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diff --git a/37551.txt b/37551.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e9746dc..0000000 --- a/37551.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10840 +0,0 @@ - Ann Boyd - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Title: Ann Boyd - -Author: Will N. Harben - -Release Date: September 27, 2011 [EBook #37551] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANN BOYD *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. - - A Novel - By - Will N. Harben - - Author of - "Abner Daniel" "Pole Baker" - "The Georgians" etc. - - New York and London - Harper & Brothers Publishers - 1906 - - Copyright, 1906, by _Harper & Brothers_. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published September, 1906. - - ---- - - To - William Dean Howells - - ---- - -[Illustration: _'I RECKON IT WAS THE DIVINE INTENTION FOR ME AND YOU TO -HAVE THIS SECRET BETWEEN US'_] - - ---- - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX - XXI - XXII - XXIII - XXIV - XXV - XXVI - XXVII - XXVIII - XXIX - XXX - XXXI - XXXII - XXXIII - XXXIV - XXXV - XXXVI - XXXVII - XXXVIII - XXXIX - XL - XLI - XLII - - ---- - - Ann Boyd - - - - -I - - -Ann Boyd Stood at the open door of her corn-house, a square, one-storied -hut made of the trunks of young pine-trees, the bark of which, being -worm-eaten, was crumbling from the smooth hard-wood. She had a tin pail -on her arm, and was selecting "nubbins" for her cow from the great heap -of husked corn which, like a mound of golden nuggets, lay within. The -strong-jawed animal could crunch the dwarfed ears, grain and corn -together, when they were stirred into a mush made of wheat-bran and -dish-water. - -Mrs. Boyd, although past fifty, showed certain signs of having been a -good-looking woman. Her features were regular, but her once slight and -erect figure was now heavy, and bent as if from toil. Her hair, which in -her youth had been a luxuriant golden brown, was now thinner and -liberally streaked with gray. From her eyes deep wrinkles diverged, and -the corners of her firm mouth were drawn downward. Her face, even in -repose, wore an almost constant frown, and this habit had deeply gashed -her forehead with lines that deepened when she was angry. - -With her pail on her arm, she was turning back towards her cottage, -which stood about a hundred yards to the right, beneath the shade of two -giant oaks, when she heard her name called from the main-travelled road, -which led past her farm, on to Darley, ten miles away. - -"Oh, it's you, Mrs. Waycroft!" she exclaimed, without change of -countenance, as the head and shoulders of a neighbor appeared above the -rail-fence. "I couldn't imagine who it was calling me." - -"Yes, it was me," the woman said, as Mrs. Boyd reached the fence and -rested her pail on the top rail. "I hain't seed you since I seed you at -church, Sunday. I tried to get over yesterday, but was too busy with one -thing and another." - -"I reckon you have had your hands full planting cotton," said Mrs. Boyd. -"I didn't expect you; besides, I've had all I could do in my own field." - -"Yes, my boys have been hard at it," said Mrs. Waycroft. "I don't go to -the field myself, like you do. I reckon I ain't hardy enough, but -keeping things for them to eat and the house in order takes all my -time." - -"I reckon," said Mrs. Boyd, studying the woman's face closely under the -faded black poke-bonnet--"I reckon you've got something to tell me. You -generally have. I wish I could not care a snap of the finger what folks -say, but I'm only a natural woman. I want to hear things sometimes when -I know they will make me so mad that I won't eat a bite for days." - -Mrs. Waycroft looked down at the ground. "Well," she began, "I reckon -you know thar would be considerable talk after what happened at meeting -Sunday. You know a thing like that naturally _would_ stir up a quiet -community like this." - -"Yes, when I think of it I can see there would be enough said, but I'm -used to being the chief subject of idle talk. I've had twenty odd years -of it, Mary Waycroft, though this public row was rather unexpected. I -didn't look for abuse from the very pulpit in God's house, if it _is_ -His. I didn't know you were there. I didn't know a friendly soul was -nigh." - -"Yes, I was there clean through from the opening hymn. A bolt from -heaven on a sunny day couldn't have astonished me more than I was when -you come in and walked straight up the middle aisle, and sat down just -as if you'd been coming there regular for all them years. I reckon you -had your own private reasons for making the break." - -"Yes, I did." The wrinkled mouth of the speaker twitched nervously. "I'd -been thinking it out, Mrs. Waycroft, for a long time and trying to pray -over it, and at last I come to the conclusion that if I didn't go to -church like the rest, it was an open admission that I acknowledged -myself worse than others, and so I determined to go--I determined to go -if it killed me." - -"And to think you was rewarded that way!" answered Mrs. Waycroft; "it's -a shame! Ann Boyd, it's a dirty shame!" - -"It will be a long time before I darken a church door again," said Mrs. -Boyd. "If I'm ever seen there it will be after I'm dead and they take me -there feet foremost to preach over my body. I didn't look around, but I -knew they were all whispering about me." - -"You never saw the like in your life, Ann," the visitor said. "Heads -were bumping together to the damagement of new spring hats, and -everybody was asking what it meant. Some said that, after meeting, you -was going up and give your hand to Brother Bazemore and ask him to take -you back, as a member, but he evidently didn't think you had a purpose -like that, or he wouldn't have opened up on you as he did. Of course, -everybody thar knowed he was hitting at you." - -"Oh yes, they all knew, and he had no reason for thinking I wanted to -ask any favor, for he knows too well what I think of him. He hates the -ground I walk on. He has been openly against me ever since he come to my -house and asked me to let the Sunday-school picnic at my spring and in -my grove. I reckon I gave it to him pretty heavy that day, for all I'd -been hearing about what he had had to say of me had made me mad. I let -him get out his proposal as politely as such a sneaking man could, and -then I showed him where I stood. Here, Mrs. Waycroft, I've been treated -like a dog and an outcast by every member of his church for the last -twenty years, called the vilest names a woman ever bore by his so-called -Christian gang, and then, when they want something I've got--something -that nobody else can furnish quite as suitable for their purpose--why he -saunters over to my house holding the skirts of his long coat as if -afraid of contamination, and calmly demands the use of my -property--property that I've slaved in the hot sun and sleet and rain to -pay for with hard work. Oh, I was mad! You see, that was too much, and I -reckon he never in all his life got such a tongue-lashing. When I came -in last Sunday and sat down, I saw his eyes flash, and knew if he got -half an excuse he would let out on me. I was sorry I'd come then, but -there was no backing out after I'd got there." - -"When he took his text I knew he meant it for you," said the other -woman. "I have never seen a madder man in the pulpit, never in my life. -While he was talking, he never once looked at you, though he knew -everybody else was doing nothing else. Then I seed you rise to your -feet. He stopped to take a drink from his goblet, and you could 'a' -heard a pin fall, it was so still. I reckon the rest thought like I did, -that you was going right up to him and pull his hair or slap his jaws. -You looked like you hardly knowed what you was doing, and, for one, I -tuck a free breath when you walked straight out of the house. What you -did was exactly right, as most fair-minded folks will admit, though I'm -here to tell you, my friend, that you won't find fair-minded folks very -plentiful hereabouts. The fair-minded ones are over there in that -graveyard." - -Mrs. Boyd stroked her quivering lips with her hard, brown hand, and -said, softly: "I wasn't going to sit there and listen to any more of it. -I'd thrown aside pride and principle and gone to do my duty to my -religion, as I saw it, and thought maybe some of them--one or two, at -least--would meet me part of the way, but I couldn't listen to a two -hours' tirade about me and my--my misfortune. If I'd stayed any longer, -I'd have spoken back to him, and that would have been exactly what he -and some of the rest would have wanted, for then they could have made a -case against me in court for disturbing public worship, and imposed a -heavy fine. They can't bear to think that, in spite of all their -persecution, I've gone ahead and paid my debts and prospered in a way -that they never could do with all their sanctimony." - -There was silence for a moment. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of -the trees and the blades of long grass beside the road. There was a -far-away tinkling of cow and sheep bells in the lush-green pastures -which stretched out towards the frowning mountain against which the -setting sun was levelling its rays. - -"You say you haven't seen anybody since Sunday," remarked the loitering -woman, in restrained, tentative tones. - -"No, I've been right here. Why did you ask me that?" - -"Well, you see, Ann," was the slow answer, "talking at the rate Bazemore -was to your face, don't you think it would be natural for him to--to -sort o' rub it on even heavier behind your back, after you got up that -way and went out so sudden." - -"I never thought of it, but I can see now that it would be just like -him." Mrs. Boyd took a deep breath and lowered her pail to the ground. -"Yes," she went on, reflectively, as she drew herself up again and -leaned on the fence, "I reckon he got good and mad when I got up and -left." - -"Huh!" The other woman smiled. "He was so mad he could hardly speak. He -fairly gulped, his eyes flashed, and he was as white as a bunch of -cotton. He poured out another goblet of water that he had no idea of -drinking, and his hand shook so much that the glass tinkled like a bell -against the mouth of the pitcher. You must have got as far as the -hitching-rack before his fury busted out. I reckon what he said was the -most unbecoming thing that a stout, able-bodied man ever hurled at a -defenceless woman's back." - -There was another pause. Mrs. Boyd's expectant face was as hard as -stone; her dark-gray eyes were two burning fires in their shadowy -orbits. - -"What did he say?" she asked. "You might as well tell me." - -Mrs. Waycroft avoided her companion's fierce stare. "He looked down at -the place where you sat, Ann, right steady for a minute, then he said: -'I'm glad that woman had the common decency to sit on a seat by herself -while she was here; but I hope when meeting is over that some of you -brethren will take the bench out in the woods and burn it. I'll pay for -a new one out of my own pocket.'" - -"Oh!" The exclamation seemed wrung from her when off her guard, and Mrs. -Boyd clutched the rail of the fence so tightly that her strong nails -sunk into the soft wood. "He said _that_! He said that _about me_!" - -"Yes, and he ought to have been ashamed of himself," said Mrs. Waycroft; -"and if he had been anything else than a preacher, surely some of the -men there--men you have befriended--would not have set still and let it -pass." - -"But they _did_ let it pass," said Mrs. Boyd, bitterly; "they did let it -pass, one and all." - -"Oh yes, nobody would dare, in this section, to criticise a preacher," -said the other. "What any little, spindle-legged parson says goes the -same as the word of God out here in the backwoods. I'd have left the -church myself, but I knowed you'd want to hear what was said; besides, -they all know I'm your friend." - -"Yes, they all know you are the only white woman that ever comes near -me. But what else did he say?" - -"Oh, he had lots to say. He said he hadn't mentioned no names, but it -was always the hit dog that yelped, and that you had made yourself a -target by leaving as you did. He went on to say that, in his opinion, -all that was proved at court against you away back there was just. He -said some folks misunderstood Scripture when it come to deal with your -sort and stripe. He said some argued that a church door ought always to -be wide open to any sinner whatsoever, but that in your daily conduct of -holding every coin so tight that the eagle on it squeals, and in giving -nothing to send the Bible to the heathens, and being eternally at strife -with your neighbors, you had showed, he said, that no good influence -could be brought to bear on you, and that people who was really trying -to live upright lives ought to shun you like they would a catching -disease. He 'lowed you'd had the same Christian chance in your -bringing-up, and a better education than most gals, and had deliberately -throwed it all up and gone your headstrong way. In his opinion, it would -be wrong to condone your past, and tell folks you stood an equal chance -with the rising generation fetched up under the rod and Biblical -injunction by parents who knowed what lasting scars the fires of sin -could burn in a living soul. He said the community had treated you -right, in sloughing away from you, ever since you was found out, because -you had never showed a minute's open repentance. You'd helt your head, -he thought, if possible, higher than ever, and in not receiving the -social sanction of your neighbors, it looked like you was determined to -become the richest woman in the state for no other reason than to prove -that wrong prospered." - -The speaker paused in her recital. The listener, her face set and dark -with fury, glanced towards the cottage. "Come in," she said, huskily; -"people might pass along and know what we are talking about, and, -somehow, I don't want to give them that satisfaction." - -"That's a fact," said Mrs. Waycroft; "they say I fetch you every bit of -gossip, anyway. A few have quit speaking to me. Bazemore would himself, -if he didn't look to me once a month for my contribution. I hope what -I've told you won't upset you, Ann, but you always say you want to know -what's going on. It struck me that the whole congregation was about the -most heartless body of human beings I ever saw packed together in one -bunch." - -"I want you to tell me one other thing," said Mrs. Boyd, tensely, as -they were entering the front doorway of the cottage--"was Jane Hemingway -there?" - -"Oh yes, by a large majority. I forgot to tell you about her. I had my -eyes on her, too, for I knowed it would tickle her nigh to death, and it -did. When you left she actually giggled out loud and turned back an' -whispered to the Mayfield girls. Her old, yellow face fairly shone, she -was that glad, and when Bazemore went on talking about you and burning -that bench, she fairly doubled up, with her handkerchief clapped over -her mouth." - -Mrs. Boyd drew a stiff-backed chair from beneath the dining-table and -pushed it towards her guest. "There is not in hell itself, Mary -Waycroft, a hatred stronger than I feel right now for that woman. She is -a fiend in human shape. That miserable creature has hounded me every -minute since we were girls together. As God is my judge, I believe I -could kill her and not suffer remorse. There was a time when my -disposition was as sweet and gentle as any girl's, but she changed it. -She has made me what I am. She is responsible for it all. I might have -gone on--after my--my misfortune, and lived in some sort of harmony with -my kind if it hadn't been for her." - -"I know that," said the other woman, as she sat down and folded her -cloth bonnet in her thin hands. "I really believe you'd have been a -different woman, as you say, after--after your trouble if she had let -you alone." - -Mrs. Boyd seated herself in another chair near the open door, and looked -out at a flock of chickens and ducks which had gathered at the step and -were noisily clamoring for food. - -"I saw two things that made my blood boil as I was leaving the church," -said she. "I saw Abe Longley, who has been using my pasture for his -cattle free of charge for the last ten years. I caught sight of his -face, and it made me mad to think he'd sit there and never say a word in -defence of the woman he'd been using all that time; and then I saw -George Wilson, just as indifferent, near the door, when I've been -favoring him and his shabby store with all my trade when I could have -done better by going on to Darley. I reckon neither of those two men -said the slightest thing when Bazemore advised the--the burning of the -bench I'd sat on." - -"Oh no, of course not!" said Mrs. Waycroft, "nobody said a word. They -wouldn't have dared, Ann." - -"Well, they will both hear from me," said Mrs. Boyd, "and in a way that -they won't forget soon. I tell you, Mary Waycroft, this thing has -reached a climax. That burning bench is going to be my war-torch. They -say I've been at strife with my neighbors all along; well, they'll see -now. I struggled and struggled with pride to get up to the point of -going to church again, and that's the reception I got." - -"It's a pity to entertain hard feelings, but I don't blame you a single -bit," said Mrs. Waycroft, sympathetically. "As I look at it, you have -done all you can to live in harmony, and they simply won't have it. They -might be different if it wasn't for that meddlesome old Jane Hemingway. -She keeps them stirred up. She and her daughter is half starving to -death, while you--" Mrs. Waycroft glanced round the room at the warm rag -carpet of many colors, at the neat fire-screen made of newspaper -pictures pasted on a crude frame of wood, and, higher, to the -mantel-piece, whose sole ornament was a Seth Thomas clock, with the -Tower of London in glaring colors on the glass door--"while you don't -ask anybody any odds. Instead of starving, gold dollars seem to roll up -to your door of their own accord and fall in a heap. They tell me even -that cotton factory which you invested in, and which Mrs. Hemingway said -had busted and gone up the spout, is really doing well." - -"The stock has doubled in value," said Mrs. Boyd, simply. "I don't know -how to account for my making money. I reckon it's simply good judgment -and a habit of throwing nothing away. The factory got to a pretty low -ebb, and the people lost faith in it, and were offering their stock at -half-price. My judgment told me it would pull through as soon as times -improved, and I bought an interest in it at a low figure. I was right; -it proved to be a fine investment." - -"I was sorter sorry for Virginia Hemingway, Sunday," said Mrs. Waycroft. -"When her mother was making such an exhibition of herself in gloating -over the way you was treated, the poor girl looked like she was ashamed, -and pulled Jane's apron like she was trying to keep her quiet. I reckon -you hain't got nothing against the girl, Ann?" - -"Nothing except that she is that devilish woman's offspring," said Mrs. -Boyd. "It's hard to dislike her; she's pretty--by all odds the prettiest -and sweetest-looking young woman in this county. Her mother in her prime -never saw the day she was anything like her. They say Virginia isn't -much of a hand to gossip and abuse folks. I reckon her mother's ways -have disgusted her." - -"I reckon that's it," said the other woman, as she rose to go. "I know I -love to look at her; she does my old eyes good. At meeting I sometimes -gaze steady at her for several minutes on a stretch. Sitting beside that -hard, crabbed old thing, the girl certainly does look out of place. She -deserves a better fate than to be tied to such a woman. I reckon she'll -be picked up pretty soon by some of these young men--that is, if Jane -will give her any sort of showing. Jane is so suspicious of folks that -she hardly lets Virginia out of her sight. Well, I must be going. Since -my husband's death I've had my hands full on the farm; he did a lots to -help out, even about the kitchen. Good-bye. I can see what I've said has -made a change in you, Ann. I never saw you look quite so different." - -"Yes, the whole thing has kind o' jerked me round," replied Mrs. Boyd. -"I've taken entirely too much off of these people--let them run over me -dry-shod; but I'll show them a thing or two. They won't let me live in -peace, and now they can try the other thing." And Ann Boyd stood in the -doorway and watched the visitor trudge slowly away. - -"Yes," she mused, as she looked out into the falling dusk, "they are -trying to drive me to the wall with their sneers and lashing tongues. -But I'll show them that a worm can turn." - - - - -II - - -The next morning, after a frugal breakfast of milk and cornmeal pancake, -prepared over an open fireplace on live coals, which reddened her cheeks -and bare arms, Mrs. Boyd pinned up her skirts till their edges hung on a -level with the tops of her coarse, calf-skin shoes. She then climbed -over the brier-grown rail-fence with the agility of a hunter and waded -through the high, dew-soaked weeds and grass in the direction of the -rising sun. The meadow was like a rolling green sea settling down to -calmness after a storm. Here and there a tuft of dewy broom-sedge held -up to her vision a sheaf of green hung with sparkling diamonds, -emeralds, and rubies, and far ahead ran a crystal creek in and out among -gracefully drooping willows and erect young reeds. - -"That's his brindle heifer now," the trudging woman said, harshly. "And -over beyond the hay-stack and cotton-shed is his muley cow and calf. -Huh, I reckon I'll make them strike a lively trot! It will be some time -before they get grass as rich as mine inside of them to furnish milk and -butter for Abe Longley and his sanctimonious lay-out." - -Slowly walking around the animals, she finally got them together and -drove them from her pasture to the small road which ran along the foot -of the mountain towards their owner's farm-house, the gray roof of which -rose above the leafy trees in the distance. To drive the animals out, -she had found it necessary to lower a panel of her fence, and she was -replacing the rails laboriously, one by one, when she heard a voice from -the woodland on the mountain-side, a tract of unproductive land owned by -the man whose cows she was ejecting. It was Abe Longley himself, and in -some surprise he hurried down the rugged steep, a woodman's axe on his -shoulder. He was a gaunt, slender man, gray and grizzled, past sixty -years of age, with a tuft of stiff beard on his chin, which gave his -otherwise smooth-shaven face a forbidding expression. - -"Hold on thar, Sister Boyd!" he called out, cheerily, though he seemed -evidently to be trying to keep from betraying the impatience he -evidently felt. "You must be getting nigh-sighted in yore old age. As -shore as you are a foot high them's my cattle, an' not yourn. Why, I -knowed my brindle from clean up at my wood-pile, a full quarter from -here. I seed yore mistake an' hollered then, but I reckon you are -gettin' deef as well as blind. I driv' 'em in not twenty minutes ago, as -I come on to do my cuttin'." - -"I know you did, Abe Longley," and Mrs. Boyd stooped to grasp and raise -the last rail and carefully put it in place; "I know they are yours. My -eyesight's good enough. I know good and well they are yours, and that is -the very reason I made them hump themselves to get off of my property." - -"But--but," and the farmer, thoroughly puzzled, lowered his glittering -axe and stared wonderingly--"but you know, Sister Boyd, that you told me -with your own mouth that, being as I'd traded off my own pasture-land to -Dixon for my strip o' wheat in the bottom, that I was at liberty to use -yourn how and when I liked, and, now--why, I'll be dad-blamed if I -understand you one bit." - -"Well, I understand what I'm about, Abe Longley, if you don't!" retorted -the owner of the land. "I _did_ say you could pasture on it, but I -didn't say you could for all time and eternity; and I now give you due -notice if I ever see any four-footed animal of yours inside of my fences -I'll run them out with an ounce of buckshot in their hides." - -"Well, well, well!" Longley cried, at the end of his resources, as he -leaned on his smooth axe-handle with one hand and clutched his beard -with the other. "I don't know what to make of yore conduct. I can't do -without the use of your land. There hain't a bit that I could rent or -buy for love or money on either side of me for miles around. When folks -find a man's in need of land, they stick the price up clean out of -sight. I was tellin' Sue the other day that we was in luck havin' sech a -neighbor--one that would do so much to help a body in a plight." - -"Yes, I'm very good and kind," sneered Mrs. Boyd, her sharp eyes ablaze -with indignation, "and last Sunday in meeting you and a lot of other -able-bodied men sat still and let that foul-mouthed Bazemore say that -even the wooden bench I sat on ought to be taken out and burned for the -public good. You sat there and listened to _that_, and when he was -through you got up and sung the doxology and bowed your head while that -makeshift of a preacher called down God's benediction on you. If you -think I'm going to keep a pasture for such a man as you to fatten your -stock on, you need a guardian to look after you." - -"Oh, I see," Longley exclaimed, a crestfallen look on him. "You are -goin' to blame us all for what he said, and you are mad at everybody -that heard it. But you are dead wrong, Ann Boyd--dead wrong. You can't -make over public opinion, and you'd 'a' been better off years ago if you -hadn't been so busy trying to do it, whether or no. Folks would let you -alone if you'd 'a' showed a more repentant sperit, and not held your -head so high and been so spiteful. I reckon the most o' your -trouble--that is, the reason it's lasted so long, is due to the -women-folks more than the men of the community, anyhow. You see, it -sorter rubs women's wool the wrong way to see about the only prosperity -a body can see in the entire county falling at the feet of the -one--well, the one least expected to have sech things--the one, I mought -say, who hadn't lived exactly up to the _best_ precepts." - -"I don't go to men like you for my precepts," the woman hurled at him, -"and I haven't got any time for palavering. All I want to do is to give -you due notice not to trespass on my land, and I've done that plain -enough, I reckon." - -Abe Longley's thin face showed anger that was even stronger than his -avarice; he stepped nearer to her, his eyes flashing, his wide upper-lip -twitching nervously. "Do you know," he said, "that's its purty foolhardy -of you to take up a fight like that agin a whole community. You know you -hain't agoin' to make a softer bed to lie on. You know, if you find -fault with me fer not denouncin' Bazemore, you may as well find fault -with every living soul that was under reach o' his voice, fer nobody -budged or said a word in yore defence." - -"I'm taking up a fight with no one," the woman said, firmly. "They can -listen to what they want to listen to. The only thing I'm going to do in -future is to see that no person uses me for profit and then willingly -sees me spat upon. That's all I've got to say to you." And, turning, she -walked away, leaving him standing as if rooted among his trees on the -brown mountain-side. - -"He'll go home and tell his wife, and she'll gad about an' fire the -whole community against me," Mrs. Boyd mused; "but I don't care. I'll -have my rights if I die for it." - -An hour later, in another dress and a freshly washed and ironed gingham -bonnet, she fed her chickens from a pan of wet cornmeal dough, locked up -her house carefully, fastening down the window-sashes on the inside by -placing sticks above the movable ones, and trudged down the road to -George Wilson's country-store at the crossing of the roads which led -respectively to Springtown, hard-by on one side, and Darley, farther -away on the other. - -The store was a long, frame building which had once been whitewashed, -but was now only a fuzzy, weather-beaten gray. As was usual in such -structures, the front walls of planks rose higher than the pointed roof, -and held large and elaborate lettering which might be read quite a -distance away. Thereon the young store-keeper made the questionable -statement that a better price for produce was given at his establishment -than at Darley, where high rent, taxes, and clerk-hire had to be paid, -and, moreover, that his goods were sold cheaper because, unlike the town -dealers, he lived on the products from his own farm and employed no -help. In front of the store, convenient alike to both roads, stood a -rustic hitching-rack made of unbarked oaken poles into which railway -spikes had been driven, and on which horseshoes had been nailed to hold -the reins of any customer's mount. On the ample porch of the store stood -a new machine for the hulling of pease, several ploughs, and a -red-painted device for the dropping and covering of seed-corn. On the -walls within hung various pieces of tin-ware and harnesses and saddles, -and the two rows of shelving held a good assortment of general -merchandise. - -As Mrs. Boyd entered the store, Wilson, a blond young man with an ample -mustache, stood behind the counter talking to an Atlanta drummer who had -driven out from Darley to sell the store-keeper some dry-goods and -notions, and he did not come to her at once, but delayed to see the -drummer make an entry in his order-book; then he advanced to her. - -"Excuse me, Mrs. Boyd," he smiled. "I am ordering some new prints for -you ladies, and I wanted to see that he got the number of bolts down -right. This is early for you to be out, isn't it? It's been many a day -since I've seen you pass this way before dinner. I took a sort of -liberty with you yesterday, knowing how good-natured you are. Dave -Prixon was going your way with his empty wagon, and, as I was about to -run low on your favorite brand of flour, I sent you a barrel and put it -on your account at the old price. I thought you'd keep it. You may have -some yet on hand, but this will come handy when you get out." - -"But I don't intend to keep it," replied the woman, under her bonnet, -and her voice sounded harsh and crisp. "I haven't touched it. It's out -in the yard where Prixon dumped it. If it was to rain on it I reckon it -would mildew. It wouldn't be my loss. I didn't order it put there." - -"Why, Mrs. Boyd!" and Wilson's tone and surprised glance at the drummer -caused that dapper young man to prick up his ears and move nearer; "why, -it's the best brand I handle, and you said the last gave you particular -satisfaction, so I naturally--" - -"Well, I don't want it; I didn't order it, and I don't intend to have -you nor no one else unloading stuff in my front yard whenever you take a -notion and want to make money by the transaction. Deduct that from my -bill, and tell me what I owe you. I want to settle in full." - -"But--but--" Wilson had never seemed to the commercial traveller to be -so much disturbed; he was actually pale, and his long hands, which -rested on the smooth surface of the counter, were trembling--"but I -don't understand," he floundered. "It's only the middle of the month, -Mrs. Boyd, and I never run up accounts till the end. You are not going -_off_, are you?" - -"Oh no," and the woman pushed back her bonnet and eyed him almost -fiercely, "you needn't any of you think that. I'm going to stay right on -here; but I'll tell you what I am going to do, George Wilson--I'm going -to buy my supplies in the future at Darley. You see, since this talk of -burning the very bench I sit on in the house of God, which you and your -ilk set and listen to, why--" - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd," he broke in, "now don't go and blame me for what -Brother Bazemore said when he was--" - -"_Brother_ Bazemore!" The woman flared up and brought her clinched hand -down on the counter. "I'll never as long as I live let a dollar of my -money pass into the hands of a man who calls that man brother. You sat -still and raised no protest against what he said, and that ends business -between us for all time. There is no use talking about it. Make out my -account, and don't keep me standing here to be stared at like I was a -curiosity in a side-show." - -"All right, Mrs. Boyd; I'm sorry," faltered Wilson, with a glance at the -drummer, who, feeling that he had been alluded to, moved discreetly -across the room and leaned against the opposite counter. "I'll go back -to the desk and make it out." - -She stood motionless where he had left her till he came back with her -account in his hand, then from a leather bag she counted out the money -and paid it to him. The further faint, half-fearful apologies which -Wilson ventured on making seemed to fall on closed ears, and, with the -receipted bill in her bag, she strode from the house. He followed her to -the door and stood looking after her as she angrily trudged back towards -her farm. - -"Well, well," he sighed, as the drummer came to his elbow and stared at -him wonderingly, "there goes the best and most profitable customer I've -had since I began selling goods. It's made me sick at heart, Masters. I -don't see how I can do without her, and yet I don't blame her one -bit--not a bit, so help me God." - - - - -III - - -Wilson turned, and with a frown went moodily back to his desk and sat -down on the high stool, gloomily eying the page in a ledger which he had -just consulted. - -"By George, that woman's a corker," said the drummer, sociably, as he -came back and stood near the long wood-stove. "Of course, I don't know -what it's all about, but she's her own boss, I'll stake good money on -that." - -"She's about the sharpest and in many ways the strongest woman in the -state," said the store-keeper, with a sigh. "Good Lord, Masters, she's -been my main-stay ever since I opened this shack, and now to think -because that loud-mouthed Bazemore, who expects me to pay a good part of -his salary, takes a notion to rip her up the back in meeting, why--" - -"Oh, I see!" cried the drummer--"I understand it now. I heard about that -at Darley. So _she's_ the woman! Well, I'm glad _I_ got a good look at -her. I see a lot of queer things in going about over the country, but I -don't think I ever ran across just her sort." - -"She's had a devil of a life, Masters, from the time she was a blooming, -pretty young girl till now that she is at war with everybody within -miles of her. She's always been a study to me. She's treated me more -like a son than anything else--doing everything in her power to help me -along, buying, by George, things sometimes that I knew she didn't need -because it would help me out, and now, because I didn't get up in -meeting last Sunday and call that man down she holds me accountable. I -don't know but what she's right. Why should I take her hard-earned money -and sit still and allow her to be abused? She's simply got pride, and -lots of it, and it's bad hurt." - -"But what was it all about?" the drummer inquired. - -"The start of it was away back when she was a girl, as I said," began -the store-keeper. "You've heard of Colonel Preston Chester, our biggest -planter, who lives a mile from here--old-time chap, fighter of duels, -officer in the army, and all that?" - -"Oh yes, I've seen him; in fact, I was at college at the State -University with his son Langdon. He was a terrible fellow--very wild and -reckless, full half the time, and playing poker every night. He was -never known to pay a debt, even to his best friends." - -"Langdon is a chip off of the old block," said Wilson. "His father was -just like him when he was a young man. Between you and me, the Colonel -never had a conscience; old as he now is, he will sit and laugh about -his pranks right in the presence of his son. It's no wonder the boy -turned out like he did. Well, away back when this Mrs. Boyd was a young -and pretty girl, the daughter of honest, hard-working people, who owned -a little farm back of his place, he took an idle fancy to her. I'm -telling you now what has gradually leaked out in one way and another -since. He evidently won her entire confidence, made her believe he was -going to marry her, and, as he was a dashing young fellow, she must have -fallen in love with him. Nobody knows how that was, but one thing is -sure, and that is that he was seen about with her almost constantly for -a whole year, and then he stopped off suddenly. The report went out that -he'd made up his mind to get married to a young woman in Alabama who had -a lot of money, and he did go off and bring home the present Mrs. -Chester, Langdon's mother. Well, old-timers say young Ann Boyd took it -hard, stayed close in at home and wasn't seen out for a couple of years. -Then she come out again, and they say she was better-looking than ever -and a great deal more serious and sensible. Joe Boyd was a young farmer -those days, and a sort of dandy, and he fell dead in love with her and -hung about her day and night, never seeming willing to let her out of -his sight. Several other fellows, they say, was after her, but she -seemed to like Joe the best, but nothing he'd do or say would make her -accept him. I can see through it now, looking back on what has since -leaked out, but nobody understood it then, for she had evidently got -over her attachment for Colonel Chester, and Joe was a promising fellow, -strong, good-looking, and a great beau and flirt among women, half a -dozen being in love with him, but Ann simply wouldn't take him, and it -was the talk of the whole county. He was simply desperate folks say, -going about boring everybody he met with his love affair. Finally her -mother and father and all her friends got after her to marry Joe, and -she gave in. And then folks wondered more than ever why she'd delayed, -for she was more in love with her husband than anybody had any reason to -expect. They were happy, too. A child was born, a little girl, and that -seemed to make them happier. Then