humble confidant: he knew of the offers and refusals; he knew of
+the succeeding suitorless period which Mrs. Manning, a stanch believer
+in love and romance, bewailed as wasted time. "_I_ could never have
+resisted young Echols," she said, "sitting there on the door-step as he
+used to, with the sun shining on his curly hair. But there! I always had
+a fancy for curls." Bro received these confidences with strict
+attention, as valuable items. But one peculiarity of his mind was that
+he never generalized; and thus, for instance, instead of taking in the
+fact that curly hair plays a part in winning a heart, he only understood
+that Mrs. Manning, for some reason or other, liked kinks and twists in
+the covering of the head; as some persons liked hempen shoestrings,
+others leathern.
+
+"But Miss Marion is happy," he said once, when the suitorless period was
+two years old, and the mother lamenting.
+
+"Yes; but we can not live our lives more than once, Bro, and these years
+will never come back to her. What keeps _me_ up through all the
+privations I have suffered but the memory of the short but happy time of
+my own courtship and marriage?" Here Mrs. Manning shed tears. The
+memory must, indeed, have been a strong one, the unregenerated humorist
+would have thought, to "keep up" such a weight as hers. But Bro was not
+a humorist: that Mrs. Manning was fat was no more to him than that he
+himself was lean. He had the most implicit belief in the romance of her
+life, upon which she often expatiated; he knew all about the first time
+she saw him, and how she felt; he knew every detail of the courtship.
+This was only when Marion was absent, however; the mother, voluble as
+she was, said but little on that subject when her daughter was in the
+room.
+
+"But Miss Marion is happy," again said Bro, when the suitorless period
+was now five years old.
+
+"No, she is not," replied the mother this time. "She begins to feel that
+her life is colorless and blank; I can see she does. She is not an
+ordinary girl, and needlework and housekeeping do not content her. If
+she had an orphan asylum to manage, now, or something of that kind--But,
+dear me! what would suit her best, I do believe, would be drilling a
+regiment," added Mrs. Manning, her comfortable amplitude heaving with
+laughter. "She is as straight as a ramrod always, for all her delicate,
+small bones. What she would like best of all, I suppose, would be
+keeping accounts; she will do a sum now rather than any kind of
+embroidery, and a page of figures is fairly meat and drink to her. That
+Miss Drough has, I fear, done her more harm than good: you can not make
+life exactly even, like arithmetic, nor balance quantities, try as you
+may. And, whatever variety men may succeed in getting, we women have to
+put up with a pretty steady course of subtraction, I notice."
+
+"I am sorry you do not think she is happy," said Bro thoughtfully.
+
+"There you go!" said Mrs. Manning. "I do not mean that she is exactly
+_un_happy; but you never understand things, Bro."
+
+"I know it; I have had so little experience," said the other. But Bro's
+experience, large or small, was a matter of no interest to Mrs.
+Manning, who rambled on about her daughter.
+
+"The Mannings were always slow to develop, Edward used to say: I
+sometimes think Marion is not older now at heart than most girls of
+eighteen. She has always been more like the best scholar, the
+clear-headed girl at the top of the class, than a woman with a woman's
+feelings. She will be bitterly miserable if she falls in love at last,
+and all in vain. An old maid in love is a desperate sight."
+
+"What do you call an old maid?" asked Bro.
+
+"Any unmarried woman over--well, I used to say twenty-five, but Marion
+is that, and not much faded yet--say twenty-eight," replied Mrs.
+Manning, decisively, having to the full the Southern ideas on the
+subject.
+
+"Then Miss Marion has three years more?"
+
+"Yes; but, dear me! there is no one here she will look at. What I am
+afraid of is, that, after I am dead and gone, poor Marion, all thin and
+peaked (for she does not take after me in flesh), with spectacles on her
+nose, and little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, will be falling in
+love with some one who will not care for her at all. I should say a
+clergyman," pursued Mrs. Manning meditatively, "only Marion hates
+clergymen; a professor, then, or something of the kind. If I only had
+money enough to take her away and give her a change! She might see
+somebody then who would not wind his legs around his chair."
+
+"Around his chair?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Manning, beginning on another knitting-needle. "Have
+you not noticed how all the young men about here twist their feet around
+the legs of their chairs, especially when telling a long story or at
+table? Sometimes it is one foot, sometimes the other, and sometimes
+both, which I acknowledge _is_ awkward. What pleasure they find in it I
+can not imagine; _I_ should think it would be dislocating. Young
+Harding, now, poor fellow! had almost no fault but that."
+
+"And Miss Marion dislikes it? I hope _I_ do not do it then," said Bro
+simply.
+
+"Well, no," replied Mrs. Manning. "You see, your feet are rather long,
+Bro."
+
+They were; it would have taken a giant's chair to give them space enough
+to twist.
+
+So Bro's life went on: the saw-mill to give him bread and clothes, Mrs.
+Manning to listen to, the flowers to water, and, at every other leisure
+moment night and day, his inventions. For there were several, all
+uncompleted: a valve for a steam-engine, an idea for a self-register,
+and, incidentally, a screw. He had most confidence in the valve; when
+completed, it would regenerate the steam-engines of the world. The
+self-register gave him more trouble; it haunted him, but would not come
+quite right. He covered pages of paper with calculations concerning it.
+He had spent about twenty thousand hours, all told, over that valve and
+register during his eleven years at the saw-mill, and had not once been
+tired. He had not yet applied for patents, although the screw was
+complete. That was a trifle: he would wait for his more important works.
+
+One day old Mr. Vickery, having watched the superintendent roll safely
+past down the road on his way to Bridge No. 2, left his charge in the
+care of old Julius for the time being, and walked up the track toward
+Wilbarger. It was the shortest road to the village--indeed, the only
+road; but one could go by water. Before the days of the railroad, the
+Vickerys always went by water, in a wide-cushioned row-boat, with four
+pairs of arms to row. It was a great day, of course, when the first
+locomotive came over Vickery Marsh; but old Mr. Vickery was lamentably
+old-fashioned, and preferred the small days of the past, with the
+winding, silver channels and the row-boat, and the sense of wide
+possession and isolation produced by the treeless, green expanse which
+separated him from the town. To-day, however, he did not stop to think
+of these things, but hastened on as fast as his short legs could carry
+him. Mrs. Manning was an old friend of his; to her house he was
+hurrying.
+
+"You are both--you are both," he gasped, bursting into the sitting-room
+and sinking into a chair--"you are both--ah, ugh! ugh!"
+
+He choked, gurgled, and turned from red to purple. Mrs. Manning seized a
+palm-leaf fan, and fanned him vigorously.
+
+"Why _did_ you walk so fast, Mr. Vickery?" she said reproachfully. "You
+know your short breath can not stand it."
+
+"You would, too, Nannie," articulated the old man, "if--if _your_ boy
+had come home!"
+
+"What, Lawrence? You do not mean it!" she exclaimed, sinking into a
+chair in her turn, and fanning herself now. "I congratulate you, Mr.
+Vickery; I do, indeed. How long is it since you have seen him?"
+
+"Thirteen years; thir--teen years! He was fifteen when he went away, you
+know," whispered the old man, still giving out but the husky form of
+words without any voice to support them. "Under age, but would go. Since
+then he has been wandering over the ocean and all about, the bold boy!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Mrs. Manning; "how glad I shall be to see him! I was
+very fond of his mother."
+
+"Yes; Sally was a sweet little woman, and Lawrence takes after his
+mother more than after his father, I see. My son was a true Vickery;
+yes, a true Vickery. But what I came to say was, that you and Marion
+must both come over to-morrow and spend the day. We must kill the fatted
+calf, Nannie--indeed we must."
+
+Then, with his first free breath, the old man was obliged to go, lest
+the superintendent should return unexpectedly and find him absent. There
+was also the fatted calf to be provided: Julius must go across to the
+mainland and hunt down a wild turkey.
+
+At dinner Mrs. Manning had this great news to tell her listener--two
+now, since Marion had returned.
+
+"Who do you think has come home?" she said, enjoying her words as she
+spoke them. "Who but old Mr. Vickery's grandson, Lawrence, his only
+living grandchild! He went away thirteen years ago, and one of the
+sweetest boys I ever knew he was then.--You remember him, Marion."
+
+"I remember a boy," answered Marion briefly. "He never would finish any
+game, no matter what it was, but always wanted to try something new."
+
+"Like his mother," said Mrs. Manning, heaving a reminiscent sigh, and
+then laughing. "Sally Telfair used to change about the things in her
+work-basket and on her table every day of her life. Let me see--Lawrence
+must be twenty-eight now."
+
+"He has come back, I suppose, to take care of his grandfather in his old
+age," said Bro, who was eating his dinner in large, slow mouthfuls, in a
+manner which might have been called ruminative if ruminating animals
+were not generally fat.
+
+"Yes, of course," replied Mrs. Manning, with her comfortable belief in
+everybody's good motives.
+
+When Marion and her mother returned home the next day at dusk a third
+person was with them as they walked along the track, their figures
+outlined clearly against the orange after-glow in the west. Bro, who had
+come across for his tea, saw them, and supposed it was young Vickery. He
+supposed correctly. Young Vickery came in, staid to tea, and spent the
+evening. Bro, as usual, went over to the mill. The next day young
+Vickery came again, and the next; the third day the Mannings went over
+to the island. Then it began over again.
+
+"I do hope, Bro, that your dinners have been attended to properly," said
+Mrs. Manning, during the second week of these visitations.
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly," replied Bro, who would have eaten broiled
+rhinoceros unnoticingly.
+
+"You see Mr. Vickery has the old-time ideas about company and visiting
+to celebrate a great occasion, and Lawrence's return is, of course,
+that. It is a perfect marvel to hear where, or rather where not, that
+young man has been."
+
+"Where?" said Bro, obediently asking the usual question which connected
+Mrs. Manning's narratives, and gave them a reason for being.
+
+"Everywhere. All over the wide world, I should say."
+
+"Oh, no, mother; he was in Germany most of the time," said Marion.
+
+"He saw the Alps, Marion."
+
+"The Bavarian Alps."
+
+"And he saw France."
+
+"From the banks of the Moselle."
+
+"And Russia, and Holland, and Bohemia," pursued Mrs. Manning. "You will
+never make me believe that one can see all _those_ countries from
+Germany, Marion. Germany was never of so much importance in _my_ day.
+And to think, too, that he has lived in Bohemia! I must ask him about
+it. I have never understood where it was, exactly; but I _have_ heard
+persons called Bohemians who had not a foreign look at all."
+
+"He did not _live_ in Bohemia, mother."
+
+"Oh, yes, he did, child; I am sure I heard him say so."
+
+"You are thinking of Bavaria."
+
+"Marion! Marion! how can you tell what I am thinking of?" said Mrs.
+Manning oracularly. "There is no rule of arithmetic that can tell you
+that. But here is Lawrence himself at the door.--You _have_ lived in
+Bohemia, have you not?" she asked, as the young man entered: he came in
+and out now like one of the family. "Marion says you have not."
+
+"Pray, don't give it up, but stick to that opinion, Miss Marion," said
+the young man, with a merry glint in his eyes. Ah! yes, young Vickery
+had wandered, there was no doubt of it; he used contractions, and such
+words as "stick." Mrs. Manning and Marion had never said "don't" or
+"can't" in their lives.
+
+"I do not know what you mean," replied Marion, a slight color rising in
+her cheeks. "It is not a matter of opinion one way or the other, but of
+fact. You either have lived in Bohemia, or you have not."
+
+"Well, then, I have," said Vickery, laughing.
+
+"There! Marion," exclaimed Mrs. Manning triumphantly.
+
+Vickery, overcome by mirth, turned to Bro, as if for relief; Bro was at
+least a man.
+
+But Bro returned his gaze mildly, comprehending nothing.
+
+"Going over to the mill?" said Vickery. "I'll go with you, and have a
+look about."
+
+They went off together, and Vickery examined the mill from top to
+bottom; he measured the logs, inspected the engine, chaffed the negroes,
+climbed out on the roof, put his head into Bro's cell-like bedroom, and
+came at last to the locked door.
+
+"What have we here?" he asked.
+
+"Only a little workshop of mine, which I keep locked," replied Bro.
+
+"So I see. But what's inside?"
+
+"Nothing of much consequence--as yet," replied the other, unable to
+resist adding the adverb.
+
+"You must let me in," said Vickery, shaking the door. "I never could
+abide a secret. Come, Bro; I won't tell. Let me in, or I shall climb up
+at night and break in," he added gayly.
+
+Bro stood looking at him in silence. Eleven years had he labored there
+alone, too humble to speak voluntarily of his labors; too insignificant,
+apparently, for questions from others. Although for the most part happy
+over his work, there were times when he longed for a friendly ear to
+talk to, for other eyes to criticise, the sympathy of other minds, the
+help of other hands. At these moments he felt drearily lonely over his
+valve and register; they even seemed to mock him. He was not
+imaginative, yet occasionally they acted as if moved by human motives,
+and, worse still, became fairly devilish in their crooked perverseness.
+Nobody had ever asked before to go into that room. Should he? Should he
+not? Should he? Then he did.
+
+Lawrence, at home everywhere, sat on a high stool, and looked on with
+curiosity while the inventor brought out his inventions and explained
+them. It was a high day for Bro: new life was in him; he talked rapidly;
+a dark color burned in his thin cheeks. He talked for one hour without
+stopping, the buzz of the great saw below keeping up an accompaniment;
+then he paused.
+
+"How do they seem to you?" he asked feverishly.
+
+"Well, I have an idea that self-registers are about all they can be now;
+I have seen them in use in several places at the North," said Lawrence.
+"As to the steam-valve, I don't know; there may be something in it. But
+there is no doubt about that screw: for some uses it is perfect, better
+than anything we have, I should say."
+
+"Oh, the screw?" said the other man, in a slow, disappointed voice.
+"Yes, it is a good screw; but the valve--"
+
+"Yes, as you say, the valve," said Lawrence, jumping down from his
+stool, and looking at this and that carelessly on his way to the door.
+"I don't comprehend enough of the matter, Bro, to judge. But you send up
+that screw to Washington at once and get a patent out on it; you will
+make money, I know."
+
+He was gone; there was nothing more to see in the saw-mill, so he
+paddled across, and went down toward the dock. The smoke of a steamer
+coming in from the ocean could be seen; perhaps there would be something
+going on down there.
+
+"He is certainly a remarkably active young fellow," said Mrs. Manning,
+as she saw the top of his head passing, the path along-shore being below
+the level of the cottage. "He has seen more in Wilbarger already than I
+have ever seen here in all my life."
+
+"We are, perhaps, a little old-fashioned, mother," replied Marion.
+
+"Perhaps we are, child. Fashions always were a long time in reaching
+Wilbarger. But there! what did it matter? We had them sooner or later,
+though generally later. Still, bonnets came quite regularly. But I have
+never cared much about bonnets," pursued Mrs. Manning reflectively,
+"since capes went out, and those sweet ruches in front, full of little
+rose-buds. There is no such thing now as a majestic bonnet."
+
+Bro came over to tea as usual. He appeared changed. This was remarkable;
+there had never been any change in him before, as far back as they could
+remember.
+
+"You are surely not going to have a fever?" asked Mrs. Manning
+anxiously, skilled in fever symptoms, as are all dwellers on that shore.
+
+"No; I have been a little overturned in mind this afternoon, that is
+all," replied Bro. Then, with a shadow of importance, "I am obliged to
+write to Washington."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" asked Mrs. Manning, for once assuming the position
+of questioner.
+
+"I have invented a--screw," he answered, hesitatingly--"a screw, which
+young Mr. Vickery thinks a good one. I am going to apply for a patent on
+it."
+
+"Dear me! Apply for a patent? Do you know how?"
+
+"Yes, I know how," replied the inventor quietly.
+
+Marion was looking at him in surprise.
+
+"You _invented_ the screw, Ambrose?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Marion." Then, unable to keep down his feelings any
+longer--"But there is a valve also," he added with pride, "which seems
+to _me_ more important; and there is a self-register."
+
+"Lawrence was over there this evening, was he not? And you showed him
+your inventions then?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Marion, I did."
+
+"But why in the world, Bro, have you not told _us_, or, indeed, any one,
+about them all these years?" interposed Mrs. Manning, surveying her
+listener with new eyes.
+
+"You did not ask; nobody has ever asked. Mr. Vickery is the only one."
+
+"Then it was Lawrence who advised you to write to Washington?" said
+Marion.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You will take me over to the mill immediately," said the girl, rising;
+"I wish to see everything.--And, mother, will you come, too?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Mrs. Manning, with a determination to go in spite
+of her avoirdupois, the darkness, the row-boat, and the steep
+mill-stairs. She was devoured by curiosity, and performed the journey
+without flinching. When they reached the work-room at last, Bro, in his
+excitement, lighted all the lamps he had in the mill and brought them
+in, so that the small place was brilliant. Mrs. Manning wondered and
+ejaculated, tried not to knock over small articles, listened,
+comprehended nothing, and finally took refuge mentally with the screw
+and physically in an old arm-chair; these two things at least she
+understood. Marion studied the valve a long time, listening attentively
+to Bro's eager explanations. "I can make nothing of it," she said at
+last, in a vexed tone.
+
+"Neither could Mr. Vickery," said Bro.
+
+She next turned to the register, and, before long, caught its idea.
+
+"It is not _quite_ right yet, for some reason," explained the inventor,
+apologetically.
+
+She looked over his figures.
+
+"It is plain enough why it is not right," she said, after a moment, in
+her schoolmistress tone. "Your calculations are wrong. Give me a
+pencil." She went to work at once, and soon had a whole sheet covered.
+"It will take me some time," she said, glancing up at the end of a
+quarter of an hour. "If you are tired, mother, you had better go back."
+
+"I think I will," said Mrs. Manning, whose mind was now on the darkness
+and the row-boat. Bro went with her, and then returned. The mother no
+more thought of asking her daughter to leave a column of unfinished
+figures than of asking a child to leave an unfinished cake.
+
+"Do not interrupt me now, but sit down and wait," said Marion, without
+looking up, when Bro came back. He obeyed, and did not stir; instead, he
+fell to noticing the effect of her profile against the red cloth over
+the window. It took Marion longer than she expected to finish the
+calculation; her cheeks glowed over the work. "There!" she said at last,
+throwing down the pencil and pushing the paper toward him. She had
+succeeded; the difficulty was practically at an end. Bro looked at the
+paper and at her with admiring pride.
+
+"It is your invention now," he said.
+
+"Oh, no; I only did the sum for you. Astronomers often have somebody to
+do the sums for them."
+
+"I shall apply for patents on all three now," said Bro; "and the
+register _is_ yours, Miss Marion. In eleven years I have not succeeded
+in doing what you have just done in an hour."
+
+"So much the worse for you, Ambrose," replied Marion lightly. She was
+quite accustomed to his praise, she had had it steadily from childhood.
+If not always gracefully expressed, at least it was always earnest; but,
+like Ambrose, of no consequence.
+
+Bro made his application in due form. Young Vickery volunteered to write
+to an acquaintance in Washington, a young lawyer, who aspired to "patent
+business," asking him, as he expressed it, to "see Bro through." "No
+sharp practice in this case, Dan," he wrote privately. "Cranch is poor,
+and a friend of friends of mine; do your best for him."
+
+But, although he thus good-naturedly assisted the man, he laughed at the
+woman for her part in the figures, which Bro had related with pride.
+
+"What will you do next?" he said. "Build a stone wall--or vote? Imagine
+a girl taking light recreation in equations, and letting her mind wander
+hilariously among groves of triangles on a rainy day!"
+
+Marion colored highly, but said nothing. Her incisiveness seemed to fail
+her when with Lawrence Vickery. And, as he was never more than half in
+earnest, it was as hard to use real weapons against him as to fence with
+the summer wind. The young man seemed to have taken a fancy to Bro; he
+spent an hour or two at the saw-mill almost every day, and Cæsar had
+become quite accustomed to his voice shouting for the boat. But the old
+negro liked him, and came across cheerfully, even giving him voluntarily
+the title "marse," which the blacks withheld whenever they pleased now,
+and tenaciously. Vickery took Bro over to see his grandfather, the old
+house, and the wastes which were once their cotton-fields. He had no
+pride about the old gentleman's lowly office; he had roamed about the
+world too much for that. And, when Bro suggested that he should take the
+position himself and relieve his grandfather, he answered carelessly
+that his grandfather did not want to be relieved, which was true--old
+Mr. Vickery deriving the only amusement of his life now in plans for
+outwitting, in various small ways, the spirited superintendent.
+
+"However," said Lawrence, "I could not in any case; I have plans of
+importance waiting for me."
+
+"Where?" asked Bro.
+
+"Well--abroad. I don't mind telling _you_," said Vickery; "but it is a
+secret at present."
+
+"Then you do not intend to stay here?"
+
+"Here? Bless you, no! The place is a howling, one-horse desert. I only
+came back awhile to see the old man."
+
+The "while" lasted all winter, Young Vickery exhausted the town, the
+island, and the whole district; he was "hail fellow" with everybody,
+made acquaintance with the lighthouse-keeper, knew the captains of all
+the schooners, and even rode on the hand-car and was admitted to the
+friendship of the superintendent. But, in the way of real intimacy, the
+cottage and the saw-mill were his favorite haunts. He was with Marion a
+part of every day; he teased her, laughed at her flowers, mimicked her
+precise pronunciation, made caricatures of her friend Miss Drough, and
+occasionally walked by with Nannie Barr, the most consummate little
+flirt in the town. Marion changed--that is, inwardly. She was too proud
+to alter her life outwardly, and, beyond putting away the chess-problem
+book, and walking with Miss Drough in quiet paths through the andromeda
+and smilax thickets, or out on the barrens among the saw-palmettoes,
+rather than through the streets of the town, what she _did_ was the same
+as usual. But she was not what she had been. She seemed to have become
+timid, almost irresolute; she raised her eyes quickly and dropped them
+as quickly: the old calm, steady gaze was gone; her color came and went.
+She was still erect as ever: she could not change that; but she seemed
+disposed to sit more in the shadow, or half behind the curtain, or to
+withdraw to her own room, where the bolt was now often used which had
+formerly rusted in its place. Bro noticed all this. Marion's ways had
+not been changeable like those of most girls, and he had grown into
+knowing them exactly: being a creature of precise habit himself, he now
+felt uncomfortable and restless because she was so. At last he spoke to
+her mother. "She is certainly changed: do you think there is any danger
+of fever?" he asked uneasily. But Mrs. Manning only blinked and nodded
+smilingly back in answer, holding up her finger to signify that Marion
+was within hearing. Supposing that he had comprehended her, of course,
+and glad to have a confidant, she now blinked and nodded at him from all
+sides--from behind doors, from over Marion's head, from out of the
+windows, even throwing her confidential delight to him across the river
+as he stood in the saw-mill doorway. Marion, then, was going through
+something--something not to be mentioned, but only mysteriously
+nodded--which was beneficial to her; what could it be? She had taken to
+going very frequently to church lately, in spite of her dislike to "the
+worm," who still occupied the pulpit. Bro went back to the experience of
+his youth in the up-country, the only experience he had to go back to,
+and decided that she must be having what they used to call there "a
+change of heart." Upon mentioning this in a furtive tone to Mrs.
+Manning, she laughed heartily, rather to his surprise, for he was a
+reverent sort of non-churchgoing pagan, and said, "Very good, Bro--very
+good, indeed!"