Mrs. Boyd's mother and father died, -and she came into the farm, and the Boyds were comfortable in every way. -Then what do you think happened?" - -"I've been wondering all along," the drummer laughed. "I can see you're -holding something up your sleeve." - -"Well, this happened. Colonel Chester's wife was, even then, a homely -woman, about as old as he was, and not at all attractive aside from her -money, and marrying hadn't made him any the less devilish. They say he -saw Mrs. Boyd at meeting one day and hardly took his eyes off of her -during preaching. She had developed into about the most stunning-looking -woman anywhere about, and knew how to dress, which was something Mrs. -Chester, with all her chances, had never seemed to get onto. Well, that -was the start of it, and from that day on Chester seemed to have nothing -on his mind but the good looks of his old sweetheart. Folks saw him on -his horse riding about where he could get to meet her, and then it got -reported that he was actually forcing himself on her to such an extent -that Joe Boyd was worked up over it, aided by the eternal gab of all the -women in the section." - -"Did Colonel Chester's wife get onto it?" the drummer wanted to know. - -"It don't seem like she did," answered Wilson. "She was away visiting -her folks in the South most of the time, with Langdon, who was a baby -then, and it may be that she didn't care. Some folks thought she was -weak-minded; she never seemed to have any will of her own, but left the -Colonel to manage her affairs without a word." - -"Well, go on with your story," urged the drummer. - -"There isn't much more to tell about the poor woman," continued Wilson. -"As I said, Chester got to forcing himself on her, and I reckon she -didn't want to tell her husband what she was trying to forget for fear -of a shooting scrape, in which Joe would get the worst of it; but this -happened: Joe was off at court in Darley and sent word home to his wife -that he was to be held all night on a jury. The man that took the -message rode home alongside of Chester and told him about it. Well, I -reckon, all hell broke out in Chester that night. He was a drinking man, -and he tanked up, and, as his wife was away, he had plenty of liberty. -Well, he simply went over to Joe Boyd's house and went in. It was about -ten o'clock. My honest conviction is, no matter what others think, that -she tried her level best to make him leave without rousing the -neighborhood, but he wouldn't go, but sat there in the dark with his -coat off, telling her he loved her more than her husband did, and that -he never had loved his wife, and that he was crazy for her, and the -like. How long this went on, with her imploring and praying to him to -go, I don't know; but, at any rate, they both heard the gate-latch click -and Joe Boyd come right up the gravel-walk. I reckon the poor woman was -scared clean out of her senses, for she made no outcry, and Chester went -to a window, his coat on his arm, and was climbing out when Joe, who -couldn't get in at the front door and was making for the one in the -rear, met him face to face." - -"Great goodness!" ejaculated the commercial traveller. - -"Well, you bet, the devil was to pay," went on the store-keeper, grimly. -"Chester was mad and reckless, and, being hot with liquor, and regarding -Boyd as far beneath him socially, instead of making satisfactory -explanations, they say he simply swore at Boyd and stalked away. -Dumfounded, Boyd went inside to his miserable wife and demanded an -explanation. She has since learned how to use her wits with the best in -the land, but she was young then, and so, by her silence, she made -matters worse for herself. He forced her to explain, and, seeing no -other way out of the affair, she decided to throw herself on his mercy -and make a clean breast of things her and her family had kept back all -that time. Well, sir, she confessed to what had happened away back -before Chester had deserted her, no doubt telling a straight story of -her absolute purity and faithfulness to Boyd after marriage. Poor old -Joe! He wasn't a fighting man, and, instead of following Chester and -demanding satisfaction, he stayed at home that night, no doubt suffering -the agony of the damned and trying to make up his mind to believe in his -wife and to stand by her. As it looks now, he evidently decided to make -the best of it, and might have succeeded, but somehow it got out about -Chester being caught there, and that started gossip so hot that her life -and his became almost unbearable. It might have died a natural death in -time, but Mrs. Boyd had an enemy, Mrs. Jane Hemingway, who had been one -of the girls who was in love with Joe Boyd. It seems that she never had -got over Joe's marrying another woman, and when she heard this scandal -she nagged and teased Joe about his babyishness in being willing to -believe his wife, and told him so many lies that Boyd finally quit -staying at home, sulking about in the mountains, and making trips away -till he finally applied for a divorce. Ignorant and inexperienced as she -was, and proud, Mrs. Boyd made no defence, and the whole thing went his -way with very little publicity. But the hardest part for her to bear was -when, having the court's decree to take charge of his child, Boyd came -and took it away." - -"Good gracious! that was tough, wasn't it?" exclaimed the drummer. - -"That's what it was, and they say it fairly upset her mind. They -expected her to fight like a tiger for her young, but at the time they -came for it she only seemed stupefied. The little girl was only three -years old, but they say Ann came in the room and said she was going to -ask the child if it was willing to leave her, and they say she calmly -put the question, and the baby, not knowing what she meant, said, 'Yes.' -Then they say Ann talked to it as if it were a grown person, and told -her to go, that she'd never give her a thought in the future, and never -wanted to lay eyes on her again." - -"That was pitiful, wasn't it?" said Masters. "By George, we don't dream -of what is going on in the hearts of men and women we meet face to face -every day. And that's what started her in the life she's since led." - -"Yes, she lived in her house like a hermit, never going out unless she -absolutely had to. She had an old-fashioned loom in a shed-room -adjoining her house, and night and day people passing along the road -could hear her thumping away on it. She kept a lot of fine sheep, -feeding and shearing them herself, and out of the wool she wove a -certain kind of jean cloth which she sold at a fancy figure. I've seen -wagon-loads of it pass along the road billed to a big house in Atlanta. -This went on for several years, and then it was noticed that she was -accumulating money. She was buying all the land she could around her -house, as if to force folks as far from her as possible, and she turned -the soil to a good purpose, for she knew how to work it. She hired -negroes for cash, when others were paying in old clothes and scraps, -and, as she went to the field with them and worked in the sun and rain -like a man, she got more out of her planting than the average farmer." - -"So she's really well off?" said the drummer. - -"Got more than almost anybody else in the county," said Wilson. "She's -got stocks in all sorts of things, and owns houses on the main street in -Darley, which she keeps well rented. It seems like, not having anything -else to amuse her, she turned her big brain to economy and money-making, -and I've always thought she did it to hit back at the community. You -see, the more she makes, the more her less fortunate neighbors dislike -her, and she loves to get even as far as possible." - -"And has she had no associates at all?" Masters wanted to know. - -"Well, yes, there is one woman, a Mrs. Waycroft, who has always been -intimate with her. She is the only--I started to say she was the only -one, but there was a poor mountain fellow, Luke King, a barefoot boy who -had a fine character, a big brain on him, and no education. His parents -were poor, and did little for him. They say Mrs. Boyd sort of took pity -on him and used to buy books and papers for him, and that she really -taught him to read and write. She sent him off to school, and got him on -his feet till he was able to find work in a newspaper office over at -Canton, where he became a boss typesetter. I've always thought that her -misfortune had never quite killed her natural impulses, for she -certainly got fond of that fellow. I had an exhibition of both his -regard and hers right here at the store. He'd come in to buy something -or other, and was waiting about the stove one cold winter day, when a -big mountain chap made a light remark about Mrs. Boyd. He was a head -taller than Luke King was, but the boy sprang at him like a panther and -knocked the fellow down. They had the bloodiest fight I ever saw, and it -was several minutes before they could be separated. Luke had damaged the -chap pretty badly, but he was able to stand, while the boy keeled over -in a dead faint on the floor, bruised inside some way. The big fellow, -fearing arrest, mounted his horse and went away, and several of us were -doing what we could with cold water and whiskey to bring the boy around -when who should come in but Ann herself. She was passing the store, and -some one told her about it. People who think she has no heart and is as -cold as stone ought to have seen her that day. In all my life I never -saw such a terrible face on a human being. I was actually afraid of her. -She was all fury and all tenderness combined. She looked down at him in -all his blood and bruises and white face, and got down on her knees by -him. I saw a great big sob rise up in her, although her back was to me, -and shake her from head to foot, and then she was still, simply stroking -back his damp, tangled hair. 'My poor boy,' I heard her say, 'you can't -fight my battles. God Himself has failed to do that, but I won't forget -this--never--never!'" - -"Lord, that was strong!" said Masters. "She must be wonderful!" - -"She is more wonderful than her narrow-minded enemies dream of," -returned the store-keeper. "You see, it's her pride that keeps her from -showing her fine feelings, and it's her secluded life that makes them -misunderstand her. Well, she brought her wagon and took the boy away. -That was another queer thing," Wilson added. "She evidently had started -to take him to her house, for she drove as far as the gate and then -stopped there to study a moment, and finally turned round and drove him -to the poor cabin his folks lived in. You see, she was afraid that even -that would cause talk, and it would. Old Jane Hemingway would have fed -on that morsel for months, as unreasonable as it would have been. Ann -sent a doctor, though, and every delicacy the market afforded, and the -boy was soon out. It wasn't long afterwards that Luke King went to -college at Knoxville, and now he's away in the West somewhere. His -mother, after his father's death, married a trifling fellow, Mark Bruce, -and that brought on some dispute between her and her son, who had tried -to keep her from marrying such a man. They say Luke told her if she did -marry Bruce he'd go away and never even write home, and so far, they -say, he has kept his word. Nobody knows where he is or what he's doing -unless it is Mrs. Boyd, and she never talks. I can't keep from thinking -he's done well, though, for he had a big head on him and a lot of -determination." - -"And this Mrs. Hemingway, her enemy," said the drummer, tentatively, -"you say she was evidently the woman's rival at one time. But it seems -she married some one else." - -"Oh yes, she suddenly accepted Tom Hemingway, an old bachelor, who had -been trying to marry her for a long time. Most people thought she did it -to hide her feelings when Joe Boyd got married. She treated Tom like a -dog, making him do everything she wanted, and he was daft about her till -he died, just a couple of weeks after his child was born, who, -by-the-way, has grown up to be the prettiest girl in all the country, -and that's another feature in the story," the store-keeper smiled. "You -see, Mrs. Boyd looks upon old Jane as the prime cause of her losing her -_own_ child, and I understand she hates the girl as much as she does her -mother." - -A man had come into the store and stood leaning against a show-case on -the side devoted to groceries. - -"There's a customer," said the drummer; "don't let me keep you, old man; -you know you've got to look at my samples some time to-day." - -"Well, I'll go see what he wants," said Wilson, "and then I'll look -through your line, though I don't feel a bit like it, after losing the -best regular customer I have." - -The drummer had opened his sample-case on the desk when Wilson came -back. - -"You say the woman's husband took the child away," remarked the drummer; -"did he go far?" - -"They first settled away out in Texas," replied Wilson, "but Joe Boyd, -not having his wife's wonderful head to guide him, failed at farming -there, and only about three years ago he came back to this country and -bought a little piece of land over in Gilmer--the county that joins this -one." - -"Oh, so near as that! Then perhaps she has seen her daughter and--" - -"Oh no, they've never met," said Wilson, as he took a sample pair of -men's suspenders from the case and tested the elastic by stretching it -between his hands. "I know that for certain. She was in here one morning -waiting for one of her teams to pass to take her to Darley, when a -peddler opened his pack of tin-ware and tried to sell her some pieces I -was out of. He heard me call her by name, and, to be agreeable, he asked -her if she was any kin to Joe Boyd and his daughter, over in Gilmer. I -could have choked the fool for his stupidity. I tried to catch his eye -to warn him, but he was intent on selling her a bill, and took no notice -of anything else. I saw her stare at him steady for a second or two, -then she seemed to swallow something, and said, 'No, they are no kin of -mine.' And then what did the skunk do but try to make capital out of -that. 'Well, you may be glad,' he said, 'that they are no kin, for they -are as near the ragged edge as any folks I ever ran across.' He went on -to say he stayed overnight at Boyd's cabin and that they had hardly -anything but streak-o'-lean-streak-o'-fat meat and corn-bread to offer -him, and that the girl had the worst temper he'd ever seen. Mrs. Boyd, I -reckon, to hide her face, was looking at some of the fellow's pans, and -he seemed to think he was on the right line, and so he kept talking. Old -Joe, he said, had struck him as a good-natured, lazy sort of -come-easy-go-easy mountaineer, but the girl looked stuck up, like she -thought she was some better than appearances would indicate. He said she -was a tall, gawky sort of girl, with no good looks to brag of, and he -couldn't for the life of him see what she had to make her so proud. - -"I wondered what Mrs. Boyd was going to do, but she was equal to that -emergency, as she always has been in everything. She held one of his -pans up in the light and tilted her bonnet back on her head, I thought, -to let me see she wasn't hiding anything, and said, as unconcerned as if -he'd never mentioned a delicate subject. 'Look here,' she said, thumping -the bottom of the pan with her finger, 'if you expect to do any business -with _me_ you'll have to bring copper-bottom ware to me. I don't buy -shoddy stuff from any one. These pans will rust through in two months. -I'll take half a dozen, but I'm only doing it to pay you for the time -spent on me. It is a bad investment for any one to buy cheap, stamped -ware.'" - - - - -IV - - -Mrs. Jane Hemingway, Ann Boyd's long and persistent enemy, sat in the -passage which connected the two parts of her house, a big, earthernware -churn between her sharp knees, firmly raising and lowering the -bespattered dasher with her bony hands. She was a woman past fifty; her -neck was long and slender, and the cords under the parchment-like skin -had a way of tightening, like ropes in the seams of a tent, when she -swallowed or spoke. Her dark, smoothly brushed hair was done up in the -tightest of balls behind her head, and her brown eyes were easily -kindled to suspicion, fear, or anger. - -Her brother-in-law, Sam Hemingway, called "Hem" by his intimates, -slouched in from the broad glare of the mid-day sun and threw his coat -on a chair. Then he went to the shelf behind the widow, and, pouring -some water into a tin pan from a pail, he noisily bathed his perspiring -face and big, red hands. As he was drying himself on the towel which -hung on a wooden roller on the weather-boarding of the wall, Virginia -Hemingway, his niece, came in from the field bringing a pail of freshly -gathered dewberries. In appearance she was all that George Wilson had -claimed for her. Slightly past eighteen, she had a wonderful complexion, -a fine, graceful figure, big, dreamy, hazel eyes, and golden-brown hair, -and, which was rare in one of her station, she was tastily dressed. She -smiled as she showed her uncle the berries and playfully "tickled" him -under the chin. - -"See there!" she chuckled. - -"Pies?" he said, with an unctuous grin, as he peered down into her pail. - -"I thought of you while I was gathering them," she nodded. "I'm going to -try to make them just as you like them, with red, candied bars -criss-crossing." - -"Nothing in the pie-line can hold a candle to the dewberry unless it's -the cherry," he chuckled. "The stones of the cherries sorter hold a -fellow back, but I manage to make out. I et a pie once over at Darley -without a stone in it, and you bet your life it was a daisy." - -He went into his room for his tobacco, and Virginia sat down to stem her -berries. He returned in a moment, leaning in the doorway, drawing lazily -at his pipe. The widow glanced up at him, and rested her dasher on the -bottom of the churn. - -"I reckon folks are still talking about Ann Boyd and her flouncing out -of meeting like she did," the widow remarked. "Well, that _was_ funny, -but what was the old thing to do? It would take a more brazen-faced -woman than she is, if such a thing exists, to sit still and hear all he -said." - -"Yes, they are still hammering at the poor creature's back," said Sam, -"and that's one thing I can't understand, nuther. She's got dead loads -of money--in fact, she's independent of the whole capoodle of you women. -Now, why don't she kick the dust o' this spot off of her heels an' go -away whar she can be respected, an', by gosh! be let alone _one_ minute -'fore she dies. They say she's the smartest woman in the state, but that -don't show it--living on here whar you women kin throw a rock at her -every time she raises her head above low ground." - -"I've wondered why she don't go off, too," the widow said, as she peered -down at the floating lumps of yellow butter in the snowy depths of her -vessel, and deftly twirled her dasher in her fingers to make them -"gather"; "but, Sam, haven't you heard that persons always want to be on -the spot where they went wrong? I think she's that way. And when the -facts leaked out on her, and her husband repudiated her and took the -child away, she determined to stay here and live it down. But instead of -calling humility and submission to her aid, she turned in to stinting -and starving to make money, and now she flaunts her prosperity in our -faces, as if _that_ is going to make folks believe any more in her. -Money's too easily made in evil ways for Christian people to bow before -it, and possessions ain't going to keep such men as Brother Bazemore -from calling her down whenever she puts on her gaudy finery and struts -out to meeting. It was a bold thing for her to do, anyway, after -berating him as she did when he went to her to get the use of her grove -for the picnic." - -"They say she didn't know Bazemore was to preach that day," said Sam. -"She'd heard that the presiding elder was due here, and I'm of the -opinion that she took that opportunity to show you all she wasn't afraid -to appear in public." - -Virginia Hemingway threw a handful of berry-stems out into the sunshine -in the yard. "She's a queer woman," she said, innocently, "like a -character in a novel, and, somehow, I don't believe she is as bad as -people make her out. I never told either of you, but I met her yesterday -down on the road." - -"_You_ met her!" cried Mrs. Hemingway, aghast. - -"Yes, she was going home from her sugar-mill with her apron full of -fresh eggs that she'd found down at her hay-stacks, and just as she got -close to me her dress got caught on a snag and she couldn't get it -loose. I stopped and unfastened it, and she actually thanked me, though, -since I was born, I've never seen such a queer expression on a human -face. She was white and red and dark as a thunder-cloud all at once. It -looked like she hated me, but was trying to be polite for what I'd -done." - -"You had no business touching her dirty skirt," the widow flared up. -"The next thing you know it will go out that you and her are thick. It -would literally ruin a young girl to be associated with a woman of that -stamp. What on earth could have possessed you to--" - -"Oh, come off!" Sam laughed. "Why, you know you've always taught Virgie -to be considerate of old folks, and she was just doing what she ought to -have done for any old nigger mammy." - -"I looked at it that way," said the girl, "and I'm not sorry, for I -don't want her to think I hate her, for I don't. I think she has had a -hard life, and I wish it were in my power to help her out of her -trouble." - -"Virginia, what are you talking about?" cried Mrs. Hemingway. "The idea -of your standing up for that woman, when--" - -"Well, Luke King used to defend her," Virginia broke in, impulsively, -"and before he went away you used to admit he was the finest young man -in the county. I've seen him almost shed tears when he'd tell about what -she'd done for him, and how tender-hearted and kind she was." - -"Tender-hearted nothing!" snapped Mrs. Hemingway, under a deep frown. -"Luke King was the only person that went about her, and she tried to -work on his sympathies for some purpose or other. Besides, nobody knows -what ever become of him; he may have gone to the dogs by this time; it -looks like somebody would have heard of him if he had come to any good -in the five years he's been away." - -"Somehow, I think she knows where he is," Virginia said, thoughtfully, -as she rose to put her berries away. - -When she had gone, Sam laughed softly. "It's a wonder to me that Virgie -don't know whar Luke is, _herself_," he said. "I 'lowed once that the -fellow liked her powerful; but I reckon he thought she was too young, or -didn't want to take the matter further when he was as poor as Job's -turkey and had no sort of outlook ahead." - -"I sort o' thought that, too," the widow admitted, "but I didn't want -Virginia to encourage him when he was accepting so much from that -woman." - -Sam laughed again as he knocked the ashes from his pipe and cleaned the -bowl with the tip of his finger. "Well, '_that woman_,' as you call her, -is a power in the land that hates her," he said. "She knows how to hit -back from her fortress in that old farm-house. George Wilson knows what -it means not to stand by her in public, so does Abe Longley, that has to -drive his cattle to grass two miles over the mountains. Jim Johnston, -who was dead sure of renting her northeast field again next year, has -been served with a notice to vacate, and now, if the latest news can be -depended on, she's hit a broad lick at half the farmers in the valley, -and, while I'm a sufferer with the balance, I don't blame her one bit. -I'd 'a' done the same pine-blank thing years ago if I'd stood in her -shoes." - -"What's she done _now_?" asked the woman at the churn, leaning forward -eagerly. - -"Done? Why, she says she's tired o' footing almost the entire -wheat-threshing bill for twenty measly little farmers. You know she's -been standing her part of the expenses to get the Empire Company to send -their steam thresher here, and her contribution amounted to more than -half. She's decided, by hunky, to plant corn and cotton exclusively next -year, and so notified the Empire Company. They can't afford to come -unless she sows wheat, and they sent a man clean from Atlanta to argue -the matter with her, but she says she's her own boss, an' us farmers who -has land fittin' for nothing but wheat is going to get badly left in the -lurch. Oh, Bazemore opened the battle agin her, and you-uns echoed the -war-cry, an' the battle is good on. I'll go without flour biscuits and -pie-crust, but the fight will be interesting. The Confed' soldiers made -a purty good out along about '61, an' they done it barefooted an' on -hard-tack an' water. If you folks are bent on devilling the hide off of -the most influential woman in our midst, just because her foot got -caught in the hem of her skirt an' tripped her up when she was a -thoughtless young girl, I reckon us men will have to look on an' say -nothing." - -"She _did_ slip up, as you say," remarked the widow, "and she's been a -raging devil ever since." - -"Ay! an' who made her one? Tell me that." Sam laughed. "You may not want -to hear it, Jane, but some folks hint that you was at the bottom of -it--some think lazy Joe Boyd would have stayed on in that comfortable -boat, with a firm hand like hern at the rudder, if you hadn't -ding-donged at him and told tales to him till he had to pull out." - -"Huh! They say that, do they?" The widow frowned as she turned and -looked straight at him. "Well, let 'em. What do I care? I didn't want to -see as good-hearted a man as he was hoodwinked." - -"I reckon not," Sam said, significantly, and he walked out of the -passage down towards the barn. "Huh!" he mused, as he strode along -crumbling leaf-tobacco of his own growing and filling his pipe. "I come -as nigh as pease tellin' the old woman some'n' else folks say, an' that -is that she was purty nigh daft about Joe Boyd, once upon a time, and -that dashing Ann cut her out as clean as a whistle. I'll bet that 'ud -make my sister-in-law so dern hot she'd blister from head to foot." - - - - -V - - -That afternoon Jane Hemingway went out to the barn-yard. For years she -had cultivated a habit of going thither, obviously to look after certain -hens that nested there, but in reality, though she would not have -admitted it even to herself, she went because from that coign of vantage -she could look across her enemy's fertile acres right into the lone -woman's doorway and sometimes catch a glimpse of Ann at work. There was -one unpleasant contingency that she sometimes allowed her mind to dwell -upon, and that was that Joe Boyd and his now grown daughter might, -inasmuch as Ann's wealth and power were increasing in direct ratio to -the diminution of their own, eventually sue for pardon and return. That -had become Jane's nightmare, riding her night and day, and she was not -going to let any living soul know the malicious things she had done and -said to thwart it. Vaguely she regarded the possible coming-back of the -father and daughter as her own undoing. She knew the pulse of the -community well enough to understand that nothing could happen which -would so soon end the war against Ann Boyd as such a reconciliation. -Yes, it would amount to her own undoing, for people were like sheep, and -the moment one ran to Ann Boyd's side in approval, all would flock -around her, and it would only be natural for them to turn against the -one woman who had been the primal cause of the separation. - -Jane was at the bars looking out on a little, seldom-used road which ran -between her land and Ann's, when her attention was caught by a man with -a leather hand-bag strapped on his shoulders trudging towards her. He -was a stranger, and his dusty boots and trousers showed that he had -walked a long distance. As he drew near he took off his straw hat and -bowed very humbly, allowing his burden to swing round in front of him -till he had eased it down on the turf at his feet. - -"Good-evening, madam," he said. "I'd like to show you something if -you've got the time to spare. I've made so many mountain folks happy, -and at such a small outlay, that I tell you they are glad to have me -come around again. This is a new beat to me, but I felt it my duty to -widen out some in the cause of human suffering." - -"What is it you've got?" Jane asked, smiling at his manner of speaking, -as he deftly unlocked his valise and opened it out before her. - -"It's a godsend, and that's no joke," said the peddler. "I've got a -household liniment here at a quarter for a four-ounce flask that no -family can afford to be without. You may think I'm just talking because -it's my business, but, madam, do you know that the regular druggists all -about over this country are in a combine not to sell stuff that will -keep people in good trim? And why? you may ask me. Why? Because, I say, -that it would kill the'r business. Go to one, I dare you, or to a doctor -in regular practice, and they will mix up chalk and sweetened water and -tell you you've got a serious internal complaint, and to keep coming day -after day till your pile is exhausted, and then they may tell you the -truth and ask you to let 'em alone. I couldn't begin, madam--I don't -know your name--I say I couldn't begin to tell you the wonderful cures -this liniment has worked all over this part of the state." - -"What is it good for?" Jane Hemingway's face had grown suddenly serious. -The conversation had caused her thoughts to revert to a certain secret -fear she had entertained for several months. - -"Huh--good for?--excuse me, but you make me laugh," the peddler said, as -he held a bottle of the dark fluid up before her; "it's good for so many -things that I could hardly get through telling you between now and -sundown. It's good for anything that harms the blood, skin, or muscles. -It's even good for the stomach, although I don't advise it taken -internally, for when it's rubbed on the outside of folks they have -perfect digestions; but what it is best for is sprains, lameness, or any -skin or blood eruption. Do you know, madam, that you'd never hear of so -many cancers and tumors, that are dragging weary folks to early graves -hereabouts, if this medicine had been used in time?" - -"Cancer?" The widow's voice had fallen, and she looked towards Ann -Boyd's house, and then more furtively over her shoulder towards her own, -as if to be sure of not being observed. "That's what I've always -wondered at, how is anybody to know whether a--a thing is a cancer or -not without going to a doctor, and, as you say, even _then_ they may not -tell you the truth? Mrs. Twiggs, over the mountain, was never let know -she had her cancer till a few months before it carried her off. The -family and the doctor never told her the truth. The doctor said it -couldn't be cured, and to know would only make the poor thing brood over -it and be miserable." - -"That's it, now," said the medicine-vender; "but if it had been taken at -the start and rubbed vigorously night and morning, it would have melted -away under this fluid like dirt under lye-soap and warm water. Madam, a -cancer is nothing more nor less than bad circulation at a certain point -where blood stands till it becomes foul and putrefies. I can--excuse me -if I seem bold, but long experience in handling men and women has learnt -me to understand human nature. Most people who are afraid they've got -cancers generally show it on their faces, an' I'll bet my hat and walk -bareheaded to the nighest store to get another that you are troubled on -that line--a little bit, anyway." - -Jane made no denial, though her thin face worked as she strove -adequately to meet his blunt assertion. "As I said just now"--she -swallowed, and avoided his covetous glance--"how is a person really to -_know_?" - -"It's a mighty easy matter for _me_ to tell," said the peddler, and he -spoke most reassuringly. "Just you let me take a look at the spot, if -it's no trouble to you, and I may save you a good many sleepless nights. -You are a nervous, broody sort of a woman yourself, and I can see by -your face that you've let this matter bother you a lots." - -"You think you could tell if you--you looked at it?" Jane asked, -tremulously. - -"Well, if I didn't it would be the first case I ever diagnosed -improperly. Couldn't we go in the house?" - -Jane hesitated. "I think I'd rather my folks didn't know--that is, of -course, if it _is_ one. My brother-in-law is a great hand to talk, and -I'd rather it wasn't noised about. If there's one thing in the world I -don't like it's the pity and the curiosity of other folks as to just -about how long I'm going to hold out." - -"I've seed a lots o' folks like you." The peddler smiled. "But, if you -don't mind tellin', where's the thing located?" - -"It's on my breast," Jane gulped, undecidedly, and then, the first -bridge having been crossed, she unbuttoned her dress at the neck with -fumbling fingers and pulled it down. "Maybe you can see as well here as -anywhere." - -"Oh yes, never was a better light for the business," said the vender, -and he leaned forward, his eyes fixed sharply on the spot exposed -between the widow's bony fingers. For a moment he said nothing. The -woman's yellow breast lay flat and motionless. She scarcely breathed; -her features were fixed by grim, fearful expectancy. He looked away from -her, and then stooped to his pack to get a larger bottle. "I'm glad I -happened to strike you just when I did, madam," he said. "Thar ain't no -mistaking the charactericstics of a cancer when it's in its first -stages. That's certainly what you've got, but I'm telling you God's holy -truth when I say that by regular application and rubbing this stuff in -for a month, night and morning, that thing will melt away like mist -before a hot sun." - -"So it really _is_ one!" Jane breathed, despondently. - -"Yes, it's a little baby one, madam, but this will nip it in the bud and -save your life. It will take the dollar size, but you know it's worth -it." - -"Oh yes, I'll take it," Jane panted. "Put it there in the fence-corner -among the weeds, and I'll come out to-night and get it." - -"All right," and the flask tinkled against a stone as it slid into its -snug hiding-place among the Jamestown weeds nestling close to the -rotting rails. - -"Here's your money. I reckon we'd better not stand here." And Jane gave -it to him with quivering fingers. He folded the bill carefully, thrust -it into a greasy wallet, and stooped to close his bag and throw the -strap over his shoulder. - -"Now I'm going on to the next house," he said. "They tell me a curious -sort of human specimen lives over thar--old Ann Boyd. Do you know, -madam, I heard of that woman's tantrums at Springtown night before last, -and at Barley yesterday. Looks like you folks hain't got much else to do -but poke at her like a turtle on its back. Well, she must be a -character! I made up my mind I'd take a peep at 'er. You know a -travelling physician like I am can get at folks that sort o' hide from -the general run." - -Jane Hemingway's heart sank. Why had it not occurred to her that he -might go on to Ann Boyd's and actually reveal her affliction? Such men -had no honor or professional reputation to defend. Suddenly she was -chilled from head to foot by the thought that the peddler might even -boast of her patronage to secure that of her neighbor--that was quite -the method of all such persons. It was on her tongue actually to ask him -not to go to Ann Boyd's house at all, but her better judgment told her -that such a request would unduly rouse the man's curiosity, so she -offered a feeble compromise. - -"Look here," she said, "I want it understood between us that--that you -are to tell nobody about me--about my trouble. That woman over there is -at outs with all her neighbors, and--and she'd only be glad to--" - -Jane saw her error too late. It appeared to her now in the bland twinkle -of amused curiosity in the stranger's face. - -"I understand--I understand; you needn't be afraid of me," the man said, -entirely too lightly, Jane thought, for such a grave matter, and he -pushed back the brim of his hat and turned. "Remember the directions, -madam, a good brisk rubbing with a flannel rag--red if you've got -it--soaked in the medicine, twice a day. Good-evening; I'll be off. I've -got to strike some house whar they will let me stay all night. I know -that old hag won't keep me, from all I hear." - -The widow leaned despondently against the fence and watched him as he -ploughed his way through the tall grass and weeds of the intervening -marsh towards Ann Boyd's house. The assurance that the spot on her -breast was an incipient cancer was bad enough without the added fear -that her old enemy would possibly gloat over her misfortune. She -remained there till she saw the vender approach Ann's door. For a moment -she entertained the mild hope that he would be repulsed, but he was not. - -She saw Ann's portly form framed in the doorway for an instant, and then -the peddler opened the gate and went into the house. Heavy of heart, the -grim watcher remained at the fence for half an hour, and then the -medicine-vender came out and wended his way along the dusty road towards -Wilson's store. - -Jane went into the house and sat down wearily. Virginia was sewing at a -western window, and glanced at her in surprise. - -"What's the matter, mother?" she inquired, solicitously. - -"I don't know as there is anything wrong," answered Jane, "but I am sort -o' weak. My knees shake and I feel kind o' chilly. Sometimes, Virginia, -I think maybe I won't last long." - -"That's perfectly absurd," said the girl. "Don't you remember what Dr. -Evans said last winter when he was talking about the constitutions of -people? He said you belonged to the thin, wiry, raw-boned kind that -never die, but simply stay on and dry up till they are finally blown -away." - -"He's not a graduated doctor," said Jane, gloomily. "He doesn't know -everything." - - - - -VI - - -A week from that day, one sultry