+
+He decided that he had guessed rightly; the Episcopalian was, he had
+heard, a very cheerful kind of religion, tears and groaning not being
+required of its neophytes.
+
+But his eyes were to be opened. The last trump could not have startled
+him more than something he saw with his own eyes one day. It happened in
+this way: There was an accident on the wharf; a young man was crushed
+between the end of the dock and the side of the steamer; some one came
+running to the cottage and said it was Lawrence Vickery. Mrs. Manning,
+the hands at the mill, and even old Dinah, started off at once; the
+whole town was hurrying to the scene. Bro, shut up in his workroom,
+going over his beloved valve again, did not hear or see them. It was
+nearly dinner-time, and, when he came out and found no boat, he was
+surprised; but he paddled himself across on a rude raft he had, and went
+up to the cottage. The doors stood open all over the house as the hasty
+departures had left them, and he heard Marion walking up and down in her
+room up stairs, sobbing aloud and wildly. He had never heard her sob
+before; even as a child she had been reticent and self-controlled. He
+stood appalled at the sound. What could it betoken? He stole to the foot
+of the stairs and listened. She was moaning Lawrence's name over and
+over to herself--"Lawrence! Lawrence! Lawrence!" He started up the
+stairs, hardly knowing what he was doing. Her grief was dreadful to him:
+he wanted to comfort her, but did not know how. He hardly realized what
+the cry meant. But it was to come to him. The heart-broken girl, who
+neither saw nor heard him, although he was now just outside the door,
+drew a locket from her bosom and kissed it passionately with a flood of
+despairing, loving words. Then, as if at the end of her strength, with
+a sigh like death, she sank to the floor lifeless; she had fainted.
+
+After a moment the man entered. He seemed to himself to have been
+standing outside that door for a limitless period of time; like those
+rare, strange sensations we feel of having done the same thing or spoken
+the same words before in some other and unknown period of existence. He
+lifted Marion carefully and laid her on a lounge. As he moved her, the
+locket swung loose against her belt on the long ribbon which was
+fastened underneath her dress around her throat. It was a clumsy,
+old-fashioned locket, with an open face, and into its small frame she
+herself had inserted a photograph of Lawrence Vickery, cut from a _carte
+de visite_. Bro saw it: the open face of the locket was toward him, and
+he could not help seeing. It occurred to him then vaguely that, as she
+had worn it concealed, it should be again hidden before other eyes saw
+it--before she could know that even his had rested upon it. With shaking
+fingers he took out his knife, and, opening its smallest blade, he
+gently severed the ribbon, took off the locket, and put it into her
+pocket. It was surprising to see how skillfully his large, rough hands
+did this. Then, with an afterthought, he found a worn place in the
+ribbon's end, and severed it again by pulling it apart, taking the cut
+portion away with him. His idea was, that she would think the ribbon had
+parted of itself at the worn spot, and she did think so. It was a
+pretty, slender little ribbon, of bright rose-color. When all was
+finished, he went to seek assistance. He knew no more what to do for her
+physically than he would have known what to do for an angel. Although
+there was not the faintest sign of consciousness, he had carefully
+refrained from even touching her unnecessarily in the slightest degree:
+it seemed to him profanation. But there was no one in the house. He went
+to the gate, and there caught sight of Mrs. Manning hurrying homeward
+across the sandy waste.
+
+"It is all a mistake," she panted, with the tears still dropping on her
+crimson cheeks. "It was not Lawrence at all, but young Harding.
+Lawrence has gone down the road with the superintendent; but poor young
+Harding is, I fear, fatally injured."
+
+Even then automatic memory brought to Bro's mind only the idea, "He will
+never twist his feet around chair-legs any more! It was almost the only
+fault he had, poor fellow!"
+
+"Miss Marion is not quite well, I think," he said. "I heard her crying a
+little up stairs as I came in."
+
+"Of course," said the mother, "poor child! But it is all over now.--It
+was not Lawrence at all, Marion," she cried loudly, hurrying up the path
+to the doorway; "it was only young Harding."
+
+Love has ears, even in semi-death, and it heard that cry. When Mrs.
+Manning, breathless, reached her daughter's room, she found her on the
+lounge still, but with recovered consciousness, and even palely smiling.
+The picture was safely in her pocket; she supposed, when she found it,
+that she must have placed it there herself. She never had any suspicion
+of Bro's presence or his action.
+
+The saw-miller had disappeared. Mrs. Manning supposed that he, in his
+turn, had gone to the dock or to the Harding cottage.
+
+When he came in to tea that night he looked strangely, but was able to
+account for it.
+
+"Letters from Washington," he said. Then he paused; they looked at him
+expectantly. "The idea of the register is not a new one," he added
+slowly; "it has already been patented."
+
+"My inheritance is gone, then," said Marion gayly.
+
+She spoke without reflection, being so happy now in the reaction of her
+great relief that she was very near talking nonsense, a feminine
+safety-valve which she hardly ever before had had occasion to seek.
+
+"Yes," said Bro, a pained quiver crossing his face for an instant. "The
+valve also is pronounced worthless," he added in a monotonous voice.
+
+Mother and daughter noticed his tone and his lifeless look; they
+attributed it to his deep, bitter disappointment, and felt sorry for
+him.
+
+"But the screw, Bro?" said Mrs. Manning.
+
+"That is successful, I believe; the patent is granted."
+
+"I knew it," she replied triumphantly. "Even _I_ could see the great
+merits it had. I congratulate you, Bro."
+
+"So do I," said Marion. She would have congratulated anybody that
+evening.
+
+"The valve is a disappointment to me," said the man, speaking steadily,
+although dully. "I had worked over it so long that I counted upon it as
+certain."
+
+Then he rose and went over to the mill.
+
+In the mean time Lawrence Vickery was riding homeward comfortably on the
+hand-car, and had no idea that he was supposed to be dead. But he
+learned it; and learned something else also from Marion's sensitive,
+tremulous face, delicate as a flower. A warm-hearted, impulsive fellow,
+he was touched by her expression, and went further than he intended.
+That is to say, that, having an opportunity, thanks to Mrs. Manning, who
+went up stairs, purposely leaving them alone together, he began by
+taking Marion's hand reassuringly, and looking into her eyes, and ended
+by having her in his arms and continuing to look into her eyes, but at a
+much nearer range. In short, he put himself under as firm betrothal
+bonds as ever a man did in the whole history of betrothals.
+
+In the mean time the soft-hearted mother, sitting in the darkness up
+stairs, was shedding tears tenderly, and thinking of her own betrothal.
+That Lawrence was poor was a small matter to her, compared with the fact
+that Marion was loved at last, and happy. Lawrence was a Vickery, and
+the son of her old friend; besides, to her, as to most Southern women,
+the world is very well lost for the sake of love.
+
+And Bro, over at the saw-mill?
+
+His red lights shone across the marsh as usual, and he was in his
+work-room; in his hand was the model of his valve. He had made it tell
+a lie that night; he had used it as a mask. He gazed at it, the creature
+of his brain, his companion through long years, and he felt that he no
+longer cared whether it was good for anything or not! Then he remembered
+listlessly that it _was_ good for nothing; the highest authorities had
+said so. But, gone from him now was the comprehension of their reasons,
+and this he began to realize. He muttered over a formula, began a
+calculation, both well known to him; he could do neither. His mind
+strayed from its duty idly, as a loose bough sways in the wind. He put
+his hands to his head and sat down. He sat there motionless all night.
+
+But oh, how happy Marion was! Not effusively, not spokenly, but
+internally; the soft light shining out from her heart, however, as it
+does through a delicate porcelain shade. Old Mr. Vickery was delighted
+too, and a new series of invitations followed in honor of the betrothal;
+even the superintendent was invited, and came on his hand-car. Bro was
+included also, but he excused himself. His excuses were accepted without
+insistence, because it was understood that he was almost heart-broken by
+his disappointments. Joy and sorrow meet. When the engagement had lasted
+five weeks, and Marion had had thirty-five days of her new happiness,
+the old grandfather died, rather suddenly, but peacefully, and without
+pain. Through a long, soft April day he lay quietly looking at them all,
+speechless but content; and then at sunset he passed away. Mrs. Manning
+wept heartily, and Marion too; even Lawrence was not ashamed of the
+drops on his cheeks as he surveyed the kind old face, now for ever
+still. Everybody came to the funeral, and everybody testified respect;
+then another morning broke, and life went on again. The sun shines just
+the same, no matter who has been laid in the earth, and the flowers
+bloom. This seems to the mourner a strange thing, and a hard. In this
+case, however, there was no one to suffer the extreme pain of violent
+separation, for all the old man's companions and contemporaries were
+already gone; he was the last.
+
+Another month went by, and another; the dead heats of summer were upon
+them. Marion minded them not; scorching air and arctic snows were alike
+to her when Lawrence was with her. Poor girl! she had the intense,
+late-coming love of her peculiar temperament: to please him she would
+have continued smiling on the rack itself until she died. But why, after
+all, call her "poor"? Is not such love, even if unreturned, great
+riches?
+
+Bro looked at her, and looked at her, and looked at her. He had fallen
+back into his old way of life again, and nobody noticed anything unusual
+in him save what was attributed to his disappointment.
+
+"You see he had shut himself up there, and worked over that valve for
+years," explained Mrs. Manning; "and, not letting anybody know about it
+either, he had come to think too much of it, and reckon upon it as
+certain. He was always an odd, lonely sort of man, you know, and this
+has told upon him heavily."
+
+By and by it became evident that Lawrence was restless. He had sold off
+what he could of his inheritance, but that was only the old furniture;
+no one wanted the sidling, unrepaired house, which was now little better
+than a shell, or the deserted cotton-fields, whose dikes were all down.
+He had a scheme for going abroad again; he could do better there, he
+said; he had friends who would help him.
+
+"Shall you take Miss Marion?" asked Bro, speaking unexpectedly, and, for
+him, markedly. They were all present.
+
+"Oh, no," said Lawrence, "not now. How could I? But I shall come back
+for her soon." He looked across at his betrothed with a smile. But
+Marion had paled suddenly, and Bro had seen it.
+
+The next event was a conversation at the mill.
+
+Young Vickery wandered over there a few days later. He was beginning to
+feel despondent and weary: everything at Wilbarger was at its summer
+ebb, and the climate, too, affected him. Having become really fond of
+Marion now, and accustomed to all the sweetness of her affection, he
+hated to think of leaving her; yet he must. He leaned against the
+window-sill, and let out disjointed sentences of discontent to Bro; it
+even seemed a part of his luck that it should be dead low water outside
+as he glanced down, and all the silver channels slimy.
+
+"That saw makes a fearful noise," he said.
+
+"Come into my room," said Bro; "you will not hear it so plainly there."
+It was not the work-room, but the bedroom. The work-room was not
+mentioned now, out of kindness to Bro. Lawrence threw himself down on
+the narrow bed, and dropped his straw hat on the floor. "The world's a
+miserable hole," he said, with unction.
+
+Bro sat down on a three-legged stool, the only approach to a chair in
+the room, and looked at him; one hand, in the pocket of his old, shrunk
+linen coat, was touching a letter.
+
+"Bah!" said Lawrence, clasping his hands under his head and stretching
+himself out to his full length on the bed, "how in the world _can_ I
+leave her, Bro? Poor little thing!"
+
+Now to Bro, to whom Marion had always seemed a cross between a heavenly
+goddess and an earthly queen, this epithet was startling; however, it
+was, after all, but a part of the whole.
+
+"It is a pity that you _should_ leave her," he replied slowly. "It would
+be much better to take her with you."
+
+"Yes, I know it would. I am a fickle sort of fellow, too, and have all
+sorts of old entanglements over there, besides. They might take hold of
+me again."
+
+Bro felt a new and strange misgiving, which went through three distinct
+phases, with the strength and depth of an ocean, in less than three
+seconds: first, bewilderment at the new idea that anybody _could_ be
+false to Marion; second, a wild, darting hope for himself; third, the
+returning iron conviction that it could never be, and that, if Lawrence
+deserted Marion, she would die.
+
+"If you had money, what would you do?" he asked, coming back to the
+present heavily.
+
+"Depends upon how much it was."
+
+"Five thousand dollars?"
+
+"Well--I'd marry on that, but not very hilariously, old fellow."
+
+"Ten?"
+
+"That would do better."
+
+Nothing has as yet been said of Lawrence Vickery's appearance. It will
+be described now, and will, perhaps, throw light backward over this
+narration.
+
+Imagine a young man, five feet eleven inches in height, straight,
+strong, but slender still, in spite of his broad shoulders; imagine, in
+addition, a spirited head and face, bright, steel-blue eyes, a bold
+profile, and beautiful mouth, shaded by a golden mustache; add to this,
+gleaming white teeth, a dimple in the cleft, strongly molded chin, a
+merry laugh, and a thoroughly manly air; and you have Lawrence Broughton
+Vickery at twenty-eight.
+
+When at last he took himself off, and went over to see Marion and be
+more miserable still, Bro drew the letter from his pocket, and read it
+for the sixth or seventh time. During these months his screw had become
+known, having been pushed persistently by the enterprising young lawyer
+who aspired to patent business in the beginning, and having held its own
+since by sheer force of merit. The enterprising young lawyer had,
+however, recently forsaken law for politics; he had gone out to one of
+the Territories with the intention of returning some day as senator when
+the Territory should be a State (it is but fair to add that his chance
+is excellent). But he had, of course, no further knowledge of the screw,
+and Bro now managed the business himself. This letter was from a firm
+largely engaged in the manufacture of machinery, and it contained an
+offer for the screw and patent outright--ten thousand dollars.
+
+"I shall never invent anything more," thought Bro, the words of the
+letter writing themselves vacantly on his brain. "Something has gone
+wrong inside my head in some way, and the saw-mill will be all I shall
+ever attend to again."
+
+Then he paused.
+
+"It would be worth more money in the end if I could keep it," he said to
+himself. "But even a larger sum might not serve so well later, perhaps."
+It was all to be Marion's in either case--which would be best? Then he
+remembered her sudden pallor, and that decided him. "He shall have it
+now," he said. "How lucky that he was content with ten!"
+
+Some men would have given the money also in the same circumstances; but
+they would have given it to Marion. It was characteristic of Bro's deep
+and minute knowledge of the girl, and what would be for her happiness,
+that he planned to give the money to the man, and thus weight down and
+steady the lighter nature.
+
+He dwelt a long time upon ways and means; he was several days in making
+up his mind. At last he decided what to do; and did it.
+
+Three weeks afterward a letter came to Wilbarger, directed in a clear
+handwriting to "Mr. Lawrence Broughton Vickery." It was from a Northern
+lawyer, acting for another party, and contained an offer for Vickery
+Island with its house, cotton-fields, and marsh; price offered, ten
+thousand dollars. The lawyer seemed to be acquainted with the size of
+the island, the condition of the fields and out-buildings; he mentioned
+that the purchase was made with the idea of reviving the cotton-culture
+immediately, similar attempts on the part of Rhode Island manufacturers,
+who wished to raise their own cotton, having succeeded on the
+sea-islands farther north. Lawrence, in a whirl of delight, read the
+letter aloud in a cottage-parlor, tossed it over gayly to Mrs. Manning,
+and clasped Marion in his arms.
+
+"Well, little wife," he said happily, stroking her soft hair, "we shall
+go over the ocean together now."
+
+And Bro looked on.
+
+The wedding took place in the early autumn. Although comparatively
+quiet, on account of old Mr. Vickery's death, all Wilbarger came to the
+church, and crowded into the cottage afterward. By a happy chance, "the
+worm" was at the North, soliciting aid for his "fold," and Marion was
+married by a gentle little missionary, who traversed the watery
+coast-district in a boat instead of on horseback, visiting all the
+sea-islands, seeing many sad, closed little churches, and encountering
+not infrequently almost pure paganism and fetich-worship among the
+neglected blacks. Bro gave the bride away. It was the proudest moment of
+his life--and the saddest.
+
+"Somebody must do it," Mrs. Manning had said; "and why not Bro? He has
+lived in our house for twelve years, and, after all, now that old Mr.
+Vickery is gone, he is in one way our nearest friend.--Do let me ask
+him, Marion."
+
+"Very well," assented the bride, caring but little for anything now but
+to be with Lawrence every instant.
+
+She did, however, notice Bro during the crowded although informal
+reception which followed the ceremony. In truth, he was noticeable. In
+honor of the occasion, he had ordered from Savannah a suit of black, and
+had sent the measurements himself; the result was remarkable, the coat
+and vest being as much too short for him as the pantaloons were too
+long. He wore a white cravat, white-cotton gloves so large that he
+looked all hands, and his button-hole was decked with flowers, as many
+as it could hold. In this garb he certainly was an extraordinary object,
+and his serious face appearing at the top made the effect all the more
+grotesque. Marion was too good-hearted to smile; but she did say a word
+or two in an undertone to Lawrence, and the two young people had their
+own private amusement over his appearance.
+
+But Bro was unconscious of it, or of anything save the task he had set
+for himself. It was remarked afterward that "really Bro Cranch talked
+almost like other people, joked and laughed, too, if you will believe
+it, at that Manning wedding."
+
+Lawrence promised to bring his wife home at the end of a year to see
+her mother, and perhaps, if all went well, to take the mother back with
+them. Mrs. Manning, happy and sad together, cried and smiled in a
+breath. But Marion was radiant as a diamond; her gray eyes flashed
+light. Not even when saying good-by could she pretend to be anything but
+supremely happy, even for a moment. By chance Bro had her last look as
+the carriage rolled away; he went over to the mill carrying it with him,
+and returned no more that night.
+
+Wilbarger began to wonder after a while when that Rhode Island
+capitalist would begin work in his cotton-fields; they are wondering
+still. In course of time, and through the roundabout way he had chosen,
+Bro received the deeds of sale; he made his will, and left them to
+Marion. Once Mrs. Manning asked him about the screw.
+
+"I have heard nothing of it for some time," he replied; and she said no
+more, thinking it had also, like the valve, proved a failure. In the
+course of the winter the little work-room was dismantled and the
+partitions taken down; there is nothing there now but the plain wall of
+the mill. The red lights no longer shine across the marsh to Vickery
+Island, and there is no one there to see them. The new keeper lives in a
+cabin at the bridge, and plays no tricks on the superintendent, who, a
+man of spirit still, but not quite so sanguine as to the future of
+Wilbarger, still rolls by on his hand-car from northeast to southeast.
+
+Bro has grown old; he is very patient with everybody. Not that he ever
+was impatient, but that patience seems now his principal characteristic.
+He often asks to hear portions of Marion's letters read aloud, and
+always makes gently the final comment: "Yes, yes; she _is_ happy!"
+
+It is whispered around Wilbarger that he "has had a stroke"; Mrs.
+Manning herself thinks so.
+
+Well, in a certain sense, perhaps she is right.
+
+
+
+
+KING DAVID.
+
+    I met a traveler on the road;
+    His face was wan, his feet were weary;
+    Yet he unresting went with such
+    A strange, still, patient mien--a look
+    Set forward in the empty air,
+    As he were reading an unseen book.
+
+    RICHARD WATSON GILDER.
+
+
+The scholars were dismissed. Out they trooped--big boys, little boys,
+and full-grown men. Then what antics--what linked lines of scuffling;
+what double shuffles, leaps, and somersaults; what rolling laughter,
+interspersed with short yelps and guttural cries, as wild and free as
+the sounds the mustangs make, gamboling on the plains! For King David's
+scholars were black--black as the ace of spades. He did not say that; he
+knew very little about the ace. He said simply that his scholars were
+"colored"; and sometimes he called them "the Children of Ham." But so
+many mistakes were made over this title, in spite of his careful
+explanations (the Children having an undoubted taste for bacon), that he
+finally abandoned it, and fell back upon the national name of
+"freedmen," a title both good and true. He even tried to make it noble,
+speaking to them often of their wonderful lot as the emancipated
+teachers and helpers of their race; laying before them their mission in
+the future, which was to go over to Africa, and wake out of their long
+sloth and slumber the thousands of souls there. But Cassius and Pompey
+had only a mythic idea of Africa; they looked at the globe as it was
+turned around, they saw it there on the other side, and then their
+attention wandered off to an adventurous ant who was making the tour of
+Soodan and crossing the mountains of Kong as though they were nothing.
+
+Lessons over, the scholars went home. The schoolmaster went home too,
+wiping his forehead as he went. He was a grave young man, tall and thin,
+somewhat narrow-chested, with the diffident air of a country student.
+And yet this country student was here, far down in the South, hundreds
+of miles away from the New Hampshire village where he had thought to
+spend his life as teacher of the district school. Extreme
+near-sightedness and an inherited delicacy of constitution which he bore
+silently had kept him out of the field during the days of the war. "I
+should be only an encumbrance," he thought. But, when the war was over,
+the fire which had burned within burst forth in the thought, "The
+freedmen!" There was work fitted to his hand; that one thing he could
+do. "My turn has come at last," he said. "I feel the call to go." Nobody
+cared much because he was leaving. "Going down to teach the blacks?"
+said the farmers. "I don't see as you're called, David. We've paid dear
+enough to set 'em free, goodness knows, and now they ought to look out
+for themselves."
+
+"But they must first be taught," said the schoolmaster. "Our
+responsibility is great; our task is only just begun."
+
+"Stuff!" said the farmers. What with the graves down in the South, and
+the taxes up in the North, they were not prepared to hear any talk about
+beginning. Beginning, indeed! They called it ending. The slaves were
+freed, and it was right they should be freed; but Ethan and Abner were
+gone, and their households were left unto them desolate. Let the blacks
+take care of themselves.
+
+So, all alone, down came David King, with such aid and instruction as
+the Freedman's Bureau could give him, to this little settlement among
+the pines, where the freedmen had built some cabins in a careless way,
+and then seated themselves to wait for fortune. Freedmen! Yes; a
+glorious idea! But how will it work its way out into practical life?
+What are you going to do with tens of thousands of ignorant, childish,
+irresponsible souls thrown suddenly upon your hands; souls that will not
+long stay childish, and that have in them also all the capacities for
+evil that you yourselves have--you with your safeguards of generations
+of conscious responsibility and self-government, and yet--so many
+lapses! This is what David King thought. He did not see his way exactly;
+no, nor the nation's way. But he said to himself: "I can at least begin;
+if I am wrong, I shall find it out in time. But now it seems to me that
+our first duty is to educate them." So he began at "a, b, and c"; "You
+must not steal"; "You must not fight"; "You must wash your faces"; which
+may be called, I think, the first working out of the emancipation
+problem.
+
+Jubilee Town was the name of the settlement; and when the schoolmaster
+announced his own, David King, the title struck the imitative minds of
+the scholars, and, turning it around, they made "King David" of it, and
+kept it so. Delighted with the novelty, the Jubilee freedmen came to
+school in such numbers that the master was obliged to classify them;
+boys and men in the mornings and afternoons; the old people in the
+evenings; the young women and girls by themselves for an hour in the
+early morning. "I can not do full justice to all," he thought, "and in
+the men lies the danger, in the boys the hope; the women can not vote.
+Would to God the men could not either, until they have learned to read
+and to write, and to maintain themselves respectably!" For, abolitionist
+as he was, David King would have given years of his life for the power
+to restrict the suffrage. Not having this power, however, he worked at
+the problem in the only way left open: "Take two apples from four
+apples, Julius--how many will be left?" "What is this I hear, Cæsar,
+about stolen bacon?"