afternoon near sunset, a tall -mountaineer, very poorly clad, and his wife came past Wilson's store. -They paused to purchase a five-cent plug of tobacco, and then walked -slowly along the road in a dust that rose as lightly as down at the -slightest foot-fall, till they reached Ann Boyd's house. - -"I'll stay out here at the gate," the man said. "You'll have to do all -the talking. As Willard said, she will do more for Luke King's mother -than she would for anybody else, and you remember how she backed the boy -up in his objections to me as a step-daddy." - -"Well, I'll do what I can," the woman said, plaintively. "You stay here -behind the bushes. I don't blame you for not wanting to ask a favor of -her, after all she said when we were married. She may spit in my -face--they say she's so cantankerous." - -Seating himself on a flat stone, the man cut the corner off of his -tobacco-plug and began to chew it, while his wife, a woman about -sixty-five years of age, and somewhat enfeebled, opened the gate and -went in. Mrs. Boyd answered the gentle rap and appeared at the door. - -"Howdy do, Mrs. Boyd," the caller began. "I reckon old age hasn't -changed me so you won't know me, although it's been ten years since me -'n' you met. I'm Mrs. Mark Bruce, that used to be Mrs. King. I'm Luke's -mother, Mrs. Boyd." - -"I knew you when you and Mark Bruce turned the bend in the road a -quarter of a mile away," said Ann, sharply, "but, the Lord knows, I -didn't think you'd have the cheek to open my front gate and stalk right -into my yard after all you've said and done against me." - -The eyes of the visitor fell to her worn shoe, through which her bare -toes were protruding. "I had no idea I'd ever do such a thing myself -until about two hours ago," she said, firmly; "but folks will do a lots, -in a pinch, that they won't ordinarily. You may think I've come to beg -you to tell me if you know where Luke is, but I hain't. Of course, I'd -like to know--any mother would--but he said he'd never darken a door -that his step-father went through, and I told 'im, I did, that he could -go, and I'd never ask about 'im. Some say you get letters from him. I -don't know--that, I reckon, is your business." - -"You didn't come to inquire about your boy, then?" Ann said, curiously, -"and yet here you are." - -"It's about your law-suit with Gus Willard that I've come, Ann. He told -you, it seems, that he was going to fight it to the bitter end, and he -_did_ call in a lawyer, but the lawyer told him thar was no two ways -about it. If his mill-pond backed water on your land to the extent of -covering five acres, why, you could make him shet the mill up, even if -he lost all his custom. Gus sees different now, like most of us when our -substance is about to take wings and fly off. He sees now that you've -been powerful indulgent all them years in letting him back water on your -property to its heavy damagement, and he says, moreover, that, to save -his neck from the halter, he cayn't blame you fer the action. He says he -_did_ uphold Brother Bazemore in what he said about burning the bench -that was consecrated till you besmirched it, and he admits he talked it -here an' yan considerably. He said, an' Gus was mighty nigh shedding -tears, in the sad plight he's in, that you had the whip in hand now, and -that his back was bare, an' ef you chose to lay on the lash, why, he was -powerless, for, said he, he struck the fust lick at you, but he was -doin' it, he thought, for the benefit of the community." - -"But," and the eyes of Ann Boyd flashed ominously, "what have _you_ come -for? Not, surely, to stand in my door and preach to me." - -"Oh no, Ann, that hain't it," said the caller, calmly. "You see, Gus is -at the end of his tether; he's in an awful fix with his wife and gals in -tears, and he's plumb desperate. He says you hain't the kind of woman to -be bent one way or another by begging--that is, when you are a-dealing -with folks that have been out open agin you; but now, as it stands, this -thing is agoing to damage me and Mark awfully, fer Mark gets five -dollars a month for helping about the mill on grinding days, and when -the mill shets down he'll be plumb out of a job." - -"Oh, I see!" and Ann Boyd smiled impulsively. - -"Yes, that's the way of it," went on Mrs. Bruce, "and so Gus, about two -hours ago, come over to our cabin with what he called his only hope, and -that was for me to come and tell you about Mark's job, and how helpless -we'll be when it's gone, and that--well, Ann, to put it in Gus's own -words, he said you wouldn't see Luke King's mother suffer as I will have -to suffer, for, Ann, we are having the hardest time to get along in the -world. I was at meeting that day, and I thought what Bazemore said was -purty hard on any woman, but I was mad at you, and so I set and -listened. I'm no coward. If you do this thing you'll do it of your own -accord. I cayn't get down on my knees to you, and I won't." - -"I see." Ann's face was serious. She looked past the woman down the -dust-clouded road along which a man was driving a herd of sheep. "I -don't want you on your knees to me, Cynthia Bruce. I want simple -justice. I was doing the best I could when Bazemore and the community -began to drive me to the wall, then I determined to have my -rights--that's all; I'll have my legal rights for a while and see what -impression it will make on you all. You can tell Gus Willard that I will -give him till the first of July to drain the water from my land, and if -he doesn't do it he will regret it." - -"That's all you'll say, then?" said the woman at the step. - -"That's all I'll say." - -"Well, I reckon you are right, Ann Boyd. I sorter begin to see what -you've been put to all on account of that one false step away back when, -I reckon, like all gals, you was jest l'arnin' what life was. Well, as -that's over and done with, I wonder if you would mind telling me if you -know anything about Luke. Me 'n' him split purty wide before he left, -and I try to be unconcerned about him, but I cayn't. I lie awake at -night thinking about him. You see, all the rest of my children are -around me." - -"I'll say this much," said Ann, in a softened tone, "and that is that he -is well and doing well, but I don't feel at liberty to say more." - -"Well, it's a comfort to know _that_ much," said Mrs. Bruce, softly. -"And it's nothing but just to you for me to say that it's due to you. -The education you paid fer is what gave him his start in life, and I'll -always be grateful to you fer it. It was something I never could have -given him, and something none of the rest of my children got." - -Mrs. Boyd stood motionless in the door, her eyes on the backs of the -pathetic pair as they trudged slowly homeward, the red sunset like a -world in conflagration beyond them. - -"Yes, she's the boy's mother," she mused, "and the day will come when -Luke will be glad I helped her, as he would if he could see the poor -thing now. Gus Willard is no mean judge of human nature. I'll let him -stew awhile, but the mill may run on. I can't fight _everybody_. Gus -Willard is my enemy, but he's open and above-board." - - - - -VII - - -One morning about the first of May, Virginia Hemingway went to Wilson's -store to purchase some sewing-thread she needed. The long, narrow room -was crowded with farmers and mountaineers, and Wilson had called in -several neighbors to help him show and sell his wares. Langdon Chester -was there, a fine double-barrelled shot-gun and fishing-rod under his -arm, wearing a slouch hat and hunter's suit, his handsome face well -tanned by exposure to the sun in the field and on the banks of the -mountain streams. He was buying a reel and a metallic fly that worked -with a spring and was set like a trap. Fred Masters was there, lounging -about behind the counters, and now and then "making a sale" of some -small article from the shelves or show-cases. He had opened his big -sample trunks at the hotel in Springtown, half a mile distant, and a -buggy and pair of horses were at the door, with which he intended to -transport the store-keeper to his sample-room as soon as business became -quieter. Seeing the store so crowded, Virginia only looked in at the -door and walked across the street and sat down in Mrs. Wilson's -sitting-room to rest and wait for a better opportunity to get what she -had come for. - -Langdon Chester had recognized an old school-mate in the drummer, but he -seemed not to care to show marked cordiality. However, the travelling -man was no stickler for formality. He came from behind the counter and -cordially slapped Langdon on the shoulder. "How are you, old chap?" he -asked; "still rusticating on the old man's bounty, eh? When you left -college you were going into the law, and soar like an eagle with the -worm of Liberty in its beak skyward through the balmy air of politics, -by the aid of all the 'pulls' of influential kin and money, but here you -are as easy-going as of old." - -"It was the only thing open to me," Chester said, with a flush of -vexation. "You see, my father's getting old, Masters, and the management -of our big place here was rather too much for him, and so--" - -"Oh, I see!" And the drummer gave his old friend a playful thumb-thrust -in the ribs. "And so you are helping him out with that gun and rod? -Well, that's _one_ way of doing business, but it is far from my -method--the method that is forced on me, my boy. When you get to a town -on the four-o'clock afternoon train and have to get five sample trunks -from the train to a hotel, scrap like the devil over who gets to use the -best sample-room, finally buy your way in through porters as rascally as -you are, then unpack, see the best man in town, sell him, or lose your -job, pack again, trunks to excess-baggage scales--more cash and tips, -and lies as to weight--and you roll away at midnight and try to nap -sitting bolt-upright in the smoker--well, I say, you won't find that -sort of thing in the gun-and-fishing-pole line. It's the sort of work, -Chester, that will make you wish you were dead. Good Lord, I don't blame -you one bit. In England they would call you one of the gentry, and, -being an only son, you could tie up with an heiress and so on to a green -old age of high respectability; but as for me, well, I had to dig, and I -went in for it." - -"I had no idea you would ever become a drummer," Langdon said, as he -admired his friend's attire. Such tasty ties, shirts, and bits of -jewelry that Masters wore, and such well brushed and pressed clothes -were rarely seen in the country, and Langdon still had the good ideas of -dress he had brought from college, and this was one extravagance his -father cheerfully allowed him. - -"It seemed the best thing for me," smiled the drummer. "I have a cousin -who is a big stockholder in my house, and he got the job for me. I've -been told several times by other members of the firm that I'd have been -fired long ago but for that family pull. I've made several mistakes, -sold men who were rotten to the core, and caused the house to lose money -in several instances, and, well--poker, old man. Do you still play?" - -"Not often, out here," said Langdon; "this is about the narrowest, -church-going community you ever struck. I suppose you have a good deal -of fun travelling about." - -"Oh yes, fun enough, of its kind." Masters laughed. "Like a sailor in -every port, a drummer tries to have a sweetheart in every town. It makes -life endurable; sometimes the dear little things meet you at the train -with sweet-smelling flowers and embroidered neckties so long that you -have to cut off the ends or double them. Have a cigar--they don't cost -me a red cent; expense account stretches like elastic, you know. My -house kicked once against my drinking and cigar entries, and I said, all -right, I'd sign the pledge and they could tie a blue ribbon on me, if -they said the word, but that half my trade, I'd discovered, never could -see prices right except through smoke and over a bottle. Then, what do -you think? Old man Creighton, head of the firm, deacon in a swell -joss-house in Atlanta, winked, drew a long face, and said: 'You'll have -to give the boy _some_ freedom, I reckon. We are in this thing to pull -it through, boys, and sometimes we may have to fight fire with fire or -be left stranded.'" - -"He's an up-to-date old fellow," Chester laughed. "I've seen him. He -owns some fine horses. When a man does that he's apt to be progressive, -no matter how many times he says his prayers a day." - -"Yes, for an old duck, Creighton keeps at the head of the procession. I -can generally get him to help me out when I get in a tight. He thinks -I'm a good salesman. Once, by the skin of my teeth, I sold the champion -bill in the history of the house. A new firm was setting up in business -in Augusta, and I stocked three floors for them. It tickled old man -Creighton nearly to death, for they say he walked the floor all night -when the thing was hanging fire. There was a pile of profit in it, and -it meant more, even, than the mere sale, for Nashville, Memphis, New -Orleans, and Louisville men were as thick as flies on the spot. When I -wired the news in the firm did a clog-dance in the office, and they were -all at the train to meet me, with plug-hats on, and raised sand -generally. Old Creighton drew me off to one side and wanted to know how -I did it. I told him it was just a trick of mine, and tried to let it go -at that, but he pushed me close, and I finally told him the truth. It -came about over a game of poker I was playing with the head of the new -firm. If I lost I was to pay him a hundred dollars. If he lost I was to -get the order. He lost. I think I learned that 'palming' trick from -you." - -Langdon laughed impulsively as he lighted the drummer's cigar. "And what -did the old man say to that?" he inquired. - -"It almost floored him." Masters smiled. "He laid his hand on my -shoulder. His face was as serious as I've seen it when he was praying in -the amen corner at church, but the old duck's eyes were blazing. 'Fred,' -he said, 'I want you to promise me to let that one thing alone--but, -good gracious, if Memphis had sold that bill it would have hurt us -awfully!'" - -"You were always fond of the girls," Chester remarked as he smoked. -"Well, out here in the country is no place for them." - -"No place for them! Huh, that's _your_ idea, is it? Well, let me tell -you, Chester, I saw on the road as I came on just now simply the -prettiest, daintiest, and most graceful creature I ever laid my eyes on. -I've seen them all, too, and, by George, she simply took the rag off the -bush. Slender, beautifully formed, willowy, small feet and hands, high -instep, big, dreamy eyes, and light-brown hair touched with gold. She -came out of a farm-house, walking like a young queen, about half a mile -back. I made Ike drive slowly and tried to get her to look at me, but -she only raised her eyes once." - -"Virginia Hemingway," Chester said, coldly. "Yes, she's pretty. There's -no doubt about that." - -"You know her, then?" said the drummer, eagerly. "Say, old man, -introduce a fellow." - -Chester's face hardened. The light of cordiality died out of his eyes. -There was a significant twitching of his lips round his cigar. "I really -don't see how I could," he said, after an awkward pause, during which -his eyes were averted. "You see, Masters, she's quite young, and it -happens that her mother--a lonely old widow--is rather suspicious of men -in general, and I seem to have displeased her in some way. You see, all -these folks, as a rule, go regularly to meeting, and as I don't go -often, why--" - -"Oh, I see," the drummer said. "But let me tell you, old chap, -suspicious mother or what not, I'd see something of that little beauty -if I lived here. Gee whiz! she'd make a Fifth Avenue dress and Easter -hat ashamed of themselves anywhere but on her. Look here, Chester, I've -always had a sneaking idea that sooner or later I'd be hit deep at first -sight by some woman, and I'll be hanged if I know but what that's the -matter with me right now. I've seen so many women, first and last, here -and there, always in the giddy set, that I reckon if I ever marry I'd -rather risk some pure-minded little country girl. Do you know, town -girls simply know too much to be interesting. By George, I simply feel -like I'd be perfectly happy with a little wife like the girl I saw this -morning. I wish you could fix it so I could meet her this trip, or my -next." - -"I--I simply can't do it, Masters." There was a rising flush of vexation -in the young planter's face as he knocked the ashes from his cigar into -a nail-keg on the floor. "I don't know her well enough, in the first -place, and then, in the next, as I said, her mother is awfully narrow -and particular. She scarcely allows the girl out of sight; if you once -saw old Jane Hemingway you'd not fancy making love before her eyes." - -"Well, I reckon Wilson knows the girl, doesn't he?" the drummer said. - -Chester hesitated, a cold, steady gleam of the displeasure he was trying -to hide flashed in his eyes. - -"I don't know that he knows her well enough for _that_," he replied. -"The people round here think I'm tough enough, but you drummers--huh! -some of them look on you as the very advance agents of destruction." - -"That's a fact," Masters sighed, "the profession is getting a black eye -in the rural districts. They think we are as bad as show people. By -George, there she is now!" - -"Yes, that's her," and the young planter glanced towards the front -doorway through which Virginia Hemingway was entering. So fixed was the -drummer's admiring gaze upon the pretty creature, that he failed to -notice that his companion had quietly slipped towards the rear of the -store. Chester stood for a moment in the back doorway, and then stepped -down outside and made his way into the wood near by. The drummer -sauntered behind the counter towards the front, till he was near the -show-case at which the girl was making her purchase, and there he stood, -allowing the fire of his cigar to die out as he watched her, while -Wilson was exhibiting to her a drawer full of thread for her to select -from. - -"By all that's good and holy, she simply caps the stack!" Masters said -to himself; "and to think that these galoots out here in the woods are -not onto it. She'd set Peachtree Street on fire. I'm going to meet that -girl if I have to put on old clothes and work for day wages in her -mother's cornfield. Great goodness! here I am, a hardened ladies' man, -feeling cold from head to foot on a hot day like this. I'm hit, by -George, I'm hit! Freddy, old boy, this is the thing you read about in -books. I wonder if--" - -But she was gone. She had tripped out into the sunshine. He saw the -yellow light fall on her abundant hair and turn it into a blaze of gold. -As if dreaming, he went to the door and stood looking after her as she -moved away on the dusty road. - -"I see you are killing time." It was George Wilson at his elbow. "I'll -be through here and with you in a minute. My crowd is thinning out now. -That's the way it comes--all in a rush; like a mill-dam broke loose." - -"Oh, I'm in no hurry, Wilson," said Masters, his gaze bent upon the -bushes behind which Virginia had just disappeared. "Say, now, old man, -don't say you won't do it; the fact is, I want to be introduced to that -girl--the little daisy you sold the thread to. By glory, she is the -prettiest little thing I ever saw." - -"Virginia Hemingway!" said the store-keeper. "Yes, she's a regular -beauty, and the gentlest, sweetest little trick in seven states. Well, -Masters, I'll be straight with you. It's this way. You see, she really -_is_ full grown, and old enough to receive company, I reckon, but her -mother, the old woman I told you about who hates Ann Boyd so -thoroughly--well, she doesn't seem to realize that Virginia is coming -on, and so she won't consent to any of the boys going near her. But old -Jane can't make nature over. Girls will be girls, and if you put too -tight a rein on them they will learn to slip the halter, or some chap -will teach them to take the bit in their teeth." - -A man came to Wilson holding a sample of syrup on a piece of -wrapping-paper, to which he had applied his tongue. "What's this here -brand worth?" he asked. - -"Sixty-five--best golden drip," was Wilson's reply. "Fill your jug -yourself; I'll take your word for it." - -"All right, you make a ticket of it--jug holds two gallons," said the -customer, and he turned away. - -"Say, Wilson, just a minute," cried the drummer; "do you mean that -she--" - -"Oh, look here now," said the store-keeper. "I don't mean any reflection -against that sweet girl, but it has become a sort of established habit -among girls here in the mountains, when their folks hold them down too -much, for them to meet fellows on the sly, out walking and the like. -Virginia, as I started to say, is full of natural life. She knows she's -pretty, and she wouldn't be a woman if she didn't want to be told -so--though, to be so good-looking, she is really the most sensible girl -I know." - -"You mean she has her fancies, then," said Masters, in a tone of -disappointment. - -"I don't say she has." Wilson had an uneasy glance on a group of women -bending over some bolts of calico, one of whom was chewing a sample -clipped from a piece to see if it would fade. "But--between me and you -now--Langdon Chester has for the last three months been laying for her. -I see he's slipped away; I'd bet my hat he saw her just now, and has -made a break for some point on the road where he can speak to her." - -"Chester? Why, the rascal pretended to me just now that he hardly knew -her." - -Wilson smiled knowingly. "That's his way. He is as sly as they make 'em. -His daddy was before him. When it comes to dealing with women who strike -their fancy they know exactly what they are doing. But Langdon has -struck flint-rock in that little girl. He, no doubt, is flirting with -all his might, but she'll have him on his knees before he's through with -it. A pair of eyes like hers would burn up every mean thought in a man." - -The drummer sighed, a deep frown on his brow. "You don't know him as -well as I do," he said. "I knew him at college. George, that little -trick ought not to be under such a fellow's influence I'm just a -travelling man, but--well--" - -"Well, what are you going to do about it--even if there _is_ any -danger?" said Wilson. "Get a drink in him, and Langdon, like his father, -will fight at the drop of a hat. Conscience? He hasn't any. I sometimes -wonder why the Almighty made them like they are, and other men so -different, for it is only the men who are not bothered by conscience -that have any fun in this life. One of the Chesters could drive a -light-hearted woman to suicide and sleep like a log the night she was -buried. Haven't I heard the old man laugh about Ann Boyd, and all she's -been through? Huh! But I'm not afraid of that little girl's fate. She -will take care of herself, and don't you forget it." - -"Well, I'm sorry for her," said Masters, "and I'm going to try to meet -her. I'm tough, George--I'll play a game of cards and bet on a horse, -and say light things to a pretty girl when she throws down the bars--but -I draw the line at downright rascality. Once in a while I think of home -and my own folks." - -"Now you are a-talking." And Wilson hurried away to a woman who sat in a -chair holding a bolt of calico in her arms, as if it were her first-born -child and the other women were open kidnappers. - -Masters stood motionless in the doorway, his eyes on the dusty road that -stretched on towards Jane Hemingway's house. - -"Yes, she's in bad, _bad_ hands," he said; "and she is the first--I -really believe she's the first that ever hit me this hard." - - - - -VIII - - -At dusk that day Ann Boyd went out to search for a missing cow. She -crossed the greater part of her stretch of meadow-land in the foggy -shadows, and finally found the animal mired to the knees in a black bog -hidden from view by the high growth of bulrushes. Then came the task of -releasing the patient creature, and Ann carried rails from the nearest -fence, placing them in such a way that the cow finally secured a -substantial footing and gladly sped homeward to her imprisoned calf. -Then, to escape the labor of again passing through the clinging vines -and high grass of the marsh, Ann took the nearest way to the main road -leading from the store on to Jane Hemingway's cottage. She had just -reached the little meeting-house, and a hot flush of anger at the memory -of the insult passed upon her there was surging over her, when, -happening to glance towards the graveyard in the rear of the building, -she saw Virginia Hemingway and Langdon Chester, quite with the air of -lovers, slowly walking homeward along a path which, if more rugged, led -more directly towards the girl's home. Ann Boyd started and then stared; -she could hardly credit the evidence of her sight--Virginia Hemingway -and the scapegrace son of that man, of all men, together! - -"Ah, ha!" she exclaimed, under her breath, and, falling back into the -bushes which bordered the roadside, she stood tingling from head to foot -with a new and unexpected sensation, her eager eyes on the loitering -pair. "So _that's_ it, is it? The young scamp has picked _her_ out, -devil that he is by blood and birth. Well, I might have known it. Who -could know better than me what a new generation of that cursed stock -would be up to? Right now he's the living image of what his father was -at the same age. He's lying to her, too, with tongue, eyes, voice, and -very bend of body. Great God, isn't she pretty? I never, in my best day, -saw the minute that I could have held a candle to her, and yet they all -said--but that makes no difference. I wonder why I never thought before -that he'd pick her out. As much as I hate her mammy, and her, too, I -must acknowledge she's sweet-looking. She's pure-minded, too--as pure of -thought as I was away back there when I wore my hair in a plait. But -that man will crush your purity, you little, blind kitten, crush it like -a fresh violet under a horse's hoof; _he'll_ teach you what life is. -That's the business the Chesters are good at. But, look! I do believe -she's holding off from him." Ann crept onward through the bushes to keep -pace with the couple, now and then stretching her neck or rising to her -full height on tiptoe. - -"He hasn't been on her track very long," she mused, "but he has won the -biggest part of his battle--he's got her to meet him privately. A sight -of this would lay her old mammy out stiff as a board, but she'll be kept -in the dark. That scamp will see to that part of the affair. But she'll -know in the end. Somebody will tell her the truth. Maybe the girl will -herself, when the awful, lonely pinch comes and there is no other friend -in sight. _Then_, Jane Hemingway, it will all come home to you. Then -you'll look back on the long, blood-hound hunt you've given another -woman in the same plight. The Almighty is doing it. He's working it out -for Jane Hemingway's life-portion. The girl is the very apple of her -eye; she has often said she was the image of herself, and that, as her -own marriage and life had come to nothing, she was going to see to it -that her only child's path was strewn with roses. Well, Langdon Chester -is strewing the roses thick enough. Ha, ha, ha!" the peering woman -chuckled. "Jane can come along an' pick 'em up when they are withered -and crumble like powder at the slightest touch. Now I really will have -something to occupy me. I'll watch this thing take root, and bud, and -leave, and bloom, and die. Maybe I'll be the first to carry the news to -headquarters. I'd love it more than anything this life could give me. -I'd like to shake the truth in Jane Hemingway's old, blinking eyes and -see her unable to believe it. I'd like to stand shaking it in her teeth -till she knew it was so, and then I honestly believe I'd fall right down -in front of her and roll over and over laughing. To think that I, maybe -_I_ will be able to flaunt the very thing in her face that she has all -these years held over me--the very thing, even to its being a son of the -very scoundrel that actually bent over the cradle of my girlhood and -blinded me with the lies that lit up his face." - -A few yards away the pair had paused. Chester had taken the girl's hand -and was gently stroking it as it lay restlessly in his big palm. For a -moment Ann lost sight of them, for she was stealthily creeping behind -the low, hanging boughs of the bushes to get nearer. She found herself -presently behind a big bowlder. She no longer saw the couple, but could -hear their voices quite distinctly. - -"You won't even let me hold your hand," she heard him say. "You make me -miserable, Virginia. When I am at home alone, I get to thinking over -your coldness and indifference, and it nearly drives me crazy. Why did -you jerk your hand away so quickly just now?" - -"I don't see what you were talking to a drummer about me for, in a -public place like that," the girl answered, in pouting tones. - -"Why, it was this way, Virginia--now don't be silly!" protested Chester. -"You see, this Masters and I were at college together, and rather -intimate, and down at the store we were standing talking when you came -in the front to buy something. He said he thought you were really the -prettiest girl he had ever seen, and he was begging me to introduce him -to you." - -"Introduce him!" Virginia snapped. "I don't want to know him. And so you -stood there talking about me!" - -"It was only a minute, Virginia, and I couldn't help it," Chester -declared. "I didn't think you'd care to know him, but I had to treat him -decently. I told him how particular your mother was, and that I couldn't -manage it. Oh, he's simply daft about you. He passed you on the road -this morning, and hasn't been able to talk about anything since. But who -could blame him, Virginia? You can form no idea of how pretty you are in -the eyes of other people. Frankly, in a big gathering of women you'd -create a sensation. You've got what every society woman in the country -would die to have, perfect beauty of face and form, and the most -remarkable part about it is your absolute unconsciousness of it all. -I've seen good-looking women in the best sets in Augusta and Savannah -and Atlanta, but they all seem to be actually making up before your very -eyes. Do you know, it actually makes me sick to see a woman all rigged -out in a satin gown so stiff that it looks like she's encased in some -metallic painted thing that moves on rollers. It's beauty unadorned that -you've got, and it's the real thing." - -"I don't want to talk about myself eternally," said Virginia, rather -sharply, the eavesdropper thought, "and I don't see why you seem to -think I do. When you are sensible and talk to me about what we have both -read and thought, I like you better." - -"Oh, you want me to be a sort of Luke King, who put all sorts of fancies -in your head when you were too young to know what they meant. You'd -better let those dreams alone, Virginia, and get down to everyday facts. -My love for you is a reality. It's a big force in my life. I find myself -thinking about you and your coldness from early morning till late at -night. Last Monday you were to come to the Henry Spring, and I was there -long before the time, and stayed in agony of suspense for four hours, -but I had my walk for nothing." - -"I couldn't come," Ann Boyd heard the sweet voice say. "Mother gave me -some work to do, and I had no excuse; besides, I don't like to deceive -her. She's harsh and severe, but I don't like to do anything she would -disapprove of." - -"You don't really care much for me," said Langdon--"that is the whole -thing in a nutshell." - -Virginia was silent, and Ann Boyd bit her lip and clinched her hands -tightly. The very words and tone of enforced reproach came back to her -across the rolling surf of time. She was for a moment lost in -retrospection. The young girl behind the bushes seemed suddenly to be -herself, her companion the dashing young Preston Chester, the prince of -planters and slave-holders. Langdon's insistent voice brought back the -present. - -"You don't care for me, you know you don't," he was saying. "You were -simply born with all your beauty and sweetness to drag me down to -despair. You make me desperate with your maddening reserve and icy -coldness, when all this hot fire is raging in me." - -"That's what makes me afraid of you," Virginia said, softly. "I admit I -like to be with you, my life is so lonely, but you always say such -extravagant things and want to--to catch hold of me, and kiss me, and--" - -"Well, how can I help myself, when you are what you are?" Chester -exclaimed, with a laugh. "I don't want to act a lie to you, and stand -and court you like a long-faced Methodist parson, who begins and ends -his love-making with prayer. Life is too beautiful and lovely to turn it -into a funeral service from beginning to end. Let's be happy, little -girl; let's laugh and be merry and thank our stars we are alive." - -"I won't thank my stars if I don't go on home." And Virginia laughed -sweetly for the first time. - -"Yes, I suppose we had better walk on," Langdon admitted, "but I'm not -going out into the open road with you till I've had that kiss. No, you -needn't pull away, dear--I'm going to have it." - -The grim eavesdropper heard Virginia sharply protesting; there was a -struggle, a tiny, smothered scream, and then something waked in the -breast of Ann Boyd that lifted her above her sordid self. It was the -enraged impulse to dart forward and with her strong, toil-hardened hands -clutch the young man by the throat and drag him down to the ground and -hold him there till the flames she knew so well had gone out of his -face. Something like a prayer sprang to her lips--a prayer for help, and -then, in a flush of shame, the slow-gained habit of years came back to -her; she was taking another view--this time down a darkened vista. - -"It's no business of mine," she muttered. "It's only the way things are -evened up. After all, where would be the justice in one woman suffering -from a thing for a lifetime and another going scot free, and that one, -too, the daughter of the one person that has deliberately made a life -miserable? No, siree! My pretty child, take care of yourself, I'm not -your mother. If she would let me alone for one minute, maybe her eyes -would be open to her own interests." - -Laughing pleasantly over having obtained his kiss by sheer force, -Langdon, holding Virginia's reluctant hand, led her out into an open -space, and the watcher caught a plain view of the girl's profile, and -the sight twisted her thoughts into quite another channel. For a moment -she stood as if rooted to the ground behind the bushes which had -shielded her. "That girl is going to be a hard one to fool," she -muttered. "I can see that from her high forehead and firm chin. Now, it -really _would_ be a joke on me if--if Jane Hemingway's offspring was to -avoid the pitfall I fell into, with all the head I've got. Then, I -reckon, Jane _could_ talk; that, I reckon, would prove her right in so -bitterly denouncing me; but will the girl stand the pressure? If she -intends to, she's made a bad beginning. Meeting a chap like that on the -sly isn't the best way to be rid of him, nor that kiss; which she let -him have without a scratch or loss of a hair on his side, is another bad -indication. Well, the game's on. Me 'n' Jane is on the track neck to -neck with the wire and bandstand ahead. If the angels are watching this -sport, them in the highest seats may shed tears, but it will be fun to -the other sort. I'm reckless. I don't much care which side I amuse; the -whole thing come up of its own accord, and the Lord of Creation hasn't -done as much for my spiritual condition as the Prince of Darkness. I may -be a she-devil, but I was made one by circumstances as naturally as a -foul weed is made to grow high and strong by the manure around its root. -And yet, I reckon, there must be _some_ dregs of good left in my cup, -for I felt like strangling that scamp a minute ago. But that may have -been because I forgot and thought he was his daddy, and the girl was me -on the brink of that chasm twenty years wide and deeper than the mystery -of the grave of mankind. I don't know much, but I know I'm going to -fight Jane Hemingway as long as I live. I know I'm going to do that, for -I know she will keep her nose to my trail, and I wouldn't be human if I -didn't hit back." - -The lovers had moved on; their voices were growing faint in the shadowy -distance. The gray dusk had fallen in almost palpable folds over the -landscape. The nearest mountain was lost like the sight of land at sea. -She walked on to her cow that was standing bellowing to her calf in the -stable-lot. Laying her hand on the animal's back, Ann said: "I'm not -going to milch you to-night, Sooky; I'm going to let your baby have all -he wants if it fills him till he can't walk. I'm going to be better to -you--you poor, dumb brute--than I am to Jane Hemingway." - -Lowering the time-worn and smooth bars, she let the cow in to her young, -and then, closing the opening, she went into her kitchen and sat down -before the fire and pushed out her water-soaked feet to the flames to -dry them. - -In an iron pot having an ash-covered lid was a piece of corn-pone -stamped with the imprint of her fingers, and on some smouldering coals -was a skillet containing some curled strips of fried bacon. These things -Ann put upon a tin plate, and, holding it in her lap, she began to eat -her supper. She was normal and healthy, and therefore her excitement had -not subdued her appetite. She ate as with hearty enjoyment, her mind -busy with what she had heard and seen. - -"Ah, old lady!" she chuckled, "you can laugh fit to split your sides -when a loud-mouthed preacher talks in public about burning benches, but -your laugh is likely to come back in an echo as hollow as a voice from -the grave. If this thing ends as I want it to end, I'll be with you, -Jane, as you've managed to be with me all these years." - -Till far in the night Ann sat nursing her new treasure and viewing it in -all its possible forms, till, growing drowsy, from a long day of -fatigue, she undressed herself, and, putting on a dingy gray night-gown, -she crept into her big feather-bed. - -"It all depends on the girl," was her last reflection before sleep bore -her off. "She isn't a bit stronger than I was at about the same age, and -I'll bet the Chester power isn't a whit weaker than it was. Well, time -will tell." - -Late in the night she was waked by a strange dream, and, to throw it out -of mind, she rose and walked out into the entry and took a drink of -water from the gourd. She had dreamed that Virginia had come to her -bedraggled and torn, and had cried on her shoulder, and begged her for -help and protection. In the dream she had pressed the girl's tear-wet -face against her own and kissed her, and said: "I know what you feel, my -child, for I've been through it from end to end; but if the whole world -turns against you, come here to me and we'll live together--the young -and old of the queerest fate known to womankind." - -"Ugh!" Ann ejaculated, with a shudder. "I wonder what's the matter with -me." She went back to bed, lay down and drew her feet up under the -sheets and shuddered. "To think I'd have a dream of that sort, and about -_that woman's_ child!" - - - - -IX - - -It was the first Sunday in June. Mrs. Waycroft came along the stony -hill-side road that slanted gently down from her house to Ann Boyd's. It -was a dry, breezeless morning under an unclouded sun, and but for the -earliness of the hour it would have been hot. - -"I was just wondering," she said to Ann, whom she found in the back-yard -lowering a pail of butter into the well to keep it cool--"I was just -wondering if you'd heard that a new man is to preach to-day. He's a Mr. -Calhoun, from Marietta, a pretty good talker, I've heard." - -"No, I didn't know it," said Ann, as she let the hemp rope slowly glide -through her fingers, till, with a soft sound, the pail struck the dark -surface of the water forty feet below. "How am I to hear such things? -Through the whole week, unless you happen along, I only have a pack of -negroes about me, and they have their own meetings and shindigs to go -to." - -Mrs. Waycroft put her hand on the smooth, wooden windlass and peered -down into the well. "This is a better place, Ann, to keep milk and -butter cool than a spring-house, if you can just make folks careful -about letting the bucket down. I got my well filled with milk from a -busted jug once, when one of the hands, in a big hurry, pushed the -bucket in and let it fall to the water." - -"Nobody draws water here but me," said Ann. She had fixed her friend -with a steady, penetrating stare. She was silent for a moment, then she -said, abruptly: "You've got something else to say besides that about the -new preacher; I have got so I read you like a book. I watched you coming -along the road. I could see you over the roof of the house when you was -high up in the edge of the timber, and I knew by your step you had -something unusual on your mind. Besides, you know good and well that I'd -never darken the door of that house again, not if forty new preachers -held forth there. No, you didn't come all the way here so early for -that." - -The other woman smiled sheepishly under her gingham bonnet. - -"I'm not going to meeting myself," she said, "and I reckon I was just -talking to hear myself run on. I'm that away, you know." - -"You might learn not to beat the Old Nick around a stump with a woman -like me," said Ann, firmly. "You know I go straight at a thing. I've -found that it pays in business and everything else." - -"Well, then, I've come to tell you that I'm going over to Gilmer -to-morrow to see my brother and his wife." - -"Ah, you say you are!" Ann showed surprise against her will. "Gilmer?" - -"Yes, you see, Ann, they've been after me for a long time, writing -letters and sending word, so now that my crop is laid by I've not really -got a good excuse to delay; seems like everything tends to pull me that -way whether or no, for Pete McQuill is going over in the morning with an -empty wagon, and, as he's coming back Thursday, why, it will just suit. -I wouldn't want to stay longer than that." - -The two women stood staring at each other in silence for a moment, then -Ann shrugged her powerful shoulders and averted her eyes. - -"That wasn't _all_ you come to say," she said, almost tremulously. - -"No, it wasn't, Ann; I admit it wasn't _all_--not quite all." - -There was another silence. Ann fastened the end of the rope to a strong -nail driven in the wood-work about the well with firm, steady fingers, -then she sighed deeply. - -"You see, Ann," Mrs. Waycroft gathered courage to say, "your husband and -Nettie live about half a mile or three-quarters from brother's, and I -didn't know but what you--I didn't know but what I might accidentally -run across them." - -Ann's face was hard as stone. Her eyes, resting on the far-off blue -mountains and foot-hills, flashed like spiritual fires. It was at such -moments that the weaker woman feared her, and Mrs. Waycroft's glance was -almost apologetic. However, Ann spoke first. - -"You may as well tell me, Mary Waycroft," she faltered, "exactly what -you had in mind. I know you are a friend. You are a friend if there ever -was one to a friendless woman. What was you thinking about? Don't be -afraid to tell me. You could not hurt my feelings to save your life." - -"Well, then, I will be plain, Ann," returned the widow. "I have queer -thoughts about you sometimes, and last night I laid awake longer than -usual and got to thinking about the vast and good blessings I have had -in my children, and from that I got to thinking about you and the only -baby you ever had." - -"Huh! you needn't bother about _that_," said Ann, her lips quivering. "I -reckon I don't need sympathy in that direction." - -"But I _did_ bother; I couldn't help it, Ann; for, you see, it seems to -me that a misunderstanding is up between you and Nettie, anyway. She's a -grown girl now, and I reckon she can hardly remember you; but I have -heard, Ann, that she's never had the things a girl of her age naturally -craves. She's got her beaus over there, too, so folks tell me, and wants -to appear well; but Joe Boyd never was able to give her anything she -needs. You see, Ann, I just sorter put myself in your place, as I laid -there thinking, and it struck me that if I had as much substance as you -have, and was as free to give to the needy as you are, that, even if the -law _had_ turned my child over to another to provide for, that I'd love -powerful to do more for it than he was able, showing to the girl, and -everybody else, that the court didn't know what it was about. And, Ann, -in that way I'd feel that I was doing my duty in spite of laws or narrow -public opinion." - -Ann Boyd's features were working, a soft flush had come into her tanned -cheeks, her hard mouth had become more flexible. - -"I've thought of that ten thousand times," she said, huskily, "but I -have never seen the time I could quite come down to it. Mary, it's a -sort of pride that I never can overcome. I feel peculiar about -Net--about the girl, anyway. It seems to me like she died away back -there in her baby-clothes, with her playthings--her big rag-doll and tin -kitchen--and that I almost hate the strange, grown-up person she's -become away off from me. As God is my Judge, Mary Waycroft, I believe I -could meet her face to face and not feel--feel like she was any near kin -of mine, I can't see no reason in this way of feeling. I know she had -nothing to do with what took place, but she represents Joe Boyd's part -of the thing, and she's lost her place in my heart. If she could have -grown up here with me it would have been different, but--" Ann went no -further. She stood looking over the landscape, her hand clutching her -strong chin. There was an awkward silence. Some of Ann's chickens came -up to her very skirt, chirping and springing open-mouthed to her kindly -hand for food. She gently and absent-mindedly waved her apron up and -down and drove them away. - -"I understand all that," said Mrs. Waycroft; "but I believe you feel -that way just because you've got in the habit of it. I really believe -you ought to let me"--the speaker caught her breath--"ought to just let -me tell Nettie, when I see her, about what I know you to be at heart, -away down under what the outside world thinks. And you ought to let me -say that if her young heart yearns for anything her pa can't afford to -buy, that I know you'd be glad, out of your bounty, to give it to her. I -really believe it would open the girl's eyes and heart to you. I believe -she'd not only accept your aid, but she'd be plumb happy over it, as any -other girl in the same fix would be." - -"Do you think that, Mary? Do you think she'd take anything--a single -thing from my hands?" - -"I do, Ann, as the Lord is my Creator, I do; any natural girl would be -only too glad. Young women hungering for nice things to put on along -with other girls ain't as particular as some hide-bound old people. Then -I'll bet she didn't know what it was all about, anyway." - -There was a flush in Ann's strong neck and face to the very roots of her -hair. She leaned against the windlass and folded her bare arms. "Between -me and you, as intimate friends, Mary Waycroft, I'd rather actually load -that girl down with things to have and wear than to have anything on the -face of this earth. I'd get on the train myself and go clean to Atlanta -and lay myself out. What she had to wear would be the talk of the -country for miles around. I'd do it to give the lie to the court that -said she'd be in better hands than in mine when she went away with Joe -Boyd. Oh, I'd do it fast enough, but there's no way. She wouldn't -propose it, nor I wouldn't for my life. I wouldn't run the risk of being -refused; that would actually humble me to the dust. No, I couldn't risk -that." - -"I believe, Ann, that I could do it for you in such a way that----" - -"No, nobody could do it; it isn't to be done!" - -"I started to say, Ann, that I believed I could kind o' hint around and -find out how the land lies without using your name at all." - -Ann Boyd held her breath; her face became fixed in suspense. She leaned -forward, her great eyes staring eagerly at her neighbor. - -"Do you think you could do that?" she asked, finally, after a lengthy -pause. "Do you think you could do it without letting either of them know -I was--was willing?" - -"Yes, I believe I could, and you may let it rest right here. You needn't -either consent or refuse, Ann, but I'll be back here about twelve -o'clock Thursday, and I'll tell you what takes place." - -"I'll leave the whole thing in your hands," said Ann, and she moved -towards the rear door of her house. "Now"--and her tone was more joyful -than it had been for years--"come in and sit down." - -"No, I can't; I must hurry on back home," said the visitor. "I must get -ready to go; Pete wants to make an early start." - -"You know you'll have plenty of time all this evening to stuff things in -that carpet-bag of yours." Ann laughed, and her friend remarked that it -was the first smile and joke she had heard from Ann Boyd since their -girlhood together. - -"Well, I will go in, then," said Mrs. Waycroft. "I love to see you the -way you are now, Ann. It does my heart good." - -But the mood was gone. Ann was serious again. They sat in the -sitting-room chatting till the people who had been to meeting began to -return homeward along the dusty road. Among them, in Sam Hemingway's -spring wagon, with its wabbling wheels and ragged oil-cloth top, were -Jane and her daughter Virginia, neither of whom looked towards the -cottage as they passed. - -"I see Virginia's got a new hat," commented Mrs. Waycroft. "Her mother -raked and scraped to get it; her credit's none too good. I hear she's in -debt up to her eyes. Every stick of timber and animal down to her litter -of pigs--even the farm tools--is under mortgage to money-lenders that -won't stand no foolishness when pay-day comes. I saw two of 'em, myself, -looking over her crop the other day and shaking their heads at the sight -of the puny corn and cotton this dry spell. But she'd have the hat for -Virginia if it took the roof from over her head. Her very soul's bound -up in that girl. Looks like she thinks Virginia's better clay than -common folks. They say she won't let her go with the Halcomb girls -because their aunt had that talk about her." - -"She's no better nor no worse, I reckon," said Ann, "than the general -run of girls." - -"There goes Langdon Chester on his prancing horse," said Mrs. Waycroft. -"Oh, my! that _was_ a bow! He took off his hat to Virginia and bent -clean down to his horse's mane. If she'd been a queen he couldn't have -been more gallant. For all the world, like his father used to be to high -and low. I'll bet that tickled Jane. I can see her rear herself back, -even from here. I wonder if she's fool enough to think, rascal as he is, -that Langdon Chester would want to marry a girl like Virginia just for -her good looks." - -"No, he'll never marry her," Ann said, positively, and her face was -hard, her eyes set in a queer stare at her neighbor. "He isn't the -marrying sort. If he ever marries, he'll do it to feather his nest." - -The visitor rose to go, and Ann walked with her out to the gate. Mrs. -Waycroft was wondering if she would, of her own accord, bring up the -subject of their recent talk, but she did not. With her hand on the -gate, she said, however, in a non-committal tone: - -"When did you say you'd be back?" - -"Thursday, at twelve o'clock, or thereabouts," was the ready reply. - -"Well, take good care of yourself," said Ann. "That will be a long, hot -ride over a rough road there and back." - -Going into her kitchen, Ann, with her roughly shod foot, kicked some -live embers on the hearth under the pot and kettle containing her -dinner, bending to examine the boiling string-beans and hunch of salt -pork. - -"I don't feel a bit like eating," she mused, "but I reckon my appetite -will come after I calm down. Let's see now. I've got two whole days to -wait before she gets back, and then the Lord above only knows what the -news will be. Seems to me sorter like I'm on trial again. Nettie was too -young to appear for or against me before, but now she's on the stand. -Yes, she's the judge, jury, and all the rest put together. I almost wish -I hadn't let Mary Waycroft see I was willing. It may make me look like a -weak, begging fool, and that's something I've avoided all these years. -But the game is worth the risk, humiliating as it may turn out. To be -able to do something for my own flesh and blood would give me the first -joy I've had in many a year. Lord, Lord, maybe she will consent, and -then I'll get some good out of all the means I've been piling up. Homely -as they say she is, I'd like to fairly load her down till her finery -would be the talk of the county, and shiftless Joe Boyd 'ud blush to see -her rustle out in public. Maybe--I say _maybe_--nobody really knows what -a woman will do--but maybe she'll just up and declare to him that she's -coming back to me, where other things will match her outfit. Come back! -how odd!--come back here where she used to toddle about and play with -her tricks and toys, on the floor and in the yard. That would be a -glorious vindication, and then--I don't know, but maybe I'd learn to -love her. I'm sure I'd feel grateful for it--even--even if it was my -money and nothing else that brought her to me." - - - - -X - - -To Ann Boyd the period between Mrs. Waycroft's departure and return was -long and fraught with conflicting emotions. Strange, half-defined new -hopes fluttered into existence like young birds in air that was too -chill, and this state of mind was succeeded by qualms of doubt and fear -not unlike the misgivings which had preceded the child's birth; for it -had been during that time of detachment from her little world that Ann's -life secret had assumed its gravest and most threatening aspect. And if -she had not loved the child quite as much after it came as might have -seemed natural, she sometimes ascribed the shortcoming to that morbid -period which had been filled with lurking shadows and constantly -whispered threats rather than the assurances of a blessed maternity. - -Yes, the lone woman reflected, her kind neighbor had taken a reasonable -view of the situation. And she tried valiantly to hold this pacifying -thought over herself as she sat at her rattling and pounding loom, or in -her walks of daily inspection over her fields and to her storage-houses, -where her negro hands were at work. Yes, Nettie would naturally crave -the benefits she could confer, and, to still darker promptings, Ann told -herself, time after time, that, being plain-looking, the girl would all -the more readily reach out for embellishments which would ameliorate -that defect. Yes, it was not unlikely that she would want the things -offered too much to heed the malicious and jealous advice of a shiftless -father who thought only of his own pride and comfort. And while Ann was -on this rack of disquietude over the outcome of Mrs. Waycroft's visit, -there was in her heart a new and almost unusual absence of active hatred -for the neighbors who had offended her. Old Abe Longley came by the -second day after Mrs. Waycroft's departure. He was filled with the -augmented venom of their last contact. His eyes flashed and the yellow -tobacco-juice escaped from his mouth and trickled down his quivering -chin as he informed her that he had secured from a good, law-abiding -Christian woman the use of all the pasture-land he needed, and that she -could keep hers for the devils' imps to play pranks on at night to her -order. For just one instant her blood boiled, and then the thought of -Mrs. Waycroft and her grave and spiritual mission cooled her from head -to foot. She stared at the old man blankly for an instant, and then, -without a word, turned into her house, leaving him astounded and -considerably taken aback. That same day from her doorway she saw old -Mrs. Bruce, Luke King's mother, slowly shambling along the road, and she -went out and leaned on her gate till Mrs. Bruce was near, then she said, -"Mrs. Bruce, I've got something to tell you." - -The pedestrian paused and then turned in her course and came closer. - -"You've heard from my boy?" she said, eagerly. - -"No, not since I saw you that day," said Ann. "But he's all right, Mrs. -Bruce, as I told you, and prospering. I didn't come out to speak of him. -I've decided to drop that law-suit against Gus Willard. He can keep his -pond where it is and run his mill on." - -"Oh, you don't mean it, surely you don't mean it, Ann!" the old woman -cried. "Why, Gus was just back from Darley last night and said your -lawyers said thar was to be no hitch in the proceedings; but, of course, -if _you_ say so, why--" - -"Well, I _do_ say so," said Ann, in a tone which sounded strange and -compromising even to herself. "I _do_ say so; I don't want your husband -to lose his job. Luke wouldn't like for you to suffer, either, Mrs. -Bruce." - -"Then I'll go at once and tell Willard," said the older woman. "He'll be -powerful glad, Ann, and maybe he will think as I do, an' as Luke always -contended against everybody, that you had a lots o' good away down -inside of you." - -"Tell him what you want to," Ann answered, and she returned to her -house. - -On the morning she was expecting Mrs. Waycroft to return, Ann rose even -before daybreak, lighting an abundant supply of pine kindling-wood to -drive away the moist darkness, and bustling about the house to kill -time. It was the greatest crisis of her rugged life; not even the day -she was wedded to Joe Boyd could equal it in impending gravity. She was -on trial for her life; the jury had been in retirement two days and -nights carefully weighing the evidence for and against the probability -of a simple, untutored country girl's acceptance of certain luxuries -dear to a woman's heart, and would shortly render a verdict. - -"She will," Ann said once, as she put her ground coffee into the tin pot -to boil on the coals--"she will if she's like the ordinary girl; she -won't if she's as stubborn as Joe or as proud as I am. But if she -does--oh! if she does, won't I love to pick out the things! She shall -have the best in the land, and she can wear them and keep them in the -log-cabin her father's giving her till she will be willing to come here -to this comfortable house and take the best room for herself. I don't -know that I'd ever feel natural with a strange young woman about, but -I'd go through it. If she didn't want to stay all the time, I'd sell -factory stock or town lots and give her the means to travel on. She -could go out and see the world and improve like Luke King's done. I'd -send her to school if she has the turn and isn't past the age. It would -be a great vindication for me. Folks could say her shiftless father took -her off when she was too young to decide for herself, but when she got -old enough to know black from white, and right from wrong, she obeyed -her heart's promptings. But what am I thinking about, when right at this -minute she may--?" Ann shrugged her shoulders as she turned from the -cheerful fire and looked out on her fields enfolded in the misty robe of -early morning. Above the dun mountain in the east the sky was growing -yellow. Ann suddenly grew despondent and heaved a deep sigh. - -"Even if she _did_ come here in the end, and I tried to do all I could," -she mused, "Jane Hemingway would begin on her and make it unpleasant. -She'd manage to keep all civilization away from the girl, and nobody -couldn't stand that. No, I reckon the jig's up with me. I'm only -floundering in a frying-pan that will cook me to a cinder in the end. -This life's given me the power of making money, but it's yellow dross, -and I hate it. It isn't the means to any end for me -unless--unless--unless my dau--unless she _does_ take Mrs. Waycroft's -offer. Yes, she may--the girl actually may! And in that case she and I -could run away from Jane Hemingway--clean off to some new place." - -Ann turned back to the fireplace and filled her big delft cup to the -brim with strong coffee, and, blowing upon it to cool it, she gulped it -down. - -"Let's see"--her musings ran on apace--"milching the three cows and -feeding the cattle and horses and pigs and chickens will take an hour. I -could stretch it out to that by mixing the feed-stuff for to-morrow. -Then I could go to the loom and weave up all my yarn; that would be -another hour. Then I might walk down to the sugar-mill and see if they -are getting it fixed for use when the sorgum's ripe, but all that -wouldn't throw it later than ten o'clock at latest, and there would -still be two hours. Pete McQuill is easy on horses; he'll drive slow--a -regular snail's pace; it will be twelve when he gets to the store, and -then the fool may stop to buy something before he brings her on." - -The old-fashioned clock on the mantel-piece indicated that it was -half-past eleven when Ann had done everything about the house and farm -she could think of laying her hands to, and she was about to sit down in -the shade of an apple-tree in the yard when she suddenly drew herself up -under the inspiration of an idea. Why not start down the road to meet -the wagon? No, that would not do. Even to such a close friend as Mrs. -Waycroft she could not make such an obvious confession of the impatience -which was devouring her. But, and she put the after-thought into action, -she would go to the farthest corner of her own land, where her premises -touched the main road, and that was fully half a mile. She walked to -that point across her own fields rather than run the chance of meeting -any one on the road, though the way over ploughed ground, bog, fen, and -through riotous growth of thistle and clinging briers was anything but -an easy one. Reaching the point to which she had directed her steps, and -taking a hasty survey of the road leading gradually up the mountain, she -leaned despondently on her rail-fence. - -"She won't, she won't--the girl won't!" she sighed. "I feel down in my -heart of hearts that she won't. Joe Boyd won't let her; he'd see how -ridiculous it would make him appear, and he'd die rather than give in, -and yet Mary Waycroft knows something about human nature, and she -said--Mary said--" - -Far up the road there was a rumble of wheels. Pete McQuill would let his -horses go rapidly down-hill, and that, perhaps, was his wagon. It was. -She recognized the gaunt, underfed white-and-bay pair through the trees -on the mountain-side. Then Ann became all activity. She discovered that -one of the rails of the panel of fence near by had quite rotted away, -leaving an opening wide enough to admit of the passage of a small pig. -To repair such a break she usually took a sound rail from some portion -of the fence that was high enough to spare it, and this she now did, and -was diligently at work when the wagon finally reached her. She did not -look up, although she plainly heard Mrs. Waycroft's voice as she asked -McQuill to stop. - -"You might as well let me out here," the widow said. "I'll walk back -with Mrs. Boyd." - -The wagon was lumbering on its way when Ann turned her set face, down -which drops of perspiration were rolling, towards her approaching -friend. - -"You caught me hard at it." She tried to smile casually. "Do you know -patching fence is the toughest work on a farm--harder 'n splitting -rails, that men complain so much about." - -"It's a man's work, Ann, and a big, strong one's, too. You ought never -to tax your strength like that. You don't mean to tell me you lifted -that stack of rails to put in the new one." - -"Yes, but what's that?" Ann smiled. "I shouldered a -hundred-and-fifty-pound sack of salt the other day, and it was as hard -as a block of stone. I'm used to anything. But I'm through now. Let's -walk on home and have a bite to eat." - -"You don't seem to care much whether--" Mrs. Waycroft paused and started -again. "You haven't forgotten what I said I'd try to find out over -there, have you, Ann?" - -"Me? Oh no, but I reckon I'm about pegged out with all I've done this -morning. Don't I look tired?" - -"You don't looked tired--you look worried, Ann. I know you; you needn't -try to hide your feelings from me. We are both women. When you are -suffering the most you beat about the bush more than any other time. -That's why this is going to be so hard for me." - -"It's going to be _hard_ for you, then?" Ann's impulsive voice sounded -hollow; her face had suddenly grown pale. "I know what _that_ means. It -means that Joe set his foot down against me and--" - -"I wish I could tell you all, every blessed word, Ann, but you've -already had too much trouble in this life, and I feel like I was such a -big, ignorant fool to get this thing up and make such a mess of it." - -Ann climbed over the fence and stood in the road beside her companion. -Her face was twisted awry by some force bound up within her. She laid -her big, toil-worn hand on Mrs. Waycroft's shoulder. - -"Now, looky here," she said, harshly. "I'm going to hear every word and -know everything that took place. You must not leave out one single item. -I've got the right to know it all, and I will. Now, you start in." - -"I hardly know how, Ann," the other woman faltered. "I didn't know folks -in this world could have so little human pity or forgiveness." - -"You go ahead, do you hear me? You blaze away. I can stand under fire. -I'm no kitten. Go ahead, I tell you." - -"Well, Ann, I met Joe and Nettie day before yesterday at bush-arbor -meeting. Joe was there, and looked slouchier and more downhearted than -he ever did in his life, and Nettie was there with the young man she is -about to marry--a tall, serious-faced, parson-like young man, a Mr. -Lawson. Well, after meeting, while he was off feeding his horse, I made -a break and got the girl by herself. Well, Ann, from all I could gather, -she--well, she didn't look at it favorably." - -"Stop!" Ann cried, peremptorily, "I don't want any shirking. I want to -hear actually every word she said. This thing may never come up between -you and me again while the sun shines, and I want the truth. You are not -toting fair. I want the facts--_every word the girl said_, every look, -every bat of the eye, every sneer. I'm prepared. You talk -plain--_plain_, I tell you!" - -"I see I'll _have_ to," sighed Mrs. Waycroft, her eyes averted from the -awful stare in Ann's eyes. "The truth is, Ann, Nettie's been thinking -all her life, till just about a month ago, that you were--dead. Joe Boyd -told her you was dead and buried, and got all the neighbors to keep the -truth from her. It leaked out when she got engaged to young Lawson; his -folks, Ann, they are as hide-bound and narrow as the worst hard-shell -Baptists here--his folks raised objections and tried to break it off." - -"On account of me?" said Ann, under her breath. - -"Well, they tried to break it off," evaded Mrs. Waycroft, "and, in all -the trouble over it, Nettie found out the facts--Joe finally told her. -They say, Ann, that it brought her down to a sick-bed. She's a queer -sort of selfish girl, that had always held her head too high, and the -discovery went hard with her. Then, Ann, the meanest thing that was ever -done by a human being took place. Jane Hemingway was over there visiting -a preacher's wife she used to know, and she set in circulation the -blackest lie that was ever afloat. Ann, she told over there that all -your means--all the land and money you have made by hard toil, big -brain, and saving--come to you underhand." - -"Underhand?" Ann exclaimed. "What did she mean by that, pray? What could -the old she-cat mean by--" - -Mrs. Waycroft drew her sun-bonnet down over her eyes. She took a deep -breath. "Ann, she's a _terrible_ woman. I used to think maybe you went -too far in hating her so much, but I don't blame you now one bit. On the -way over the mountain, I looked all the circumstances over, and actually -made up my mind that you'd almost be justified in killing her, law or no -law. Ann, she circulated a report over there that all you own in the -world was given to you by Colonel Chester." - -"Ugh! Oh, my God!" Ann groaned like a strong man in sudden pain; and -then, with her face hidden by her poke-bonnet, she trudged heavily along -by her companion in total silence. - -"I've told you the worst now," Mrs. Waycroft said. "Nettie had heard all -that, and so had Lawson. His folks finally agreed to raise no objections -to the match if she'd never mention your name. Naturally, when I told -her about what I thought _maybe_--you understand, _maybe_--you'd be -willing to do she was actually scared. She cried pitifully, and begged -me never to allow you to bother her. She said--I told you she looked -like a selfish creature--that if the Lawsons were to find out that you'd -been sending her messages it might spoil all. I told her it was all a -lie of Jane Hemingway's making out of whole cloth, but the silly girl -wouldn't listen. I thought she was going to have a spasm." - -They had reached the gate, and, with a firm, steady hand, Ann opened it -and held it ajar for her guest to enter before her. - -They trudged along the gravel walk, bordered with uneven stones, to the -porch and went in. On entering the house Ann always took off her bonnet. -She seemed to forget its existence now. - -"Yes, I hate that woman," Mrs. Waycroft heard her mutter, "and if the -Lord doesn't furnish me with some way of getting even I'll die a -miserable death. I could willingly see her writhe on a bed of live -coals. No hell could be hot enough for that woman." Ann paused suddenly -at the door, and gazed across the green expanse towards Jane's house. -Mrs. Waycroft heard her utter a sudden, harsh laugh. "And I think I see -her punishment on the way. I see it--I see it!" - -"What is it you say you see?" the visitor asked, curiously. - -"Oh, nothing!" Ann said, and she sat down heavily in her chair and -tightly locked her calloused hands in front of her. - - - - -XI - - -The continuous dry weather during the month of June had caused many -springs and a few wells to become dry, and the women of that section -found it difficult to get sufficient soft water for the washing of -clothes. Mrs. Hemingway, whose own well was fed from a vein of limestone -water too hard to be of much use in that way, remembered a certain -rock-bottom pool in a shaded nook at the foot of the rugged hill back of -her house where at all times of the year a quantity of soft, clear water -was to be found; so thither, with a great bundle of household linen tied -up in a sheet, she went one morning shortly after breakfast. - -Her secret ailment had not seemed to improve under the constant -application of the peddler's medicine, and, as her doubts of ultimate -recovery increased correspondingly, her strength seemed to wane. Hence -she paused many times on the way to the pool to rest. Finally arriving -at the spot and lowering her burden, she met a great and irritating -surprise, for, bending over a tub at the edge of the pool, and quite in -command of the only desirable space for the placing of tubs and the -sunning of articles, was Ann Boyd. Their eyes met in a stare of -indecision like that of two wild animals meeting in a forest, and there -was a moment's preliminary silence. It was broken by an angry outburst -from the new-comer. "Huh!" she grunted, "you here?" - -It was quickly echoed by a satisfied laugh from the depths of Ann's -sun-bonnet. "You bet, old lady, I've beat you to the tank. You've toted -your load here for nothing. You might go down-stream a few miles and -find a hole good enough for your few dirty rags. I've used about all -this up. It's getting too muddy to do any good, but I've got about all I -want." - -"This land isn't yours," Jane Hemingway asserted, almost frothing at the -mouth. "It belongs to Jim Sansom." - -"Jim may hold deeds to it," Ann laughed again, "but he's too poor to -fence it in. I reckon it's public property, or you wouldn't have lugged -that dirty load all the way through the broiling sun on that weak back -of yours." - -Jane Hemingway stood panting over her big snowball. She had nothing to -say. She could not find a use for her tongue. Through her long siege of -underhand warfare against the woman at the tub she had wisely avoided a -direct clash with Ann's eye, tongue, or muscle. She was more afraid of -those things to-day than she had ever been. A chill of strange terror -had gone through her, too, at the mention of her weak back. That the -peddler had told Ann about the cancer she now felt was more likely than -ever. Without a word, Jane bent to lift her bundle, but her enemy, -dashing the water from her big, crinkled hands, had advanced towards -her. - -"You just wait a minute," Ann said, sharply, her great eyes flashing, -her hands resting on her stocky hips. "I've got something to say to you, -and I'm glad to get this chance. What I've got to hurl in your -death-marked face, Jane Hemingway, isn't for other ears. It's for your -own rotting soul. Now, you listen!" - -Jane Hemingway gasped. "Death-marked face," the root of her paralyzed -tongue seemed to articulate to the wolf-pack of fears within her. Her -thin legs began to shake, and, to disguise the weakness from her -antagonist's lynx eyes, she sank down upon her bundle. It yielded even -to her slight weight, and her sharp knees rose to a level with her chin. - -"I don't want to talk to you," she managed to say, almost in a tone of -appeal. - -"Oh, I know that, you trifling hussy, but I do to you, Jane Hemingway. -I'm going to tell you what you are. You are worse than a thief--than a -negro thief that steals corn from a crib at night, or meat from a -smoke-house. You are a low-lived, plotting liar. For years you have -railed out against my character. I was a bad woman because I admitted my -one fault of girlhood, but you married a man and went to bed with him -that you didn't love a speck. You did that to try to hide a real love -for another man who was another woman's legal husband. Are you -listening?