+
+On this day the master went home, tired and dispirited; the novelty was
+over on both sides. He had been five months at Jubilee, and his
+scholars were more of a puzzle to him than ever. They learned, some of
+them, readily; but they forgot as readily. They had a vast capacity for
+parrot-like repetition, and caught his long words so quickly, and
+repeated them so volubly, with but slight comprehension of their
+meaning, that his sensitive conscience shrank from using them, and he
+was forced back upon a rude plainness of speech which was a pain to his
+pedagogic ears. Where he had once said, "Demean yourselves with
+sobriety," he now said, "Don't get drunk." He would have fared better if
+he had learned to say "uncle" and "aunty," or "maumer," in the familiar
+Southern fashion. But he had no knowledge of the customs; how could he
+have? He could only blunder on in his slow Northern way.
+
+His cabin stood in the pine forest, at a little distance from the
+settlement; he had allowed himself that grace. There was a garden around
+it, where Northern flowers came up after a while--a little pale,
+perhaps, like English ladies in India, but doubly beautiful and dear to
+exiled eyes. The schoolmaster had cherished from the first a wish for a
+cotton-field--a cotton-field of his own. To him a cotton-field
+represented the South--a cotton-field in the hot sunshine, with a gang
+of slaves toiling under the lash of an overseer. This might have been a
+fancy picture, and it might not. At any rate, it was real to him. There
+was, however, no overseer now, and no lash; no slaves and very little
+toil. The negroes would work only when they pleased, and that was
+generally not at all. There was no doubt but that they were almost
+hopelessly improvident and lazy. "Entirely so," said the planters. "Not
+quite," said the Northern schoolmaster. And therein lay the difference
+between them.
+
+David lighted his fire of pitch-pine, spread his little table, and began
+to cook his supper carefully. When it was nearly ready, he heard a knock
+at his gate. Two representative specimens of his scholars were waiting
+without--Jim, a field-hand, and a woman named Esther, who had been a
+house-servant in a planter's family. Jim had come "to borry an axe,"
+and Esther to ask for medicine for a sick child.
+
+"Where is your own axe, Jim?" said the schoolmaster.
+
+"Somehow et's rusty, sah. Dey gets rusty mighty quick."
+
+"Of course, because you always leave them out in the rain. When will you
+learn to take care of your axes?"
+
+"Don' know, mars."
+
+"I have told you not to call me master," said David. "I am not your
+master."
+
+"You's schoolmars, I reckon," answered Jim, grinning at his repartee.
+
+"Well, Jim," said the schoolmaster, relaxing into a smile, "you have the
+best of it this time; but you know quite well what I mean. You can take
+the axe; but bring it back to-night. And you must see about getting a
+new one immediately; there is something to begin with.--Now, Esther,
+what is it? Your boy sick? Probably it is because you let him drink the
+water out of that swampy pool. I warned you."
+
+"Yes, sah," said the woman impassively.
+
+She was a slow, dull-witted creature, who had executed her tasks
+marvelously well in the planter's family, never varying by a hair's
+breadth either in time or method during long years. Freed, she was lost
+at once; if she had not been swept along by her companions, she would
+have sat down dumbly by the wayside, and died. The schoolmaster offered
+supper to both of his guests. Jim took a seat at the table at once,
+nothing loath, and ate and drank, talking all the time with occasional
+flashes of wit, and an unconscious suggestion of ferocity in the way he
+hacked and tore the meat with his clasp-knife and his strong white
+teeth. Esther stood; nothing could induce her to sit in the master's
+presence. She ate and drank quietly, and dropped a courtesy whenever he
+spoke to her, not from any especial respect or gratitude, however, but
+from habit. "I may possibly teach the man something," thought the
+schoolmaster; "but what a terrible creature to turn loose in the world,
+with power in his hand! Hundreds of these men will die, nay, must die
+violent deaths before their people can learn what freedom means, and
+what it does not mean. As for the woman, it is hopeless; she can not
+learn. But her child can. In truth, our hope is in the children."
+
+And then he threw away every atom of the food, washed his dishes, made
+up the fire, and went back to the beginning again and cooked a second
+supper. For he still shrank from personal contact with the other race. A
+Southerner would have found it impossible to comprehend the fortitude it
+required for the New-Englander to go through his daily rounds among
+them. He did his best; but it was duty, not liking. Supper over, he went
+to the schoolhouse again: in the evenings he taught the old people. It
+was an odd sight to note them as they followed the letters with a big,
+crooked forefinger, slowly spelling out words of three letters. They
+spelled with their whole bodies, stooping over the books which lay
+before them until their old grizzled heads and gay turbans looked as if
+they were set on the table by the chins in a long row. Patiently the
+master taught them; they had gone no further then "cat" in five long
+months. He made the letters for them on the blackboard again and again,
+but the treat of the evening was the making of these letters on the
+board by the different scholars in turn. "Now, Dinah--B." And old Dinah
+would hobble up proudly, and, with much screwing of her mouth and
+tongue, and many long hesitations, produce something which looked like a
+figure eight gone mad. Joe had his turn next, and he would make,
+perhaps, an H for a D. The master would go back and explain to him
+carefully the difference, only to find at the end of ten minutes that
+the whole class was hopelessly confused: Joe's mistake had routed them
+all. There was one pair of spectacles among the old people: these were
+passed from hand to hand as the turn came, not from necessity always,
+but as an adjunct to the dignity of reading.
+
+"Never mind the glasses, Tom. Surely you can spell 'bag' without them."
+
+"Dey helps, Mars King David," replied old Tom with solemn importance. He
+then adorned himself with the spectacles, and spelled it--"g, a, b."
+
+But the old people enjoyed their lesson immensely; no laughter, no
+joking broke the solemnity of the scene, and they never failed to make
+an especial toilet--much shirt-collar for the old men, and clean turbans
+for the old women. They seemed to be generally half-crippled, poor old
+creatures; slow in their movements as tortoises, and often unwieldy;
+their shoes were curiosities of patches, rags, strings, and carpeting.
+But sometimes a fine old black face was lifted from the slow-moving
+bulk, and from under wrinkled eyelids keen sharp eyes met the master's,
+as intelligent as his own.
+
+There was no church proper in Jubilee. On Sundays, the people, who were
+generally Baptists, assembled in the schoolroom, where services were
+conducted by a brother who had "de gif' ob preachin'," and who poured
+forth a flood of Scripture phrases with a volubility, incoherence, and
+earnestness alike extraordinary. Presbyterian David attended these
+services, not only for the sake of example, but also because he
+steadfastly believed in "the public assembling of ourselves together for
+the worship of Almighty God."
+
+"Perhaps they understand him," he thought, noting the rapt black faces,
+"and I, at least, have no right to judge them--I, who, with all the
+rights I have had, still find myself unable to grasp the great doctrine
+of Election." For David had been bred in Calvinism, and many a night,
+when younger and more hopeful of arriving at finalities, had he wrestled
+with its problems. He was not so sure, now, of arriving at finalities
+either in belief or in daily life; but he thought the fault lay with
+himself, and deplored it.
+
+The Yankee schoolmaster was, of course, debarred from intercourse with
+those of his own color in the neighborhood. There were no "poor whites"
+there; he was spared the sight of their long, clay-colored faces, lank
+yellow hair, and half-open mouths; he was not brought into contact with
+the ignorance and dense self-conceit of this singular class. The whites
+of the neighborhood were planters, and they regarded the schoolmaster as
+an interloper, a fanatic, a knave, or a fool, according to their various
+degrees of bitterness. The phantom of a cotton-field still haunted the
+master, and he often walked by the abandoned fields of these planters,
+and noted them carefully. In addition to his fancy, there was now
+another motive. Things were not going well at Jubilee, and he was
+anxious to try whether the men would not work for good wages, paid
+regularly, and for their Northern teacher and friend. Thus it happened
+that Harnett Ammerton, retired planter, one afternoon perceived a
+stranger walking up the avenue that led to his dilapidated mansion; and
+as he was near-sighted, and as any visitor was, besides, a welcome
+interruption in his dull day, he went out upon the piazza to meet him;
+and not until he had offered a chair did he recognize his guest. He said
+nothing; for he was in his own house; but a gentleman can freeze the
+atmosphere around him even in his own house, and this he did. The
+schoolmaster stated his errand simply: he wished to rent one of the
+abandoned cotton-fields for a year. The planter could have answered with
+satisfaction that his fields might lie for ever unfilled before Yankee
+hands should touch them; but he was a poor man now, and money was money.
+He endured his visitor, and he rented his field; and, with the perplexed
+feelings of his class, he asked himself how it was, how it could be,
+that a man like that--yes, like that--had money, while he himself had
+none! David had but little money--a mere handful to throw away in a day,
+the planter would have thought in the lavish old times; but David had
+the New England thrift.
+
+"I am hoping that the unemployed hands over at Jubilee will cultivate
+this field for me," he said--"for fair wages, of course. I know nothing
+of cotton myself."
+
+"You will be disappointed," said the planter.
+
+"But they must live; they must lay up something for the winter."
+
+"They do not know enough to live. They might exist, perhaps, in Africa,
+as the rest of their race exists; but here, in this colder climate, they
+must be taken care of, worked, and fed, as we work and feed our
+horses--precisely in the same way."
+
+"I can not agree with you," replied David, a color rising in his thin
+face. "They are idle and shiftless, I acknowledge that; but is it not
+the natural result of generations of servitude and ignorance?"
+
+"They have not capacity for anything save ignorance."
+
+"You do not know then, perhaps, that I--that I am trying to educate
+those who are over at Jubilee," said David. There was no aggressive
+confidence in his voice; he knew that he had accomplished little as yet.
+He looked wistfully at his host as he spoke.
+
+Harnett Ammerton was a born patrician. Poor, homely, awkward David felt
+this in every nerve as he sat there; for he loved beauty in spite of
+himself, and in spite of his belief that it was a tendency of the old
+Adam. (Old Adam has such nice things to bother his descendants with;
+almost a monopoly, if we are to believe some creeds.) So now David tried
+not to be influenced by the fine face before him, and steadfastly went
+on to sow a little seed, if possible, even upon this prejudiced ground.
+
+"I have a school over there," he said.
+
+"I have heard something of the kind, I believe," replied the old
+planter, as though Jubilee Town were a thousand miles away, instead of a
+blot upon his own border. "May I ask how you are succeeding?"
+
+There was a fine irony in the question. David felt it, but replied
+courageously that success, he hoped, would come in time.
+
+"And I, young man, hope that it will never come! The negro with power
+in his hand, which you have given him, with a little smattering of
+knowledge in his shallow, crafty brain--a knowledge which you and your
+kind are now striving to give him--will become an element of more danger
+in this land than it has ever known before. You Northerners do not
+understand the blacks. They are an inferior race by nature; God made
+them so. And God forgive those (although I never can) who have placed
+them over us--yes, virtually over us, their former masters--poor
+ignorant creatures!"
+
+At this instant an old negro came up the steps with an armful of wood,
+and the eye of the Northerner noted (was forced to note) the contrast.
+There sat the planter, his head crowned with silver hair, his finely
+chiseled face glowing with the warmth of his indignant words; and there
+passed the old slave, bent and black, his low forehead and broad animal
+features seeming to typify scarcely more intelligence than that of the
+dog that followed him. The planter spoke to the servant in his kindly
+way as he passed, and the old black face lighted with pleasure. This,
+too, the schoolmaster's sensitive mind noted: none of his pupils looked
+at him with anything like that affection. "But it _is_ right they should
+be freed--it _is_ right," he said to himself as he walked back to
+Jubilee; "and to that belief will I cling as long as I have my being. It
+_is_ right." And then he came into Jubilee, and found three of his
+freedmen drunk and quarreling in the street.
+
+Heretofore the settlement, poor and forlorn as it was, had escaped the
+curse of drunkenness. No liquor was sold in the vicinity, and David had
+succeeded in keeping his scholars from wandering aimlessly about the
+country from place to place--often the first use the blacks made of
+their freedom. Jubilee did not go to the liquor; but, at last, the
+liquor had come to Jubilee. Shall they not have all rights and
+privileges, these new-born citizens of ours? The bringer of these
+doctrines, and of the fluids to moisten them, was a white man, one of
+that class which has gone down on the page of American history,
+knighted with the initials C. B. "The Captain" the negroes called him;
+and he was highly popular already, three hours of the Captain being
+worth three weeks of David, as far as familiarity went. The man was a
+glib-tongued, smartly dressed fellow, well supplied with money; and his
+errand was, of course, to influence the votes at the next election.
+David, meanwhile, had so carefully kept all talk of politics from his
+scholars that they hardly knew that an election was near. It became now
+a contest between the two higher intelligences. If the schoolmaster had
+but won the easily won and strong affections of his pupils! But, in all
+those months, he had gained only a dutiful attention. They did not even
+respect him as they had respected their old masters, and the cause (poor
+David!) was that very thrift and industry which he relied upon as an
+example.
+
+"Ole Mars Ammerton wouldn't wash his dishes ef dey was nebber washed,"
+confided Maum June to Elsy, as they caught sight of David's shining
+pans.
+
+The schoolmaster could have had a retinue of servants for a small price,
+or no price at all; but, to tell a truth which he never told, he could
+not endure them about him.
+
+"I must have one spot to myself," he said feverishly, after he had
+labored all day among them, teaching, correcting untidy ways,
+administering simple medicines, or binding up a bruised foot. But he
+never dreamed that this very isolation of his personality, this very
+thrift, were daily robbing him of the influence which he so earnestly
+longed to possess. In New England every man's house was his castle, and
+every man's hands were thrifty. He forgot the easy familiarity, the
+lordly ways, the crowded households, and the royal carelessness to which
+the slaves had always been accustomed in their old masters' homes.
+
+At first the Captain attempted intimacy.
+
+"No reason why you and me shouldn't work together," he said with a
+confidential wink. "This thing's being done all over the South, and easy
+done, too. Now's the time for smart chaps like us--'transition,' you
+know. The old Southerners are mad, and won't come forward, so we'll just
+sail in and have a few years of it. When they're ready to come
+back--why, we'll give 'em up the place again, of course, if our pockets
+are well lined. Come, now, just acknowledge that the negroes have got to
+have somebody to lead 'em."
+
+"It shall not be such as you," said David indignantly. "See those two
+men quarreling; that is the work of the liquor you have given them!"
+
+"They've as good a right to their liquor as other men have," replied the
+Captain carelessly; "and that's what I tell 'em; they ain't slaves
+now--they're free. Well, boss, sorry you don't like my ideas, but can't
+help it; must go ahead. Remember, I offered you a chance, and you would
+not take it. Morning."
+
+The five months had grown into six and seven, and Jubilee Town was known
+far and wide as a dangerous and disorderly neighborhood. The old people
+and the children still came to school, but the young men and boys had
+deserted in a body. The schoolmaster's cotton-field was neglected; he
+did a little there himself every day, but the work was novel, and his
+attempts were awkward and slow. One afternoon Harnett Ammerton rode by
+on horseback; the road passed near the angle of the field where the
+schoolmaster was at work.
+
+"How is your experiment succeeding?" said the planter, with a little
+smile of amused scorn as he saw the lonely figure.
+
+"Not very well," replied David.
+
+He paused and looked up earnestly into the planter's face. Here was a
+man who had lived among the blacks all his life, and knew them: if he
+would but give honest advice! The schoolmaster was sorely troubled that
+afternoon. Should he speak? He would at least try.
+
+"Mr. Ammerton," he said, "do you intend to vote at the approaching
+election?"
+
+"No," replied the planter; "nor any person of my acquaintance."
+
+"Then incompetent, and, I fear, evil-minded men will be put into
+office."
+
+"Of course--the certain result of negro voting."
+
+"But if you, sir, and the class to which you belong, would exert
+yourselves, I am inclined to think much might be done. The breach will
+only grow broader every year; act now, while you have still influence
+left."
+
+"Then you think that we have influence?" said the planter.
+
+He was curious concerning the ideas of this man, who, although not like
+the typical Yankee exactly, was yet plainly a fanatic; while as to dress
+and air--why, Zip, his old valet, had more polish.
+
+"I know at least that I have none," said David. Then he came a step
+nearer. "Do you think, sir," he began slowly, "that I have gone to work
+in the wrong way? Would it have been wiser to have obtained some post of
+authority over them--the office of justice of the peace, for instance,
+with power of arrest?"
+
+"I know nothing about it," said the planter curtly, touching his horse
+with his whip and riding on. He had no intention of stopping to discuss
+ways and means with an abolition schoolmaster!
+
+Things grew from bad to worse at Jubilee. Most of the men had been
+field-hands; there was but little intelligence among them. The few
+bright minds among David's pupils caught the specious arguments of the
+Captain, and repeated them to the others. The Captain explained how much
+power they held; the Captain laid before them glittering plans; the
+Captain said that by good rights each family ought to have a plantation
+to repay them for their years of enforced labor; the Captain promised
+them a four-story brick college for their boys, which was more than King
+David had ever promised, teacher though he was. They found out that they
+were tired of King David and his narrow talk; and they went over to
+Hildore Corners, where a new store had been opened, which contained,
+among other novelties, a bar. This was one of the Captain's
+benefactions. "If you pay your money for it, you've as good a right to
+your liquor as any one, I guess," he observed. "Not that it's anything
+to me, of course; but I allow I like to see fair play!"
+
+It was something to him, however: the new store had a silent partner;
+and this was but one of many small and silent enterprises in which he
+was engaged throughout the neighborhood.
+
+The women of Jubilee, more faithful than the men, still sent their
+children to school; but they did it with discouraged hearts, poor
+things! Often now they were seen with bandaged heads and bruised bodies,
+the result of drunken blows from husband or brother; and, left alone,
+they were obliged to labor all day to get the poor food they ate, and to
+keep clothes on their children. Patient by nature, they lived along as
+best they could, and toiled in their small fields like horses; but the
+little prides, the vague, grotesque aspirations and hopes that had come
+to them with their freedom, gradually faded away. "A blue-painted front
+do'," "a black-silk apron with red ribbons," "to make a minister of
+little Job," and "a real crock'ry pitcher," were wishes unspoken now.
+The thing was only how to live from day to day, and keep the patched
+clothes together. In the mean while trashy finery was sold at the new
+store, and the younger girls wore gilt ear-rings.
+
+The master, toiling on at his vain task, was at his wit's end. "They
+will not work; before long they must steal," he said. He brooded and
+thought, and at last one morning he came to a decision. The same day in
+the afternoon he set out for Hildore Corners. He had thought of a plan.
+As he was walking rapidly through the pine-woods Harnett Ammerton on
+horseback passed him. This time the Northerner had no questions to
+ask--nay, he almost hung his head, so ashamed was he of the reputation
+that had attached itself to the field of his labors. But the planter
+reined in his horse when he saw who it was: he was the questioner now.
+
+"Schoolmaster," he began, "in the name of all the white families about
+here, I really must ask if you can do nothing to keep in order those
+miserable, drinking, ruffianly negroes of yours over at Jubilee? Why, we
+shall all be murdered in our beds before long! Are you aware of the
+dangerous spirit they have manifested lately?"
+
+"Only too well," said David.
+
+"What are you going to do? How will it end?"
+
+"God knows."
+
+"God knows! Is that all you have to say? Of course he knows; but the
+question is, Do you know? You have brought the whole trouble down upon
+our heads by your confounded insurrectionary school! Just as I told you,
+your negroes, with the little smattering of knowledge you have given
+them, are now the most dangerous, riotous, thieving, murdering rascals
+in the district."
+
+"They are bad; but it is not the work of the school, I hope."
+
+"Yes, it is," said the planter angrily.
+
+"They have been led astray lately, Mr. Ammerton; a person has come among
+them--"
+
+"Another Northerner."
+
+"Yes," said David, a flush rising in his cheek; "but not all Northerners
+are like this man, I trust."
+
+"Pretty much all we see are. Look at the State."
+
+"Yes, I know it; I suppose time alone can help matters," said the
+troubled teacher.
+
+"Give up your school, and come and join us," said the planter abruptly.
+"You, at least, are honest in your mistakes. We are going to form an
+association for our own protection; join with us. You can teach my
+grandsons if you like, provided you do not put any of your--your
+fanaticism into them."
+
+This was an enormous concession for Harnett Ammerton to make; something
+in the schoolmaster's worn face had drawn it out.
+
+"Thank you," said David slowly; "it is kindly meant, sir. But I can not
+give up my work. I came down to help the freedmen, and--"
+
+"Then stay with them," said the planter, doubly angry for the very
+kindness of the moment before. "I thought you were a decent-living white
+man, according to your fashion, but I see I was mistaken. Dark days are
+coming, and you turn your back upon those of your own color and side
+with the slaves! Go and herd with your negroes. But, look you, sir, we
+are prepared. We will shoot down any one found upon our premises after
+dark--shoot him down like a dog. It has come to that, and, by Heaven! we
+shall protect ourselves."
+
+He rode on. David sat down on a fallen tree for a moment, and leaned his
+head upon his hand. Dark days were coming, as the planter had said; nay,
+were already there. Was he in any way responsible for them? He tried to
+think. "I know not," he said at last; "but I must still go on and do the
+best I can. I must carry out my plan." He rose and went forward to the
+Corners.
+
+A number of Jubilee men were lounging near the new store, and one of
+them was reading aloud from a newspaper which the Captain had given him.
+He had been David's brightest scholar, and he could read readily; but
+what he read was inflammable matter of the worst kind, a speech which
+had been written for just such purposes, and which was now being
+circulated through the district. Mephistopheles in the form of Harnett
+Ammerton seemed to whisper in the schoolmaster's ears, "Do you take
+pride to yourself that you taught that man to read?"
+
+The reader stopped; he had discovered the new auditor. The men stared;
+they had never seen the master at the Corners before. They drew together
+and waited. He approached them, and paused a moment; then he began to
+speak.
+
+"I have come, friends," he said, "to make a proposition to you. You, on
+your side, have nothing laid up for the winter, and I, on my side, am
+anxious to have your work. I have a field, you know, a cotton-field;
+what do you say to going to work there, all of you, for a month? I will
+agree to pay you more than any man about here pays, and you shall have
+the cash every Monday morning regularly. We will hold a meeting over at
+Jubilee, and you shall choose your own overseer; for I am very ignorant
+about cotton-fields; I must trust to you. What do you say?"
+
+The men looked at each other, but no one spoke.
+
+"Think of your little children without clothes."
+
+Still silence.
+
+"I have not succeeded among you," continued the teacher, "as well as I
+hoped to succeed. You do not come to school any more, and I suppose it
+is because you do not like me."
+
+Something like a murmur of dissent came from the group. The voice went
+on:
+
+"I have thought of something I can do, however. I can write to the North
+for another teacher to take my place, and he shall be a man of your own
+race; one who is educated, and, if possible, also a clergyman of your
+own faith. You can have a little church then, and Sabbath services. As
+soon as he comes, I will yield my place to him; but, in the mean time,
+will you not cultivate that field for me? I ask it as a favor. It will
+be but for a little while, for, when the new teacher comes, I shall
+go--unless, indeed," he added, looking around with a smile that was
+almost pathetic in its appeal, "you should wish me to stay."
+
+There was no answer. He had thrown out this last little test question
+suddenly. It had failed.
+
+"I am sorry I have not succeeded better at Jubilee," he said after a
+short pause--and his voice had altered in spite of his
+self-control--"but at least you will believe, I hope, that I have
+tried."