--I say, are you _listening_?" - -"Yes, I'm listening," faltered Jane Hemingway, her face hidden under her -bonnet. - -"Well, you'd better. When I had my first great trouble, God is witness -to the fact that I thought I loved the young scamp who brought it about. -I _thought_ I loved him, anyway. That's all the excuse I had for not -listening to advice of older people. I wasn't old enough to know right -from wrong, and, like lots of other young girls, I was bull-headed. My -mother never was strict with me, and nobody else was interested in me -enough to learn me self-protection. I've since then been through college -in that line, and such low, snaky agents of hell as you are were my -professors. No wonder you have hounded me all these years. You loved Joe -Boyd with all the soul you had away back there, and you happened to be -the sort that couldn't stand refusal. So when you met him that day on -the road, and he told you he was on the way to ask me the twentieth time -to be his wife, you followed him a mile and fell on his neck and -threatened suicide, and begged and cried and screamed so that the -wheat-cutting gang at Judmore's wondered if somebody's house was afire. -But he told you a few things about what he thought of me, and they have -rankled with you through your honeymoon with an unloved husband, through -your period of childbirth, and now as you lean over your grave. Bad -woman that you are, you married a man you had no respect for to hide -your disappointment in another direction. You are decent in name only. -Thank God, my own conscience is clear. I've been wronged all my life -more than I ever wronged beast or man. I had trouble; but I did no wrong -according to my dim lights. But you--you with one man's baby on your -breast went on hounding the wife of another who had won what you -couldn't get. You, I reckon, love Joe Boyd to this day, and will the -rest of your life. I reckon you thought when he left me that he would -marry you, but no man cares for a woman that cries after him. You even -went over there to Gilmer a month or so ago to try to attract his -attention with new finery bought on a credit, and you even made up to -the daughter that was stolen from me, but I have it from good authority -that neither one of them wanted to have anything to do with you." - -"There's not a bit of truth in that," said the weaker woman, in feeble -self-defence. She would have said some of the things she was always -saying to others but for fear that, driven further, the strong woman -might actually resort to violence. No, there was nothing for Jane -Hemingway to do but to listen. - -"Oh, I don't care what you deny," Ann hurled at her. "I know what I'm -talking about." Then Ann's rage led her to say something which, in -calmer mood, she would, for reasons of her own, not have even hinted at. -"Look here, Jane," she went on, bending down and touching the shrinking -shoulder of her enemy, "in all your life you never heard me accused of -making false predictions. When I say a thing, folks know that I know -what I'm talking about and look for it to happen. So now I say, -positively, that I'm going to get even with you. Hell and all its -inmates have been at your back for a score of years, but -God--Providence, the law of nature, or whatever it is that rights -wrong--is bound to prevail, and you are going to face a misfortune--a -certain sort of misfortune--that I know all about. I reckon I'm making a -fool of myself in preparing you for it, but I'm so glad it's coming that -I've got to tell it to somebody. When the grim time comes I want you to -remember that you brought it on yourself." - -Ann ceased speaking and stood all of a quiver before the crouching -creature. Jane Hemingway's blood, at best sluggish of action, turned -cold. With her face hidden by her bonnet, she sat staring at the ground. -All her remaining strength seemed to have left her. She well knew what -Ann meant. The peddler had told her secret--had even revealed more of -the truth than he had to her. Discovering that Ann hated her, he had -gone into grim and minute particulars over her affliction. He had told -Ann the cancer was fatal, that the quack lotion he had sold would only -keep the patient from using a better remedy or resorting to the -surgeon's knife. In any case, her fate was sealed, else Ann would not be -so positive about it. - -"I see I hit you all right that pop, madam!" Ann chuckled. "Well, you -will wait the day in fear and trembling that is to be my sunrise of joy. -Now, pick up your duds and go home. I want you out of my sight." - -Like a subject under hypnotic suggestion, Jane Hemingway, afraid of Ann, -and yet more afraid of impending fate, rose to her feet. Ann had turned -back to her tub and bent over it. Jane felt a feeble impulse to make -some defiant retort, but could not rouse her bound tongue to action. In -her helplessness and fear she hated her enemy more than ever before, but -could find no adequate way of showing it. The sun had risen higher and -its rays beat fiercely down on her thin back, as she managed to shoulder -her bundle and move homeward. - - - - -XII - - -She had scarcely turned the bend in the path, and was barely out of -Ann's view, when she had to lower her bundle and rest. Seated on a -moss-grown stone near the dry bed of the stream which had fed Ann's pool -before the drought, she found herself taking the most morbid view of her -condition. The delicate roots of the livid growth on her breast seemed -to be insidiously burrowing more deeply towards her heart than ever -before. Ah, what a fool she had been at such a crisis to listen to an -idle tramp, who had not only given her a stone when she had paid for -bread, but had revealed her secret to the one person she had wished to -keep it from! But she essayed to convince herself that all hope was not -gone, and the very warning Ann had angrily uttered might be turned to -advantage. She would now be open about her trouble, since Ann knew it, -anyway, and perhaps medical skill might help her, even yet, to triumph. -Under that faint inspiration she shouldered her burden and crept slowly -homeward. - -Reaching her cottage, she dropped the ball of clothes at the door and -went into the sitting-room, where Virginia sat complacently sewing at a -window on the shaded side of the house. The girl had only a few moments -before washed her long, luxuriant hair, and it hung loose and beautiful -in the warm air. She was merrily singing a song, and hardly looked at -her mother as she paused near her. - -"Hush, for God's sake, hush!" Jane groaned. "Don't you see I'm unable to -stand?" - -In sheer astonishment Virginia turned her head and noticed her mother's -pale, long-drawn face. "What is it, mother, are you sick?" - -By way of reply the old woman sank into one of the hide-bottomed chairs -near the open doorway and groaned again. Quickly rising, and full of -grave concern, the girl advanced to her. Standing over the bowed form, -she looked out through the doorway and saw the bundle of clothes. - -"You don't mean to tell me, mother, that you have carried that load all -about looking for water to wash in!" she exclaimed, aghast. - -"Yes, I took them to the rock-pool and back; but that ain't it," came -from between Jane's scrawny hands, which were now spread over her face. -"I am strong enough bodily, still, but I met Ann Boyd down there. She -had all the place there was, and had muddied up the water. Virginia, she -knows about that spot on my breast that the medicine peddler said was a -cancer. She wormed it out of him. He told her more than he did me. He -told her it would soon drag me to the grave. It's a great deal worse -than it was before I began to rub his stuff on it. He's a quack. I was a -fool not to go to a regular doctor right at the start." - -"You think, then, that it really _is_ a cancer?" gasped the girl, and -she turned pale. - -"Yes, I have no doubt of it now, from the way it looks and from the way -that woman gloated over me. She declared she knew all about it, and that -nothing on earth had made her so glad. I want to see Dr. Evans. I wish -you'd run over to his house and have him come." - -"But he's not a regular doctor," protested the girl, mildly. "They say -he is not allowed to practise, and that he only uses remedies of his own -making. The physicians at Darley were talking of having him arrested not -long ago." - -"Oh, I know all that," Jane said, petulantly, "but that's because he -cured one or two after they had been given up by licensed doctors. He -knows a lots, and he will tell me, anyway, whether I've got a cancer or -not. He knows what they are. He told Mrs. Hiram Snodgrass what her tumor -was, and under his advice she went to Atlanta and had it cut out, and -saved her life when two doctors was telling her it was nothing but a -blood eruption that would pass off. You know he is good-hearted." - -With a troubled nod, Virginia admitted that this was true. Her sweet -mouth was drawn down in pained concern, a stare of horror lay in her -big, gentle eyes. "I'll go bring him," she promised. "I saw him pass -with a bag of meal from the mill just now." - -"Well, tell him not to say anything about it," Jane cautioned her. -"Evidently Ann Boyd has not talked about it much, and I don't want it to -be all over the neighborhood. I despise pity. I'm not used to it. If it -gets out, the tongues of these busy-bodies would run me stark crazy. -They would roost here like a swarm of buzzards over a dying horse." - -Virginia returned in about half an hour, accompanied by a gray-headed -and full-whiskered man of about seventy years of age, who had any other -than the look of even a country doctor. He wore no coat, and his rough -shirt was without button from his hairy neck to the waistband of his -patched and baggy trousers. His fat hands were too much calloused by -labor in the field and forest, and by digging for roots and herbs, to -have felt the pulse of anything more delicate than an ox, and under less -grave circumstances his assumed air of the regular visiting physician -would have had its comic side. - -"Virginia tells me you are a little upset to-day," he said, easily, -after he had gone to the water-bucket and taken a long, slow drink from -the gourd. He sat down in a chair near the widow, and laid his straw hat -upon the floor, from which it was promptly removed by Virginia to one of -the beds. "Let me take a look at your tongue." - -"I'll do no such of a thing," retorted Jane, most flatly. "There is -nothing wrong with my stomach. I am afraid I've got a cancer on my -breast, and I want to make sure." - -"You don't say!" Evans exclaimed. "Well, it wouldn't surprise me. I see -'em mighty often these days. Well, you'd better let me look at it. Stand -thar in the door so I can get a good light. I'm wearing my wife's -specks. I don't know whar I laid mine, but I hope I'll get 'em back. I -only paid twenty-five cents for 'em in Darley, and yet three of my -neighbors has taken such a liking to 'em that I've been offered as high -as three dollars for 'em, and they are only steel rims and are sorter -shackly at the hinges at that. Every time Gus Willard wants to write a -letter he sends over for my specks and lays his aside. I reckon he -thinks I'll get tired sendin' back for 'em and get me another pair. Now, -that's right"--Mrs. Hemingway had taken a stand in one of the rear doors -and unbuttoned her dress. Despite her stoicism, she found herself -holding her breath in fear and suspense as to what his opinion would be. -Virginia, pale and with a fainting sensation, sat on the edge of the -nearest bed, her shapely hands tightly clasped in her lap. She saw Dr. -Evans bend close to her mother's breast and touch and press the livid -spot. - -"Do you feel that?" he asked. - -"Yes, and it hurts some when you do that." - -"How long have you had it thar?" he paused in his examination to ask, -peering over the rims of his spectacles. - -"I noticed it first about a year ago, but thought nothing much about -it," she answered. - -"And never showed it to nobody?" he said, reprovingly. - -"I let a peddler, who had stuff to sell, see it awhile back." There was -a touch of shame in Jane's face. "He said his medicine would make it -slough off, but--" - -"Slough nothing! That trifling skunk!" Evans cried. "Why, he's the -biggest fake unhung! He sold that same stuff over the mountain to -bald-headed men to make hair grow. Huh, I say! they talk about handling -_me_ by law, and kicking _me_ out of the country on account of my -knowledge and skill, and let chaps like him scour the country from end -to end for its last cent. What the devil gets into you women? Here -you've let this thing go on sinking its fangs deeper and deeper in your -breast, and only fertilizing it by the treatment he was giving you. Are -you hankering for a change of air? Thar was Mrs. Telworthy, that let her -liver run on till she was as yaller as a pumpkin with jaundice before -she'd come to me. I give 'er two bottles of my purifier, and she could -eat a barbecued ox in a month." - -"What do you think I ought to do about this?" asked Jane; and Virginia, -with strange qualms at heart, thought that her mother had put it that -way to avoid asking if the worst was really to be faced. - -Evans stroked his bushy beard wisely. "Do about it?" he repeated, as he -went back to his chair, leaving the patient to button her dress with -stiff, fumbling fingers. "I mought put you on a course of my blood -purifier and wait developments, and, Sister Hemingway, if I was like the -regular run of doctors, with their own discoveries on the market, I'd do -it in the interest of science, but I'm not going to take the resk on my -shoulders. A man who gives domestic remedies like mine is on safe ground -when he's treating ordinary diseases, but I reckon a medical board would -decide that this was a case for a good, steady knife. Now, I reckon -you'd better get on the train and take a run down to Atlanta and put -yourself under Dr. Putnam, who is noted far and wide as the best cancer -expert in the land." - -"Then--then that's what it is?" faltered Mrs. Hemingway. - -"Oh yes, that's what you've got, all right enough," said Evans, "and the -thing now is to uproot it." - -"How--how much would it be likely to cost?" the widow asked, her -troubled glance on Virginia's horror-stricken face. - -"That depends," mused Evans. "I've sent Putnam a number of cases, and he -would, I think, make you a special widow-rate, being as you and me live -so nigh each other. At a rough guess, I'd say that everything--board and -room and nurse, treatment, medicines, and attention--would set you back -a hundred dollars." - -"But where am I to get that much money?" Jane said, despondently. - -"Well, thar you have me," Evans laughed. "I reckon you know your -resources better than anybody else, but you'll have to rake it up some -way. You ain't ready to die yet. Callihan has a mortgage on your land, -hain't he?" - -"Yes, and on my crop not yet gathered," Jane sighed; "he even included -every old hoe and axe and piece of harness, and the cow and calf, and -every chair and knife and fork and cracked plate in the house." - -"Well," and Evans rose and reached for his hat, "as I say, you'll have -to get up the money; it will be the best investment you could make." - -When he had left, Virginia, horror-stricken, sat staring at her mother, -a terrible fear in her face and eyes. - -"Then it really _is_ a cancer?" she gasped. - -"Yes, I was afraid it was all along," said Jane. "You see, the peddler -said so plainly, and he told Ann Boyd about it. Virginia, she didn't -know I knew how bad it was, for she hinted at some awful end that was to -overtake me, as if it would be news to me. Daughter, I'm going to try my -level best to throw this thing off. I always had a fear of death. My -mother had before me; she was a Christian woman, and was prepared, if -anybody was, and yet she died in agony. She laid in bed and begged for -help with her last breath. But my case is worse than hers, for my one -foe in this life is watching over me like a hawk. Oh, I can't stand it! -You must help me study up some way to raise that money. If it was in -sight, I'd feel better. Doctors can do wonders these days, and I'll go -to that big one if I possibly can." - - - - -XIII - - -One afternoon, about a week later, as Ann Boyd sat in her weaving-room -twisting bunches of carded wool into yarn on her old spinning-wheel, the -whir of which on her busy days could be heard by persons passing along -the road in front of her gate, a shadow fell on her floor, and, looking -up, she saw a tall, handsome young man in the doorway, holding his hat -in one hand, a valise in the other. He said nothing, but only stood -smiling, as if in hearty enjoyment of the surprise he was giving her. - -"Luke King!" she exclaimed. "You, of all people on the face of the -earth!" - -"Yes, Aunt Ann"--he had always addressed her in that way--"here I am, -like a bad coin, always turning up." - -The yellow bunches of wool fell to the floor as she rose up and held out -her hand. - -"You know I'm glad to see you, my boy," she said, "but I wasn't -expecting you; I don't know as I ever looked for you to come back here -again, where you've had such a hard time of it. When you wrote me you -was the chief editor of a paying paper out there, I said to myself that -you'd never care to work here in the mountains, where there is so little -to be made by a brainy man." - -"If I were to tell you the main thing that brought me back you'd -certainly scold me," he laughed; "but I never hid a fault from you, Aunt -Ann. The truth is, good, old-fashioned home-sickness is at the bottom of -it." - -"Homesickness, for _this_?" Ann sneered contemptuously, as she waved her -hand broadly--"homesick for the hard bed you had at your step-father's, -in a pine-pole cabin, with a mud chimney and windows without glass, when -you've been the equal, out there, of the highest and best in the land, -and among folks that could and would appreciate your talents and energy -and were able to pay cash for it at the highest market-price?" - -"You don't understand, Aunt Ann." He flushed sensitively under her stare -of disapproval as he sat down in a chair near her wheel. "Maybe you -never did understand me thoroughly. I always had a big stock of -sentiment that I couldn't entirely kill. Aunt Ann, all my life away has -only made me love these old mountains, hills, and valleys more than -ever, and, finally, when a good opportunity presented itself, as--" - -"Oh, you are just like the rest, after all. I'd hoped to the contrary," -Ann sighed. "But don't think I'm not glad to see you, Luke." Her voice -shook slightly. "God knows I've prayed for a sight of the one face among -all these here in the mountains that seemed to respect me, but there was -another side to the matter. I wanted to feel, Luke, that I had done you -some actual good in the world--that the education I helped you to get -was going to lift you high above the average man. When you wrote about -all your good-luck out there, the big salary, the interest the -stockholders had given you in the paper that bid fair to make a pile of -money, and stood so high in political influence, I was delighted; but, -Luke, if a sentimental longing for these heartless red hills and their -narrow, hide-bound inhabitants has caused you actually to throw up--" - -"Oh, it's really not so bad as that," King hastened to say. "The truth -is--though I really _was_ trying to keep from bragging about my -good-fortune before I'd had a chance to ask after your health--the truth -is, Aunt Ann, it's business that really brings me back, though I confess -it was partly for sentimental reasons that I decided on the change. It's -this way: A company has been formed in Atlanta to run a daily paper on -somewhat similar lines to the one we had in the West, and the promoters -of it, it seems, have been watching my work, and that sort of thing, and -so, only a few days ago, they wrote offering me a good salary to assume -chief charge and management of the new paper. At first I declined, in a -deliberate letter, but they wouldn't have it that way--they telegraphed -me that they would not listen to a refusal, and offered me the same -financial interest as the one I held." - -"Ah, they did, eh?" Ann's eye for business was gleaming. "They offered -you as good as you had?" - -"Better, as it has turned out, Aunt Ann," said King, modestly, "for when -my associates out there read the proposition, they said it was my duty -to myself to accept, and with that they took my stock off my hands. They -paid me ten thousand dollars in cash, Aunt Ann. I've got that much ready -money and a position that is likely to be even better than the one I -had. So, you see, all my home-sickness--" - -"Ten thousand dollars!" Ann cried, her strong face full of -gratification. "Ten thousand dollars for my sturdy mountain-boy! Ah, -that will open the eyes of some of these indolent know-it-all louts who -said the money spent on your education was thrown in the fire. You are -all right, Luke. I'm a judge of human stock as well as cattle and -horses. If you'd been a light fellow you'd have dropped me when you -began to rise out there; but you didn't. Your letters have been about -the only solace I've had here in all my loneliness and strife, and here -you are to see me as soon as you come--that is, I reckon, you haven't -been here many days." - -"I got to Darley at two o'clock to-day," King smiled, affectionately. "I -took the hack to Springtown and left my trunk there, to walk here. I -haven't seen mother yet, Aunt Ann. I had to see you first." - -"You are a good boy, Luke," Ann said, with feeling, as was indicated by -her husky voice and the softening of her features. "So you _are_ going -to see your mother?" - -"Yes, I'm going to see her, Aunt Ann. For several years I have felt -resentment about her marrying as she did, but, do you know, I think -success and good-fortune make one forgiving. Somehow, with all my joy -over my good-luck, I feel like I'd like to shake even lazy old Mark -Bruce by the hand and tell him I am willing to let by-gones be by-gones. -Then, if I could, I'd like to help him and my mother and step-brother -and step-sisters in some material way." - -"Huh! I don't know about that," Ann frowned. "Help given to them sort is -certainly throwed away; besides, what's yours is yours, and if you -started in to distribute help you'll be ridden to death. No, go to see -them if you _have_ to, but don't let them wheedle your justly earned -money out of you. They don't deserve it, Luke." - -"Oh, well, we'll see about it," King laughed, lightly. "You know old -Bruce may kick me out of the house, and if mother stood to him in it -again"--King's eyes were flashing, his lip was drawn tight--"I guess I'd -never go back any more, Aunt Ann." - -"Old Mark would never send you away if he thought you had money," Ann -said, cynically. "If I was you I'd not let them know about that. You -see, you could keep them in the dark easily enough, for I've told them -absolutely nothing except that you were getting along fairly well." - -King smiled. "They never would think I had much to judge by this suit of -clothes," he said. "It is an old knockabout rig I had to splash around -in the mud in while out hunting, and I put it on this morning--well, -just because I did not want to come back among all my poor relatives and -friends dressed up as I have been doing in the city, Aunt Ann," he -laughed, as if making sport of himself. "I've got a silk high-hat as -slick as goose-grease, and a long jimswinger coat, and pants that are -always ironed as sharp as a knife-blade in front. I took your advice and -decided that a good appearance went a long way, but I don't really think -I overdid it." - -"I'm glad you didn't put on style in coming back, anyway," Ann said, -proudly. "It wouldn't have looked well in you; but you did right to -dress like the best where you were, and it had something--a lots, I -imagine--to do with your big success. If you want to go in and win in -any undertaking, don't think failure for one minute, and the trouble is -that shabby clothes are a continual reminder of poverty. Make folks -believe at the outset that you are of the best, and then _be_ the best." - -King was looking down thoughtfully. "There is one trouble," he said, "in -making a good appearance, and that comes from the ideas of some as to -what sort of man or woman is the best. Before I left Seattle, Aunt Ann, -my associates gave me a big dinner at the club--a sort of good-bye -affair to drink to my future, you know--and some of the most -distinguished men in the state were there, men prominent in the business -and political world. And that night, Aunt Ann"--King had flushed -slightly and his voice faltered--"that night a well-meaning man, a sort -of society leader, in his toast to me plainly referred to me as a scion -of the old Southern aristocracy, and he did it in just such a way as to -make it appear to those who knew otherwise that I would be sailing under -false colors if I did not correct the impression. He had made a -beautiful talk about our old colonial homes, our slaves in livery, our -beautiful women, who invariably graced the courts of Europe, and -concluded by saying that it was no wonder I had succeeded where many -other men with fewer hereditary influences to back them had failed." - -"Ah, you _were_ in a fix!" Ann said. "That is, it was awkward for you, -who I know to be almost too sincere for your own good." - -"Well, I couldn't let it pass, Aunt Ann--I simply couldn't let all those -men leave that table under a wrong impression. I hardly know what I said -when I replied, but it seemed to be the right thing, for they all -applauded me. I told him I did not belong to what was generally -understood to be the old aristocracy of the South, but to what I -considered the new. I told them about our log-cabin aristocracy, Aunt -Ann, here in these blue mountains, for which my soul was famished. I -told them of the sturdy, hard-working, half-starved mountaineers and -their scratching, with dull tools, a bare existence out of this rocky -soil. I told them of my bleak and barren boyhood, my heart-burnings at -home, when my mother married again, the nights I'd spent at study in the -light of pine-knots that filled the house with smoke. Then I told them -about the grandest woman God ever brought to life. I told them about -you, Aunt Ann. I gave no names, went into no painful particulars, but I -talked about what you had done for me, and how you've been persecuted -and misunderstood, till I could hardly hold back the tears from my -eyes." - -"Oh, hush, Luke," Ann said, huskily--"hush up!" - -"Well, I may now, but I couldn't that night," said King. "I got started, -and it came out of me like a flood. I said things about you that night -that I've thought for years, but which you never would let me say to -you." - -"Hush, Luke, hush--you are a good boy, but you mustn't--" Ann's voice -broke, and she placed her hand to her eyes. - -"There was a celebrated novelist there," King went on, "and after dinner -he came over to me and held out his hand. He was old and white-haired, -and his face was full of tender, poetic emotion. 'If you ever meet your -benefactress again,' he said, 'tell her I'd give half my life to know -her. If I'd known her I could write a book that would be immortal.'" - -There was a pause. Ann seemed to be trying to crush out some obstruction -to deliberate utterance in her big, throbbing throat. - -"If he knew my life just as it has been," she said, finally--"if he knew -it all--all that I've been through, all I've thought through it all, -from the time I was an innocent, laughing girl 'till now, as an old -woman, I'm fighting a battle of hate with every living soul within miles -of me--if he knew all _that_, he could write a book, and it would be a -big one. But it wouldn't help humanity, Luke. My hate's mine, and the -devil's. It's not for folks born lucky and happy. Some folks seem put on -earth for love. I'm put here for hate and for joy over the misfortune of -my enemies." - -"You know many things, Aunt Ann," King said, softly, "and you are older -than I am, but you can't see the end of it all as clearly as I do." - -"You think not, my boy?" - -"No, Aunt Ann; I have learned that nothing exists on earth except to -produce ultimate good. The vilest crime, indirectly, is productive of -good. I confidently expect to see the day that you will simply rise one -step higher in your remarkable life and learn to love your enemies. Then -you'll be understood by them all as I understand you, for they will then -look into your heart, your _real_ heart, as I've looked into it ever -since you took pity on the friendless, barefoot boy that I was and -lifted me out of my degradation and breathed the breath of hope into my -despondent body. And when that day comes--mark it as my prediction--you -will slay the ill-will of your enemies with a glance from your eye, and -they will fall conquered at your feet." - -"Huh!" Ann muttered, "you say that because you are just looking at the -surface of things. You see, I know a lots that you don't. Things have -gone on here and are still going on that nothing earthly could stop." - -"That's it, Aunt Ann," Luke King said, seriously--"it won't be anything -earthly. It will be _heavenly_, and when the bolt falls you will -acknowledge I am right. Now, I must go. It will be about dark when I get -to my step-father's." - -Ann walked with him to the gate, and as she closed it after him she held -out her hand. It was quivering. "You are a good boy, Luke," she said, -"but you don't know one hundredth part of what they've said and done -since you left. I never wrote you." - -"I don't care what they've done or said out of their shallow heads and -cramped lives," King laughed--"they won't be able to affect your greater -existence. You'll slay it all, Aunt Ann, with forgiveness--yes, and -pity. You'll see the day you'll pity them rather than hate them." - -"I don't believe it, Luke," Ann said, her lips set firmly, and she -turned back into the house. Standing in the doorway, she watched him -trudge along the road, carrying his valise easily in his hand and -swinging it lightly to and fro. - -"What a funny idea!" she mused. "Me forgive Jane Hemingway! The boy -talks that way because he's young and full of dreams, and don't know any -better. If he was going through what I am he'd hate the whole world and -every living thing in it." - -She saw him pause, turn, and put his valise down on the side of the -road. He was coming back, and she went to meet him at the gate. He came -up with a smile. - -"The thought's just struck me," he said, "that you'd be the best adviser -in the world as to what I ought to invest my ten thousand in. You never -have made a mistake in money matters that I ever heard of, Aunt Ann; but -maybe you'd rather not talk about my affairs." - -"I don't know why," she said, as she leaned over the gate. "I'll bet -that money of yours will worry me some, for young folks these days have -no caution in such matters. Ten thousand dollars--why, that is exactly -the price--" She paused, her face full of sudden excitement. - -"The price of what, Aunt Ann?" he asked, wonderingly. - -"Why, the price of the Dickerson farm. It's up for sale. Jerry Dickerson -has been wanting to leave here for the last three years, and every year -he's been putting a lower and lower price on his big farm and -comfortable house and every improvement. His brother's gone in the -wholesale grocery business in Chattanooga, and he wants to join him. The -property is worth double the money. I wouldn't like to advise you, Luke, -but I'd rather see your money in that place than anything else. It would -be a guarantee of an income to you as long as you lived." - -"I know the place, and it's a beauty," King said, "and I'll run over -there and look at it to-morrow, and if it's still to be had I may rake -it in. Think of me owning one of the best plantations in the -valley--_me_, Aunt Ann, your barefoot, adopted son." - -Ann's head was hanging low as she walked back to the cottage door. - -"'Adopted son,'" she repeated, tenderly. "As God is my Judge, I--I -believe he's the only creature alive on this broad earth that I love. -Yes, I love that boy. What strange, sweet ideas he has picked up! Well, -I hope he'll always be able to keep them. I had plenty of them away back -at his age. My unsullied faith in mankind was the tool that dug the -grave of my happiness. Poor, blind boy! he may be on the same road. He -may see the day that all he believes in now will crumble into bitter -powder at his touch. I wonder if God can really be _all_-powerful. It -seems strange that what is said to be the highest good in this life is -doing exactly what He, Himself, has failed to do--to keep His own -creatures from suffering. That really _is_ odd." - - - - -XIV - - -Luke King was hot, damp with perspiration, and covered with the red dust -of the mountain road when he reached the four-roomed cabin of his -step-father among the stunted pines and gnarled wild cedars. - -Old Mark Bruce sat out in front of the door. He wore no shoes nor coat, -and his hickory shirt and trousers had been patched many times. His gray -hair was long, sunburned, and dyed with the soil, and the corrugated -skin of his cheeks and neck was covered with long hairs. As his step-son -came into view from behind the pine-pole pig-pen, the old man uttered a -grunt of surprise that brought to the doorway two young women in -unadorned home-spun dresses, and a tall, lank young man in his -shirt-sleeves. It was growing dark, and they all failed to recognize the -new-comer. - -"I suppose you have forgotten me," King said, as he put his valise on a -wash-bench by a tub of suds and a piggin of lye-soap. - -"By Jacks, it's Luke King!" After that ejaculation of the old man he and -the others stared speechlessly. - -"Yes, that's who I am," continued King. "How do you do, Jake?" (to the -tall young man in the doorway). "We might as well shake hands for the -sake of old times. You girls have grown into women since I left. I've -stayed away a long time and seen a lot of the world, but I've always -wanted to get back. Where is mother?" - -Neither of the girls could summon up the courage to answer, and, as they -gave him their stiff hands, they seemed under stress of great -embarrassment. - -"She's poorly," said the old man, inhospitably keeping his seat. "She's -had a hurtin' in 'er side from usin' that thar battlin' stick too much -on dirty clothes, hoein' corn an' one thing an' another, an' a cold -settled on her chest. Mary, go tell yore ma her son's turned up at last. -Huh, all of us, except her, thought you was dead an' under ground! She's -always contended you was alive an' had a job somers that was payin' -enough to feed an' clothe you. How's times been a-servin' you?" - -"Pretty well." King removed his valise from the bench and took its place -wearily. - -"Is that so? Things is worse than ever here. Whar have you been hangin' -out?" - -"Seattle was the last place," King answered. "I've worked in several -towns since I left here." - -"Huh, about as I expected! An' I reckon you hain't got much to show fer -it except what you got on yore back an' in that carpet-bag." - -"That's about all." - -"What you been followin'?" - -"Doing newspaper work," replied the young man, coloring. - -"I 'lowed you might keep at that. You used to git a dollar a day at -Canton, I remember. Married?" - -"No." - -"Hain't able to support a woman, I reckon. Well, you've showed a great -lot o' good sense thar; a feller of the wishy-washy, drift-about sort, -like you, can sorter manage to shift fer hisself ef he hain't hampered -by a pack o' children an' a sick woman." - -At this juncture Mary returned. She flushed as she caught King's -expectant glance. She spoke to her father. - -"She said tell 'im to come in thar." - -Luke went into the front room and turned thence into a small chamber -adjoining. It was windowless and dark, the only light filtering -indirectly through the front room. On a low, narrow bed, beneath a -ladder leading to a trap-door above, lay a woman. - -"Here I am, Luke," she cried out, warningly. "Don't stumble over that -pan o' water. I've been takin' a hot mustard foot-bath to try and get my -blood warm. I have chilly spells every day about this time. La me! How -you take me by surprise! I've prayed for little else in many a year, an' -was just about to give up. I took a little hope from some'n' old Ann -Boyd said one day about you bein' well an' employed somers out West, but -then I met Jane Hemingway, an' she give me the blues. She 'lowed that -old Ann just pretended you was doin' well to convince folks she'd made -no mistake in sendin' you to school. But, thank God, here you are alive, -anyway." - -"Yes, I'm as sound as a new dollar, mother." His foot came in contact -with a three-legged stool in the darkness, and he recognized it as an -old friend and drew it to the head of her bed and sat down. He took one -of her hard, thin hands and bent over her. Should he kiss her? She had -not taught him to do so as a child, and he had never done it later in -his youth, not even when he had left home, but he had been out in the -world and grown wiser. He had seen other men kiss their mothers, and his -heart had ached. With his hand on her hard, withered cheek he turned her -face towards him and pressed his lips to hers. She was much surprised, -and drew herself from him instinctively, and wiped her mouth with a -corner of the coverlet, but he knew she was pleased. - -"Why, Luke!" she said, quickly, "what on earth do you mean? Have you -gone plumb crazy?" - -"I wanted to kiss you, that's all," he said, awkwardly. They were both -silent for a moment, then she spoke, tremblingly: "You always was -womanish and tender-like; it don't harm anybody, though; none o' the -rest in this family are that way. But, my stars! I can't tell a bit how -you look in this pitch-dark. Mary! oh, Mary!" - -"What you want, ma?" The nearness of the speaker in the adjoining room -betrayed the fact that she had been listening. - -"I can't see my hand before me," answered the old woman. "I wish you'd -fetch a light here. You'll find a stub of a candle in the clock under -the turpentine-bottle. I hid it thar so as to have some'n' to read the -Book with Sunday night if any preacher happened to drop in to hold -family worship." - -The girl lighted the bit of tallow-dip and braced it upright in a -cracked teacup with some bits of stone. She brought it in, placed it on -a dry-goods box filled with cotton-seed and ears of corn, and shambled -out. King's heart sank as he looked around him in the dim light. The -room was only a lean-to shed walled with slabs driven into the ground -and floored with puncheons. The bedstead was a crude, wooden frame -supported by perpendicular saplings fastened to floor and rafters. The -irregular cracks in the wall were filled with mud, rags, and newspapers. -Bunches of dried herbs, roots, and red peppers hung above his head, and -piles of clothing, earth-dyed and worn to shreds, and agricultural -implements lay about indiscriminately. Disturbed by the light, a hen -flew from her nest behind a dismantled cloth-loom, and with a loud -cackling ran out at the door. There was a square cat-hole in the wall, -and through it a lank, half-starved cat crawled and came purring and -rubbing against the young man's ankle. - -The old woman shaded her eyes and gazed at him eagerly. "You hain't -altered so overly much," she observed, "'cept your skin looks mighty -fair fer a man, and yore hands feel soft." - -Then she lowered her voice into a cautious whisper, and glanced -furtively towards the door. "You favor your father--I don't mean Mark, -but your own daddy. You are as like him as can be. He helt his head that -away, an' had yore habit o' being gentle with women-folks. You've got -his high temper, too. La me! that last night you was at home, an' Mark -cussed you an' kicked yore writin'-paper in the fire, I didn't sleep a -wink. I thought you'd gone off to borrow a gun. It was almost a relief -to know you'd left, kase I seed you an' him couldn't git along. Your -father was a different sort of a man, Luke, and sometimes I miss 'im -sharp. He loved books an' study like you do. He had good blood in 'im; -his father was a teacher an' circuit-rider. I don't know why I married -Mark, unless it was kase I was afraid of bein' sent to the poor-farm, -but, la me! this is about as bad." - -There was a low whimper in her voice, and the lines about her mouth had -tightened. King's breast heaved, and he suddenly put out his hand and -began to stroke her thin, gray hair. A strange, restful feeling stole -over him. The spell was on her, too; she closed her eyes and a satisfied -smile lighted her wan face. Then her lips began to quiver, and she -quickly turned her face from him. - -"I'm a simpleton," she sobbed, "but I can't help it. Nobody hain't -petted me nor tuck on over me a bit since your pa died. I never treated -you right, neither, Luke. I ort never to 'a' let Mark run over you like -he did." - -"Never mind that," King said. "He and I have already made friends; but -you must not lie in this dingy hole; you need medicine, and good, warm -food." - -"Oh, I'm goin' to git up," she answered, lightly. "I'm not sick, Luke. I -jest laid down awhile to rest. I have to do this nearly every evening. I -must git the house straight. Mary an' Jane hain't no hands at house-work -'thout I stand right over 'em, an' Jake an' his pa is continually -a-fussing. I feel stronger already. If you'll go in t'other room I'll -rise. They'll never fix you nothin' to eat nor nowhar to sleep. I reckon -you'll have to lie with Jake like you used to, till I can fix better. -Things has been in an awful mess since I got so porely." - -He went into the front room. The old man had brought his hand-bag in. He -had placed it in a chair and opened it and was coolly inspecting the -contents in the firelight. Jake and the two girls stood looking on. King -stared at the old man, but the latter did not seem at all abashed. - -"Huh," he said, "you seem to be about as well stocked with little tricks -as a notion peddler--five or six pair o' striped socks and no end o' -collars; them things folded under the shirts looks like another suit o' -clothes. I reckon you have had a good job if you carry two outfits -around. Though I _have_ heard of printin'-men that went off owin' -accounts here an' yan." - -"I paid what I owed before I left," King said, with an effort at -lightness as he closed the valise and put it into a corner. - -In a few minutes his mother came in. She blew out the candle, and as she -crossed to the mantel-piece she carefully extinguished the smoking wick -with her fingers. The change in her was more noticeable to her son than -it had been when she was reclining. She looked very frail in her faded -black cotton gown. Somehow, bent as she was, she seemed shorter than of -old, more cowed and hopeless. Her shoes were worn through, and her bare -feet showed through the holes. - -"Mary," she asked, "have you put on the supper?" - -"Yes'm, but it hain't tuck up yet." The girl went into the next room, -which was used at once for cooking and dining, and her mother followed -her. In a few minutes the old woman came to the door. - -"Walk out, all of you," she said, wearily. "Luke, it seems funny to make -company of you, but somehow I can't treat you like the rest. You'll have -to make out with what is set before you, though hog-meat is mighty -scarce this year. Just at fattenin'-time our pigs took the cholera an' -six laid down in the swamp in one day and died. Pork is fetchin' fifteen -cents a pound in town, and mighty few will sell on a credit." - - - - -XV - - -After supper King left his mother and step-sisters removing the dishes -from the table and went out. He was sickened to the depths of his -sensitive soul by the sordid meal he had just seen the family partake of -with evident relish, as if it were of unusual occurrence. And he was -angry with himself, too, for feeling so, when such a life had been their -lot so long. - -He crossed the little brook that ran on a bed of brown stone behind the -cabin, and leaned against the rail-fence which surrounded the pine-pole -corn-crib. He could easily leave them in their squalor and ignorance and -return to the great, intellectual world--the world which read his -editorials and followed his precepts, the key-note of which had always -been the love of man for man as the greatest force in the universe--but, -after all, would that not stamp him with the brand he most -despised--hypocrisy? A pretty preacher, he, of such fine-spun theories, -while his own mother and her step-children were burrowing in the soil -like eyeless animals, and he living on the fat of the land along with -the wealth and power of the country! - -The cabin door shone out, a square of red light against the blackness of -the hill and the silent, serried pines beyond. He heard Jake whistling a -tune he had whistled long ago, when they had worked Mark Bruce's crop -side by side, and the spasmodic creaking of the puncheons as the family -moved about within. - -A figure appeared in the doorway. It was his mother, and she was coming -to search for him. - -"Here I am, mother!" he cried out, gently, as she advanced through the -darkness; "look out and don't get your feet wet." - -She chuckled childishly as she stepped across the brook on the largest -stones. When she reached him she put her hand on his arm and laughed: -"La me, boy, a little wet won't hurt me--I'm used to a good soakin' -mighty nigh every drenchin' rain. I slept with a stream of it tricklin' -through the roof on my back one night, an' I've milched the cows in that -thar lot when the mire was shoe-mouth deep in January. I 'lowed I'd find -you out here. You used to be a mighty hand to sneak off to yoreself to -study, and you are still that away. But you are different in some -things, too. You don't talk our way exactly, an' I reckon that's what -aggravates Mark. He was goin' on jest now about yore stuck-up way o' -eatin with yore pocket-handkerchief spread out in yore lap." - -King looked past her at the full moon rising above the trees on the -mountain-top. - -"Mother," said he, abruptly, and he put his arm impulsively around her -neck, and his eyes filled--"mother, I can't stay here but a few days. I -have work to do in Atlanta. Your health is bad, and you are not -comfortable; the others are strong and can stand it, but you can't. Come -down there with me for a while, anyway. I'll put you under a doctor and -bring back your health." - -She looked up into his eyes steadily for a moment, then she slapped him -playfully on the breast and drew away from him. "How foolish you talk -fer a grown-up man!" she laughed; "why, you know I can't leave Mark and -the children. He'd go stark crazy 'thout me around to grumble at, an' -then the rest ud be without my advice an' counsel. La me, what makes you -think I ain't comfortable? This cabin is a sight better 'n the last one -we had, an' drier an' a heap warmer inside when fire-wood kin be got. -Hard times like these now is likely to come at any time an' anywhar. It -strikes rich an' pore alike. Thar's Dickerson offerin' that fine old -farm, with all the improvements, fer a mere song to raise money to go -into business whar he kin hope to pay out o' debt. They say now that the -place--lock, stock, and barrel--kin be had fer ten thousand. Why, when -you was a boy he would have refused twenty. Now, ef we-all had it -instead o' him, Mark an' Jake could make it pay like rips, fer they are -hard workers." - -"You think they could, mother?" His heart bounded suddenly, and he stood -staring thoughtfully into her eyes. - -"Pay?--of course they could. Fellers that could keep a roof over a -family's head on what they've had to back 'em could get rich on a place -like that. But, la me, what's the use o' pore folks thinkin' about the -property o' the rich an' lucky? It's like dreamin' you are a queen at -night an' wakin' up in hunger an' rags." - -"I remember the farm and the old house very well," King remarked, -reflectively, the queer light still in his earnest eyes. - -"The _old_ one! Huh, Dickerson got on a splurge the year you left, an' -built a grand new one with some money from his wife's estate. He turned -the old one into a big barn an' stable an' gin. You must see the new -house 'fore you go away, Luke. It's jest splendid, with green blinds to -the winders, a fancy spring-house with a tin rooster on top that p'ints -the way the wind blows, and on high stilts like thar's a big tank and a -windmill to keep the house supplied with water. I hain't never been in -it, but they say they've got wash-tubs long enough to lie down in handy -to every sleepin'-room, and no end of fancy contraptions." - -"We'd better go in, mother," he said, abruptly. "You'll catch your death -of cold out here in the dew." - -She laughed as they walked back to the cabin, side by side. A thick -smoke and its unpleasant odor met them at the door. - -"It's Mark burnin' rags inside to oust the mosquitoes so he kin sleep," -she explained. "They are wuss this year than I ever seed 'em. Seems like -the general starvation has tackled them, too, fer they look like they -will eat a body up whether or no. Jake an' the gals grease their faces -with lamp-oil when they have any, but I jest kiver up my head with a rag -an' never know they are about. I reckon we'd better go to bed. Jake has -fixed him a pallet on the fodder in the loft, so you kin lie by -yoreself. He's been jowerin' at his pa ever since supper about treatin' -you so bad. I thought once they'd come to blows." - -The next morning, after breakfast, Jake threw a bag of shelled corn on -the back of his mare, and, mounting upon it as if it were a saddle, he -started off down the valley to the mill, and his father shouldered an -axe and went up on the hill to cut wood. - -"Whar you going?" Mrs. Bruce asked, as she followed Luke to the door. - -His eyes fell to the ground. "I thought," he answered, "that I'd walk -over to the Dickerson farm and take a look at the improvements. I used -to hunt over that land." - -"Well, whatever you do, be sure you get back to dinner," she said. "Me -an' Jane took a torch last night after you went to bed an' blinded a hen -on the roost and pulled her down; I'm goin' to make you an' old-time -chicken-pie like you used to love on Christmas." - -Half a mile up the road, which ran along the side of the hill from which -the slow, reverberating clap, clap of Mark Bruce's axe came on the still -air, King came into view of the rich, level lands of the Dickerson -plantation. He stood in the shade of a tall poplar and looked -thoughtfully at the lush green meadows, the well-tilled fields of corn, -cotton, and sorghum, and the large, two-storied house, with its -dormer-windows, tall, fluted columns, and broad verandas--at the -well-arranged out-houses, barns, and stables, and the white-gravelled -drives and walks from the house to the main road. Then he turned and -looked back at the cabin--the home of his nearest kin. - -The house was hardly discernible in the gray morning mist that lingered -over the little vale in which it stood. He saw Jake, far away, riding -along, in and out, among the sassafras and sumach bushes that bordered a -worn-out wheat-field, his long legs dangling at the sides of the mare. -There was a bent, blurred figure at the wood-pile in the yard; it was -his mother or one of the girls. - -"Poor souls!" he exclaimed; "they have been in a dreary tread-mill all -their lives, and have never known the joy of one gratified ambition. If -only I could conquer my own selfish desires, I could lay before them -that which they never dreamed of possessing--a glorious taste of genuine -happiness. It would take my last dollar of ready money, but I'd still -have my interest in the new paper and this brain and will of mine. Aunt -Ann would never see it my way, and she might throw me over for doing it, -but why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I do it when my very soul cries out -for it? Why have I been preaching this thing all this time and making -converts right and left if I am to draw back the first time a real -opportunity confronts me? It may be to test my mettle. Yes, that's what -it is. I've got to do one or the other--keep the money--or give it to -them." - - - - -XVI - - -King turned towards the Dickerson place and walked on, a great weight of -indecision on him. He had always held up Ann Boyd as his highest human -example. She would laugh the idea to scorn--the idea of putting old Mark -Bruce and his "lay-out" into such a home and circumstances; and yet, -estimable as she was in many things, still she was not a free woman. She -showed that by her slavery to the deepest hatred that ever burned in a -human breast. No, it was plain to the young philosopher that in some -things, at least, she was no guide for him. Rather might it not -eventually result in the hate-hardened woman's learning brighter walks -of life from him, young as he was? And yet, he told himself, the money -was his, not theirs, and few really succeeded in life who gave away -their substance. - -The road led him past Jane Hemingway's cottage, and at the fence, in the -barn-yard, he saw Virginia. He saw her, bareheaded, with her wonderful -hair and exquisite profile and curve of neck, shoulder, and breast, -before she was aware of his approach, and the view brought him to a -stand behind some bushes which quite hid him from her view. - -"It is Virginia--it must be--yes, it is Virginia!" he said, -ecstatically. "She has become what I knew she would become, the -loveliest woman in the world; she is exactly as I have fancied her all -these years--proud, erect--and her eyes, oh! I must look into her eyes -again! Ah, now I know what brought me home! Now I know why I was not -content away. Yes, this was the cause--Virginia--my little friend and -pupil--Virginia!" - -She had turned her head, and with the startled look of a wild young fawn -on the point of running away, she stood staring at him. - -"Have you entirely forgotten me, Virginia?" he asked, advancing almost -with instinctive caution towards her. - -"Oh no, now I know you," she said, with, he thought, quite the girlish -smile he had taken with him in his roaming, and she leaned over the -fence and gave him her hand. He felt it pulsing warmly in his, and a -storm of feeling--the accumulation of years--rushed over him as he -looked into the eyes he had never forgotten, and marvelled over their -wonderful lights and shadows. It was all he could do to steady his voice -when he next spoke. - -"It has been several years since I saw you," he said, quite aimlessly. -"In fact, you were a little girl then, Virginia, and now you are a -woman, a full-grown woman--just think of that! But why are you looking -at me so steadily from head to foot?" - -"I--I can hardly realize that it really is you," Virginia said. "You -see, Luke--Mr. King, I mean--I thought you were--really, I thought you -were dead. My mother has said it many times. She quite believed it, for -some reason or other." - -"She _wanted_ to believe it, Virginia, with all respect to your mother. -She hates Aunt Ann--Mrs. Boyd, you know--and it seems she almost hoped -I'd never amount to anything, since it was Mrs. Boyd's means that gave -me my education." - -"Yes, that's the way it must have been," admitted the girl, "and it -seems strange for you to be here when I have thought I'd perhaps never -see you again." - -"So you really thought I was done for?" he said, trying to assume a -calmness he was far from feeling under the titillating spell her beauty -and sweet, musical voice had cast over him. - -"Yes, mother often declared it was so, and then--" She broke off, her -color rising slightly. - -"And, then, Virginia--?" he reminded her, eagerly. - -She looked him frankly in the eyes; it was the old, fearless, childlike -glance that had told him long ago of her strong, inherent nobility of -character. - -"Well, I really thought if you _had_ been alive you'd have come back to -your mother. You would have written, anyway. She's been in a pitiful -condition, Mr. King." - -"I know it now, Virginia," he said, his cheeks hot with shame. "I'm -afraid you'll never understand how a sane man could have acted as I -have, but I went away furious with her and her husband, and I never -allowed my mind to dwell in tenderness on her." - -"That was no excuse," the girl said, still firmly, though her eyes were -averted. "She had a right to marry again, and, if you and her husband -couldn't get along together, that did not release you from your duty to -see that she was given ordinary comfort. I've seen her walk by here and -stop to rest, when it looked like she could hardly drag one foot after -another. The thought came to me once that she was starving to give what -she had to eat to the others." - -"You needn't tell me about it," he faltered, the flames of his shame -mounting high in his face--"I stayed there last night. I saw enough to -drag my soul out of my body. Don't form hasty judgment yet, Virginia. -You shall see that I'll do my duty now. I'll work my hands to the bone." - -"Well, I'm glad to hear you talk that way," the girl answered. "It would -make her so happy to have help from you." - -"Your ideas of filial duty were always beautiful, Virginia," he said, -his admiring eyes feasting on her face. "I remember once--I shall never -forget it--it was the day you let me wade across the creek with you in -my arms. You said you were too big to be carried, but you were as light -as a feather. I could have carried you that way all day and never been -tired. It was then that you told me in all sincerity that you would -really die for your mother's sake. It seemed a strangely unselfish thing -for a little girl to say, but I believe now that you'd do it." - -"Yes, in my eyes it is the first, almost the _whole_ of one's duty in -life," Virginia replied. "I hardly have a moment's happiness now, owing -to my mother's failing health." - -"Yes, I was sorry to hear she was afflicted," said King. "She's up and -about, though, I believe." - -"Yes, but she is suffering more than mere bodily pain. She has her -trouble on her mind night and day. She's afraid to die, Luke. That's -queer to me. Even at my age I'd not be afraid, and she is old, and -really ought not to care. I'd think she would have had enough of life, -such as it has been from the beginning till now, full of strife, anger, -and envy. I hear her calling me now, and I must go in. Come see her, -won't you?" - -"Yes, very soon," King said, as she turned away. He stood at the fence -and watched her as she moved gracefully over the grass to the gate near -the cottage. At the door she turned and smiled upon him, and then was -gone. - -"Yes, I now know why I came back," he said. "It was Virginia--little -Virginia--that brought me. Oh, God, isn't she beautiful--isn't she -strong of character and noble? Away back there when she wore short -dresses she believed in me. Once" (he caught his breath) "I seemed to -see the dawn of love in her eyes, but it has died away. She has -out-grown it. She thought me dead; she didn't want to think me alive and -capable of neglecting my mother. Well, she shall see. She, too, looks on -me as an idle drift-about; in due time she shall know I am more serious -than that. But I must go slowly; if I am too impulsive I may spoil all -my chances, and, Luke King, if that woman does not become your wife you -will be a failure--a dead failure at everything to which you lay your -hands, for you'd never be able to put your heart into anything -again--you couldn't, for it's hers for all time and eternity." - -It was dusk when he returned to his mother's cabin. Jake sat on his warm -bag of meal just inside the door. Old Mark had taken off his shoes, and -sat under a persimmon-tree "cooling off" and yelling impatiently at his -wife to "hurry up supper." - -When she heard Luke had returned, she came to the door where he sat -talking to Jake. "We didn't know what had become of you," she said, as -she emerged from the cabin, bending her head to pass through the low -doorway. - -"I got interested in looking over the Dickerson farm," he replied, "and -before I realized it the sun was almost down." - -"Oh, it don't matter; I saved you a piece of pie; I'm just warming it -over now. I'll bet you didn't get a bite o' dinner." - -"Yes, I did. The fact is, Dickerson remembered me, and made me go to -dinner with him; but I'm ready to eat again." - -As they were rising from the table a few minutes later, King said, in a -rather constrained tone, "I've got something to say to you all, and I -may as well do it now." - -With much clatter they dragged their chairs after him to the front room -and sat down with awkward ceremony--the sort of dignified quiet that -usually governed them during the visit of some strolling preacher or -benighted peddler. They stared with ever-increasing wonder as he placed -his own chair in front of them. Old Mark seemed embarrassed by the -formality of the proceedings, and endeavored to relieve himself by -assuming indifference. He coughed conspicuously and hitched his chair -back till it leaned against the door-jamb. - -There was a queer, boyish tremor in Luke King's voice when he began to -speak, and it vibrated there till he had finished. - -"Since I went away from you," he began, his eyes on the floor, "I have -studied hard and closely applied myself to a profession, and, though -I've wandered about a good deal, I've made it pay pretty well. I'm not -rich, now, but I'm worth more than you think I am. In big cities the -sort of talent I happen to have brings a sort of market-price, and I -have profited by my calling. You have never had any luck, and you have -worked hard and deserve more than has fallen to your lot. You'd never be -able to make anything on this poor land, even if you could buy your -supplies as low as those who pay cash, but you have not had the ready -money at any time, and the merchants have swindled you on every deal -you've made with them. The Dickerson plantation is the sort of place you -really need. It is worth double the price he asked for it. I happened to -have the money to spare, and I bought it to-day while I was over there." - -There was a profound silence in the room. The occupants of the row of -chairs stared at him with widening eyes, mute and motionless. A sudden -breeze came in at the door and turned the oblong flame of the candle on -the mantel towards the wall, and caused black ropes of smoke from the -pine-knots in the chimney to curl out into the room like pyrotechnic -snakes. Mrs. Bruce bent forward and peered into King's motionless face -and smiled and slyly winked, then she glanced at the serious faces of -the others, and broke into a childish laugh of genuine merriment. - -"La me! ef you-uns ain't settin' thar with mouths open like bull-frogs -swallowin' down ever'thing that boy says, as ef it was so much law an' -gospel." - -But none of them entered her mood; indeed, they gave her not so much as -a glance. Without replying to her, King rose and took the candle from -the mantel-piece. He stood it on the table and laid a folded document -beside it. "There's the deed," he said. "It's made out to mother as long -as she lives, and to fall eventually to her step-daughters and step-son, -Jake." - -He left the paper on the table and went back to his chair. An awkward -silence ensued. It was broken by old Mark. He coughed and threw his -tobacco-quid out at the door, and, smiling to hide his half-sceptical -agitation, he moved to the table. His gaunt back was to them, and his -grizzled face went out of view when he bent to hold the paper in the -light. - -"By Jacks, that's what it is!" he blurted out. "There's no shenanigan -about it. The Dickerson place is Mariar Habersham Bruce's, ef _I_ kin -read writin'." - -With a great clatter of heavy shoes and tilted chairs falling back into -place, they rose and gathered about him, leaving their benefactor -submerged in their combined shadow. Each took the paper, examined it in -reverent silence, and then slowly fell back, leaving the document on the -table. Mark Bruce started aimlessly towards the next room, but finally -turned to the front door, where he stood irresolute, staring out at the -night-wrapped mountain road. Mrs. Bruce looked at Luke helplessly and -went into the next room, and, exchanging glances of dumb wonder with -each other, the girls followed. Jake noticed that the wind was blowing -the document from the table, and he rescued it and silently offered it -to his step-brother. - -King motioned it from him. "Give it to mother," he said. "She'll take -care of it; besides, it's been recorded at the court-house. By-the-way, -Dickerson will get out at once; the transfer includes all the furniture, -and the crops, which are in a good condition." - -King had Jake's bed to himself again that night. For hours he lay awake -listening to the insistent drone of conversation from the family, which -had gathered under the apple-trees in front of the cabin. About eleven -o'clock some one came softly into his room. The moon had risen, and its -beams fell in at the open door and through a window with a sliding -wooden shutter. It was Mrs. Bruce, and she was moving with catlike -caution. - -"Is that you, mother?" he asked. - -For an instant she was so much startled at finding him awake that she -made no reply. Then she stammered: "Oh, I was tryin' so hard not to wake -you! I jest wanted to make shore yore bed was comfortable. We put new -straw in the tick to-day, and sometimes new beds lie lumpy and uneven." - -"It's all right," he assured her. "I wasn't asleep, anyway." - -He could feel her still trembling in excitement as she sat down on the -edge of the bed. "I reckon you couldn't sleep, nuther," she said. "Thar -hain't a shut eye in this cabin. They've all laid down, an' laid down, -an' got up over an' over." She laughed softly and twisted her hands -nervously in her lap. "We are all that excited we don't know which end -of us is up. Why, Luke, boy, it will be the talk of the whole county, -and it'll be a big feather in old Ann Boyd's cap--you goin' off an' -makin' money so fast after she give you your schoolin', an' they all -predicted it ud come to no good end. Sech luck hain't fell to any family -as pore as we are sence I kin remember. I don't know as I ever heard o' -such a thing in my life. La me, it ud make you split your sides laughin' -to set out thar an' listen to all the plans them children are a-makin'. -But Mark, he has the least to say of all, an', Luke, as happy as I am, -I'm sorter sorry fer that pore old fellow. He feels bad about the way -he's always treated you, an' run down yore kind o' work. He's too -back'ard an' shamefaced to ax yore pardon, an' in a sheepish sort of a -way, jest now, he hinted he'd like fer me to plaster it over fer 'im. -He's a good man, Luke, but he's gittin' old an' childish, an' has been -hounded to death by debt an' circumstances." - -"He's all right," King said, strangely moved. "Tell him I have not the -slightest ill-will against him, an' I hope he'll get along well on the -new place." - -"Somehow you keep talkin' like you don't intend to stay long," she said, -tentatively. - -"I know, but I sha'n't be far away," he replied. "I can run up from my -work in Atlanta every now and then, and it would be great to rest up on -a farm among home folks, here in the mountains." - -"Well, I'll be glad of that," Mrs. Bruce said, plaintively. "I have got -sorter used to my step-children, but they ain't the same as a body's own -flesh and blood. I'm proud of you, Luke," she added, tremulously. "After -all my fears that you'd not come to much, you've turned out to be my -main-stay. You'll be a great man before you die. Anybody that kin make -an' throw away ten thousand dollars as easy as you have, ain't no small -potato as men go these days. I reckon the trouble with us all is that -none of us had brains enough to comprehend what yore aims was. But Ann -Boyd did. She's the most wonderful woman that ever lived in this part of -the country, anyhow--kicked an' shoved about, hated an' hatin', an' yet -ever' now an' then hittin' the nail square on the head an' doin' -somethin' big an' grand--something Christ-like an' holy--like what she -done when she with-drawed her suit agin Gus Willard, simply because it -would throw Mark out of a job to go on with it." - -"Yes, she's a good woman, mother." - -Mrs. Bruce went out, so that her son might go to sleep, but he slept -very little. All night, at intervals, the buzz of low voices and sudden -outbursts of merriment reached him and found soothing lodgment in his -satisfied soul. Then, too, he was revelling in the memory of Virginia -Hemingway's eyes and voice, and a dazzling hope that his meeting with -her had inspired. - -His mother stole softly into his room towards the break of day. This -time it was to bring an old shawl, full of holes and worn to shreds, -which she cautiously spread over him, for the mountain air had grown -cool. She thought him asleep, but as she was turning away he caught her -hand and drew her down and kissed her. - -"Why, Luke!" she exclaimed; "don't be foolish! What's got in you? I--" -But her voice had grown husky, and her words died away in an -irrepressible sob. She did not stir for an instant, then she put her -arms round his neck and kissed him. - - - - -XVII - - -It was in the latter part of August. Breezes with just a touch of -autumnal crispness bore down from the mountain-sides, clipping from -their stems the first dead and dying leaves, and swept on across Ann -Boyd's level cotton-fields, where she was at work at the head of a score -of cotton-pickers--negro men, boys, women, and girls. There were certain -social reasons why the unemployed poor white females would not labor -under this strange woman, though they needed her ready money as badly as -the blacks, and that, too, was a constant thorn in the flesh of Ann's -pride. She could afford to pay well for work, inasmuch as her planting -and harvesting were invariably profitable. She had good agricultural -judgment, and she used it. Even her cotton picking would average up -better to the acre than any other farmer's, for she saw to it that her -workers put in good time and left no white, fluttering scrap on stalk, -leaf, or bole to attract the birds looking for linings for their -winter's nests. When her black band had left a portion of her field, it -was as if a forest fire had swept over it, leaving it brown and bare. -The negroes were always ready to work for her, for the best of them were -never criticised for having done so. The most fault-finding of her -enemies had even been glad of the opportunity to call attention to the -fact that only negroes would sink so low as to toil by her side. But the -blacks didn't care, and in their taciturn fidelity they never said aught -against her. As a rule, the colored people had contempt for the "pore -white trash," and reverenced the ex-slave-holder and his family; but Ann -Boyd was neither one nor the other. She was rich, and therefore -powerful--a creature to be measured by no existing standards. When they -worked for their old owners and others of the same impoverished class, -they were asked to take in payment old clothing, meat--and not the -choicest--from the smoke-house, and grain from the barn, or a -questionable order to some store-keeper who, being dubious about the -planter's account himself, usually charged double in self-protection. -But on Ann's place it was different. At the end of each day, hard, -jingling cash was laid into their ready palms, and it was symbolic of -the freedom which years before had been talked about so much, but which -somehow had appeared in name only. Yes, Ann Boyd was different. Coming -in closer contact with her than the whites, they knew her better and -felt her inherent worth. They always addressed her as "Miss Ann," and as -"Miss Ann" she was known among them far and near--a queer, powerful -individuality about whose private life--having naught to lose or gain by -it--they never gossiped. - -On the present day, when the sun dipped below the mountain-top, Ann -raised the cow's horn, which she always wore at her belt, and blew a -resounding blast upon it. This was the signal that the day's toil was -ended, and yet so faithful were her black allies that each tried to -complete the row he happened to be on before he brought in his bag. The -crop for the year was good over all that portion of the state, and the -newspapers, which Ann read carefully by candle-light at night, were -saying that, owing to the little cotton being produced in other parts of -the South, the price was going to be high. And that meant that Ann Boyd -would be a "holder" in the market--not needing ready money, her bales -would remain in a warehouse in Darley till the highest price had been -reached in the long-headed woman's judgment, which in this, too, was -always good--so good, in fact, that the Darley cotton speculators were -often guided by it to their advantage. - -The gathering-bags all in the cotton-house, Ann locked the rusty -padlock, paid the toilers from her leather bag, and trudged home to her -well-earned supper. When that was prepared and eaten, she moved her -chair to the front porch and sat down; but the air was cool to -unpleasantness, and she moved back into the gracious warmth of the big, -open fire. All the afternoon her heart had thrilled over a report that -Jane Hemingway's small cotton crop was being hastily and carelessly -gathered and sold at the present low price by the man who held a -mortgage on it. It pleased Ann to think that Jane would later hear of -her own high receipts and be stung by it. Then, too, she had heard that -Jane was more and more concerned about her bodily affliction and the -inability to receive proper treatment. Yes, Jane was getting payment for -what she had done in such an underhanded way, and Ann was glad of it. - -Other things had not gone to please Ann of late. She had tried her best -to be in sympathy with Luke King's action in paying out his last dollar -of ready money for a farm for his family, whom she heartily despised for -their treatment of her, but she could not see it from the young man's -sanguine and cheerful stand-point. She had seen the Bruce family driving -by in one of the old-fashioned vehicles the Dickersons had owned, and -the sight had seemed ludicrous to her. "The boy will never amount to -anything," she said. "He'll be poor all his life. He'll let anybody -impose on him." And yet she loved him with a strange, insistent -affection she could hardly understand. Even when she had bitterly -upbraided him for that amazing act of impulsive generosity, as he sat in -her doorway the next morning, and she saw the youthful blaze of -enthusiasm in his eyes as he essayed to justify his course by the -theories of life which had guided him in his professional career--even -then an impulse was tugging at her heart to listen and believe the -things he was so ardently declaring would free her from her bondage to -hate and avarice. She could have kissed him as she might have kissed a -happy, misguided son, and yet her coldness, her severity, she argued, -was to be for his ultimate good. He had sent her copies of his new -paper, with his editorials proudly marked in blue pencil. They were all -in the same altruistic vein, and, strange to say, the extracts printed -from leading journals all over the South in regard to his work were full -of hearty approval. He had become a great factor for good in the world. -He was one man who had the unfaltering courage of his convictions. Ann -laughed to herself as she recalled all she had said to him that day. No -wonder that he had thrown it off with a smile and a playful kiss, when -such high authorities were backing him up. True, he might live in such a -way as never to need the money which had been her weapon of defence, and -he might finally rise to a sort of penniless greatness. Besides, his -life was one thing, hers another. No great calamity had come to him in -youth, such as she had known and so grimly fought; no persistent enemy -was following his track with the scent and bay of a blood-hound, night -and day seeking to rend him to pieces. - -These reflections were suddenly disturbed by a most unusual sound at -that time of night. It was the sharp click of the iron gate-latch. Ann's -heart sprang to her throat and seemed to be held there by taut suspense. -She stood up, her hand on the mantel-piece, bending her ears for further -sounds. Then she heard a heavy, even tread approaching. How could it be? -And yet, though a score of years had sped since it had fallen on her -ears, she knew it well. "It can't be!" she gasped. "It's somebody else -that happens to walk like him; he'd never dare to--" - -The step had reached the porch. The sagging floor bent and creaked. It -was Joe Boyd. She knew it now full well, for no one else would have -paused like that before rapping. There was silence. The visitor was -actually feeling for the door-latch. It was like Joe Boyd, after years -of absence, to have thought to enter her house as of old without the -formality of announcing himself. He tried the latch; the door was fast. -He paused another moment, then rapped firmly and loudly. Ann stood -motionless, her face pale and set almost in a grimace of expectancy. -Then Boyd stalked heavily to the window at the end of the porch; she saw -his bushy head and beard against the small square of glass. As one -walking in sleep, Ann stepped close to the window, and through the glass -their eyes met in the first visual greeting since he had gone away. - -"Open the door, Ann," he said, simply. "I want to see you." - -"Huh, you _do_, do you?" she cried. "Well, you march yourself through -that gate an' come round here in daytime. I see myself opening up at -night for you or anybody else." - -He pressed his face closer to the glass. His breath spread moisture upon -it, and he raised his hands on either side of his head that he might -more clearly see within. - -"I want to see you, Ann," he repeated, simply. "I've been riding since -dinner, and just got here; my hoss is lame." - -"Huh!" she sniffed. "I tell you, Joe Boyd, I'll not--" She went no -further. Something in his aging features tied her tongue. He had really -altered remarkably; his face was full of lines cut since she had seen -him. His beard had grown rough and bristly, as had his heavy eyebrows. -How little was he now like the once popular beau of the country-side who -had been considered the best "catch" among young farmers! No, she had -not thought of him as such a wreck, such an impersonation of utter -failure, and even resignation to it. - -"I reckon you'd better open the door an' let me in, Ann," he said. "I -won't bother you long. I've just a few words to say. It's not about me. -It's about Nettie." - -"Oh, it's about the child!" Ann breathed more freely. "Well, wait a -minute, till I make a light." - -He saw her go to the mantel-piece and get a candle and bend over the -fire. There was a sudden flare of bluish flame as the dripping tallow -became ignited in the hot ashes, then she straightened up and placed the -light on a table. She moved slowly to the door and opened it. They stood -face to face. He started--as if from the habit of general greeting--to -hold out his rough hand, but changed his mind and rubbed it awkwardly -against his thigh as his dumb stare clung to hers. - -"Yes," he began, doggedly, "it's about Nettie." He had started to close -the door after him, but, grasping the shutter firmly, Ann pushed it back -against the wall. - -"Let the door stand open," she said, harshly. - -"Oh," he grunted, stupidly, "I didn't know but somebody passin' along -the road might--" - -"Well, let 'em pass and look in, too," Ann retorted. "I'd a sight rather -they'd pass and see you here in open candle-light than to have the door -of my house closed with us two behind it. Huh!" - -"Well," he said, a blear in his big, weary eyes, "you know best, I -reckon. I admit I don't go deep into such matters. It's sorter funny to -see you so particular, though, and with--with _me_." - -He walked to the fire and mechanically held out his hands to the warmth. -Then, with his back to the red glow, he stood awkwardly, his eyes on the -floor. After a pause, he said, suddenly: "If you don't mind, Ann, I'd -rather set down. I'm tired to death, nearly, from that blasted long -ride. Coming down-hill for five or six miles on a slow, stiff-jointed -hoss is heavy on a man as old as I am." - -She reached behind her and gave him a chair, but refused to sit down -herself, standing near him as he sank into the chair; and, quite in his -old way, she noticed he thrust out his pitifully ill-shod feet to the -flames and clasped his hair-grown hands in his lap--that, too, in the -old way, but with added feebleness. - -"You said it was about the child," Ann reminded him. "Ain't she well?" - -"Oh yes, she's well an' hearty," Boyd made haste to reply. "I reckon you -may think it's odd fer me to ride away over here, but, Ann, I'm a man -that feels like I want to do my full duty if I can in this life, and -I've been bothering a lots here lately--a lots. I've lost sleep over a -certain delicate matter, but nothing I kin do seems to help me out. It's -a thing, you see, that I couldn't well ask advice on, and so I had to -tussle with it in private. Finally I thought I'd just ride over and lay -the whole thing before you." - -"Well, what is it?" Ann asked. - -"It's about the hardest thing to talk about that I ever tried to -approach," Boyd said, with lowered glance, "but I reckon I'll have to -get it out and be done with it, one way or another. You see, Ann, when -the law gave me the custody of the child I was a younger man, with more -outlook and health and management, in the judgment of the court, than -I've got now, and I thought that what I couldn't do for my own flesh and -blood nobody else could, and so I took her off." - -"_Yes, you took her off!