+
+"Dat's so"; "Dat's de trouf," said one or two; the rest stood
+irresolute. But at this moment a new speaker came forward; it was the
+Captain, who had been listening in ambush.
+
+"All gammon, boys, all gammon," he began, seating himself familiarly
+among them on the fence-rail. "The season for planting's over, and your
+work would be thrown away in that field of his. He knows it, too; he
+only wants to see you marching around to his whistling. And he pays you
+double wages, does he? Double wages for perfectly useless work! Doesn't
+that show, clear as daylight, what he's up to? If he hankers so after
+your future--your next winter, and all that--why don't he give yer the
+money right out, if he's so flush? But no; he wants to put you to work,
+and that's all there is of it. He can't deny a word I've said, either."
+
+"I do not deny that I wish you to work, friends," began David--
+
+"There! he tells yer so himself," said the Captain; "he wants yer back
+in yer old places again. _I_ seen him talking to old Ammerton the other
+day. Give 'em a chance, them two classes, and they'll have you slaves a
+second time before you know it."
+
+"Never!" cried David. "Friends, it is not possible that you can believe
+this man! We have given our lives to make you free," he added
+passionately; "we came down among you, bearing your freedom in our
+hands--"
+
+"Come, now--I'm a Northerner too, ain't I?" interrupted the Captain.
+"There's two kinds of Northerners, boys. _I_ was in the army, and that's
+more than he can say. Much freedom _he_ brought down in _his_ hands,
+safe at home in his narrer-minded, penny-scraping village! He wasn't in
+the army at all, boys, and he can't tell you he was."
+
+This was true; the schoolmaster could not. Neither could he tell them
+what was also true, namely, that the Captain had been an _attaché_ of a
+sutler's tent, and nothing more. But the sharp-witted Captain had the
+whole history of his opponent at his fingers' ends.
+
+"Come along, boys," said this jovial leader; "we'll have suthin' to
+drink the health of this tremenjous soldier in--this fellow as fought so
+hard for you and for your freedom. I always thought he looked like a
+fighting man, with them fine broad shoulders of his!" He laughed loudly,
+and the men trooped into the store after him. The schoolmaster, alone
+outside, knew that his chance was gone. He turned away and took the
+homeward road. One of his plans had failed; there remained now nothing
+save to carry out the other.
+
+Prompt as usual, he wrote his letter as soon as he reached his cabin,
+asking that another teacher, a colored man if possible, should be sent
+down to take his place.
+
+"I fear I am not fitted for the work," he wrote. "I take shame to myself
+that this is so; yet, being so, I must not hinder by any disappointed
+strivings the progress of the great mission. I will go back among my own
+kind; it may be that some whom I shall teach may yet succeed where I
+have failed." The letter could not go until the next morning. He went
+out and walked up and down in the forest. A sudden impulse came to him;
+he crossed over to the schoolhouse and rang the little tinkling
+belfry-bell. His evening class had disbanded some time before; the poor
+old aunties and uncles crept off to bed very early now, in order to be
+safely out of the way when their disorderly sons and grandsons came
+home. But something moved the master to see them all together once more.
+They came across the green, wondering, and entered the schoolroom; some
+of the younger wives came too, and the children. The master waited,
+letter in hand. When they were all seated--
+
+"Friends," he said, "I have called you together to speak to you of a
+matter which lies very near my own heart. Things are not going on well
+at Jubilee. The men drink; the children go in rags. Is this true?"
+
+Groans and slow assenting nods answered him. One old woman shrieked out
+shrilly, "It is de Lord's will," and rocked her body to and fro.
+
+"No, it is not the Lord's will," answered the schoolmaster gently; "you
+must not think so. You must strive to reclaim those who have gone
+astray; you must endeavor to inspire them with renewed aspirations
+toward a higher plane of life; you must--I mean," he said, correcting
+himself, "you must try to keep the men from going over to the Corners
+and getting drunk."
+
+"But dey will do it, sah; what can we do?" said Uncle Scipio, who sat
+leaning his chin upon his crutch and peering at the teacher with sharp
+intelligence in his old eyes. "If dey won't stay fo' you, sah, will dey
+stay fo' us?"
+
+"That is what I was coming to," said the master. (They had opened the
+subject even before he could get to it! They saw it too, then--his utter
+lack of influence.) "I have not succeeded here as I hoped to succeed,
+friends; I have not the influence I ought to have." Then he paused.
+"Perhaps the best thing I can do will be to go away," he added, looking
+quickly from face to face to catch the expression. But there was nothing
+visible. The children stared stolidly back, and the old people sat
+unmoved; he even fancied that he could detect relief in the eyes of one
+or two, quickly suppressed, however, by the innate politeness of the
+race. A sudden mist came over his eyes; he had thought that perhaps some
+of them would care a little. He hurried on: "I have written to the North
+for a new teacher for you, a man of your own people, who will not only
+teach you, but also, as a minister, hold services on the Sabbath; you
+can have a little church of your own then. Such a man will do better for
+you than I have done, and I hope you will like him"--he was going to
+say, "better than you have liked me," but putting down all thought of
+self, he added, "and that his work among you will be abundantly
+blessed."
+
+"Glory! glory!" cried an old aunty. "A color'd preacher ob our own!
+Glory! glory!"
+
+Then Uncle Scipio rose slowly, with the aid of his crutches, and, as
+orator of the occasion, addressed the master.
+
+"You see, sah, how it is; you see, Mars King David," he said, waving his
+hand apologetically, "a color'd man will unnerstan us, 'specially ef he
+hab lib'd at de Souf; we don't want no Nordern free niggahs hyar. But a
+'spectable color'd preacher, now, would be de makin' ob Jubilee, fo' dis
+worl' an' de nex'."
+
+"Fo' dis worl' and de nex'," echoed the old woman.
+
+"Our service to you, sah, all de same," continued Scipio, with a grand
+bow of ceremony; "but you hab nebber _quite_ unnerstan us, sah, nebber
+quite; an' you can nebber do much fo' us, sah, on 'count ob dat fack--ef
+you'll scuse my saying so. But it is de trouf. We give you our t'anks
+and our congratturrurlations, an' we hopes you'll go j'yful back to your
+own people, an' be a shining light to 'em for ebbermore."
+
+"A shinin' light for ebbermore," echoed the rest. One old woman,
+inspired apparently by the similarity of words, began a hymn about "the
+shining shore," and the whole assembly, thinking no doubt that it was an
+appropriate and complimentary termination to the proceedings, joined in
+with all their might, and sang the whole six verses through with fervor.
+
+"I should like to shake hands with you all as you go out," said the
+master, when at last the song was ended, "and--and I wish, my friends,
+that you would all remember me in your prayers to-night before you
+sleep."
+
+What a sight was that when the pale Caucasian, with the intelligence of
+generations on his brow, asked for the prayers of these sons of Africa,
+and gently, nay, almost humbly, received the pressure of their black,
+toil-hardened hands as they passed out! They had taught him a great
+lesson, the lesson of a failure.
+
+The schoolmaster went home, and sat far into the night, with his head
+bowed upon his hands. "Poor worm!" he thought--"poor worm! who even went
+so far as to dream of saying, 'Here am I, Lord, and these brethren whom
+thou hast given me!'"
+
+The day came for him to go; he shouldered his bag and started away. At a
+turn in the road, some one was waiting for him; it was dull-faced Esther
+with a bunch of flowers, the common flowers of her small garden-bed.
+"Good-by, Esther," said the master, touched almost to tears by the sight
+of the solitary little offering.
+
+"Good-by, mars," said Esther. But she was not moved; she had come out
+into the woods from a sort of instinct, as a dog follows a little way
+down the road to look after a departing carriage.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"David King has come back home again, and taken the district school,"
+said one village gossip to another.
+
+"Has he, now? Didn't find the blacks what he expected, I guess."
+
+
+
+
+UP IN THE BLUE RIDGE.
+
+    "Every rose, you sang, has its thorn;
+      But this has none, I know."
+    She clasped my rival's rose
+      Over her breast of snow.
+
+    I bowed to hide my pain,
+      With a man's unskillful art;
+    I moved my lips, and could not say
+      The thorn was in my heart.
+
+    WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS.
+
+
+I.
+
+"Instead of going through the whole book, you can read this abstract,
+Miss Honor."
+
+The speaker drew forth five or six sheets of paper, closely covered with
+fine, small handwriting. The letters were not in the least beautiful, or
+even straight, if you examined them closely, for they carried themselves
+crookedly, and never twice alike; but, owing to their extreme smallness,
+and the careful way in which they stood on the line, rigidly particular
+as to their feet, although their spines were misshapen, they looked not
+unlike a regiment of little humpbacked men, marching with extreme
+precision, and daring you to say that they were crooked. Stephen
+Wainwright had partly taught himself this hand, and partly it was due to
+temperament. He despised a clerkly script; yet he could not wander down
+a page, or blur his words, any more than he could wander down a street,
+or blur his chance remarks; in spite of himself, he always knew exactly
+where he was going, and what he intended to say. He was not a man who
+attracted attention in any way. He was small, yet not so small as to be
+noticed for smallness; he was what is called plain-looking, yet without
+that marked ugliness which, in a man, sometimes amounts to distinction.
+As to his dress, he was too exact for carelessness; you felt that the
+smallest spot on his loose flannel coat would trouble him; and yet he
+was entirely without that trim, fresh, spring-morning appearance which
+sometimes gives a small man an advantage over his larger brethren, as
+the great coach-dogs seem suddenly coarse and dirty when the shining
+little black-and-tan terrier bounds into the yard beside them. Stephen
+was a man born into the world with an over-weight of caution and doubt.
+They made the top of his head so broad and square that Reverence, who
+likes a rounded curve, found herself displaced; she clung on desperately
+through his schoolboy days, but was obliged at last to let go as the
+youth began to try his muscles, shake off extraneous substances, and
+find out what he really was himself, after the long succession of tutors
+and masters had done with him.
+
+The conceit of small men is proverbial, and Stephen was considered a
+living etching of the proverb, without color, but sharply outlined. He
+had a large fortune; he had a good intellect; he had no
+vices--sufficient reasons, the world said, why he had become, at forty,
+unendurably conceited. His life, the world considered, was but a
+succession of conquests: and the quiet manner with which he entered a
+drawing-room crowded with people, or stood apart and looked on, was but
+another indication of that vanity of his which never faltered, even in
+the presence of the most beautiful women or the most brilliant men. The
+world had no patience with him. If he had not gone out in society at
+all, if he had belonged to that large class of men who persistently
+refuse to attire themselves in dress-coats and struggle through the
+dance, the world would have understood it; but, on the contrary, Stephen
+went everywhere, looking smaller and plainer than usual in his
+evening-dress, asked everybody to dance, and fulfilled every social
+obligation with painstaking exactitude. The world had no patience with
+him; he was like a golden apple hanging low; but nobody could pull him
+off the branch.
+
+Stephen's conversation-friend (every unmarried man, though an
+octogenarian, has his conversation-friend) was Adelaide Kellinger, the
+widow of his cousin and favorite boyhood-companion, Ralph Kellinger.
+Adelaide was now thirty-five years of age, an agreeable woman, tall,
+slender, and exquisitely dressed--a woman who made people forget that an
+arm should be round, or a cheek red, when her slim, amber-colored
+gracefulness was present with them. Adelaide's house was Stephen's one
+lounging-place. Here he came to hear her talk over last evening's party,
+and here he delivered fewer of those concise apropos remarks for which
+he was celebrated, and which had been the despair of a long series of
+young ladies in turn; for what can you do with a man who, on every
+occasion, even the most unexpected, has calmly ready for you a neat
+sentence, politely delivered, like the charmingly folded small parcels
+which the suave dry-goods clerk hands to you across the counter? Stephen
+was never in a hurry to bring out these remarks of his; on the contrary,
+he always left every pause unbroken for a perceptible half moment or
+two, as if waiting for some one else to speak. The unwary, therefore,
+were often entrapped into the idea that he was slow or unprepared; and
+the unwary made a mistake, as the more observing among them soon
+discovered.
+
+Adelaide Kellinger had studied her cousin for years. The result of her
+studies was as follows: She paid, outwardly, no especial attention to
+him, and she remained perfectly natural herself. This last was a
+difficult task. If he asked a question, she answered with the plainest
+truth she could imagine; if he asked an opinion, she gave the one she
+would have given to her most intimate woman-friend (if she had had one);
+if she was tired, she did not conceal it; if she was out of temper, she
+said disagreeable, sharp-edged things. She was, therefore, perfectly
+natural? On the contrary, she was extremely unnatural. A charming woman
+does not go around at the present day in a state of nature mentally any
+more than physically; politeness has become a necessary clothing to her.
+Adelaide Kellinger never spoke to her cousin without a little preceding
+pause, during which she thought over what she was going to say; and, as
+Stephen was slow to speak also, their conversations were ineffective,
+judged from a dramatic point of view. But Adelaide judged by certain
+broad facts, and left drama to others. Stephen liked to be with her; and
+he was a creature of habit. She intended that he should continue to like
+to be with her; and she relied upon that habit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Afar off, counting by civilization, not by parallels of latitude, there
+are mountains in this country of ours, east of the Mississippi, as
+purple-black, wild, and pathless, some of them, as the peaks of the
+Western sierras. These mountains are in the middle South. A few roads
+climb from the plain below into their presence, and cautiously follow
+the small rivers that act as guides--a few roads, no more. Here and
+there are villages, or rather farm-centers, for the soil is fertile
+wherever it is cleared; but the farms are old and stationary: they do
+not grow, stretch out a fence here, or a new field there; they remain as
+they were when the farmers' sons were armed and sent to swell George
+Washington's little army. To this day the farmers' wives spin and weave,
+and dye and fashion, with their own hands, each in her own house, the
+garments worn by all the family; to this day they have seen nothing move
+by steam. The locomotive waits beyond the peaks; the water-mill is the
+highest idea of force. Half a mile from the village of Ellerby stands
+one of these water-mills; to it come farmers and farmers' boys on
+horseback, from miles around, with grist to be ground. And sometimes the
+women come too, riding slowly on old, pacing cart-horses, their faces
+hidden in the tubes of deep, long sun-bonnets, their arms moving up and
+down, up and down, as the old horse stretches his head to his fore-feet
+and back with every step. When two farm-women meet at the mill-block
+there is much talking in the chipped-off mountain dialect; but they sit
+on their horses without dismounting, strong, erect, and not uncomely,
+with eyes like eagles', yet often toothless in their prime, in the
+strange rural-American way, which makes one wonder what it was in the
+life of the negro slaves which gives their grandchildren now such an
+advantage in this over the descendants alike of the whites of
+Massachusetts Bay and the plantations of the Carolinas. When the farmers
+meet at the mill-block, they dismount and sit down in a row, not exactly
+on their heels, but nearly so: in reality, they sit, or squat, on their
+feet, nothing of them touching the ground save the soles of their heavy
+shoes, the two tails of their blue homespun coats being brought round
+and held in front. In this position they whittle and play with their
+whips, or eat the giant apples of the mountains. Large, iron-framed men,
+they talk but slowly; they are content apparently to go without those
+finer comprehensions and appreciations which other men covet; they are
+content to be almost as inarticulate as their horses--honest beasts,
+with few differences save temper and color of hide. Across the road from
+the mill, but within sound and sight of its wheel, is Ellerby Library.
+It is a small wooden building, elevated about five feet above the
+ground, on four corner supports, like a table standing on four legs.
+Daylight shines underneath; and Northern boys, accustomed to close
+foundations, would be seized with temptations to run under and knock on
+the floor: the mountain boys who come to the mill, however, are too well
+acquainted with the peculiarities of the library to find amusement in
+them; and, besides, this barefooted cavalry cherishes, under its
+homespun jacket, an awkward respect for the librarian.
+
+This librarian is Honor Dooris, and it is to her Stephen Wainwright now
+presents his sheets of manuscript.
+
+"You think I have an odd handwriting?" he said.
+
+"Yes," answered the librarian; "I should not think you would be proud of
+it."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"Then why not try to change it? I might lend you my old copies--those I
+used myself and still use. Here they are." And she took from her desk a
+number of small slips of paper, on which were written, in a round hand
+with many flourishes and deeply-shaded lines, moral sentences, such as
+"He that would thrive must rise at five"; "Never put off till to-morrow
+what you can do to-day"; and others of like hilarious nature.
+
+"Thanks," said Stephen; "I will take the copies, and try--to improve."
+
+The librarian then began to look through the abstract, and Stephen did
+not break the silence.
+
+"Would it not be a good idea for me to read it aloud?" she said, after a
+while. "I can always remember what I have read aloud."
+
+"As you please," replied Stephen.
+
+So the librarian began, in a sweet voice, with a strong Southern accent,
+and read aloud, with frowning forehead and evidently but
+half-comprehension, the chemical abstract which Stephen had prepared.
+
+"It is very hard," she said, looking up at him, with a deep furrow
+between her eyebrows.
+
+"But not too hard for a person of determined mind."
+
+The person of determined mind answered to the spur immediately, bent
+forward over the desk again, and went on reading. Stephen, motionless,
+sat with his eyes fixed on a spider's web high up in the window. When,
+too deeply puzzled to go on, the girl stopped and asked a question, he
+answered it generally without removing his eyes from the web. When once
+or twice she pushed the manuscript away and leaned back in her chair,
+impotent and irritated, he took the sheets from her hand, explained the
+hard parts with clear precision, gave them back, and motioned to her to
+continue. She read on for half an hour. When she finished, there was a
+flush on her cheeks, the flush of annoyance and fatigue.
+
+"I must go now," she said, placing the manuscript in her desk, and
+taking down her broad-brimmed Leghorn hat, yellow as old corn, adorned
+with a plain band of white ribbon.
+
+"You are not, of course, foiled by a little chemistry," said Wainwright,
+rising also, and looking at her without change of expression.
+
+"Oh, no," she answered; but still she crossed the room and opened the
+door, as if rather glad to escape, and, with a parting salutation, left
+him.
+
+Wainwright sat down again. He did not watch her through the window; he
+took up a late volume of Herbert Spencer, opened it at the mark, and
+began reading with that careful dwelling upon each word which is,
+singularly enough, common alike to the scientific and the illiterate.
+The mass of middle-class readers do not notice words at all, but take
+only the general sense.
+
+Honor went down the road toward Ellerby village, which was within sight
+around the corner, walking at first rapidly, but soon falling into the
+unhurrying gait of the Southern woman, so full of natural, swaying
+grace. At the edge of the village she turned and took a path which led
+into a ravine. The path followed a brook, and began to go up hill
+gradually; the ravine grew narrow and the sides high. Where the flanks
+met and formed the main hillside, there was, down in the hollow, a house
+with a basement above ground, with neither paint without nor within. No
+fences were required for Colonel Eliot's domain--the three near
+hillsides were his natural walls, a ditch and plank at the entrance of
+the ravine his moat and drawbridge. The hillsides had been cleared, and
+the high corn waved steeply all around and above him as he stood in
+front of his house. It went up to meet the sky, and was very good corn
+indeed--what he could save of it. A large portion, however, was
+regularly stolen by his own farm-hands--according to the pleasant
+methods of Southern agriculture after the war. The Colonel was glad when
+he could safely house one half of it. He was a cripple, having lost a
+leg at Antietam. He had married a second wife, and had a house
+overflowing with children. He was poor as a squirrel, having a nest in
+these woods and the corn for nuts, and little else besides. He was as
+brave as a lion, courteous as an old cavalier, hot-headed when aroused,
+but generally easy-tempered and cheery. He went to church every Sunday,
+got down on his one knee and confessed his sins honestly; then he came
+home in the old red wagon, sat on the piazza, and watched the corn grow.
+Honor was his niece, she shared in his love and his poverty like his own
+children. Mrs. Eliot, a dimpled, soft-cheeked, faded woman, did not
+quite like Honor's office of librarian, even if it did add two hundred
+dollars to their slender income: none of Honor's family, none of her
+family, had ever been librarians.
+
+"But we are so poor now," said Honor.
+
+"None the less ladies, I hope, my dear," said the elder woman, tapping
+her niece's shoulder with her pink-tipped, taper fingers.
+
+Honor's hands, however, showed traces of work. She had hated to see them
+grow coarse, and had cried over them; and then she had gone to church,
+flung herself down upon her knees, offered up her vanity and her
+roughened palms as a sacrifice, and, coming home, had insisted upon
+washing out all the iron pots and saucepans, although old Chloe stood
+ready to do that work with tears in her eyes over her young mistress's
+obstinacy. It was when this zeal of Honor's was burning brightest, and
+her self-mortifications were at their height--which means that she was
+eighteen, imaginative, and shut up in a box--that an outlet was suddenly
+presented to her. The old library at Ellerby Mill was resuscitated,
+reopened, endowed with new life, new books, and a new floor, and the
+position of librarian offered to her.
+
+In former days the South had a literary taste of its own unlike anything
+at the North. It was a careful and correct taste, founded principally
+upon old English authors; and it would have delighted the soul of
+Charles Lamb, who, being constantly told that he should be more modern,
+should write for posterity, gathered his unappreciated manuscripts to
+his breast, and declared that henceforth he would write only for
+antiquity. Nothing more unmodern than the old-time literary culture of
+the South could well be imagined; it delighted in old editions of old
+authors; it fondly turned their pages, and quoted their choice passages;
+it built little libraries here and there, like the one at Ellerby Mill,
+and loaded their shelves with fine old works. In the cities it expanded
+into associations, and large, lofty chambers were filled to the ceiling
+with costly tomes, which now look so dark, and rich, and ancient to
+Northern visitors, accustomed to the lightly bound, cheap new books
+constantly succeeding each other on the shelves of Northern libraries.
+These Southern collections were not for the multitude; there was no
+multitude. Where plantations met, where there was a neighborhood, there
+grew up the little country library. No one was in a hurry; the rules
+were lenient; the library was but a part of the easy, luxurious way of
+living which belonged to the planters. The books were generally
+imported, an English rather than a New York imprint being preferred;
+and, without doubt, they selected the classics of the world. But they
+stopped, generally, at the end of the last century, often at a date
+still earlier; they forgot that there may be new classics.
+
+The library at Ellerby Mill was built by low-country planters who came
+up to the mountains during the warm months, having rambling old
+country-houses there. They had their little summer church, St. Mark's in
+the Wilderness, and they looked down upon the mountain-people, who,
+plain folk themselves, revered the old names borne by their summer
+visitors, names known in their State annals since the earliest times.
+The mountain-people had been so long accustomed to see their judges,
+governors, representatives, and senators chosen from certain families,
+that these offices seemed to them to belong by inheritance to those
+families; certainly the farmers never disputed the right. For the
+mountain-people were farmers, not planters; their slaves were few. They
+were a class by themselves, a connecting link between the North and the
+South. The old names, then, placed Ellerby Library where it stood full
+thirty years before Honor was born. They did not care for the village,
+but erected the small building at a point about equidistant from their
+country-houses, and near the mill for safety, that boys or idle slaves,
+drawn by the charm which any building, even an empty shed, possesses in
+a thinly settled country, might not congregate there on Sundays and
+holidays, or camp there at night. But the library had been closed now
+for thirteen years; the trustees were all dead, the books moldy, the
+very door-key was lost. The low-country planters no longer came up to
+the mountains; there were new names in the State annals, and the
+mountain-farmers, poorer than before, and much bewildered as to the
+state of the world, but unchanged in their lack of the questioning
+capacity, rode by to and from the mill, and gave no thought to the
+little building with its barred shutters standing in the grove. What was
+there inside? Nothing save books, things of no practical value, and
+worthless. So the library stood desolate, like an unused lighthouse on
+the shore; and the books turned blue-green and damp at their leisure.
+
+
+II.
+
+Stephen Wainwright traveled, on principle. He had been, on principle,
+through Europe more than once, and through portions of Asia and Africa;
+in the intervals he made pilgrimages through his own country. He was not
+a languid traveler; he had no affectations; but his own marked
+impersonality traveled with him, and he was always the most indistinct,
+unremembered person on every railroad-car or steamboat. He was the man
+without a shadow. Of course, this was only when he chose to step out of
+the lime-light which his wealth threw around his every gesture. But he
+chose to step out of it very often, and always suffered when he did. He
+was for ever adding up different opinions to find the same constantly
+recurring sum total of "no consequence." After each experience of the
+kind he went back into lime-light, and played at kingship for a while.
+He had been doing this for twenty years.
+
+One day he came to Ellerby on the top of the stage. Nine Methodist
+ministers in the inside, returning from a missionary meeting, had made
+the lonely road over the mountains echo with their hearty hymns. One
+small brother climbed out at the half-way station on the summit, and,
+after drinking copiously from the spring, clasped his hands behind him
+and admired the prospect. Wainwright looked at him, not cynically, but
+with his usual expressionless gaze. The little minister drank again, and
+walked up and down. After a few moments he drank a third time, and
+continued to admire the prospect. Wainwright recalled vaguely the
+Biblical injunction, "Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake," when,
+behold! the small minister drank a fourth time hastily, and then, as the
+driver gathered up the reins, a last and hearty fifth time, before
+climbing up to the top, where Wainwright sat alone.
+
+"I am somewhat subject to vertigo," he explained, as he took his seat;
+"I will ride the rest of the way in the open air, with your permission,
+sir."
+
+Wainwright looked at him. "Perhaps he was weighting himself down with
+water," he thought.
+
+The brother had, indeed, very little else to make weight with: his small
+body was enveloped in a long linen duster, his head was crowned with a
+tall hat; he might have weighed one hundred pounds. He could not brace
+himself when they came to rough places, because his feet did not reach
+the floor; but he held on manfully with both hands, and begged his
+companion's pardon for sliding against him so often.
+
+"I am not greatly accustomed to the stage," he said; "I generally travel
+on horseback."
+
+"Is there much zeal in your district?" said Wainwright. It was the
+question he always asked when he was placed next to a clergyman, varying
+it only by "parish," "diocese," or "circuit," according to appearances.
+
+"Zeal," said his companion--"zeal, sir? Why, there isn't anything else!"
+
+"I am glad to hear it," replied Wainwright.
+
+The little minister took the remark in good faith.
+
+"A believer?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly," replied Stephen.
+
+"Let me shake you by the hand, brother. This is a noble country in which
+to believe. Among these great and solemn peaks, who can disbelieve or
+who go contrary to the will of the Lord?"
+
+Stephen made no answer, and the brother, lifting up his voice after a
+silence, cried again, "Who?" And, after a moment's pause, and more
+fervently, a second "Who?" Then a third, in a high, chanting key. It
+seemed as if he would go on for ever.
+
+"Well," said Stephen, "if you will have answer, I suppose I might say
+the moonlight whisky-makers."
+
+The little brother came down from the heights immediately, and glanced
+at his companion. "Acquainted with the country, sir?" he asked in a
+business-like tone.
+
+"Not at all," said Stephen.
+
+"Going to stay at Ellerby awhile, perhaps?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Reckon you will like to ride about; you will need horses. They will
+cheat you in the village; better apply to me. Head is my name--Bethuel
+Head; everybody knows me." Then he shut his eyes and began to sing a
+hymn of eight or ten verses, the brethren below, hearing him chanting
+alone on the top, joining in the refrain with hearty good will. As soon
+as he had finished, he said again, in a whisper, "Better apply to me,"
+at the same time giving his companion a touch with the elbow. Then he
+leaned over and began a slanting conversation with the brother who
+occupied the window-seat on his side; but, whenever he righted himself
+for a moment, he either poked Wainwright or winked at him, not lightly
+or jocularly, but with a certain anxious, concealed earnestness which
+was evidently real. "Head is my name," he whispered again; "better write
+it down--Bethuel Head." And when Wainwright, who generally did
+imperturbably whatever other people asked him to do, finding it in the
+end the least trouble, finally did write it down, the little man seemed
+relieved. "Their blood has dyed the pure mountain-streams," he whispered
+solemnly, as the coach crept down a dark gorge with the tree-branches
+sweeping its sides; "but I shall go out, yea, I shall go out as did
+David against Goliath, and save one man--one!"
+
+"Do," said Stephen. What the little brother meant he neither knew nor
+cared to know; going through life without questions he had found to be
+the easiest way. Besides, he was very tired. He had never "rejoiced in
+his strength," even when he was young; he had always had just enough to
+carry him through, with nothing over. The seven hours on the
+mountain-road, which climbed straight up on one side of the Blue Ridge,
+and straight down on the other, now over solid rock, now deep in red
+clay, now plunging through a break-neck gorge, now crossing a rushing
+stream so often that the route seemed to be principally by water, had
+driven him into the dull lethargy which was the worst ailment he knew;
+for even his illnesses were moderate. He fell asleep mentally, and only
+woke at the sound of a girl's voice.
+
+It was twilight, and the stage had stopped at Ellerby Mill. Two of the
+ministers alighted there, to take horse and go over solitary roads
+homeward to small mountain-villages, one ten, one fifteen miles away.
+Brother Bethuel was leaning over the side, holding on to his tall hat,
+and talking down to a young girl who stood at the edge of the roadway on
+a bank of ferns.
+
+"Masters is better, Miss Honor," he said, "or was the last time I saw
+him; I do not think there is any present danger."
+
+"I am very glad," answered the girl with earnestness; her eyes did not
+swerve from the little minister's face, although Wainwright was now
+looking down too. "If we could only have him entirely well again!"
+
+"He will be!--he will be!" answered Brother Bethuel. "Pray for him, my
+sister."
+
+"I do pray," said the girl--"daily, almost hourly." Into her dark eyes,
+uplifted and close to him, Wainwright could look directly, himself
+unnoticed as usual; and he read there that she did pray. "She believes
+it," he thought. He looked at her generally; she did not appear to be
+either extremely young, or ignorant, or commonplace, exactly. "About
+eighteen," he thought.
+
+"He has asked if his father has been told," continued the minister.
+
+"No, no; it is better he should know nothing," said the girl. "Can you
+take a package, Mr. Head?"
+
+"Yes, to-morrow. I abide to-night with Brother Beetle."
+
+"I will have it ready, then," said the girl.
+
+The stage moved on, she waved her hand, and the minister nodded
+energetically in return until the road curved and he could see her no
+longer. His tall hat was tightly on his head all this time; politeness
+in the mountains is not a matter of hat. They were but half a mile from
+Ellerby now, and the horses began to trot for the first time in eight
+hours. Brother Bethuel turned himself, and met Wainwright's eyes. Now
+those eyes of Wainwright were of a pale color, like the eyes of a fish;
+but they had at times a certain inflexibility which harassed the
+beholder, as, sometimes, one fish in an aquarium will drive a person
+into nervousness by simply remaining immovable behind his glass wall,
+and staring out at him stonily. Brother Bethuel, meeting Wainwright's
+eyes, immediately began to talk:
+
+"A fine young lady that: Miss Honor Dooris, niece of Colonel Eliot--the
+low-country Eliots, you know, one of our most distinguished families. I
+venture to say, sir, that strike at an Eliot, yes, strike at an Eliot,
+and a thousand will rise to beat back the blow. It would be dangerous,
+sir, most dangerous, to strike at that family."
+
+"Are they troubled by--by strikers?" asked Stephen.
+
+"Nobody ever harms anybody in this blessedly peaceful country of ours,"
+said the little minister in a loud, chanting voice. Then he dropped to a
+conversational tone again. "Miss Honor has been to the library; she is
+writing some 'Reflections on the Book of Job,' and is obliged of course
+to consult the authorities. You noticed the old library, did you
+not?--that small building in the grove, opposite the mill; her father
+was one of the trustees. The front steps are down, and she is obliged to
+climb in by a back window--allowable, of course, to a trustee's
+daughter--in order to consult the authorities."
+
+"And on Job they are such as--?"
+
+"Well, the dictionaries, I reckon," said Brother Bethuel, after
+considering a moment. "She is not of my flock; the Eliots are, of
+course, Episcopalians," he continued, with an odd sort of pride in the
+fact. "But I have aided her--I have aided her."
+
+"In the matter of Masters, perhaps?"
+
+Brother Bethuel glanced at his companion quickly in the darkening
+twilight. He caught him indulging in a long, tired yawn.
+
+"I was about to say, general charity; but the matter of Masters will
+do," he said carelessly. "The man is a poor fellow up in the mountains,
+in whom Miss Dooris is interested. He is often ill and miserable, and
+always very poor. She sends him aid when she can. I am to take a bundle
+to-morrow."
+
+"And she prays for him," said Wainwright, beginning to descend as the
+stage stopped at the door of the village inn.
+
+"She prays for all," replied Brother Bethuel, leaning over, and
+following him down with the words, delivered in a full undertone.
+Brother Bethuel had a good voice; he had preached under the open sky
+among the great peaks too long to have any feeble tones left.
+
+"I do not believe anybody ever prays for me," was Wainwright's last
+thought before he came sharply into personal contact with the
+discomforts of the inn. And, as his mother died when he was born,
+perhaps he was right.
+
+The next morning he wandered about and gazed at the superb sweep of the
+mountains. Close behind him rose the near wall of the Blue Ridge; before
+him stretched the line of the Alleghanies going down toward Georgia, the
+Iron Mountains, the Bald Mountains, and the peaks of the Great Smoky,
+purple and soft in the distance. A chain of giant sentinels stretched
+across the valley from one range to the other, and on these he could
+plainly see the dark color given by the heavy, unmixed growth of
+balsam-firs around and around up to the very top, a hue which gives the
+name Black Mountain to so many of these peaks.
+
+It was Sunday, and when the three little church-bells rang, making a
+tinkling sound in the great valley, he walked over to the Episcopal
+church. He had a curiosity to see that girl's eyes again by daylight.
+Even there, in that small house of God where so few strangers ever came,
+he was hardly noticed. He took his seat on one of the benches, and
+looked around. Colonel Eliot was there, in a black broadcloth coat
+seventeen years old, but well brushed, and worn with an air of unshaken
+dignity. The whole congregation heard him acknowledge every Sunday that
+he was a miserable sinner; but they were as proud of him on his one leg
+with his crutch under his arm as if he had been a perfected saint, and
+they would have knocked down any man who had dared to take him at his
+Sunday word. The Colonel's placid, dimpled wife was there, fanning
+herself with the slowly serene manner of her youth; and two benches were
+full of children. On the second bench was Honor, and the man of the
+world watched her closely in his quiet, unobserved way. This was nothing
+new: Wainwright spent his life in watching people. He had studied
+hundreds of women in the same way, and he formed his conclusions with
+minutest care. He judged no one by impulse or intuition, or even by
+liking or disliking. What persons _said_ was not of the slightest
+importance to him in any way: he noted what they _did_. The service was
+in progress, and Honor was down upon her knees. He saw her confess her
+sins; he saw her bow her head to receive the absolution; he saw her
+repeat the psalms; he watched her through every word of the Litany; he
+heard her sing; and he noted her clasped hands and strong effort of
+recollection throughout the recital of the Commandments. Then he settled
+himself anew, and began to watch her through the sermon. He had seen
+women attentive through the service before now: they generally became
+neutral during the sermon. But this girl never swerved. She sat with
+folded arms looking at the preacher fixedly, a slight compression about
+the mouth showing that the attention was that of determination. The
+preacher was uninteresting, he was tautological; still the girl followed
+him. "What a narrow little round of words and phrases it is!" thought
+the other, listening too, but weary. "How can she keep up with him?" And
+then, still watching her, he fell to noticing her dress and attitude.
+Poor Honor wore a gown of limp black alpaca, faithful, long-enduring
+servant of small-pursed respectability; on her head was a small black
+bonnet which she had fashioned herself, and not very successfully. A
+little linen collar, a pair of old gloves, and her prayer-book completed
+the appointments of her costume. Other young girls in the congregation
+were as poorly dressed as she, but they had a ribbon, a fan, an edge of
+lace here and there, or at least a rose from the garden to brighten
+themselves withal; this girl alone had nothing. She was tall and well
+rounded, almost majestic, but childishly young in face. Her dark hair,
+which grew very thickly--Wainwright could see it on the temples--seemed
+to have been until recently kept short, since the heavy braid behind
+made only one awkward turn at the back of the head. She had a boldly
+cut profile, too marked for regular beauty, yet pleasant to the eye
+owing to the delicate finish of the finer curves and the distinct arch
+of the lips. Her cheeks were rather thin. She had no grace; she sat
+stiffly on the bench, and resolutely listened to the dull discourse. "A
+good forehead," thought Wainwright, "and, thank Fortune! not disfigured
+by straggling ends of hair. 'Reflections on the Book of Job,' did he
+say? Poor little soul!"
+
+At last the service was ended, the sermon of dull paraphrases over; but
+Wainwright did not get his look. Honor sat still in her place without
+turning. He lingered awhile; but, as he never did anything, on
+principle, that attracted attention, he went out with the last stray
+members of the congregation, and walked down the green lane toward the
+inn. He did not look back: certain rules of his he would not have
+altered for the Queen of Sheba (whoever she was). But Brother Bethuel,
+coming from the Methodist meeting-house, bore down upon him, and
+effected what the Queen of Sheba could not have done: himself openly
+watching the church-door, he took Wainwright by the arm, turned him
+around, and, holding him by a buttonhole, stood talking to him. The red
+wagon of the Eliots was standing at the gate; Mrs. Eliot was on the
+front seat, and all the space behind was filled in with children. Black
+Pompey was assisting his master into the driver's place, while Honor
+held the crutch. A moment afterward the wagon passed them, Pompey
+sitting at the end with his feet hanging down behind. Brother Bethuel
+received a nod from the Colonel, but Madame Eliot serenely failed to see
+him. The low-country lady had been brought up to return the bows and
+salutations of all the blacks in the neighborhood, but whites below a
+certain line she did not see.
+
+Evidently Honor was going to walk home. In another moment she was close
+to them, and Stephen was having his look. The same slight flush rose in
+her face when she saw Brother Bethuel which had risen there the day
+before; the same earnestness came into her eyes, and Stephen became
+haunted by the desire to have them turned upon himself. But he was not
+likely to have this good fortune; all her attention was concentrated
+upon the little minister. She said she had the package ready; it would
+be at the usual place. He would take it up, he replied, at sunset. She
+hoped the moon would not be hidden by clouds. He hoped so too; but old
+Marcher knew the way. She had heard that the East Branch was up. He had
+heard so also; but old Marcher could swim very well. All this was
+commonplace, yet it seemed to Wainwright that the girl appeared to
+derive a certain comfort from it, and to linger. There was a pause.
+
+"This is my friend," said Brother Bethuel at last, indicating Stephen
+with a backward turn of his thumb; "Mr.--Mr.--"
+
+"Wainwright," said Stephen, uncovering; then, with his straw hat in his
+hand, he made her a low bow, as deliberate as the salutations in a
+minuet, coming up slowly and looking with gravity full in her face. He
+had what he wanted then--a look; she had never seen such a bow before.
+To tell the truth, neither had Stephen; he invented it for the occasion.
+
+"Met him on the stage," said Brother Bethuel, "and, as he is a stranger,
+I thought, perhaps, Miss Honor, the Colonel would let him call round
+this afternoon; he'd take it as a favor, I know." There was a concealed
+determination in his voice. The girl immediately gave Stephen another
+look. "My uncle will be happy to see you," she said quickly. Then they
+all walked on together, and Stephen noted, under his eyelashes, the
+mended gloves, the coarse shoe, and the rusty color of the black gown;
+he noted also the absolute purity of the skin over the side of the face
+which was next to him, over the thin cheek, the rather prominent nose,
+the little shell-like ear, and the rim of throat above the linen collar.
+This clear white went down to the edge of the arched lips, and met the
+red there sharply and decidedly; the two colors were not mingled at all.
+What was there about her that interested him? It was the strong reality
+of her religious belief. In the character-studies with which he amused
+his life he recognized any real feeling, no matter what, as a rarity, a
+treasure-trove. Once he had spent six weeks in studying a woman who
+slowly and carefully planned and executed a revenge. He had studied what
+is called religion enormously, considering it one of the great spiritual
+influences of the world: he had found it, in his individual cases so
+far, mixed. Should he study this new specimen? He had not decided when
+they came to the porch of the inn. There was no hurry about deciding,
+and this was his place to stop; he never went out of his way. But Honor
+paused too, and, looking at him, said, with a mixture of earnestness and
+timidity: "You will come and see uncle, I hope, Mr. Wainwright. Come
+this afternoon." She even offered her hand, and offered it awkwardly. As
+Wainwright's well-fitting, well-buttoned glove touched for an instant
+the poor, cheap imitation, wrinkled and flabby, which covered her hand,
+he devoutly hoped she would not see the contrast as he saw it. She did
+not: a Dooris was a Dooris, and the varieties of kid-skin and rat-skin
+could not alter that.
+
+Brother Bethuel went on with Honor, but in the afternoon he came back to
+the inn to pilot Stephen to the Eliot ravine. Stephen was reading a
+letter from Adelaide Kellinger--a charming letter, full of society
+events and amusing little comments, which were not rendered
+unintelligible either by the lack of commas, semicolons, and
+quotation-marks, and the substitution of the never-failing dash, dear to
+the feminine pen. The sheets, exhaling the faintest reminiscence of
+sandalwood, were covered with clear handwriting, which went straight
+from page to page in the natural way, without crossing or doubling or
+turning back. There was a date at the top; the weather was mentioned;
+the exact time of arrival of Stephen's last letter told. It can be seen
+from this that Adelaide was no ordinary correspondent.
+
+Stephen, amused and back in New York, did not care much about the Eliot
+visit; but Brother Bethuel cared, and so, with his usual philosophy,
+Stephen went. They talked of the mountains, of the mountain-people, of
+the villagers; then Brother Bethuel took up the subject of the Eliot
+family, and declaimed their praises all the rest of the way. They were
+extremely influential, they were excessively hot-tempered; the State was
+in a peculiar condition at present, but the Eliots held still the old
+wires, and it would be extremely dangerous to attack the family in any
+way. Stephen walked along, and let the little man chant on. He had
+heard, in this same manner, pages and volumes of talk from the persons
+who insist upon telling you all about people in whom you have not the
+remotest interest, even reading you their letters and branching off
+farther and farther, until you come to regard those first mentioned as
+quite near friends when the talker comes back to them (if he ever does),
+being so much nearer than the outside circles into which he has tried to
+convey you. Stephen never interrupted these talkers; so he was a
+favorite prey of theirs. Only gradually did it dawn upon them that his
+stillness was not exactly that of attention. The only interest he showed
+now was when the minister got down to what he called the present
+circumstances of the family. It seemed that they were very poor; Brother
+Bethuel appeared determined that the stranger should know precisely how
+poor. He brought forward the pathetic view.
+
+"They have nothing to eat sometimes but corn-meal and potatoes," he
+said. This made no impression.
+
+"The brook rises now and then, and they live in a roaring flood; all the
+small articles have more than once been washed away."
+
+"Any of the children?" inquired Wainwright.
+
+"Once, when the horses were lame, I saw Honor go to the mill herself
+with the meal-sack."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes, and carry it home again. And I have seen her scrubbing out the
+kettles."
+
+Wainwright gave an inward shudder. "Has she any education at all?" he
+asked, with a feeling like giving her money, and getting away as fast as
+possible: money, because he had for twenty-four hours made her in a
+certain way a subject of study, and felt as if he owed her something,
+especially if he went disappointed.
+
+"Sir, she has a finished education," responded the little minister with
+dignity; "she can play delightfully upon David's instrument, the harp."
+
+At this moment they came to the plank and the ditch.
+
+"I will go no farther," said Brother Bethuel, "and--and you need not
+mention to the Colonel, if you please, that I accompanied you hither."
+Then he stood on tiptoe, and whispered mysteriously into Stephen's ear:
+"As to horses, remember to apply to me--Brother Head, Bethuel Head. A
+note dropped into the post-office will reach me, a man on horseback
+bringing the mail up our way twice each week. Bethuel Head--do not
+forget." He struck himself on the breast once or twice as if to
+emphasize the name, gave Stephen a wink, which masqueraded as knowing
+but was more like entreaty, and, turning away, walked back toward the
+village.
+
+"An extraordinary little man," thought the other, crossing the plank,
+and following the path up the ravine by the side of the brook.
+
+The Colonel sat on his high, unrailed piazza, with the red wagon and a
+dilapidated buggy drawn up comfortably underneath; Honor was with him.
+He rose to greet his visitor, and almost immediately asked if he was
+related to Bishop Wainwright. When Stephen replied that he was not, the
+old gentleman sat down, and leaned his crutch against the wall, with a
+good deal of disappointment: being a devoted churchman, he had hoped for
+a long ecclesiastical chat. But, after a moment, he took up with good
+grace the secondary subject of the mountains, and talked very well about
+them. With the exception of the relationship to the Bishop, he, with
+the courtesy of the South, did not ask his guest a single question:
+Stephen could have been a peddler, a tenor-singer, a carpet-bag
+politician, or a fugitive from justice, with perfect safety, as far as
+questions were concerned.
+
+Honor said nothing. It was refreshing to be with a girl who did not want
+to go anywhere or do anything. She had really asked him to come, then,
+merely to please the old Colonel. A girl of gold. But, alas! the girl of
+gold proved herself to be of the usual metal, after all; for, when half
+an hour had passed, she deliberately proposed to her uncle that she
+should take their visitor up the hill to see the view. Now, Stephen had
+been taken numerous times in his life to see views; the trouble was that
+he always looked directly at the real landscape, whatever it was, and
+found a great deal to say about it, to the neglect of the view nearer
+his side. He did not think it necessary now to play his usual part of
+responsive politeness to this little country-girl's open manoeuvre; he
+could go if she insisted upon it, he supposed. So he sat looking down at
+the brim of his hat; but noted, also, that even the Colonel seemed
+surprised. Honor, however, had risen, and was putting on her ugly little
+bonnet; she looked quietly determined. Stephen rose also, and took leave
+formally; he would go homeward from the hill. They started, he by this
+time weary of the whole State, and fast inclining toward departure early
+the next morning.
+
+He did not say much to her, or look at her; but, in truth, the path
+through the corn was too steep and narrow for conversation: they were
+obliged to walk in single file. When they had reached the summit, and
+Stephen was gathering together his adjectives for his usual
+view-remarks, he turned toward his companion, and was surprised to see
+how embarrassed she appeared; he began to feel interested in her
+again--interested in her timid, dark eyes, and the possibilities in
+their depths. She was evidently frightened.
+
+"If," she commenced once, twice--then faltered and stopped.
+
+"Well?" said Stephen encouragingly: after all, she was very young.
+
+"If you intend to stay in Ellerby any length of time--do you?"
+
+"I really have not decided," said Stephen, relapsing into coolness.