_" Ann straightened up, and a sneer touched her -set features; there was a sarcastic, almost triumphant cry of -vindictiveness in her tone. - -"Yes, I thought all that," Boyd continued. "And I meant well, but -miscalculated my own capacity and endurance. Instead of making money -hand over hand as folks said almost any man could do out West, I sunk -all I put in. We come back this way then, and I located in Gilmer, -thinking I'd do better on soil I understood, and among the kind o' folks -and religion I was used to, but it's been down-hill work ever since -then. When Nettie was little it didn't seem like so much was demanded, -but now, Ann, she's like all the balance o' young women of her age. She -wants things like the rest around her, an' she pines for them, an' -sulks, and--and makes me feel awful. It's a powerful hard matter for me -to dress her like some o' the rest about us, and she's the proudest -thing that ever wore shoe-leather." - -"Oh, I see!" said Ann. "She's going about, too, with--she's bein' -courted by some feller or other." - -"Yes, Sam Lawson, over there, a likely young chap, has taken a big fancy -to her, and he's good enough, too, but I reckon a little under the -influence of his daddy, who is a hard-shell Baptist, a man that believes -in sanctification and talks it all the time. Well, to come down to it, -things between Nettie and Sam is sorter hanging fire, and Nettie's -nearly crazy for fear it will fall through. And that's why, right now, I -screwed up to the point of coming to see you." - -"You thought I could help her out in her courting?" Ann sneered, and yet -beneath her sneer lay an almost eager curiosity. - -"Well, not that exactly"--Joe Boyd spread out his rough fingers very -wide to embrace as much of his dust-coated beard as possible; he pulled -downward on a rope of it, and let his shifting glance rest on the -fire--"not that exactly, Ann." - -"Well, then, I don't understand, Joe Boyd," Ann said; "and let me tell -you that no matter what sort of young thing I was when we lived -together, I'm now a _business_ woman, and a _successful_ one, and I have -a habit of not beating about the bush. I talk straight and make others -do the same. Business is business, and life is short." - -"Well, I'll talk as straight as I can," Boyd swallowed. "You see, as I -say, old Lawson is a narrow, grasping kind of a man, and he can't bear -the idea of his only boy not coming into something, even if it's very -little, and I happen to know that he's been expecting my little farm -over there to fall to Nettie." - -"Well, _won't_ it?" Ann demanded. - -Boyd lowered his shaggy head. There was a piteous flicker of despair in -the lashes of the eyes Ann had once loved so well. - -"It's mortgaged to the hilt, Ann," he gulped, "and next Wednesday if I -can't pay down five hundred to Carson in Darley, it will go under the -hammer. That will bust Nettie's love business all to flinders. Old -Lawson's got Sam under his thumb, and he'll call it off. Nettie knows -all about it. She's no fool for a girl of her age; she found out about -the debt; she hardly sleeps a wink, but mopes about with red eyes all -day long. I thought I had trouble away back when me 'n' you--away back -there, you know--but I was younger then, and this sorter seems to be -_my_ fault." - -Ann fell to quivering with excitement as she reached for a chair and -leaned upon it, her stout knee in the seat, her strong, bare arms -resting on the back. - -"Right here I want to ask you one question, Joe Boyd, before we go a -step further. Did Mary Waycroft make a proposal to Nettie--did Mary -Waycroft hint to Nettie that maybe I'd be willing to help her along in -some substantial way?" - -The farmer raised a pair of shifting eyes to the piercing orbs above -him, and then looked down. - -"I believe she did something of the sort, Ann," he said, reluctantly, -"but, you see--" - -"I see nothing but _this_," Ann threw into the gap left by his sheer -inability to proceed--"I see nothing but the fact that my proposition -scared her nearly to death. She was afraid it would get out that she was -having something to do with me, and now, if I do rescue this land from -public sale, I must keep in the background, not even let her know where -the money is coming from." - -"I didn't say _that_," Boyd said, heavily stricken by the combined force -of her tone and words. "The--the whole thing's for _you_ to decide on. -I've tussled with it till I'm sick and tired. I wouldn't have come over -if I hadn't thought it was my bounden duty to lay it before you. The -situation has growed up unforeseen out of my trouble and yours. If you -want the girl's land to go under hammer and bust up her marriage, that's -all right. I won't cry about it, for I'm at the end of my rope. You see, -law or no law, she's yore natural flesh and blood, jest as she is mine, -an' she wasn't--the girl wasn't responsible fer what you an' me tuck a -notion to do away back there. The report is out generally that -everything you touch somehow turns to gold--that you are rolling in -money. That's the reason I thought it was my duty--by God, Ann -Lincoln"--his eyes were flashing with something like the fire which had -blazed in them when he had gone away in his health and prime--"I -wouldn't ask you for a red cent, for myself, not if I was dying for a -mouthful of something to eat. I'm doing this because it seems right -according to my poor lights. The child's happiness is at stake; you can -look at it as you want to and act as you see fit." - -Ann bit her lip; a shudder passed over her strong frame from head to -foot. She lowered her big head to her hands. "Sometimes," she groaned, -"I wish I could actually curse God for the unfairness of my lot. The -hardest things that ever fell to the fate of any human being have been -mine. In agony, Jesus Christ prayed, they say, to let His cup pass if -possible. _His_ cup! What _was_ His cup? Just death--that's all; but -_this_ is a million times worse than death--this here crucifixion of -pride--this here forcing me to help and protect people who deny me, who -shiver at a hint of my approach, yelling 'Unclean, unclean!' like the -lepers outside the city gates--beyond the walls that encompass accepted -humanity. Joe Boyd"--she raised her face and stared at him--"you don't -no more know me than you know the stars above your head. I am no more -the silly girl that you married than I am some one else. I learned the -lesson of life away back there when you left in that wagon with the -child of my breast. I have fought a long battle, and I'm still fighting. -To me, with all my experience, you--you poor little thing--are a baby of -a man. You had a wife who, if she _does_ say it, had the brain of a -dozen such men as you are, and yet you listened to the talk of a weak, -jealous, disappointed woman and came and dared to wipe your feet on me, -spit in my face, and drag my name into the mire of public court. I made -no defence then--I don't make any now. I'll never make any. My life -shall be my defence before God, and Him only. I wish it could be a -lesson to all young women who are led into misfortune such as mine. To -every unfortunate girl I'd say, 'Never marry a man too weak to -understand and appreciate you.' I loved you, Joe Boyd, as much as a -woman ever loved a man, but it was like the love of a strong man for a -weak, dependent woman. Somehow I gloried in your big, hulking -helplessness. What I have since done in the management of affairs I -wanted to do for you." - -"Oh, I know all that, Ann, but this is no time or place to--" - -"But it's _got_ to be the time and place," she retorted, shaking a stiff -finger in his face. "I want to show you one side of this matter. I won't -mention names, but a man, an old man, come to me one day. He set there -on my door-step and told me about his life of his own free will and -accord, because he'd heard of mine, and wanted to comfort me. He'd just -buried his wife--a woman he'd lived with for thirty-odd years, and big -tears rolled down his cheeks while he was talking. He said he was going -to tell me what he'd never told a living soul. He said away back, when -he was young, he loved his wife and courted her. He saw that she loved -him, but she kept holding off and wouldn't give in till he was nearly -distracted; then he said her mother come to him and told him what the -trouble was. It was because the girl had had bad luck like I did. She -loved him and wanted to make him a good wife, but was afraid it would be -wrong. He said he told the girl's mother that it made no difference to -him, and that he then and there promised never on this earth to mention -it to her, and he never did. She was the woman he lived with for a third -of a century in holy wedlock, and who he couldn't speak of without -shedding tears. Now, Joe Boyd, here's my point--the only difference I -can see in that woman's conduct and mine is that I would have told you, -but I didn't think you was the kind of a man to tell a thing like that -to. I didn't think you was strong enough, as a man, but I thought your -happiness and mine depended on our marriage, and so after you had dogged -my steps for years I consented. So you see, if--if, I say--you had gone -and let the old matter drop, you wouldn't have been in the plight you -are now, and our child would have had more of the things she needed." - -"There are two sides to it," Boyd said, raising a sullen glance to her -impassioned face. "And that reminds me of an old man I knew about. He -was the best husband that ever walked the earth. He loved his wife and -children, and when he was seventytwo years of age he used to totter -about with his grandchildren all day long, loving them, with his whole -heart. Then one day proof was handed him--actual proof--that not a speck -of his blood flowed in their veins. He was hugging one of the little -ones in his arms when he heard the truth. Ann, it killed him. That's -t'other side. You nor me can't handle a matter as big and endless as -that is. The Lord God of the universe is handling ours. We can talk and -plan, but most of us, in a pinch, will do as generations before us have -done in sech delicate matters." - -"I suppose so." Ann's lips were white; there was a wild, hunted look in -her great, staring eyes. - -"I tried to reason myself out of the action I finally took," Boyd went -on, deliberately, "but there was nothing else to do. I was bothered nigh -to death. The thing was running me stark crazy. I had to chop it off, -and I'm frank to say, even at this late day, that I don't see how I -could have done otherwise. But I didn't come here to fetch all this up. -It was just the other matter, and the belief that it was my duty to give -you a chance to act on it as you saw fit." - -"If her wedding depends on it, the farm must be saved," Ann said, -quietly. "I give away money to others, why shouldn't I to--to her? I'll -get a blank and write a check for the money." - -He lowered his head, staring at the flames. "That's for you to decide," -he muttered. "When the debt is paid the land shall be deeded to her. -I'll die rather than borrow on it again." - -Ann went to the clock on the mantel-piece and took down a pad of blank -checks and a pen and bottle of ink. Placing them on the table, she sat -down and began to write with a steady hand and a firm tilt of her head -to one side. - -"Hold on!" Boyd said, turning his slow glance upon her. "Excuse me, but -there's one thing we haven't thought of." - -Ann looked up from the paper questioningly. "What is that?" - -"Why, you see, I reckon I'd have to get that check cashed somewhere, -Ann, and as it will have your name on it, why, you see, in a country -where everybody knows everybody else's business--" - -"I understand," Ann broke in--"they would know I had a hand in it." - -"Yes, they would know that, of course, if I made use of that particular -check." - -Ann Boyd rested her massive jaw on her hand in such a way as to hide her -face from his view. She was still and silent for a minute, then she -rose, and, going to the fire, she bent to the flame of a pine-knot and -destroyed the slip of paper. - -"I don't _usually_ keep that much money about the house," she said, -looking down on him, "but I happen to have some hidden away. Go out and -get your horse ready and I'll bring it to you at the fence." - -He obeyed, rising stiffly from his chair and reaching for his worn -slouch hat. - -He was standing holding his bony horse by the rein when she came out a -few minutes later and gave him a roll of bills wrapped in a piece of -cloth. - -"Here it is," she said. "You came after it under a sense of duty, and I -am sending it the same way. I may be made out of odd material, but I -don't care one single thing about the girl. If you had come and told me -she was dead, I don't think I'd have felt one bit different. It might -have made me a little curious to know which of us was going next--you, -me, or her--that's all. Good-bye, Joe Boyd." - -"Good-bye, Ann," he grunted, as he mounted his horse. "I'll see that -this matter goes through right." - - - - -XVIII - - -Colonel Preston Chester and his son Langdon were at breakfast two days -after this. The dining-room of the old mansion was a long, narrow -chamber on the first floor, connected with the brick kitchen outside by -a wooden passage, roofed, latticed at both sides, and vine-grown. The -dining-room had several wide windows which opened on a level with the -floor of the side veranda. Strong coffee, hot biscuits, and birds -delicately browned were brought in by a turbaned black woman, who had -once been a slave in the family, and then she discreetly retired. - -The old gentleman, white-haired, pink and clear of complexion, and -wearing a flowing mustache and an imperial, which he nervously clutched -and twisted in his soft fingers, was not in a good humor. - -"Here I am ready to go to Savannah, as I promised, to pay a visit and -bring your mother back," he fumed, "and now find that you have taxed my -credit at the bank so heavily with your blasted idleness and poker debts -that they actually gave me a lecture about my financial condition. But -I've certainly headed you off, sir. I left positive orders that no check -of yours is to be honored during my absence." - -"You did that, father? Why--" - -"Of course I did it. I can't put up with your extravagance and damnable -habits, and I don't intend to." - -"But, father, I've heard you say you cost your parents on an average of -four thousand dollars a year before you got married, and--" - -"Don't begin that twaddle over again," roared the Colonel in his -coffee-cup. "What my father did for me in those easy times has nothing -to do with our condition in the present day. Besides, it was the custom -of the times to live high, while now it's coming to be a disgrace to be -idle or to have luxuries. We've got to work like the rest at something -or other. Here's that Luke King back from the West with enough money to -install his whole gang of white trash in one of the best places in the -entire river valley, and is conducting a paper in Atlanta that everybody -is talking about. Why, blast it all, I heard Governor Crawford say at -the Capital City Club the other day that if he--mind you, the governor -of the State--if he could get King's influence he would be re-elected -sure. Think of that, when I put a fortune into your education. You are -doing nothing for your name, while he's climbing like that on the poor -chances he had." - -"Oh, he had education, such as he needed," Langdon replied, with a -retaliatory glance at his father. "Ann Boyd sent him to school, you -know." - -The old man's eyes wavered; he drank from his cup silently, and then -carefully wiped his mustache on his napkin. It was not the first time -Langdon had dared to pronounce the woman's name in his presence, and it -looked as if the Colonel dreaded further allusions. - -"Well, I've got to make the trip to Savannah," he said, still avoiding -his son's glance, and trying to keep up his attitude of cold reproof. He -was becoming convinced that Langdon was acquiring a most disagreeable -habit of justifying his own wild conduct by what he had heard of his -father's past, and this was decidedly irritating to the planter, who -found enough to reproach himself with in reflecting upon what he had -gone through without being held accountable for another career which -looked quite as bad in the bud and might bear even worse fruit. - -"Yes, I think myself, all jokes aside, that you ought to go," Langdon -said. "I'll do the best I can to keep things straight here. The hunting -will be good, and I can manage to kill time. You'll want to take along -some spending money, father. Those old chums of yours down there will -draw you into a poker game sure." - -"I'll cut that out, I reckon"--the Colonel smiled in spite of himself. -Langdon was such a copy of what he had been at the same age that it -seemed, under stress of certain memories, almost wrong to reprove him. -"No, I've sworn off from cards, and that's one thing I want you to let -alone. I don't want to hear of your having any more of those all-night -carouses here, leaving bullet-holes in your grandfather's portrait, as -you and your dissolute gang did the last time I was away. It's a wonder -to me you and those fellows didn't burn the house down." - -At this juncture Langdon was glad to see the overseer of the plantation -on the veranda, and the Colonel went out to give him some instructions. - -Two nights later, when he had seen his father off at the door and turned -back into the great, partly lighted house, Langdon set about thinking -how he could spend the evening and rid himself of the abiding sense of -loneliness that had beset him. He might stroll over to Wilson's store, -but the farmers he met there would be far from congenial, for he was not -popular with many of them, and unless he could meet, which was unlikely -at night, some drummer who would play poker freely with the funds of the -house he represented against Langdon's ready promises to pay, his walk -would be fruitless. No, he would not go to the store, he decided; and -still he was in no mood, at so early an hour, for the solitude of his -room or the antiquated library, from the shelves of which frowned the -puritanical books of his Presbyterian ancestors. Irresolute, he had -wandered to the front veranda again, and as he stood looking eastward he -espied, through the trees across the fields and meadows, a light. It was -Jane Hemingway's kitchen candle, and the young man's pulse beat more -rapidly as he gazed at it. He had occasionally seen Virginia outside the -house of evenings, and had stolen chats with her. Perhaps he might have -such luck again. In any case, nothing would be lost in trying, and the -walk would kill time. Besides, he was sure the girl was beginning to -like him; she now trusted him more, and seemed always willing to talk to -him. She believed he loved her; who could doubt it when he himself had -been surprised at his tenderness and flights of eloquence when inspired -by her rare beauty and sweetness? Sometimes he believed that his feeling -for the beautiful, trustful girl was a love that would endure, but when -he reflected on the difference in their stations in life he had grave -and unmanly doubts. As he walked along the road, the light of Jane's -candle, like the glow of a fire-fly, intermittently appearing and -disappearing ahead of him through the interstices of the trees and -foliage, the memory of the gossip about his father and Ann Boyd flashed -unpleasantly upon him. Was he, after all, following his parent's early -bent? Was family history repeating itself? But when the worst was said -about that affair, who had been seriously injured? Certainly not the -easy-going Colonel, surely not the sturdy pariah herself, who had, -somehow, turned her enforced isolation to such purpose that she was rich -in the world's goods and to all appearances cared not a rap for public -opinion. - - ---- - -That day had been the gloomiest in Virginia's life. Early in the morning -Jane had gone to Darley for the twentieth time to try to borrow the -money with which to defray her expenses to Atlanta. She had failed -again, and came home at dusk absolutely dejected. - -"It's all up with me!" she groaned, as she sank heavily into a chair in -front of the cheerful fire Virginia had in readiness, and pushed her -worn shoes out to the flames. "I went from one old friend to another, -telling them my condition, but they seemed actually afraid of me, -treating me almost like a stranger. They all told tales of need, -although they seemed to have plenty of everything. Judge Crane met me in -Main Street and told me I could appeal to the county fund and get on the -pauper list, but without offering to help me; he said he knew I'd almost -rather die than fall so low. No, I'll not do that, Virginia. That's what -would tickle Ann Boyd and some others powerfully." - -With lagging steps and a heart like lead, Virginia went about preparing -the simple meal. Her mother ate only hot buttered toast with boiled milk -on it to soften it for her toothless gums, but the fair cook scarcely -touched food at all. Her mother's grewsome affliction was in the -sensitive girl's mind all through each successive day, and even at night -her sleep was broken by intermittent dreams of this or that opportunity -to raise the coveted money. Sometimes it was the jovial face of a crude, -penniless neighbor who laughed carelessly as he handed her a cumbersome -roll of bank-bills; again she would find a great heap of gold glittering -in the sun, only to wake with her delicate fingers tightly clasped on -nothing at all--to wake that she might lie and listen to Jane's sighs -and moans as the old woman crouched over the ash-buried coals to light a -tallow-dip to look, for the thousandth time, at the angry threat of fate -upon her withered breast. - -To-night, greatly wearied by her long ride and being on her feet so -long, Jane went to bed early, and, when she was alone, Virginia, with a -mental depression that had become almost physical pain, went out and sat -on the front door-step in the moonlight. That very day a plan of her own -in regard to the raising of the money had fallen to earth. She had heard -of the munificent gift Luke King had made to his mother, and she -determined that she would go to him, lay the case before him, and pledge -herself to toil for him in any capacity till he was repaid; but when she -had gone as far in the direction of the newly purchased farm as the -Hincock Spring, she met Mary Bruce in a new dress and hat, and -indirectly discovered that King had given up his last dollar of ready -money to secure the property for his people. No, she would not take her -own filial troubles to a young man who was so nobly battling with his -own. At any other moment she might have had time to admire King's -sacrifice, but her mind was too full of her own depressing problem to -give thought to that of another. Her sharp reproof to him for his -neglect of his mother during his absence in the West flitted through her -memory, and at a less troubled moment she would have seen how -ridiculously unjust her childish words must have sounded. - -As she sat, weighted down with these things, she heard a step down the -road. It was slow and leisured, if not deliberately cautious. It was -accompanied by a persistent spark of fire which flitted always on a -straight line, in view and out, among the low bushes growing close to -the fence along the roadside. A moment later a handsome face in the -flare of a burning cigar appeared, smiling confidently at the gate. It -was Langdon Chester. - -"Come out here," he said, in a soft, guarded voice. "I want to see you." - -Virginia rose, listened to ascertain if her mother was still asleep, and -then, drawing her light shawl about her shoulders, she went to the -fence. He reached over the gate and took her hand and pressed it warmly. -"I was awfully afraid I'd not see you," he said. "I've failed so many -times. My father left to-day, and I am very lonely in that big house -with not a soul nearer than the negro-quarter." - -"It must be lonely," Virginia said, trying to be pleasant and to throw -off her despondency. - -"Your mother went to town to-day, didn't she?" Chester pursued, still -holding the hand which showed an indifferent inclination to quit his -clasp. "I think I saw her coming back. Did she get what she went for?" - -"No, she failed utterly," Virginia sighed. "I don't know what to do. -She's suffering awfully--not in bodily pain, you know, for there is none -at all, but in the constant and morbid fear of death. It is an awful -thing to be face to face, day after day, night after night, with a -mother who is in such agony. I never dreamed such a fate could be in -store for any young girl. It is actually driving me crazy." - -"Yes, yes," Langdon said, hesitatingly. "I want to tell you something. I -had a talk with my father about her just before he left. I've worried -over it, too, little girl. Folks may run me down, you know, but I've got -real feelings; and so, as a last resort, as I say, I told him about it. -He's hard up himself, as you may know, along with our heavy family -expenses, and interest on debts, and taxes, but I managed to put it in -such a way as to get him interested, and he's promised to let me have -the money provided he can make a certain deal down at Savannah. But he -says it must be kept absolutely quiet, you understand. If he sends me -this money, you must not speak of it to any one--the old man is very -peculiar." - -Virginia's heart bounded, the hot blood of a dazzling new hope pulsed -madly in her veins. The tensity of her hand in his warm clasp relaxed; -her eyes, into which his own passionate ones were melting, held kindling -fires of gratitude and trust. - -"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, "if he only _would_!" - -"Well, there is a splendid chance of his doing it," Langdon said. "I was -awfully afraid to mention the subject to him, you know, for fear that he -would suspect my interest was wholly due to you, but it happens that he -has never seen us together, and so he thought it was simply my sympathy -for one of our neighbors. I had to do something, Virginia. I couldn't -stay idle when my beautiful little sweetheart was in such downright -trouble." - -With a furtive glance towards the house and up and down the road, -Langdon drew her towards him. Just one instant she resisted, and then, -for the first time in her life, she allowed him to kiss her without open -protest. She remained thus close to him, permitting him to stroke her -soft, rounded cheeks gently. Never before were two persons impelled by -diverse forces so closely united. - -"When do you--you think your father will write?" she asked, her voice -low, her soul almost shrieking in joy. - -"That depends," said Chester. "You see, he may not get at the matter -_the very day_ he arrives in Savannah, for he is a great old codger to -let matters slide in the background while he is meeting old friends. -But, little girl, I don't intend to let it slip out of his mind. I'll -drop him a line and urge him to fix it up if possible. That, I think, -will bring him around. Your mother is sound asleep," he added, -seductively; "let's walk a little way down the road. I sha'n't keep you -long. I feel awfully happy with you all to myself." - -She raised no objection as he unfastened the latch of the gate with -deft, noiseless fingers and, smiling playfully, drew her after him and -silently closed the opening. - -"Now, this is more like it," he said. "Lovers should have the starry -skies above them and open fields about. Forget your mother a little -while, Virginia. It will all come out right, and you and I will be the -happiest people in the world. Great Heavens! how perfectly lovely you -are in the moonlight! You look like a statue of Venus waking to life." - -They had reached the brook which rippled on brown stones across the road -at the foot of the slight rise on which the cottage stood, when they saw -some one approaching. It was Ann Boyd driving her cow home, her heavy -skirts pinned up half-way to her stout knees. With one sharp, steady -stare at them, Ann, without greeting of any kind, lowered her bare, -dew-damp head and trudged on. - -"It's that miserly old hag, Ann Boyd," Langdon said, lightly. "I don't -like her any more than she does me. I reckon that old woman has -circulated more lies about me than all the rest of the country put -together." - -At the first sight of Ann, Virginia had withdrawn her hand from -Langdon's arm and passionate clasp of fingers, but the action had not -escaped Ann's lynx eyes. - -"It's coming, thank God, it's coming as fast as a dog can trot!" she -chuckled as she plodded along after her waddling cow. "Now, Jane -Hemingway, you'll have something else to bother about besides your -blasted cancer--something that will cut your pride as deep as that does -your selfish flesh. It won't fail to come, either. Don't I know the -Chester method? Huh, if I don't, it isn't known. With his head bent that -way, and holding her hand with hand and arm both at once, he might have -been his father over again. Huh, I felt like tearing his eyes out, just -now--the young beast! I felt like she was me, and the old brink was -yawning again right at my feet. Huh, I felt that way about Jane -Hemingway's daughter--that's the oddest thing of all! But she _is_ -beautiful; she's the prettiest thing I ever saw in all my life. No -wonder he is after her; she's the greatest prize for a Chester in -Georgia. Jane's asleep right now, but she'll wake before long and she'll -wonder with all her wounded pride how God ever let her close her eyes. -Yes, my revenge is on the way. I see the light its blaze has cast on -ahead. It may be Old Nick's torch--what do I care? He can wave it, wave -it, wave it!" - -She increased her step till she overtook her cow. Laying her hand on the -animal's back, she gently patted it. "Go on home to your calf, you -hussy," she laughed. "The young of even _your_ sort is safer, according -to the plan that guides the world, than Jane Hemingway's. She's felt so -safe, too, that she's made it her prime object in life to devil a person -for exactly what's coming under her own roof--_exactly to a gnat's -heel_!" - - - - -XIX - - -One evening, about four days later, Mrs. Waycroft hurried in to see Ann. -The sharp-sighted woman, as she nodded indifferently to the visitor, and -continued her work of raking live coals under a three-legged pot on the -hearth, saw that Mrs. Waycroft was the fluttering bearer of news of some -sort, but she made no show of being ready to listen to it. The widow, -however, had come to be heard, she had come for the sheer enjoyment of -recital. - -"Ann," she panted, "let that oven alone and listen to me. I've got about -the biggest piece of news that has come your way in many a long day." - -"You say you have?" Ann's brass-handled poker rang as she gave a parting -thrust at a burning chunk, and struck the leg of the pot. - -"Yes, and I dropped on to it by the barest accident. About an hour after -sunset to-day, I was in the graveyard, sitting over Jennie's grave, and -planning how to place the new stones. I looked at the spot where I'd -been sitting afterwards, and saw that it was well sheltered with thick -vines. I was completely covered from the sight of anybody passing along -the road. Well, as I was sitting there kind o' tired from my work and -the walk, I heard a man's voice and a woman's. It was Langdon Chester -and Virginia Hemingway. He seemed to be doing most of the talking, and -since God made me, I never heard such tender love-making since I was -born. I knew I had no business to listen, but I just couldn't help it. -It took me back to the time I was a girl and used to imagine that some -fine young man was coming to talk to me that way and offer me a happy -home and all heart could desire. I never dreamed such tender words could -fall from a man's tongue. I tried to see Virginia's face, but couldn't. -He went on to say that his folks was to know nothing at present about -him and her, but that everything would finally be satisfactorily -arranged." - -"Huh, I reckon so!" Ann ejaculated, off her usual guard, and then she -lapsed into discreet silence again. - -"But I got on to the biggest secret of all," Mrs. Waycroft continued. -"It seems that Langdon has been talking in a roundabout way to his -father about Jane's sad plight, and that Colonel Chester had agreed to -send the money for the operation from Savannah." - -"Huh! he's got no money to give away," slipped again from Ann's too -facile lips, "and if he _did_ have it, he wouldn't--" - -"Well, that may be, or it may not," said Mrs. Waycroft; "but Langdon -said he wasn't going to wait for the check. He said a man in Darley had -been bantering him for a long time to buy his fine horse, Prince, and as -he didn't care to keep the animal, he had sent him by one of the negroes -on the place this morning." - -"Oh, he did that!" Ann panted. She carefully leaned the poker against -the jamb of the fireplace and sat staring, her rugged face working under -stress of deep and far-reaching thought. - -"So I heard him say as plainly as you and me are talking right now. He -said the negro couldn't possibly make the transfer and get back with the -money till about ten o'clock to-night. And that, to me, Ann--just -between us two, was the oddest thing of all. For he was begging her to -slip away from home at that hour and come to his house for the money, so -she could surprise her ma with it the first thing in the morning." - -"He was, was he? huh!" Ann rose and went to the door and looked out. -There she stood stroking her set face with a steady hand. She was -tingling with excitement and trying to hide it. Then she turned back and -bent low to look at the coals under her pot. "Well, I reckon she was -willing to grant a little favor like that under the circumstances." - -"She had to be begged powerful," said the visitor. "I never in all my -life heard such pleading. Part of the time he'd scold her and reproach -her with not caring for him like he did for her. Then he'd accuse her of -being suspicious of him, even when he was trying his level best to help -her out of trouble. Finally, he