+
+"I was only going to say that if you _do_ stay, we, that is, I--we, I
+mean--shall be happy to see you here often."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"The view is considered fine," faltered the girl, pulling off her gloves
+in desperate embarrassment, and putting them deep down in her pocket.
+
+Stephen began his view-remarks.
+
+"But what I was going to say," she continued, breaking in at the first
+pause, "was, that if you should stay, and need--need _horses_, or
+a--guide, I wish you would apply to Mr. Head."
+
+"They are in a conspiracy against me with their horses," thought
+Stephen. Then he threw a hot shot: "Yes; Mr. Head asked me the same
+thing. He also asked me not to mention that he brought me here."
+
+"No; pray do not," said Honor quickly.
+
+He turned and looked at her: she began to blush--pink, crimson, pink;
+then white, and a very dead white too.
+
+"You think it strange?" she faltered.
+
+"Not at all. Do not be disturbed, Miss Dooris; I never think anything."
+
+"Mr. Head is poor, and--and tries to make a little money now and then
+with his horses," she stammered.
+
+"So I--judged."
+
+"And I--try to help him."
+
+"Very natural, I am sure."
+
+He was beginning to feel sorry for the child, and her poor little
+efforts to gain a few shillings: he had decided that the Colonel's old
+horses were the wagon-team of this partnership, and "Marcher" the
+saddle-horse.
+
+"I shall certainly need horses," he said aloud.
+
+"And you will apply to Mr. Head?"
+
+She was so eager that he forgot himself, and smiled.
+
+"Miss Dooris," he said, bowing, "I will apply to Mr. Head, and only to
+him; I give you my word."
+
+She brightened at once.
+
+The golden shafts of the setting sun shone full in her face: her dark
+eyes did not mind them; she did not put up her hand to shield herself,
+but stood and looked directly into the glittering, brilliant western
+sky. He put his quizzical expression back out of sight, and began to
+talk to her. She answered him frankly. He tested her a little; he was an
+old hand at it. Of coquetry she gave back not a sign. Gradually the
+conviction came to him that she had not asked him up there for personal
+reasons at all. It was, then, the horses.
+
+When he had decided this, he sat down on a stump, and went on talking to
+her with renewed interest. After a while she laughed, and there came
+into her face that peculiar brilliancy which the conjunction of dark
+eyes and the gleam of white, even teeth can give to a thin-cheeked
+brunette. Then he remembered to look at her hands, and was relieved to
+find them, although a little roughened by toil, charmingly shaped and
+finely aristocratic--fit portion of the tall, well-rounded figure, which
+only needed self-consciousness to be that of a young Diana. The girl
+seemed so happy and radiant, so impersonal in the marked attention she
+gave to him, which was not unlike the attention she might have given to
+her grandfather, that Wainwright recognized it at last as only another
+case of his being of no consequence, and smiled to himself over it.
+Evidently, if he wanted notice, he must, as it were, mount the horses.
+He had had no especial intention of making excursions among the
+mountains; but that was, apparently, the fixed idea of these
+horse-owners. They were, for some reason, pleased to be mysterious; he
+would be mysterious also.
+
+"I hope Mr. Head's horses are good ones?" he said confidentially; "I
+shall need _very_ good horses."
+
+All her color gone instantly, and the old cloud of anxiety on her face
+again.
+
+"Yes, they are good horses," she answered; and then her eyes rested upon
+him, and he read trouble, fear, and dislike, succeeding each other
+openly in their dark depths.
+
+"Is it because I am a Northerner, Miss Dooris?" he said quietly. He had
+made up his mind, rather unfairly, to break down the fence between them
+by a close question, which so young a girl would not know how to parry.
+
+She started, and the color rushed up all over her face again.
+
+"Of course, it is all right," she answered hurriedly, in a low voice. "I
+know that the laws must be maintained, and that some persons must do the
+work that you do. People can not always choose their occupations, I
+suppose, and no doubt they--no doubt you--I mean, that it can not be
+helped."
+
+"May I ask what you take me for?" said Wainwright, watching her.
+
+"We saw it at once; Mr. Head saw it, and afterward I did also. But we
+are experienced; others may not discover you so soon. Mr. Head is
+anxious to pilot you through the mountains to save you from danger."
+
+"He is very kind; disinterested, too."
+
+"No," said Honor, flushing again; "I assure you he makes money by it
+also."
+
+"But you have not told me what it is you take me for, Miss Dooris?"
+
+"It is not necessary, is it?" replied Honor in a whisper. "You are one
+of the new revenue detectives, sent up here to search out the stills."
+
+"An informer--after the moonlight whisky-makers, you mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Wainwright threw back his head and laughed out loud, as he had not
+laughed for years.
+
+"I am not sure but that it is a compliment," he said at last; "no one
+has ever taken me for anything particular before in all my life." Then,
+when he was sober, "Miss Dooris," he said, "I am a man of leisure,
+residing in New York; and I am sorry to say that I am an idle vagabond,
+with no occupation even so useful as that of a revenue detective."
+
+In spite of himself, however, a touch of contempt filtered into his
+voice. Then it came to him how the club-men would enjoy the story, and
+again he laughed uproariously. When he came to himself, Honor was
+crying.
+
+
+III.
+
+Yes, Honor was crying. The dire mistake, the contempt, and, worse than
+all, the laughter, had struck the proud little Southern girl to the
+heart.
+
+"My dear child," said Wainwright, all the gentleman in him aroused at
+once, "why should you care for so small and natural a mistake? It is all
+clear to me now. I gave no account of myself coming over on the stage; I
+remember, too, that I spoke of the moonlight whisky-makers myself, and
+that I made no effort to find out what Mr. Head was alluding to when he
+talked on in his mysterious way. It is my usual unpardonable laziness
+which has brought you to this error. Pray forgive it."
+
+Honor cried on, unable to stop, but his voice and words had soothed her;
+he stood beside her, hat in hand, and after a few moments she summoned
+self-control enough to dry her eyes and put down her handkerchief. But
+her eyelashes were still wet, her breath came tremulously, and there was
+a crimson spot on each cheek. She looked, at that moment, not more than
+fifteen years old, and Wainwright sat down, this time nearer to her,
+determined to make her feel easier. He banished the subject of her
+mistake at once, and began talking to her about herself. He asked many
+questions, and she answered them humbly, as a Lenten penitent might
+answer a father confessor. She seemed to feel as though she owed him
+everything he chose to take. She let him enter and walk through her life
+and mind, through all her hopes and plans; one or two closed doors he
+noted, but did not try to open, neither did he let her see that he had
+discovered them. He learned how poor they were; he learned her love for
+her uncle, her Switzer's attachment to the mountain-peaks about her; he
+learned what her daily life was; and he came near enough to her
+religious faith, that faith which had first attracted him, to see how
+clear and deep it was, like a still pool in a shaded glen. It was years
+since Stephen Wainwright had been so close to a young girl's soul, and,
+to do him justice, he felt that he was on holy ground.
+
+When at last he left her, he had made up his mind that he would try an
+experiment. He would help this child out of the quagmire of poverty, and
+give her, in a small way, a chance. The question was, how to do it. He
+remained at Ellerby, made acquaintances, and asked questions. He
+pretended this, and pretended that. Finally, after some consideration,
+he woke up the old library association, reopened the building, and put
+in Honor as librarian, at a salary of two hundred dollars a year. To
+account for this, he was obliged, of course, to be much interested in
+Ellerby; his talk was that the place must eventually become a summer
+resort, and that money could be very well invested there. He therefore
+invested it. Discovering, among other things, pink marble on wild land
+belonging to the Colonel, he bought a whole hillside, and promptly paid
+for it. To balance this, he also bought half a mile of sulphur springs
+on the other side of the valley (the land comically cheap), and spoke of
+erecting a hotel there. The whole of Ellerby awoke, talked, and
+rejoiced; no one dreamed that the dark eyes of one young girl had
+effected it all.
+
+Honor herself remained entirely unconscious. She was so openly happy
+over the library that Wainwright felt himself already repaid. "It might
+stand against some of my omissions," he said to himself.
+
+One thing detained him where he was; then another. He could not buy
+property without paying some attention to it, and he did not choose to
+send for his man of business. He staid on, therefore, all summer. And he
+sent books to the library now and then during the winter that
+followed--packages which the librarian, of course, was obliged to
+acknowledge, answering at the same time the questions of the letters
+which accompanied them. Stephen's letters were always formal; they might
+have been nailed up on the walls of the library for all comers to read.
+He amused himself, however, not a little over the carefully written,
+painstaking answers, in which the librarian remained "with great
+respect" his "obliged servant, Honor Dooris."
+
+The second summer began, and he was again among the mountains; but he
+should leave at the end of the month, he said. In the mean time it had
+come about that he was teaching the librarian. She needed instruction,
+certainly; and the steps that led up to it had been so gradual that it
+seemed natural enough now. But no one knew the hundred little things
+which had been done to make it seem so.
+
+What was he trying to do?
+
+His cousin, Adelaide Kellinger, determined to find out that point, was
+already domiciled with her maid at the inn. There had been no
+concealment about Honor; Wainwright had told Adelaide the whole story.
+He also showed to her the librarian's little letters whenever they came,
+and she commented upon them naturally, and asked many questions. "Do you
+know, I feel really interested in the child myself?" she said to him one
+day; and it was entirely true.
+
+When he told her that he was going to the mountains again, she asked if
+he would not take her with him. "It will be a change from the usual
+summer places; and, besides, I find I am lonely if long away from you,"
+she said frankly. She always put it upon that ground. She had learned
+that nothing makes a man purr more satisfactorily than the hearing that
+the woman in whose society he finds himself particularly comfortable has
+an especial liking for and dependence upon himself; immediately he makes
+it all a favor and kindness to _her_, and is happy. So Adelaide came
+with Stephen, and did make him more comfortable. His barren room bloomed
+with fifty things which came out of her trunks and her ingenuity; she
+coaxed and bribed the cook; she won the landlady to a later breakfast.
+She arranged a little parlor, and was always there when he came home,
+ready to talk to him a little, but not too much; ready to divine his
+mood and make the whole atmosphere accord with it at once. They had been
+there three weeks, and of course Adelaide had met the librarian.
+
+For those three weeks she remained neutral, and studied the ground; then
+she began to act. She sent for John Royce. And she threw continuous
+rose-light around Honor.
+
+After the final tableau of a spectacle-play, a second view is sometimes
+given with the nymphs and fairies all made doubly beautiful by
+rose-light. Mrs. Kellinger now gave this glow. She praised Honor's
+beauty.
+
+Stephen had not observed it. How could he be so blind? Why, the girl had
+fathomless eyes, exquisite coloring, the form of a Greek statue, and the
+loveliest mouth! Then she branched off.
+
+"What a beautiful thing it would be to see such a girl as that fall in
+love!--a girl so impulsive, so ignorant of the world. That is exactly
+the kind of girl that really could die of a broken heart."
+
+"Could she?" said Stephen.
+
+"Now, Stephen, you know as well as I do what Honor Dooris is," said
+Adelaide warmly. "She is not awakened yet, her prince has not made
+himself known to her; but, when he does awaken her, she will take him up
+to the seventh heaven."
+
+"That is--if she loves him."
+
+"She has seen so few persons; it would not be a difficult matter," said
+Adelaide.
+
+A few days later, when she told him that she was thinking of sending for
+John Royce, he made no comment, although she looked at him with
+undisguised wistfulness, a lingering gaze that seemed to entreat his
+questions. But he would not question, and, obedient as always to his
+will, she remained silent.
+
+John Royce came. He was another cousin, but a young one, twenty-five
+years old, blue-eyed and yellow-haired. He kept his yellow hair
+ruthlessly short, however, and he frowned more or less over his blue
+eyes, owing to much yachting and squinting ahead across the glaring
+water to gain an inch's length on the next boat. He was brown and big,
+with a rolling gait; the edge of a boat tilted at one hair's-breadth
+from going over entirely, was his idea of a charming seat; under a tree
+before a camp-fire, with something more than a suspicion of savage
+animals near, his notion of a delightful bed. He did not have much money
+of his own; he was going to do something for himself by and by; but
+Cousin Adelaide had always petted him, and he had no objection to a hunt
+among those Southern mountains. So he came.
+
+He had met Honor almost immediately. Mrs. Kellinger was a welcome
+visitor at the Eliot home; she seemed to make the whole ravine more
+graceful. The Colonel's wife and all the children clustered around her
+with delight every time she came, and the old Colonel himself renewed
+his youth in her presence. She brought John to call upon them at once,
+and she took him to the library also; she made Honor come and dine with
+them at the inn. She arranged a series of excursions in a great
+mountain-wagon shaped like a boat, and tilted high up behind, with a
+canvas cover over a framework, like a Shaker bonnet, and drawn by six
+slow-walking horses. The wagoner being a postilion, they had the wagon
+to themselves; they filled the interstices with Eliot children and
+baskets, and explored the wilder roads, going on foot up the steep
+banks above, drinking from the ice-cold spring, looking out for
+rattlesnakes, plucking the superb rhododendrons and the flowers of the
+calico-bush, and every now and then catching a new glimpse of the
+unparalleled crowd of peaks over toward the Tennessee line. Stephen went
+everywhere patiently; Honor went delightedly; John Royce went
+carelessly; Mrs. Kellinger went as the velvet string which held them all
+together; she was so smooth that they slid easily.
+
+But, in the intervals, Wainwright still taught his librarian.
+
+Mrs. Eliot had become Adelaide's warm friend. The sweet-voiced Southern
+wife, with her brood of children, and her calm, contented pride,
+confided to the Northern stranger the one grief of her life, namely,
+that she was the Colonel's second wife, and that he had dearly loved the
+first; anxiety as to the uncertain future of her children weighed far
+less upon her mind than this. The old-time South preserved the romance
+of conjugal love even to silver hairs; there may have been no more real
+love than at the North, but there was more of the manner of it. The
+second month came to its end; it was now August. Mrs. Kellinger had sent
+many persons to the library; she had roused up a general interest in it;
+villagers now went there regularly for books, paying a small
+subscription-fee, which was added to Honor's salary. Honor thanked her
+for this in a rather awkward way. Mrs. Eliot, who was present, did not
+consider the matter of consequence enough for thanks. She had never even
+spoken to Wainwright of Honor's office of librarian, or the salary which
+came out of his pocket. Money-matters were nothing; between friends they
+were less than nothing. Stephen had two hours alone with his librarian
+every morning, when there was no excursion; Mrs. Kellinger had arranged
+that, by inventing a rule and telling it to everybody in a decided tone:
+no one was expected at the library before eleven o'clock.
+
+"Did you do this?" said Stephen, when he discovered it.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I thought you would like it," replied Adelaide. He looked at
+her questioningly; she answered immediately to the look. "You are
+interested in a new study of character, Stephen; you are really doing
+the child a world of good too; although, as usual, I confess that my
+interest in the matter is confined principally to your own
+entertainment." She spoke good-humoredly, and almost immediately
+afterward left him to himself.
+
+His mind ran back over a long series of little arrangements made for his
+pleasure on all sorts of occasions. "She is the best-hearted woman in
+the world," he thought. And then he took his note-book and went over to
+the library.
+
+Their lessons would have amused a looker-on; but there was no looker-on.
+Honor was interested or absent-minded, irritable or deeply respectful,
+humble or proud, by turns; she regarded him as her benefactor, and she
+really wished to learn; but she was young, and impulsive, and--a girl.
+There was little conversation save upon the lessons, with the exception
+of one subject. The man of the world had begun his study of this girl's
+deep religious faith. "If you can give it to me also, or a portion of
+it," he had said, "you will be conferring a priceless gift upon me, Miss
+Honor."
+
+Then Honor would throw down her books, clasp her hands, and, with
+glowing cheeks, talk to him on sacred subjects. Many a time the tears
+would spring to her eyes with her own earnestness; many a time she lost
+herself entirely while pleading with her whole soul. He listened to her,
+thanked her, and went away. Only once did he show any emotion: it was
+when she told him that she prayed for him.
+
+"Do you really pray for me?" he said in a low tone; then he put his hand
+over his eyes, and sat silent.
+
+Honor, a little frightened, drew back. It seemed to her a very simple
+act, praying for any one: she had prayed for people all her life.
+
+One Sunday afternoon Mrs. Eliot and Honor were sitting in Adelaide's
+parlor at the inn, whither she had brought them on their way home from
+service. Royce and Stephen had been discovered, upon their entrance, in
+two chairs at the windows; the former surrounded by a waste of
+newspapers, magazines, and novels, thrown down on the floor, a general
+expression of heat and weariness on his face. His companion was reading
+a small, compact volume in his usual neat way. Big Royce was sprawled
+over three chairs; Stephen did not fill one. Big Royce was drumming on
+the window-sill; Stephen was motionless. Yet Royce, springing up and
+smiling, his blue eyes gleaming, and frank gladness on his face, was a
+picture that women remember; while Stephen, rising without change of
+expression, was a silent contradiction to their small power, which is
+never agreeable. They all sat talking for an hour, Mrs. Eliot and Mrs.
+Kellinger contributing most of the sentences. Royce was in gay spirits;
+Honor rather silent. Suddenly there came a sharp, cracking sound; they
+all ran to the window. Through the main street of the village a man was
+running, followed by another, who, three times in their sight and
+hearing, fired at the one in advance. One, two, three times they saw and
+heard him fire, and the sickening feeling of seeing a man murdered in
+plain sight came over them. Royce rushed down to the street. The victim
+had fallen; the other man was himself staggering, and in the hands of a
+crowd which had gathered in an instant. After a short delay the two men
+were borne away, one to his home, one to the jail. Royce returned hot
+and breathless.
+
+"Oh, how is the poor man who was shot?" exclaimed Mrs. Eliot.
+
+"Poor man, indeed! The other one is the man to be pitied," said Royce
+angrily. "He is a revenue detective, and was knocked down from behind
+with a club by this fellow, who is a liquor-seller here in the village.
+The blow was on the skull, and a murderous one. Half blinded and
+maddened, he staggered to his feet, drew his revolver, and fired for his
+life."
+
+Honor had grown white as ivory. She shook in every limb, her lips
+trembled, and her chin had dropped a little. Wainwright watched her.
+
+"But what does it all mean?" asked Adelaide.
+
+"Moonlight whisky, of course. The detective has been hunting for the
+stills, and these outlaws will kill the man as they have killed half a
+dozen before him."
+
+"What an outrage! Are there no laws?"
+
+"Dead letters."
+
+"Or officers to execute them?"
+
+"Dead men."
+
+Royce was excited and aroused. He was young, and had convictions. The
+laws should not be over-ridden and men murdered in broad daylight by
+these scoundrels while he was on the scene. He took charge of the
+detective, who, with his bruised head, was put in jail, while the
+liquor-seller was allowed to have his illness out in his own house, one
+of the balls only having taken effect, and that in a safe place in the
+shoulder. Royce, all on fire for the side of justice, wrote and
+telegraphed for troops, using the detective's signature; he went himself
+fifteen miles on horseback to send the dispatch. There were troops at
+the State capital; they had been up to the mountains before on the same
+business; they were, indeed, quite accustomed to going up; but they
+accomplished nothing. The outlaws kept themselves carefully hidden in
+their wild retreats, and the village looked on as innocently as a Quaker
+settlement. A detective was fair game: two of them had been shot in the
+neighborhood within the previous year, and left bleeding in the road.
+Would they never learn, then, to keep out of the mountains?
+
+"But is it not an extraordinary state of things that a village so large
+as Ellerby should be so apathetic?" asked Adelaide.
+
+"The villagers can do little: once off the road, and you are in a
+trackless wilderness," said Stephen. "Custom makes law in these regions:
+moonlight whisky has always been made, and the mountaineers think they
+have a right to make it. They look upon the revenue-men as spies."
+
+"Yes; and they are government officials and Northerners too," added
+Royce hotly--"mind that!"
+
+He had taken the matter in hand vigorously. He wrote and sent off a
+dozen letters per day. The Department at Washington had its attention
+decisively called to this district and the outlawry rampant there. It
+was used to it.
+
+In a week the troops came--part of a company of infantry and a young
+lieutenant, a tall stripling fresh from West Point. His name was
+Allison; he lisped and wore kid-gloves; he was as dainty as a girl, and
+almost as slender. To see the short, red-faced, burly detective, with
+his bandaged head and stubbed fingers; Royce, with his eagle eyes and
+impatient glance; and this delicate-handed, pink-cheeked boy, conferring
+together, was like a scene from a play. The detective, slow and
+cautious, studied the maps; Royce, in a hot hurry about everything,
+paced up and down; Allison examined his almond-shaped nails and hummed a
+tune. The detective had his suspicions concerning Eagle Knob; the troops
+could take the river-road, turn off at Butter Glen, and climb the
+mountain at that point. In the mean while all was kept quiet; it was
+given out that the men were to search South Gap, on the other side of
+the valley.
+
+On the very night appointed for the start, an old lady, who had three
+granddaughters from the low country spending the summer with her, opened
+her house, lit up her candles, and gave a ball, with the village
+fiddlers for musicians and her old black cook's plum-cake for
+refreshments. Royce was to accompany the troops; Adelaide had not been
+able to prevent it. She went to Stephen in distress, and then Stephen
+proposed to Royce to send half a dozen stout villagers in his place--he,
+Stephen, paying all expenses.
+
+"There are some things, Wainwright, that even your money can not do,"
+replied Royce.
+
+"Very well," said Stephen.
+
+Royce now announced that they must all go to the ball to divert
+suspicion; Allison too. But Allison had no invitation. Royce went to
+Mrs. Eliot, and begged her influence; Mrs. Eliot sent Honor to the old
+lady, and the invitation came.
+
+"If he could avoid wearing his uniform--" suggested Mrs. Eliot to
+Adelaide, a little nervously.
+
+"But he has nothing else with him, I fear," answered Adelaide.
+
+It turned out, however, that the lieutenant had a full evening-suit in
+his valise, with white tie and white gloves also. Royce surveyed these
+habiliments and their owner with wonder. He himself, coming from New
+York, with all the baggage he wanted, had only a black coat. His costume
+must be necessarily of the composite order; but the composite order was
+well known at Ellerby.
+
+Allison was the belle of the ball. He danced charmingly, and murmured
+the most delightful things to all his partners in rapid succession. He
+was the only man in full evening-dress present, and the pink flush on
+his cheeks, and his tall, slender figure swaying around in the waltz,
+were long remembered in Ellerby. Honor was there in a white muslin which
+had been several times washed and repaired; there was no flow to her
+drapery, and she looked awkward. She was pale and silent. Mrs.
+Kellinger, clothed to the chin and wrists, with no pronounced color
+about her, was the one noticeable woman present. Royce did not dance. He
+found the rooms hot and the people tiresome; he was in a fever to be
+off. Stephen sat on the piazza, and looked in through the window. At one
+o'clock it was over. Allison had danced every dance. He went back to the
+inn with his pockets stuffed with gloves, withered rose-buds, knots of
+ribbon, and even, it was whispered, a lock of golden hair. The next
+hour, in the deep darkness, the troops started.
+
+At five minutes before eleven the next morning, Stephen was bringing his
+algebra-lesson to a close, when a distant clatter in the gorge was
+heard, a tramping sound; men were running out of the mill opposite and
+gazing curiously up the road. Honor was at the window in a flash,
+Stephen beside her. The troops were returning. They had laid hands upon
+a mountain-wagon and marched upon each side of it like a guard of honor.
+Royce sat in the wagon, his face hidden in his hands.
+
+"Where is Mr. Allison?" said Honor, and her voice was but a whisper. She
+stood back of the curtain, trembling violently.
+
+Royce did not look up as the procession passed the library; without a
+word Wainwright and Honor went out, locked the door behind them, and
+followed the wagon toward the village. Everybody did the same; the
+houses were emptied of their dwellers. The whole village came together
+to see the body of the boy-officer lifted out and carried into the inn.
+Allison was dead.
+
+The buttons on his uniform gleamed as they bore him in, and his white
+hands hung lifelessly down. He had fought like a tiger, they said, and
+had led his men on with the most intrepid, daring courage to the very
+last. It seemed that they had fallen into an ambuscade, and had
+accomplished nothing. Singularly enough, the young lieutenant was the
+only one killed; Royce was sure that he had seen one of the outlaws
+deliberately single him out and fire--a dark, haggard-looking fellow.
+
+Stephen took Honor up to Adelaide's parlor. Adelaide was there wringing
+her hands. She had fastened the boy's collar for him at two o'clock the
+night before, when he had rather absurdly pretended that he could not
+make it stay buttoned; and she had tapped him on the cheek reprovingly
+for his sentimental looks. "This ball has spoiled you, foolish boy," she
+had said; "march off into the mountains and get rid of this nonsense."
+Ah, well, he was well rid of it now!
+
+Honor stood as if transfixed, listening. Presently the door opened, and
+Royce came in. "Let me get somewhere where I am not ashamed to cry," he
+said; and, sinking down, he laid his head upon his arms on the table
+and cried like a child. Honor went out of the room hastily; she hardly
+noticed that Stephen was with her. When she reached the ravine, she,
+too, sank down on the grass, out of sight of the house, and sobbed as
+though her heart would break. Stephen looked at her irresolutely, then
+moved away some paces, and, sitting down on a stump, waited. Honor had
+danced with Allison: could it be--but no; it was only the sudden horror
+of the thing.
+
+Allison was buried in the little village churchyard; the whole
+country-side came to the funeral. The old Episcopal rector read the
+burial-service, and his voice shook a little as the young head was laid
+low in the deep grave. Brother Bethuel had come down from the mountains
+on Marcher, and had asked permission to lead the singing; he stood by
+the grave, and, with uncovered head and uplifted eyes, sang with
+marvelous sweetness and power an old Methodist hymn, in which all the
+throng soon joined. The young girls who had danced at the ball sobbed
+aloud. Honor alone stood tearless; but she had brought her choicest
+roses to lay over the dead boy's feet, where no one could see them, and
+she had stooped and kissed his icy forehead in the darkened room before
+he was carried out: Stephen saw her do it. After the funeral, Brother
+Bethuel and Honor went away together; Stephen returned to the inn.
+Adelaide had taken upon herself the task of answering the letters.
+Allison had no father or mother, but his other relatives and friends
+were writing. Royce, his one young burst of grief over, went about
+sternly, his whole soul set on revenge. Now troops came: an officer of
+the United States army had been killed, and the Department was aroused
+at last. There were several officers at Ellerby now, older men than
+Allison and more experienced; a new expedition was to be sent into the
+mountains to route these banditti and make an end of them. Royce was
+going as guide; he knew where the former attack had been made, and he
+knew, also, the detective's reasons for suspecting Eagle Knob, the
+detective himself being now out of the field, owing to brain-fever: the
+United States authorities had ordered him out of jail, and he was at the
+inn, having his fever comfortably on the ground-floor. Honor was with
+Adelaide almost constantly now. The elder woman, who always received her
+caressingly, seemed puzzled by the girl's peculiar manner. She said
+little, but sat and listened to every word, turning her dark eyes slowly
+from one speaker to the next. Royce came and went, brought in his maps,
+talked, and every now and then made the vases on the table ring as he
+brought down his strong hand with an emphasis of defiance.
+
+"I can not study," Honor had said to Stephen when he made some allusion
+to their morning hours. She said it simply, without excuse or disguise;
+he did not ask her again.
+
+The expedition was to start on Monday night. The whole village, in the
+mean time, had been carefully intrusted with the secret that it was to
+go on Tuesday. But on Sunday evening Honor discovered that before
+midnight the hounds were to be let slip. The very soldiers themselves
+did not know it. How did the girl learn it, then? She divined it from
+some indefinable signs in Royce. Even Adelaide did not suspect it; and
+Stephen saw only the girl's own restlessness. She slipped away like a
+ghost--so like one that Stephen himself did not see her go. He followed
+her, however, almost immediately; it was too late for her to go through
+the village alone. He was some distance behind her. To his surprise, she
+did not go homeward, but walked rapidly down toward the river-road.
+There was fickle moonlight now and then; he dropped still farther
+behind, and followed her, full of conjecture, which was not so much
+curiosity as pain. It was still early in the evening, yet too late for
+her to be out there on the river-road alone. This innocent young
+girl--this child--where, where was she going? He let her walk on for a
+mile, and then he made up his mind that he must stop her. They were far
+beyond the houses now, and the road was lonely and wild; the roar of the
+river over its broad, rock-dotted, uneven bed, hid the sound of his
+footsteps as he climbed up the steep bank, ran forward, and came down
+into the road in advance of her.
+
+"Where are you going, Miss Honor?" he said, showing himself, and
+speaking quietly.
+
+She started back, and gasped out his name.
+
+"Yes, it is I," he answered, "Stephen Wainwright. I am alone; you need
+not be frightened."
+
+She came close up to him and took his hand.
+
+"Do not stop me," she said entreatingly. "I am on an errand of life and
+death!"
+
+"I will go in your place, Honor."
+
+"You can not."
+
+"Yes, I can. But _you_ shall not."
+
+"Will you betray me, then?" she said, in an agonized tone.
+
+"No; but you will tell me what it is, and I will go for you."
+
+"I tell you, you can not go."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You do not know; and, besides--you would not."
+
+"I will do anything you ask me to do," said Stephen.
+
+"Anything?"
+
+"Anything."
+
+She hesitated, looking at him.
+
+"Do you give me your word?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"But--but it is an enormous thing you are doing for me."
+
+"I know it is."
+
+"Oh, let me go--let me go myself!" she cried suddenly, with a half sob;
+"it is so much better."
+
+"I will never let you go," said Stephen. His voice was inflexible. She
+surveyed him tremulously, hopelessly; then sank down upon her knees,
+praying, but not to him. Stephen took off his hat, and waited,
+bareheaded. It was but a moment; then she rose. "My cousin, Richard
+Eliot, my uncle's eldest son, has been with these men, at one of their
+hiding-places, for some months. My uncle knows nothing of it; but
+Brother Bethuel is in the secret, and keeps watch of him."
+
+"Your cousin is Masters, then?"
+
+"He is. Ask no more questions, but hasten on; take the first broad trail
+which leaves the road on the right, follow it until you come to Brother
+Bethuel's house; you can not miss it; it is the only one. He will guide
+you to the place where Richard is, and you must warn him that the troops
+are coming."
+
+"Only one question, Honor. Come out into the moonlight; give me both
+your hands. Do you love this man?"
+
+He looked at her fixedly. She gave a quick, strong start, as though she
+must break away from him at all hazards, and turned darkly red, the
+deep, almost painful, blush of the brunette. Her hands shook in his
+grasp, tears of shame rose in her eyes; it was as though some one had
+struck her in the face.
+
+"Do you love this Eliot?" repeated Stephen, compelling her still to meet
+his eyes.
+
+She drew in her breath suddenly, and answered, with a rush of quick
+words: "No, no, no! Not in the way you mean. But he is my cousin. Go!"
+
+He went. Nearly two miles farther down the road the trail turned off; it
+climbed directly up a glen by the side of a brook which ran downward to
+the river in a series of little waterfalls. It was wide enough for a
+horse, and showed the track of Marcher's hoofs. It came out on a flank
+of the mountain and turned westward, then northward, then straight up
+again through the thick woods to a house whose light shone down like a
+beacon, and guided him.
+
+Wainwright knocked; Brother Bethuel opened, started slightly, then
+recovered himself, and welcomed his guest effusively.
+
+"Is there any one in the house besides ourselves?" said Stephen,
+ignorant as to whether there was or was not a Mrs. Head. There was; but
+she had gone, with her five offspring, to visit her mother in Tennessee.
+
+"Then," said Stephen, "take me immediately to Richard Eliot."
+
+The little minister stared innocently at his guest.
+
+"Take you where?" he repeated, with surprised face.
+
+"Come," said Stephen, "you need not conceal. Miss Dooris herself sent
+me. I am to warn this Eliot that the troops are on the way--have
+probably already left Ellerby."
+
+The little man, convinced, sprang for his lantern, lighted it, and
+hurried out, followed by Wainwright. He ran more than he walked; he
+climbed over the rocks; he galloped down the gullies and up the other
+side; he said not a word, but hurried, closely followed by Stephen, who
+was beginning to feel spent, until he reached the foot of a wall of
+rock, the highest ledge of Eagle Knob. Here he stood still and whistled.
+Stephen sat down, and tried to recover his breath. After a moment or two
+a whistle answered from above, and the missionary imitated the cry of a
+night-bird, one, two, three times. He then sat down beside Wainwright,
+and wiped his forehead. "He will be here in a moment," he said. In a
+short time, coming up as if from the bowels of the mountain, a figure
+stood beside them. Brother Bethuel had closed the slide of his lantern,
+and Wainwright could not see the face. "Miss Dooris sent me," he began.
+"I am to warn you that the troops are on their way hither to-night, and
+that they have a clew to your hiding-place."
+
+"Who are you?" said the man.
+
+"I am Miss Dooris's messenger; that is enough."
+
+The man muttered an oath.
+
+Brother Bethuel lifted up his hands with a deprecating gesture.
+
+"You do not mean it, Richard; you know you do not.--Lord, forgive him!"
+he murmured.
+
+"Well, what am I to do?" said the man. "Did she send any word?"
+
+"Only that you must escape."
+
+"Escape! Easy enough to say. But where am I to go? Did she send any
+money?"
+
+"She will," said Stephen, improvising.
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Quite a sum; as much as you need."
+
+"Is she so flush, then?"
+
+"She is, as you say--flush," replied Stephen.
+
+Brother Bethuel had listened breathlessly to this conversation; and when
+Eliot said, fretfully, "But where am I to go now--to-night?" he
+answered: "Home with me, Dick. I can conceal you for one night; nobody
+suspects me. The Lord will forgive; it is an Eliot."
+
+"Wait until I warn the fellows, then," said the man, disappearing
+suddenly in the same way he had appeared. Then Stephen, who had not
+risen from his seat, felt a pair of arms thrown around his neck; the
+little brother was embracing him fervently.
+
+"God bless you! God bless you!" he whispered. "We will get him safely
+out of the country this time, with your aid, Mr. Wainwright. An Eliot,
+mind you; a real Eliot, poor fellow!"
+
+But the real Eliot had returned, and Brother Bethuel led the way down
+the mountain. They walked in single file, and Stephen saw that the man
+in front of him was tall and powerful. They reached the house, and the
+minister took the fugitive down into his cellar, supplying him with
+food, but no light.
+
+"Make no sound," he said. "Even if the house is full of soldiers, you
+are safe; no one suspects me." He closed the horizontal door, and then
+turned to Wainwright. "What are you going to do?" he asked, his small
+face wrinkled with anxiety.
+
+"I am going back to Ellerby."
+
+"And when will you return with the money?"
+
+"Some time to-morrow."
+
+"I will go with you as far as the road," said Brother Bethuel; "I want
+to see if the troops are near."
+
+"Who is this Eliot?" asked Stephen, as they went down the glen.
+
+"The Colonel's eldest son, the only child by the first wife. His father
+has heard nothing of him for several years; it is the grief of the old
+man's life."
+
+"What is he doing here?"
+
+"Well, he is a wild boy--always was," said Brother Bethuel reluctantly.
+"Lately he has been living with a gang of these whisky-men."
+
+"And Miss Dooris knows it?"
+
+"Yes. He was always fond of Honor when she was a child, and latterly he
+has--has fallen into a way of depending upon her."
+
+"Why does he not come out of the woods, go to work, and behave like a
+civilized man?" said Wainwright, in a tone of disgust. "I have no
+patience with such fellows."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have," said Brother Bethuel earnestly. "You are going to
+help him, you know."
+
+"Well, we will send him far enough away this time--to Australia, if he
+will go," said Stephen. "The country will be well rid of him."
+
+"You do not, perhaps, understand exactly," said Brother Bethuel timidly,
+after a moment's silence. "Eliot fought all through the war--fought
+bravely, nobly. But, when peace came, there seemed to be no place for
+him. He was not adapted to--to commerce; he felt it a degradation. Hence
+his present position. But he did not choose it voluntarily; he--he
+drifted into it."
+
+"Yes, as you say, drifted," said Stephen dryly. "Will the other men get
+away in time?"
+
+"Oh, yes; they are already gone. There is a cave, and a passage upward
+through clefts in the rocks to the glen where their still is; it is a
+natural hiding-place. But they will not even stay there; they will go to
+another of their haunts."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Thank the Lord, I do not know! really and truly, I do not know,"
+ejaculated the little minister fervently. "My only interest in them, the
+only charge upon my conscience, has been Eliot himself. You do not
+understand, and I may not be able to explain it to you, Mr. Wainwright,
+but--I love the Eliots! I have loved them all my life. I was born upon
+their land, I revered them in childhood, I honored them in youth, I love
+them in age. They bear one of our great State names; they have been our
+rulers and our leaders for generations. I love them, every one."
+Wainwright made no answer; the little man went on: "This son has been a
+sad, wild boy always--has nearly broken his father's heart. But he is an
+Eliot still; the little I can do for him I will do gladly until I die."
+
+"Or until he does," suggested Stephen. "One of this gang shot Allison;
+was this Eliot of yours the marksman?"
+
+Brother Bethuel was silent. Stephen turned and saw by the lantern's
+gleam the trouble and agitation on his face.
+
+"He did it, I see," said Stephen, "and you know he did it. It was
+murder."
+
+"No, no--war," said the missionary, with dry lips. They had reached the
+road and looked down it; the moonlight was unclouded now. They could see
+nothing, but they thought they heard sounds. Brother Bethuel went back
+up the glen, and Wainwright, turning into the woods, made his way along
+in the deep shadows above the road. He met the soldiers after a while,
+marching sturdily, and remained motionless behind a tree-trunk until
+they had passed; then, descending into the track, he walked rapidly back
+to the village. But, with all his haste and all his skill, he did not
+reach his room unobserved; Adelaide saw him enter, and noted the hour.
+
+The troops came back at noon the next day, not having discovered the
+foe. Honor was with Adelaide, pretending to sew, but her mind was
+astray; Adelaide watched her closely. Stephen was present, quiet and
+taciturn as usual. He had succeeded in conveying to the girl,
+unobserved, a slip of paper, on which was written: "Eliot is hidden in
+the cellar of Head's house. I am going out there this afternoon, and you
+may feel assured that, in a day or two more, he will be out of the
+mountains, and in permanent safety." But he had not been able to
+exchange any words with her.
+
+Royce came in, foiled, tired, and out of temper.
+
+"If it had not been for the little minister, we should have had nothing
+at all for our pains," he said, when, the first annoyed heat over, he,
+having been left in the mean while unvexed by questions owing to
+Adelaide's tact, began to feel himself like telling the story. "He heard
+us down in the road, came to meet us, and advised us what to do. It
+seems that he too has had his suspicions about Eagle Knob, and he took
+his lantern and guided us up there. We hunted about and found one of
+their hiding-places, showing traces, too, of recent occupation; but we
+could not find the men or the still. The troops will take rations,
+however, next time, and make a regular campaign of it: we shall unearth
+the scoundrels yet."
+
+"But _you_ will not think it necessary to go again, John?" said
+Adelaide.
+
+"Not necessary, but agreeable, Cousin Adelaide. I will not leave these
+mountains until the murderer of Allison is caught--I was going to say
+shot, but hanging is better," said Royce.
+
+Honor gazed at him with helpless, fascinated eyes. Mrs. Kellinger noted
+the expression. There was evidently another secret: she had already
+divined one.
+
+Soon afterward Honor went home, and Stephen did not accompany her.
+Adelaide noted that. She noted also that he sat longer than usual in her
+parlor after the early dinner, smoking cigarettes and becoming gradually
+more and more drowsy, until at last, newspaper in hand, he sauntered off
+to his own room, as if for a _siesta_. It was too well acted. She said
+to herself, with conviction, "He is going out!" A woman can deceive
+admirably in little things; a man can not. He can keep the secret of an
+assassination, but not of a clam supper. The very cat discovers it.
+Adelaide went to her room, put on her trim little walking-boots and
+English round hat, and, slipping quietly out of the house, walked down
+the road to a wooded knoll she remembered, a little elevation that
+commanded the valley and the village; here, under a tree, she sat
+waiting. She had a volume of Landor: it was one of Wainwright's ways to
+like Landor. After half an hour had passed, she heard, as she had
+expected to hear, footsteps; she looked up. Wainwright was passing.
+"Why--is it you?" she called out. "I thought you would sleep for two
+hours at least. Sit down here awhile and breathe this delicious air with
+me."
+
+Wainwright, outwardly undisturbed, left the road, came up the knoll, and
+sat down by her side. Being in the shade, he took off his hat and threw
+himself back on the grass. But that did not make him look any larger.
+Only a broad-shouldered, big fellow can amount to anything when lying
+down in the open air: he must crush with his careless length a good wide
+space of grass and daisies, or he will inevitably be overcome by the
+preponderant weight of Nature--the fathomless sky above, the stretch of
+earth on each side. Wainwright took up the volume, which Adelaide did
+not conceal; that he had found her reading his favorite author secretly
+was another of the little facts with which she gemmed his life. "What do
+you discover to like?" he asked.
+
+"'His bugles on the Pyrenees dissolved the trance of Europe'; and, 'When
+the war is over, let us sail among the islands of the Ægean and be as
+young as ever'; and, 'We are poor indeed when we have no half-wishes
+left us,'" said Adelaide, musically quoting. "Then there is the
+'Artemidora.'"
+
+"You noticed that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Meanwhile, the man was thinking, "How can I get away unsuspected?" and
+the woman, "How can I make him tell me?"
+
+They talked some time longer; then Adelaide made up her mind to go into
+action.
+
+_Adelaide_ (quietly). "There is a change in you, Stephen. I want you to
+tell me the cause."
+
+_Stephen._ "We all change as time moves on."
+
+_Adelaide._ "But this is something different. I have noticed--"
+
+_Stephen._ "What?"
+
+_Adelaide._ "No one observes you so closely as I do, Stephen: my life is
+bound up in yours; your interests are mine. Anything that is for your
+happiness engrosses me; anything that threatens it disturbs me. Let us
+speak plainly, then: you are interested in Honor Dooris."
+
+_Stephen._ "I am."
+
+_Adelaide._ "More than that--you love her."
+
+_Stephen._ "What is love, Adelaide?"
+
+_Adelaide_ (with emotion). "It was Ralph's feeling for me, Stephen. He
+is gone, but I have the warm memory in my heart. Somebody loved me once,
+and with all his soul." (Leaning forward with tears in her eyes:) "Take
+this young girl, Stephen; yes, take her. She will give you what you have
+never had in your life, poor fellow!--real happiness."
+
+Wainwright was silent.
+
+_Adelaide._ "Ah! I have known it a long time. You spent the whole of
+last summer here; what did that mean? You wrote to her at intervals all
+through the winter. You are here again. You love to study her girlish
+heart, to open the doors of her mind." (Rapidly:) "And have I not helped
+you? I have, I have. Was I not the quiet listener to all those first
+guarded descriptions of yours? Did I not comment upon each and every
+word of those careful little letters of hers, and follow every
+possibility of their meaning out to its fullest extent? All this to
+please _you_. But, when I came here and saw the child with my own eyes,
+did I not at once range myself really upon your side? Have I not had
+her here? Did I not form a close acquaintance with her family? Did I not
+give you those morning hours with her at the library? And am I not here
+also to answer for her, to describe her to your friends, to uphold your
+choice, to bring out and develop her striking beauty?"
+
+_Stephen._ "But she is not beautiful."
+
+_Adelaide._ "She is. Let me dress her once or twice, and New York shall
+rave over her. I have had your interests all the time at heart, Stephen.
+Was it not I who sent for John Royce? And did you not see why I sent for
+him? It was to try her. I have given her every chance to see him, to be
+with him, to admire him. He is near her own age, and he is a handsome
+fellow, full of life and spirit. But you see as well as I do that she
+has come out unscathed. Take her, then, Stephen; you can do it safely,
+young as she is, for the man she first loves she will love always."
+
+As she spoke, an almost imperceptible tremor showed itself around the
+mouth of the small, plain, young-old man who was lying on the grass
+beside her; he seemed to be conscious of it himself, and covered his
+mouth with his hand.
+
+_Adelaide._ "But there is something which you must tell _me_ now,
+Stephen. _You_ can not be in league with these outlaws; is it Honor,
+then? You had better tell. Her uncle and aunt evidently know nothing of
+it, and the child should have a woman-friend by her side. You know I
+would cut myself up into small pieces for you, Stephen; let me be your
+ally in this, too. Is it not best for Honor that I should know
+everything? Shall I not be her true friend when she is your wife--your
+sweet young wife, Stephen, in that old house of yours which we will fit
+up for her together, and where you will let me come and see you, will
+you not, your faithful, loving cousin?" Her voice broke; she turned her
+head away. Her emotion was real. The man by her side, urged at last out
+of his gray reticence by his own deep longing, which welled up
+irresistibly to meet her sympathy, turned over on his arm and told her
+all--in a few words as regarded himself, with careful explanation as
+regarded Honor.
+
+"I have the money with me now," he said, "and Head, who was so anxious
+to guide me, the supposed detective, _away_ from Eliot, now guides me to
+him, relies upon me to save him."
+
+"And Honor knows--knows, too, that he shot Allison," said Adelaide
+musingly. "That was the reason why she was so pale, and why she brought
+all her roses, and kissed the poor boy's forehead."
+
+"She does not _know_, but fears."
+
+"Ah! we must help the child, Stephen; the burden of this is too heavy
+for such young shoulders. Go; I will not keep you a moment longer; I
+will go back to Honor. But, first--God bless you! Do not put yourself
+into any danger, for _my_ sake. I have loved you long, and years hence,
+when we are old, I shall love you just the same."
+
+They were both standing now; she came close to him, and laid her head
+upon his shoulder for an instant, tears shining on her cheeks. He put
+one arm around her, touched by her affection; she raised her eyes, and
+let him look deep into them for one short moment. "He shall see the
+truth this once," she thought; "though nothing to him now, it will come
+back to him."
+
+Adelaide Kellinger did that time a bold thing; she let Wainwright see
+that she loved him, relying upon the certainty that he would not think
+she knew he saw it, much less that she intended him to see it. She had
+the balance of reality on her side, too, because she really did love
+him--in her way.
+
+In another moment he had left her, and was walking rapidly down the
+river-road. Adelaide went back to the village.
+
+Her first step was to find out whether Honor was at home; she was not.
+At the library, then? Not there. "Already gone to Brother Bethuel's,"
+she thought. She next woke up Royce, laughed at his ill nature,
+flattered him a little, coaxed him into good temper, and finally told
+him plainly that she would not stand his bearishness any longer; that
+he must go and dress himself anew, brush his hair, and come back and be
+agreeable.
+
+"You will turn into a mountain outlaw yourself, if I do not see to you,"
+she said.
+
+"Oh, let me off for to-day," said Royce lazily.
+
+"This moment!"
+
+She had her way: Royce took himself off, followed by the injunction to
+come back looking like an Apollo. Now, to make one's self look like an
+Apollo is an occupation which no young man is in his heart above; and,
+when incited thereto by an expressed belief from feminine lips that he
+has only to try, he generally--tries. Not long afterward Royce returned
+to the parlor looking his best, threw himself into a chair, and took up
+a book carelessly. He knew Adelaide would comment. She did. She called
+him "a good boy," touched the crisp, curling ends of his yellow hair,
+and asked why he kept them so short; stroked his forehead, and said
+that, on the whole, he looked quite well. Her heart was beating rapidly
+as she chatted with him; she listened intently; everything depended upon
+a chance. Ten minutes before, she had executed a daringly bold
+action--one of those things which a woman can do once in her life with
+perfect impunity, because no one suspects that she can. If she will do
+it alone, and only once, there is scarcely any deed she may not
+accomplish safely. A few more moments passed, Adelaide still listening;
+then came a shuffling step through the passage, a knock at the door,
+and, without waiting for reply, the burly figure of the revenue
+detective appeared, wrapped in a dressing-gown, with head still
+bandaged, and eyes half closed, but mind sufficiently clear to state his
+errand.
+
+"Beg pardon," he said; "is Royce here? I can't see very well.--Is that
+you, Royce? Look at this."
+
+He held out a crumpled piece of paper.
+
+"Seems to be something, but I can't quite make it out," he said.
+
+Royce took it, glanced over it, cried, "By Jove!" and was out of the
+room in a second. The detective went stumbling along after him; he had
+to feel his way, being half blinded by his swollen eyelids.
+
+"Take your pistols!" he called out, keeping his hand on the wall all the
+way down the passage.
+
+Royce had dropped the paper; Adelaide had instantly destroyed it, and
+then she followed the detective.
+
+"What was it?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Only a line or two, ma'am--from somebody in the town here, I
+suppose--saying that one of them distillers, the one, too, that shot
+Allison, was hidden in the house of that rascally, deceiving little
+minister, up toward Eagle Knob. They're all in league with each other,
+ministers or no ministers."
+
+"Who wrote it? How do you know it is true?"
+
+"I dun know who wrote it, and I dun know as it's true. The paper was
+throwed into my room, through the winder, when there didn't happen to be
+anybody around. It was somebody as had a grudge against this man in
+particular, I suppose. 'Twas scrawly writing, and no spelling to speak
+of. I brought it to Royce myself, because I wouldn't trust any one to
+carry it to him, black or white, confound 'em all!"
+
+The detective had now reached the end of the passage and his endurance;
+his hand was covered with whitewash where he had drawn it along the
+wall, his head was aching furiously, and his slippers were coming off.
+"You had just better go back," he said, not menacingly, but with a dull
+desperation, as he sat down on the first step of the stairway which led
+down to his room, and held his forehead and the base of his brain
+together: they seemed to him two lobes as large as bushel-baskets, and
+just ready to split apart.
+
+"I will send some one to you," said Adelaide, departing. She went to her
+room, darkened it, and took a long, quiet _siesta_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Royce dropped his information, _en route_, at the little camp in the
+grove, where the trim companies of United States infantry led their
+regular orderly life, to the slow wonder of the passing mountaineers.
+Who would not be a soldier and have such mathematically square pieces of
+bread, such well-boiled meat on a tin plate, such an exactly measured
+mug of clear coffee? Who would not wear the light-blue trousers with
+their sharp fold of newness making a straight line to the very boot? Who
+would not have such well-parted, shining hair? So thought the
+mountain-boys, and rode homeward pondering.
+
+The officers in command, on principle disgusted for several seasons with
+still-hunting, which they deemed police-duty, were now ready to catch at
+any straw to avenge the death of Allison. The mountaineers and the
+detectives might fire at each other as long as they enjoyed the pastime;
+but let them not dare to aim at an army-officer--let them not dare! They
+were astir at once, and called to Royce to wait for them; but he was
+already gone.
+
+Stephen had a start of not quite forty minutes; but, unconscious of
+pursuit, he walked slowly, not caring to return before nightfall. His
+natural gait was slow; his narrow chest did not take in breath widely,
+as some chests do, and, slight as his figure was, he labored if hurried.
+His step was short and rather careful, his ankles and feet being
+delicate and small. There was no produced development of muscle on him
+anywhere; he had always known that he could not afford anything of that
+kind, and had let himself alone. As he now walked on, he dreamed.
+Adelaide's words rang in his ear; he could not forget them. "A woman
+reads a woman," he said to himself. "Adelaide thinks that I can win
+her." Then he let his thoughts go: "At last my life will have an object;
+this sweet young girl will love me, and love me for myself alone; she is
+incapable of any other feeling." He was very human, after all; he longed
+so to be loved! His wealth and his insignificance had been two
+millstones around his neck all his life; he had believed nobody. Under
+every feeling that had ever come to him lurked always, deepest of all,
+suspicion. Now, late in life, in this far-off wilderness, he had found
+some one in whom he believed.
+
+He pleased himself with the thought of the jewels he would give her; he
+journeyed with her in fancy through the whole of the Old World. The
+moisture came to his eyes as he imagined how she would pray morning and
+night just the same, and that he would be there to see her; he said to
+himself that he would never laugh at her, but would bring his
+unbelieving heart and lay it in her hand: if she could mold it, well and
+good, she might; he would be glad. So he walked on, down the river-road,
+his long-repressed, stifled hope and love out of bonds at last.
+
+A sound fell on his dulled ear, and brought him back to reality; it was
+a footstep. "I had better not be seen," he thought, and, climbing up the
+bank, he kept on through the thick hillside-forest. After a moment or
+two, around the curve came John Royce, walking as if for a wager; two
+pistols gleamed in the belt he had hastily buckled around his waist, and
+the wrinkle between his eyes had deepened into a frown.
+
+"It can not be possible!" thought Wainwright. But rapid reflection
+convinced him that, impossible as it seemed, it might be true, and that,
+in any case, he had not a moment to lose. He was above Royce, he was
+nearer the trail to Brother Bethuel's, and, what was more, he was
+familiar with all its turnings. "Not to be able to save Eliot!" he
+thought, as he hurried forward over the slippery, brown pine-needles.
+And then it came to him how much he had relied upon that to hold Honor,
+and he was ashamed. But almost immediately after rose to the surface,
+for the first time in his life, too, the blunt, give-and-take feeling of
+the man as a man, the thought--"You are doing all this for her; she
+_ought_ to repay you." He hardly knew himself; he was like Bothwell
+then, and other burly fellows in history; and he was rather pleased to
+find himself so. He hastened across a plateau where the footing was
+better; he had turned farther up the mountain-side, so that Royce could
+not by any possibility hear him as he brushed hastily through the
+undergrowth, or stepped on crackling twigs or a rolling stone. The
+plateau soon ended, and the slanting hillside slanted still more
+steeply. He pushed on, keeping his breath as well as he was able,
+running wherever he could, climbing over rocks and fallen trees. He was
+so far above the road now that he could not see Royce at all, but he
+kept his efforts up to the task by imagining that the young man was
+abreast of him below--which was true. He began to pant a little. The
+sleeve of his flannel coat had been held and torn by a branch; he had
+tripped on a round stone, and grazed his knee. He was very tired; he
+began to lope as the Indians do, making the swing of the joints tell;
+but he was not long enough to gain any advantage from that gait. At last
+he met the trail, and turned up the mountain; the ascent seemed steeper
+now that he was out of breath. His throat was dry; surely, he had time
+to drink from the brook. He knelt down, but before he could get a drop
+he heard a sound below, and hurried on. Alarmed, he sprang forward like
+a hare; he climbed like a cat, he drew himself up by his hands; he had
+but one thought--to reach the house in time. His coat was torn now in
+more places than one; a sharp edge of rock had cut his ankle so that his
+stocking was spotted with red above the low walking-shoe. The
+determination to save Eliot drove him on like a whip of flame: he did
+not know how much Royce knew, but feared everything. His face had a
+singular appearance: it was deeply flushed, the teeth were set, the
+wrinkles more visible than ever, and yet there was a look of the boy in
+the eyes which had not been there for years. He was in a burning heat,
+and breathed with a regular, panting sound; he could hear the
+circulation of his own blood, and began to see everything crimson. The
+trail now turned straight up the mountain, and he went at it fiercely;
+he was conscious of his condition, and knew that he might fall in a fit
+at the house-door: never mind, if he could only get there! His eyes
+were glassy now, his lips dry. He reached the house, opened the door,
+and fell into a chair. Brother Bethuel, in alarm, sprang up and brought
+him a dipper full of water as quickly as hand could fill the tin.
+Brother Bethuel believed in water, and this time Wainwright agreed with
+him; he swallowed every drop.
+
+"Where is he?" he said then, already on his feet again, though
+staggering a little. Brother Bethuel pointed downward, and Wainwright,
+with a signal toward the glen, as if of near danger, disappeared. The
+cellar was dimly lighted by two little windows a foot square, and the
+man who entered made out two figures: one was Eliot, the other Honor.
+
+"You!" said Wainwright.
+
+"Did you not know that I would come?" said the girl.
+
+He had not known it, or thought of it. He turned his eyes toward the
+other figure; everything still looked red. He held out a pocket-book.
+
+"Go!" he said; "Royce is on your track!"
+
+He spoke in a whisper; his voice had left him as he gained breath.
+Eliot, a dark-skinned, handsome, but cutthroat-looking fellow, seized
+the money and sprang toward the door. But Honor sprang too, and held him
+back; she had heard something. The next moment they all heard
+something--Royce coming in above.
+
+When the youth entered, Brother Bethuel was quietly reading his Bible;
+the table on which it lay was across the cellar-door.
+
+"Welcome," said the little missionary, rising. "I am happy to see you,
+Mr. Royce."
+
+The place looked so peaceful, with the Bible, the ticking clock, and the
+cat, that Royce began to think it must be all a mistake. He sat down for
+a moment to rest, irresolute, and not quite knowing what to say next.
+The three, close under the thin flooring down below, did not stir,
+hardly breathed. Stephen was thinking that, if Royce could know the
+truth, he too would let Eliot go. But there was not much time for
+thought.
+
+Brother Bethuel brought out some apples, and began to converse easily
+with his visitor. After a while he said, deprecatingly:
+
+"Will you not remove your pistols to the window-seat behind you, Mr.
+Royce? From my youth, I could never abide the proximity of fire-arms of
+any kind. They distress me."
+
+Royce good-naturedly took them out of his belt, and placed them behind
+him, but within easy reach. The missionary was on the opposite side of
+the room.
+
+Not a sound below. Wainwright was breathing with his mouth wide open, so
+as not to pant. He was still much spent.
+
+But it could not last long; Royce felt that he must search the house,
+even at the risk of offending the little missionary.
+
+"Mr. Head," he said, awkwardly enough, "I am very sorry, but--but a
+communication has been received stating that one of the outlaws, and the
+one, too, who shot poor Allison, is concealed here, in this house. I am
+very sorry, but--but I must search every part of it immediately."
+
+Brother Bethuel had risen; his countenance expressed sorrow and
+surprise.
+
+"Young man," he said, "search where and as you please; but spare me your
+suspicions."
+
+There was a dignity in his bearing which Royce had not seen before; he
+felt hot and ashamed.
+
+"Indeed, Mr. Head, I regret all this," he said; "and, of course, it is
+but a matter of form. Still, for my own satisfaction, and yours, too,
+now I must go through the house."
+
+He rose and moved a step forward. Quick as lightning the little
+missionary had sprung behind him, and pushed the pistols over the sill,
+through the open window, down forty feet on the rocks below.
+
+"Traitor!" cried Royce, grappling him.
+
+But it was too late; the pistols were gone. Brother Bethuel glowed
+openly with triumph; he made no more resistance in Royce's strong arms
+than a rag. The young man soon dropped him, and, hearing a sound below,
+ran to the cellar-door.
+
+"He has no pistols!" screamed Bethuel down the stair after him: "you can
+manage him; he is alone."
+
+Then, setting all the doors wide open, so that escape would be easy, he
+ran out to saddle Marcher.
+
+Down below, in the cellar, Stephen had caught hold of Royce's arm.
+Royce, full in the narrow entranceway, stood glaring at Eliot, and
+minding Stephen's hold no more than the foot of a fly. The light from
+the horizontal door above streamed in and showed Eliot's dark face and
+Honor's dilated eyes. The girl stood near her cousin, but slightly
+behind him as though she feared his gaze.
+
+"You are the man I want," said Royce; "I recognize you!" His strong
+voice came in among their previous whispers and bated breath, as his
+face came in among their three faces--Honor's ivory-pallid cheeks, the
+outlaw's strained attention, and Stephen's gray fatigue, more and more
+visible now as he gained breath and sight. "Yield yourself up. We are
+two to your one."
+
+"We are two to _your_ one," answered Eliot: "that man beside you is for
+me."
+
+Royce looked down with surprise upon his cousin, who still held his arm.
+
+"No mistaken lenity now, Stephen," he said curtly, shaking his arm free.
+"I must have this man; he shot Allison."
+
+"How are you going to do it?" said Eliot jeeringly, putting his hands
+deep down in his pockets and squaring his shoulders. "Even Honor here is
+a match for two Yankees."
+
+"Miss Dooris, I will let _you_ pass," said Royce impatiently. "Go up
+stairs. This is no place for a girl like you."
+
+"Say lady!" cried Eliot. "She is a Southern lady, sir!"
+
+"Bah!" said Royce; "you are a fine person to talk of ladies.--_Are_ you
+going, Miss Dooris?"
+
+Great tears stood in Honor's eyes; she did not stir.
+
+"She will not go, John," said Wainwright, "because that man is her
+cousin--he is an Eliot."
+
+"He is a murderer!" said Royce, filling up the doorway again, and
+measuring with his eye the breadth of his opponent's shoulders and
+muscle. "Now, then, are you with me or against me, Stephen? If against
+me, by Heaven! I will fight you both."
+
+"You do not understand, John. It is Honor's cousin: that is why _I_ am
+anxious to save him."
+
+"And what is her cousin or anybody's cousin to me?" cried Royce angrily.
+"I tell you that man shot Allison, and he shall swing for it."
+
+He sprang forward as if to close with Eliot, then sprang back again. He
+remembered that it was more important that he should guard the door:
+there was no other way of escape. If Stephen, pursuing the extraordinary
+course he had taken in this matter, should side with Eliot, Brother
+Bethuel being a traitor too up stairs, he might not be able to overcome
+the outlaw in an attack. He set his teeth, therefore, and stood still.
+His hat was off; the sunset light touched his forehead and yellow hair;
+the image of strength and young manhood, he confronted them in his
+elegant attire--confronted the outlaw in his rough, unclean garments;
+Honor in her old, black gown; and Stephen in his torn clothes, his tired
+face looking yellow and withered as the face of an old baboon. He
+considered whether he could keep the door until the troops came: they
+would not be long behind him. But, if he only had his pistols!
+
+His eye glanced toward Stephen; but Stephen never carried arms. Eliot,
+probably, had only a knife; if he had had a pistol, he would have shown
+it before now. All this in the flash of a second.
+
+Brother Bethuel could be heard bringing Marcher around the house.
+Stephen made one more effort. In a few, concise words he explained who
+Eliot was, and his own great wish to aid him in escaping. With his hand
+on Royce's arm, he called his attention, by a gesture, to Honor.
+
+"Let the man go for my sake and--hers," he said, in a low voice, looking
+up at his young cousin with his small, pale-colored eyes.
+
+Honor clasped her hands and made a step forward; she did not speak, but
+implored with an entreating gaze. Royce threw his head back impatiently.
+All this was nothing to him. He would have his man, or die for it; they
+all saw that.
+
+Then Eliot, who had watched to see the result of this pleading, made up
+his mind.
+
+"Stand back from the door, or I fire!" he cried, drawing out his hand,
+and taking aim at Royce.
+
+He had a pistol, then!
+
+"I give you thirty seconds!"
+
+But Honor, with a wild scream, ran forward, and threw herself against
+Royce's breast, covering it with her shoulders and head, and raising her
+arms and hands to shield his face. He did not hold her or put his arm
+around her; but she clung to him with her whole length, as a wet ribbon
+clings to a stone.
+
+"Leave him, Honor!" cried Eliot, in a fury--"leave him, or I'll shoot
+you both!"
+
+"Shoot, then!" said Honor, looking up into Royce's face, and frantically
+trying to cover every inch of it with her shielding hands.
+
+Stephen ran and caught Eliot's arm; Royce, half blinded, tried to push
+the girl away; then the sound of the pistol filled the room. Royce
+swayed and fell over heavily, carrying Honor with him as he went down; a
+ball had entered his lung under the girl's arm, in the little space left
+open by the inward curve of her waist. Eliot ran by the two, up the
+stair, and out of the house; but, as he passed Honor, he took the time
+to strike her across the cheek, and curse her. At the door he found
+Marcher, sprang into the saddle, and rode away.
+
+Brother Bethuel, with white face, hurried down and stanched the blood;
+he had no small knowledge of surgery and the healing craft, and he
+commanded Royce not to utter a syllable. Honor held the young man's head
+in her lap, and every now and then softly took up his fallen hand.
+Wainwright drew away, and watched her with the deepest pain of his life
+gnawing at his heart. He saw her stroke Royce's hair fondly, as if she
+could not help it, and saw her begin to sob over his closing eyes and
+the deepening violet shadows under them, and then stop herself lest she
+should disturb him. Brother Bethuel was listening to the breathing with
+bent head, to find out if there was any chance for life. The house was
+as still as a tomb; a bee came in, and hummed above their heads.
+
+"He _has_ a chance," said the missionary at last, fervently, raising his
+head. "Do not let him stir." He ran up stairs for restoratives, and
+Wainwright sat down on a stool which had been Eliot's seat during his
+imprisonment, and covered his eyes with his hand. It seemed to him that
+he had sat there a long time, and that Honor must be noticing him now.
+He glanced up; she was gazing down at the still face on her lap. He
+stirred; she motioned impatiently for silence with her hand, but did not
+raise her eyes. He sat looking at her miserably, and growing old, older
+with every moment. His lips quivered once as he silently gave up for
+ever his dream of hope and love. He passed his hand over his dry eyes,
+and sat still. By the time he was needed he was able to help Brother
+Bethuel in making Royce as comfortable as possible on the cellar-floor:
+they dared not move him.
+
+The troops arrived in time to hear all about it--they then went back
+again.
+
+Wainwright returned to Ellerby that evening. The army-surgeon and a
+nurse had been sent out immediately to the mountain cottage, and Colonel
+Eliot, distressed and agitated, had accompanied them. Wainwright went to
+his room, attired himself anew, and sought Adelaide's parlor. Adelaide
+received him quietly; she said nothing, but came around behind him and
+kissed his forehead. He looked up at her dumbly. Her eyes filled with
+tears. In her strange, double, woman's way she felt sorry for his
+sorrow. She was conscious of no guilt; she had only precipitated
+matters. Honor would never have loved him, and it was better he should
+know it. In truth, she had saved him.
+
+And Honor? Oh, she had the usual torments of young love! She was no
+goddess to Royce, only a girl like any other. He was touched by her
+impulsive act, and during his long illness he began to think more and
+more about her. It all ended well; that is, he married her after a
+while, took her away to the North, and was, on the whole, a good
+husband. But, from first to last, he ruled her, and she never became
+quite the beauty that Mrs. Kellinger intended her to be, because she was
+too devoted to him, too absorbed in him, too dependent upon his fancies,
+to collect that repose and security of heart which are necessary to
+complete the beauty of even the most beautiful woman.
+
+Ellerby village sank back into quietude. Still the moonlight whisky is
+made up in the mountains, and still the revenue detectives are shot. The
+United States troops go up every summer, and--come back again! The wild,
+beautiful region is not yet conquered.
+
+Wainwright reëntered society; society received him with gladness. A
+fresh supply of mothers smiled upon him, a fresh supply of daughters
+filed past him. He made his little compact remarks as before, and
+appeared unaltered; but he let the lime-light play about him rather more
+continuously now, and took fewer journeys. He will never swerve from
+Adelaide again. As they grow older, the chances are that some day he
+will say to her, "Why should we not be married, Adelaide?"
+
+And she will answer, "Why not, indeed?"
+
+This woman loved him; the other would never have given him more than
+gratitude. What would you have?
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+BY MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD
+
+MRS. KEITH'S CRIME. A Novel. New Edition. With a Frontispiece from a
+Drawing by the Hon. J. COLLIER. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 00.
+
+An exceedingly graphic and readable story.--_Rochester Herald._
+
+The book is a notable one, and has many passages of great brilliancy and
+much skilful character-drawing.--_N. Y. Sun._
+
+The significance of its motive, and the vivid way in which it grapples
+with the ultimate problems of human existence, are enough to give it a
+strong hold on thoughtful minds.... The story is a vivid record of
+personal experience, and, given a nature like that of Mrs. Keith, the
+consummation is entirely logical. There are many passages of thrilling
+interest, and, in spite of the painfulness of the theme, the book has a
+strange fascination.--_Beacon_, Boston.
+
+
+LOVE LETTERS OF A WORLDLY WOMAN.
+
+16mo, Cloth, $1 25.
+
+There is abundant cleverness in it. The situations are presented with
+skill and force, and the letters are written with great dramatic
+propriety and much humor.--_St. James's Gazette_, London.
+
+
+AUNT ANNE. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 25.
+
+There are in fiction few characters more consistently and powerfully set
+forth; in its way this piece of work is perfection. The study is so
+remarkable that it is hard to believe that it is not from life.--_N. Y.
+Tribune._
+
+
+HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+==>_Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any
+part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price._
+
+
+BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS
+
+FRANCES WALDEAUX. A Novel. Illustrated by T. DE THULSTRUP. Post 8vo.
+Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25.
+
+A capital novel, of the modern, vivacious type.... The minor characters
+of the story furnish no stint of witty interplay as they sojourn through
+Europe, and the keen thrusts and captious hits at the European nobility
+and American ambitions make truly racy reading.--_Boston Transcript_.
+
+It grows in interest from chapter to chapter, and retains its grasp on
+the absorbed attention from beginning to end. This ought to prove one of
+the most successful stories of the year.--_Philadelphia Press. _
+"Frances Waldeaux" shows admirable literary reticence and good
+character-drawing. The author never reveals her plot prematurely, and
+the book therefore holds the interest to the last. And she makes living
+beings of her characters.--_Chicago Tribune._
+
+
+DOCTOR WARRICK'S DAUGHTERS. A Novel. Illustrated by _Clifford Carleton_.
+Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 50.
+
+A very enjoyable story, ... written in a sprightly tone, with here and
+there a touch of delightfully amiable banter.... The characters are
+strong and drawn effectively.--_Independent, N. Y._
+
+A story of unusual merit. Its success is in its plot, though its
+descriptions and its characters are handled with a firm and intelligent
+grasp.--_Boston Journal._
+
+A thoroughly interesting story; more than that, an absorbing one. There
+is a real vitality about the characters and the situations that
+fascinates one.--_Living Church_, Chicago.
+
+The reader will be at once struck with the freshness of the author's
+theme and of her method.... One of the best novels of the
+day.--_Philadelphia Inquirer._
+
+
+HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+==>_Either of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to
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+
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