got to talking about how folks died, -slow-like, from cancers, and what her real duty was to her mother. It -was then that she give in. I know she did, though I didn't hear what she -said, for he laughed out sudden, and gladlike, and I heard him kiss her -and begin over again, about how happy they were going to be and the -like. I reckon, Ann, he really _does_ mean to marry her." - -"I reckon so," Ann said. "I reckon so. Such things have been known to -happen." - -"Well, we'll wait and see what comes of it," said Mrs. Waycroft. -"Anyway, Jane will get her cancer-money, and that's all she cares for. -They say she's in agony day and night, driving Virginia distracted. I'm -sorry for that pore little thing. I don't like her mammy, for treating -you as she has so long and persistent, but I can't hold Virginia -accountable." - -Ann shrugged her broad shoulders. There was a twinkling light of dawning -triumph in each of her non-committal eyes, and unwonted color in her -cheeks, all of which escaped the widow's notice. - -"Well, that wasn't the end," she said, tentatively. - -"I couldn't hear any more, Ann. They walked on. I stood up and watched -them as they went on through the bushes, arm in arm, towards her home. -I'm sure he loves her. Anybody would know it that heard him talk; -besides she is pretty--you know that, Ann. She is the most beautiful -girl I have ever seen anywhere. They looked fine, too, walking side by -side. They say he's a spendthrift and got bad habits, but maybe his -folks will be glad to have him settle down with such a sensible girl if -she is poor. She'll keep him straight. I'd rather nothing is said about -where Jane's money is coming from, Ann. That seems to be their secret, -and I have no right to circulate it." - -"I'll not talk it," Ann said. "It will be safe with me." - -When the widow had left, Ann became a changed creature in outward -appearance. She stood on the porch till her guest had disappeared in the -dusk, and then she paced the floor of her sitting-room in a spasm of -ecstasy, now and then shaken by a hearty laugh. - -"I see through him," she chuckled. "He is trying to ease his dirty -conscience by paying money down. It's a slick trick--on a par with a -promise to marry. He's telling his filthy soul that he's saving her -mother's life. The girl's as blind as a bat--the average woman can only -see one thing at a time; she's simply bent on getting that money, and -thinks of nothing else. But, Jane Hemingway--old lady--I've got you -where I want you at last. It won't be long before your forked tongue -will be tied fast in a knot. You can't keep on after me publicly for -what is in your own dirty flesh. And when you know the truth you'll -know, too, that it all come about to save your worthless life. You'll -get down on your knees then and beg the Lord to have mercy on you. Maybe -you'll remember all you've done against me from your girl-days till now -as you set with your legs dangling in the grave. Folks will shun your -house, too, unless you rid it of contagion. But you _bet I'll_ call. -I'll send in _my_ card. Me'n' you'll be on a level then, and we'll owe -it to the self-same high and mighty source." - -Ann suddenly felt a desire for the open air, as if the very walls of her -house checked the pleasurable out-pourings of her triumph, and she went -outside and strode up and down in the yard, fairly aflame with joy. All -at once she paused; she was confronting the sudden fear that she might -be fired by a false hope. Virginia, it was true, had agreed to go to -Chester's at the appointed hour, but might she not, in calmer moments, -when removed from Langdon's persistent influence, think better of it and -stay at home? Ah, yes, there was the chance that the girl might fail to -keep the appointment, and then-- - -Cold from head to foot, Ann went back into the cottage and stood before -the fire looking at the clock. It was fifteen minutes of ten, and ten -was the hour. Why not make sure of the outcome? Why not, indeed? It was -a good idea, and would save her days and days of suspense. - -Going out, Ann trudged across the dewy meadow, her coarse skirt clutched -in her hands till she stood in one of the brier-grown fence-corners near -the main road. Here, quite hidden from the open view of any one passing, -by the shade of a young mulberry-tree, whose boughs hung over her like -the ribs of an umbrella, she stood and waited. She must have been there -ten minutes or more, her tense gaze on the road leading to Jane -Hemingway's cottage, when she was sure she heard soft footsteps coming -towards her. Yes, it was some one, but could it be--? It was a woman's -figure; she could see that already, and, yes, there could be no mistake -now--it _was_ Virginia. There was no one in the neighborhood quite so -slight, light of foot, and erect. Ann suddenly crouched down till she -could peer between the lower rails of the fence. She held her breath -while the girl was passing, then she clasped her hands over her knees -and chuckled. "It's _her_!" she whispered. "It's her, and she's headed -for everlasting doom if ever a creature walked into a net of damnation." - -When Virginia was thirty or forty yards away, Ann cautiously climbed -over the fence, almost swearing in impatience as she pulled her skirts -from the detaining clutch of thorns, briers, and splinters, and with her -head down she followed. - -"I'll make dead sure," she said, between pressed lips. "This is a matter -I don't want to have a shadow of a doubt about." - -Presently, the long, white palings comprising the front fence at the -Chesters' appeared into view, and the dark, moving figure of the girl -outlined against it could be seen more clearly. - -Virginia moved onward till she had reached the gate. The smooth, steel -latch clicked; there was a rip of darkness in the ribbon of white; the -hinges creaked; the gate closed with a slam, as if it had slipped from -nerveless fingers, and the tall boxwood bordering the walk to the door -of the old house swallowed Virginia from the sight of her grim pursuer. - -"That will do me," Ann chuckled, as she turned back, warm with content -in every vein. On her rapid walk to her house she allowed her fancy to -play upon scores of situations in which the happening of that night -would bring dire humiliation and shame to her enemy. Ann well knew what -was coming; she had only to hold the album of her own life open and let -the breeze of chance turn the pages to view what Jane Hemingway was to -look upon later. - - - - -XX - - -Ann had just closed her gate, and was turning towards her door, when she -heard a sound on the porch, and a man stepped down into the yard. It was -Luke King. - -"Why, hello, Aunt Ann!" he cried out, cheerily. "Been driving hogs out -of your field I'll bet. You need me here with my dog Pomp, who used to -be such a dandy at that job." - -"Oh, it's you, Luke!" Ann cried, trying to collect herself, after the -start he had given her. - -"Yes, I didn't mean to come at this hour of night, but as I was riding -by just now, on my way home to see my mother, who is not exactly well, I -noticed your door open, and not seeing you in sight, I hitched my horse -up the road a piece and came back and watched at the gate. Then not -hearing any sound, and knowing you never go to bed with your door open, -I went in. Then you bet I _was_ scared. Things do once in a while happen -here in the mountains, and--" - -"Oh, well, nothing was the matter with me," Ann smiled. "Besides, I can -take care of myself." - -"I know that, too," he said. "I'm glad to get this chance to talk to -you. I understand that mother is not as ill as they thought she was, and -I'll have to catch the first train back to Atlanta in the morning. I'm -doing pretty well down there, Aunt Ann." - -"I know it, Luke, and I'm glad," Ann said, her mind still on the things -she had just witnessed. - -"But you haven't yet forgiven me for giving my people that farm. I can -see that by your manner." - -"I thought it was foolish," she replied. - -"But that's because you simply don't know all about it, Aunt Ann," he -insisted. "I don't want to make you mad again; but really I would do -that thing over again and again. It has helped me more than anything I -ever did. You see, you've been thinking on one line all your life and, -of late years, I have been on quite another. You are a great woman, Aunt -Ann, but you still believe that the only way to fight is to hit back. -You have been hitting back for years, and may keep on at it for a while, -but you'll see the truth one of these days, and you'll actually love -your neighbors--even your vilest enemies. You'll come to see--your big -brain will simply _have_ to grasp it--that your retaliation, being -obedient to bad life-laws, is as blamable as the antagonism of your -enemies. The time will come when your very suffering will be the medium -through which you will view and pity their sordid narrowness. Then -you'll appear to them in their long darkness as a blazing light; they -will look up to you as a thing divine; they will fall blinded at your -feet; they will see your soul as it has always been, pure white and -dazzlingly bright, and look upon you as the very impersonation of--" - -"Huh, don't be a fool!" Ann sank on the edge of the porch, her eyes -fixed angrily on the ground. "You are ignorant of what you are talking -about--as ignorant as a new-born baby. You are a silly dreamer, boy. -Your life is an easy, flowery one, and you can't look into a dark, -rugged one like mine. If God is at the head of all things, he put evil -here as well as the good, and to-night I'm thankful for the evil. I'm -tasting it, I tell you, and it's sweet, sweet, sweet!" - -"Ah, I know," King sighed. "You are trying to make yourself believe you -are glad Mrs. Hemingway is in such agony over her affliction." - -"I didn't say anything about her affliction." Ann stared half fearfully -into his honest face. - -"But I know you well enough to see that's what you are driving at." King -sat down beside her, and for a moment rested his hand on her shoulder. -"But it's got to end. It shall not go on. I am talking to you, Aunt Ann, -with the voice of the New Thought that is sweeping the face of the world -to-day--only that mountain in the east and that one in the west have -dammed its flow and kept it from this benighted valley. I did not intend -yet to tell you the great overwhelming secret of my life, but I want to -do it to-night. You love me as a son. I know that, and I love you as a -mother. You are in a corner--in the tightest place you've ever been in -in all your life. I'm going to ask you to do something for my sake that -will tear your very soul out by the roots. You'll have to grant my wish -or refuse--if you refuse, I shall be miserable for life." - -"Luke, what's the matter with you?" Ann shook his hand from its -resting-place on his shoulder, and with bated breath leaned towards him. - -King was silent for a moment, his brows drawn together, his head -lowered, his strong, manly hands clasped between his knees. A buggy -passed along the road. In it sat Fred Masters and another man. Both were -smoking and talking loudly. - -"Well, listen, and don't break in, Aunt Ann," King said, in a calm, -steady voice. "I'm going to tell you something you don't yet know. I'm -going to tell you of my first and only great love." - -"Oh, is _that_ it?" Ann took a deep breath of relief. "You've been roped -in down there already, eh? Well, I thought that would come, my boy, with -the papers full of you and your work." - -"Wait, I told you not to break in," he said. "I don't believe I'm a -shallow man. To me the right kind of love is as eternal as the stars, -and every bit as majestic. Mine, Aunt Ann, began years ago, here in the -mountains, on the banks of these streams, in the shadow of these green -hills. I loved her when she was a child. I went far off and met women of -all sorts and ranks, and in their blank faces I always saw the soulful -features of my child sweetheart. I came back here--_here_, do you -understand, to find her the loveliest full-grown human flower that ever -bloomed in God's spiritual sunshine." - -"You mean--great God, you mean--? Look here, Luke King." Ann drew her -body erect, her eyes were flashing fire. "Don't tell me it is Virginia -Hemingway. Don't, don't--" - -"That's who it is, and no one else this side of heaven!" he cried, in an -impassioned voice. "That's who it is, and if I lose her--if I lose her -my life will be a total failure. I could never rise above it, _never_!" - -Their eyes met in a long, steady stare. - -"You love that girl!" Ann gasped; "_that girl!_" - -"With all my soul and body," he answered, fervidly. "Life, work, -success, power, nothing under high heaven can knock it out of me. She -has got to be mine, and you must never interfere, either. I love you as -a son loves his mother, and you must not take her from me. You must do -more--you must help me. I've never asked many things of you. I ask only -this one--give her to me, help me to win her. That's all. Now we -understand each other. She's the whole world to me. She's young; she may -be thoughtless; her final character is just forming; but she is destined -to be the grandest, loveliest woman on the face of the earth. She is to -be my wife, Aunt Ann--_my wife_!" - -Ann's head sank till her massive brow touched her crossed arms; he could -see that she was quivering from head to foot. There was a long pause, -then the woman looked up, faint defiance struggling in her face. - -"You _are_ a fool," she said. "A great, big, whimpering fool of a man. -She's the only one, eh? Jane Hemingway's daughter is an angel on earth, -above all the rest. Huh! and just because of her pretty face and slim -body and high head. Huh, oh, you _are_ a fool--an idiot, if there ever -was one!" - -"Stop, talk sense, if you _will_ talk," he said, sternly, his eyes -flashing. "Don't begin to run her down. I won't stand it. I know what -she is. I know she was made for me!" - -"She's not a whit better than the average," Ann retorted, her fierce -eyes fixed on his face. "She's as weak as any of the rest. Do you -know--do you know--" Ann looked away from him. "Do you know Langdon -Chester has his eye on her, that he is following her everywhere, meeting -her unbeknownst to her old mammy?" - -"Yes, I know that, too," King surprised her with the statement; "and -between you and me, that as much as my mother's sickness made me lay -down my work and come up here to-night. It is the crisis of my whole -life. She is at the turning-point of hers, just as you were at yours -when you were a young and happy girl. She might listen to him, and love -him; it is as natural for her to believe in a well-acted lie, as it is -for her to be good and pure. Listen and don't get mad--the grandest -woman I ever knew once trusted in falseness, and suffered. Virginia -might, too; she might enter the life-darkness that you were led into by -sheer faith in mankind, and have a life of sorrow before her. But if it -should happen, Aunt Ann, my career in the right way would end." - -"You wouldn't let a--a thing like that--" Ann began, anxiously, "a thing -like that ruin your whole life, when--" - -"Wouldn't I? You don't know me. These two hands would be dyed to the -bone with the slow death-blood of a certain human being, and I would go -to the gallows with both a smile and a curse. That's why it's my crisis. -I don't know how far it has gone. I only know that I want to save her -from--yes, from what you've been through, and lay my life and energy at -her feet." - -"Jane Hemingway's _daughter_!" Ann Boyd groaned. - -"Yes, Jane Hemingway's daughter. You hate her, I know, with the -unreasonable hatred that comes from despising her mother, but you've got -to help me, Aunt Ann. You put me where I am, in education and standing, -and you must not see me pulled down." - -"How could I help you, even--even--oh, you don't know, you don't know -that at this very minute--" - -"Oh yes, he may be with her right now, for all I know," King broke in, -passionately. "He may be pouring his lies into her confiding ear at this -very minute, as you say, but Fate would not be cruel enough to let them -harm her. You must see her, Aunt Ann. For my sake, you must see her. You -will know what to say. One word from you would open her eyes, when from -me it would be an offence. She would know that you knew; it would shock -her to her very soul, but it would--if she's actually in danger--save -her; I know her well enough for that; it would save her." - -"You are asking too much of me, Luke," Ann groaned, almost in piteous -appeal. "I can't do it--I just _can't_!" - -"Yes, you will," King said. "You have got a grand soul asleep under that -crust of sordid hatred and enmity, and it will awake, now that I have -laid bare my heart. You, knowing the grim penalty of a false step in a -woman's life, will not sit idle and see one of the gentlest of your kind -blindly take it. You can't, and you won't. You'll save her for me. -You'll save me, too--save me from the fate of a murderer." - -He stood up. "I'm going now," he finished. "I must hurry on home. I -won't have time to see you in the morning before I leave, but you now -know what I am living for. I am living only for Virginia Hemingway. Men -and women are made for each other, we were made for each other. She may -fancy she cares for that man, but she doesn't, Aunt Ann, any more than -you now care for--but I won't say it. Good-bye. You are angry now, but -you will get over it, and--and, you will stand by me, and by her." - - - - -XXI - - -Left alone, still crouching on her door-step, Ann, with fixed eyes and a -face like carved stone, watched him move away in the soft moonlight, the -very embodiment of youth and faith. She twisted her cold hands between -her knees and moaned. What was the matter with her, anyway? Was it -possible that the recent raging fires of her life's triumph were already -smouldering embers, half covered with the ashes of cowardly indecision? -Was she to sit quaking like that because a mere youth wanted his toy? -Was she not entitled to the sweet spoils of victory, after her long -struggle and defence? Yes, but Virginia! After all, what had the -innocent, sweet-natured girl to do with the grim battle? Never, in all -Ann had heard of the constant gossip against her, had one word come from -Virginia. Once, years ago, Ann recalled a remark of Mrs. Waycroft that -the girl had tried to keep her mother from speaking so harshly of the -lone brunt of general reproach, and yet Virginia was at that very moment -treading the crumbling edge of the self-same precipice over which Ann -had toppled. - -The lone woman rose stiffly and went into the house to go to bed--to go -to bed--to sleep! with all that battle of emotion in her soul and brain. -The clock steadily ticking and throwing its round, brass pendulum from -side to side caught her eye. It was too dark to see the hands, so she -lighted a tallow-dip, and with the fixed stare of a dying person she -peered into the clock's face. Half-past ten! Yes, there was perhaps time -for the rescue. If she were to get to Chester's in time, her judgment of -woman's nature told her one word from her would complete the rescue--the -rescue of Jane Hemingway's child--Jane's chief hope and flag of virtue -that she would still wave defiantly in her eyes. Without -undressing--why, she could not have explained--Ann threw herself on her -bed and buried her face in the pillow, clutching it with tense, angry -hands. - -"Oh, what's the matter with me?" she groaned. "Why did that fool boy -come here to-night, telling me that it would bring him to the gallows -stained to the bone with the dye of hell, and that _I_ must keep her in -the right road--me? Huh, me keep a girl in the right track, so they can -keep on saying I'm the only scab on the body of the community? I won't; -by all the powers above and below, _I won't_! She can look out for -herself, even if it _does_ ruin an idiot of a man and pull him--It -really _would_ ruin him, though. Maybe it would ruin _me_. Maybe he's -right and I ought to make a life business of saving others from what -I've been through--saving even my enemies. Christ said it; there is no -doubt about that. He said it. He never had to go through with what I -have, though, for He was free from the desire to fight, but He meant -that one thing, as the one great law of life--_the only law of life_! -Oh, God, I must do something! I must either save the girl or let it go -on. I don't know which to do, as God is my creator, I don't actually -know which to do. I don't--I don't--I don't--really--know--which--I -_want_ to do. That's it--I don't know which I _want_ to do. I'm simply -crazy to-night. I've never felt this way before. I've always been able -to tell whether I wanted, or didn't want, a thing, but now--" - -She turned over on her side. Then she sat up, staring at the clock. Next -she put her feet on the floor and stood erect. "I won't," she said, -between set teeth. "I won't. Before God, and all the imps of hell I'll -not meddle with it. It's Jane Hemingway's business to look after her -silly girl, and not mine." - -She went again to the porch and stood staring out into the white -moonlight. The steady beat of the hoofs of Luke King's horse, dying out -on the still night, came to her. Dear, dear boy! he did love the girl -and he never would be the same again--never. It would mean his downfall -from the glorious heights he had climbed. He would grapple as a wild -beast with the despoiler, and, as he said, go willingly to his own end? -Yes, that was Luke King; he had preached of the rugged road to heaven, -he would take the easier way to hell, and laugh in his despair at the -whole thing as a joke of fate. - -Before she knew it, Ann found herself out at her gate. Forces within her -raised her hand to the latch and pushed her body through. - -"I'll not meddle," she said, and yet she moved on down the road. She met -no one, heard nothing save the dismal croakings of the frogs in the -marshes. On she went, increasing her speed at every step. Yes, she -realized now that she must try to save the girl, for Virginia had done -her no personal injury. No, she must abide another time and seek some -other means for revenge against the mother. Chance would offer -something. Why, the cancer--why hadn't she thought of that? Wasn't that -enough for any human being to bear? Yes, Jane would get her reward. It -was fast on the road. And for Luke's sake--for the sake of the brave, -good-hearted, struggling boy, she would try to save his sweetheart. Yes, -that seemed inevitable. The long, white fence of the Chester place -suddenly cut across her view. Near the centre Ann descried the tall, -imitation stone gate-posts, spanned at the top by a white crescent, and -towards this portal she sped, breathing through her big nostrils like a -laboring ox. - -Reaching the gate and opening it, she saw a buggy and a pair of horses -hitched near the door. Ann paused among the boxwood bushes and stared in -perplexity. What could it mean? she asked herself. Had Colonel Chester -suddenly returned home, or was Langdon recklessly planning to flee the -country with the thoughtless girl? Mystified, Ann trudged up the -gravelled walk, seeing no one, till she stood on the veranda steps. The -big, old-fashioned drawing-room on the right of the dark entrance-hall -was lighted up. Loud, masculine laughter and bacchanalian voices burst -through the half-open windows. Ann went up the steps and peered in at -one of them, keeping her body well back in the shadow. There were three -men within--two drummers, one of whom was Fred Masters, and Langdon -Chester. The latter, calm and collected, and yet with a look of -suppressed fury on his face, was reluctantly serving whiskey from an -ancient cut-glass decanter. Ann saw that he was on the verge of an angry -outburst, and began to speculate on the cause. Ah! she had an idea, and -it thrilled her through and through. Quietly retracing her steps to the -lawn, she inspected the exterior of the great, rambling structure. She -was now sure that the visit of the men had come in the nature of an -unwelcome surprise to the young master of the house, and she found -herself suddenly clinging to the warm hope that the accident might have -saved the girl. - -"Oh, God, let it be so!" Ann heard herself actually praying. "Give the -poor young thing a chance to escape what I've been through!" - -But where was the object of her quest? Surely, Virginia had not gone -back home, else Ann would have met her on the way. Looking long and -steadily at the house, Ann suddenly descried a dim light burning -up-stairs in the front room on the left-hand side of the upper hall. -Instinct told her that she ought to search there, and, going back to the -house, the determined rescuer crossed the veranda, walked boldly through -the open doorway, and tiptoed to the foot of the broad, winding -stairway. Loud laughter, the clinking of glasses, and blatant voices -raised in harsh college-songs burst upon her. The yawning space through -which the stairs reached upward was dark, but with a steady hand on the -smooth walnut balustrade, Ann mounted higher and higher with absolutely -fearless tread. She had just gained the first landing, and stood there -encompassed in darkness, when the door of the drawing-room was suddenly -wrenched open and Langdon and Masters, in each other's arms, playfully -struggled into view. - -"You really must go now, boys," Chester was saying, in a persuasive -voice. "I don't want to be inhospitable, you know, but I have that -important work to do, and it must be done to-night. It is a serious -legal matter, and I promised to mail the papers to my father the first -thing in the morning." - -"Papers nothing!" Masters cried, in a drink-muffled tone. "This is the -first time I ever honored your old ancestral shack with my presence, and -I won't be sent off like a tramp from the door. Besides, you are not -open and above-board--you never were so at college. That was your great -forte, freezing your friends out of asking questions where your private -devilment was concerned. That, and the reputation of your family for -fighting duels, kept the whole school afraid of you. On my honor, Dick," -he called out to the man in the drawing-room, "I tell you I'm sure I saw -a woman with him on the steps of the veranda as we drove up. He had hold -of her hand and was pulling her into the hall." - -"Ah, don't be absurd," Ann heard Chester say, with a smooth, guarded -laugh. "Get in your rig, boys, and drive back to the hotel. I'll see you -in the morning." - -"Get in the rig nothing!" Masters laughed. "We are going to spend the -night here, aren't we, Dick?" - -"You bet; that's what I came for," a voice replied from within. "But let -him go do his work, Fred. You and I can finish the game, and empty his -decanter. You can't walk off with my money and not give me a chance to -win it back." - -"Yes, yes, that's a bang-up idea," Masters laughed, and he pushed -Chester by main force back into the light. "You go burn the midnight -oil, old man, and I'll make this tenderfoot telegraph his house for more -expense money." - -With a thunderous slam, the door was closed. Loud voices in hot argument -came from the room, and then there was silence. Chester had evidently -given up in despair of getting rid of his guests. Ann moved on up the -steps. In the room on the left the light was still burning, she could -see a pencil of it under the door-shutter. To this she groped and softly -rapped, bending her ear to the key-hole to listen. There was no sound -within. Ann rapped again, more loudly, her hand on the latch. She -listened again, and this time she was sure she heard a low moan. Turning -the bolt, she found the door locked, but at the same instant noticed -that the key had been left in the door on the outside. Turning the key, -Ann opened the door, went in, and softly closed the opening after her. A -lamp, turned low, stood on the mantel-piece, and in its light she saw a -crouching figure in a chair. It was Virginia, her face covered with her -hand, moaning piteously. - -"Let me go home, for God's sake, let me go home!" she cried, without -looking up. "You said I was to get the money, if I came only to the -door, and now--oh, oh!" The girl buried her face still deeper in her -apron and sobbed. - -Ann, an almost repulsive grimace on her impassive face, stood over her -and looked about the quaintly furnished room with its quiet puritanical -luxury of space, at the massive mahogany centre-table, with carved legs -and dragon-heads supporting the polished top, the high-posted bed and -rich, old, faded canopy, the white counterpane and pillows looking like -freshly fallen snow. - -"Thank God," Ann said, aloud. - -Virginia heard, sat as if stunned for an instant, and then with a stare -of bewilderment looked up. - -"Oh!" she gasped. "I thought it was--" - -"I know, huh, child! nobody could know better than I do. Don't ask me -what I come here for. I don't know any better than you do, but I come, -and I'm going to get you out of it--that is, if I'm in time to do any -good at all. Oh, you understand me, Virginia Hemingway. If I'm in time, -you'll march out of here with me, if not, God knows you might as well -stay here as anywhere else." - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd, how can you ask me such an awful--" - -"Well, then, I won't!" Ann said, more softly. "Besides, I can see the -truth in your young face. The Almighty has put lights in the eyes of -women that only one thing can put out. Yours are still burning." - -Virginia rose to her feet and clutched Ann's strong arm convulsively. - -"Oh, if you only knew _why_ I came, you'd not have the heart to think me -absolutely bad. Mrs. Boyd, as God is my Judge, I came because he--" - -"You needn't bother to tell me anything about it," Ann grunted, with a -shrug of her shoulders. "I know why you come; if I hadn't suspicioned -the truth I'd have let you alone, but I ain't going to tell you why I -come. I come, that's all. I come, and if we are going to get out of here -without a scandal we've got to be slick about it. Those devils are still -carousing down there. Let's go now while the parlor door is shut." - -They had reached the threshold of the chamber when Virginia drew back -suddenly. - -"He told me not to dare to go that way!" she cried. "He said I'd be seen -if I did. He locked me in, Mrs. Boyd--_he_ locked the door!" - -"I know that, too," Ann retorted, impatiently. "Didn't I have to turn -the key to get in? But we've _got_ to go this way. We've got to go down -them steps like I come, and past the room where they are holding high -carnival. We've got to chance it, but we must be quick about it. We -haven't time to stand here talking." - -She turned the carved brass knob and drew the shutter towards her. At -the same instant she shrank back into Virginia's arms, for the -drawing-room door was wrenched open, and Masters's voice rang out loudly -in the great hall. - -"We will see where he bunks, won't we, Dick? By George, the idea of an -old college-chum refusing to let a man see his house! I want to look at -the photographs you used to stick up on the walls, you sly dog! Oh, -you've got them yet! You don't throw beauties like them away when they -cost a dollar apiece." - -"Go back to your game, boys!" Langdon commanded, with desperate -coolness. "I'll show you the house after a while. Finish your game!" - -"The cold-blooded scoundrel!" Ann exclaimed, under her breath. "Not a -drop has passed his lips to-night, as much as he likes a dram." She -closed the door gently and stood looking about the room. On the edge of -the mantel-piece she saw something that gleamed in the dim lamplight, -and she went to it. It was a loaded revolver. - -"He threatened you with this, didn't he?" Ann asked, holding it before -her with the easy clasp of an expert. - -"No, he didn't do that," Virginia faltered, "but he told me if--if I -made a noise and attracted their attention and caused exposure, he'd -kill himself. Oh, Mrs. Boyd, I didn't mean to come here to this room at -first. I swear I didn't. He begged me to come as far as the front door -to get the money the man had brought back from Darley, then--" - -"Then those drunken fools drove up, and he persuaded you to hide here," -Ann interrupted, her mind evidently on something else. "Oh, I -understand; they played into his hands without knowing it, and it's my -private opinion that they saved you, silly child. You can't tell me -anything about men full of the fire of hell. You'd 'a' gone out of this -house at break of day with every bit of self-respect wrung out of you -like water out of a rag. You'd 'a' done that, if I hadn't come." - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd--" - -"Don't oh Mrs. Boyd me!" Ann snapped out. "I know what I'm talking -about. That isn't the point. The point is getting out to the road -without a row and a scandal that will ring half-way round the world. Let -a couple of foul-mouthed drummers know a thing like this, and they would -actually pay to advertise it in the papers. I tell you, child--" - -Ann broke off to listen. The door of the drawing-room seemed to be -opened again, and as quickly closed. - -"Come on." Ann held the revolver before her. "We've got to make a break -for freedom. This ain't no place for a pure young woman. You've got what -the highfaluting society gang at Darley would call a chaperon, but she -isn't exactly of the first water, according to the way such things are -usually graded. Seems like she's able to teach you tricks to-night." - -Virginia caught Ann's arm. "You are not going to shoot--" she began, -nervously. - -"Not unless I _have_ to," Ann said. "But only hell knows what two -drunken men and a cold, calculating devil of that brand will do in a -pinch. I'll see you down them steps, and out into God's moonlight, if I -have to drag you over enough corpses to make a corduroy road. I know how -to shoot. I killed a squirrel once in a high tree with a pistol. Come -on; they happen to be quiet right now." - -Ann opened the door and led the quaking girl across the upper corridor -to the stairs, and they began to grope down the steps, Ann's revolver -harshly scratching as it slid along the railing. The voices in the -drawing-room, as they neared the door, grew more boisterous. There was a -spasmodic and abortive effort at song on the part of Masters, a dash of -a deck of playing-cards on the floor, angry swearing, and the calm -remonstrance of the master of the house. Down the steps the two women -went till the drawing-room door was passed. Then the veranda was gained, -and the wide lawn and gravelled walks stretched out invitingly in the -moonlight. - -"Thank God," Ann muttered, as if to herself. "Now come on, let's hustle -out into the shelter of the woods." - -Speeding down the walk, hand-in-hand, they passed through the gate and -reached the road. "Slick as goose-grease," Ann chuckled. "Now we are -plumb safe--as safe as we'd be anywhere in the world." - -Drawing Virginia into the shadow of the trees bordering the road, she -continued, more deliberately: "I could take you through the woods and -across my meadows and fields, but it's a rough way at night, and it -won't be necessary. We can take the main road and dodge out of the way -if we hear anybody coming." - -"I'm not afraid now," Virginia sighed. "I'm not thinking about that. I'm -only worried about what you think--what you think, Mrs. Boyd." - -"Never you mind what _I_ think, child," Ann said, quietly. "God knows I -never would blame you like other folks, for I know a thing or two about -life. I've learned my lesson." - -Virginia laid her hand firmly on Ann's strong one. "He promised me the -money to have mother's operation performed. Oh, I couldn't let the -chance escape, Mrs. Boyd--it meant so much to the poor woman. You have -no idea what torture she is in. He wouldn't give it to me unless--unless -I went all the way to his house for it. I hardly knew why, but--yes, I -_knew_--" - -"That's right," Ann broke in, "it won't do any good to tell a story -about it. You knew what he wanted; any girl of your age with -common-sense would know." - -"Yes, I knew," Virginia confessed again, her head hanging, "but it was -the only chance to get the money, and I thought I'd risk it. I _did_ -risk it, and have come away empty-handed. I'm safe, but my poor -mother--" - -"Put that woman out of it for one minute, for God's sake!" Ann hurled at -her. "And right here I want it understood I didn't leave a warm bed -to-night to do her a favor. I done it, that's all there is about it, but -keep her out of it." - -"All right," the girl gave in. "I don't want to make you mad after what -you have done, but I owe it to myself to show you that I was thinking -only of her. I am not bad at heart, Mrs. Boyd. I wanted to save my -mother's life." - -"And you never thought of yourself, poor child!" slipped impulsively -from Ann's firm lips. "Yes, yes, I believe that." - -"I thought only of her, till I found myself locked there in his room and -remembered what, in my excitement, I had promised him. I promised him, -Mrs. Boyd, to make no outcry, and--and--" Virginia raised her hands to -her face. "I promised, on my word of honor, to wait there till he came -back. When you knocked on the door I thought it was he, and when you -opened it and came in and stood above me, I thought it was all over. -Instead, it was you, and--" - -"And here we are out in the open air," Ann said, shifting the revolver -to the other hand. She suddenly fixed her eyes on Virginia's thin-clad -shoulders. "You didn't come here a cool night like this without -something around you, did you?" - -"No, I--oh, I've left my shawl!" the girl cried. "He took it from me, -and kept it. He said it was to bind me to my promise to stay till he got -back." - -"The scoundrel!--the wily scamp!" Ann muttered. "Well, there is only one -thing about it, child. I'm going back after that shawl. I wouldn't leave -a thing like that in the hands of a young devil beat in his game; he'd -make use of it. You go on home. I'll get your shawl by some hook or -crook. You run over to my house on the sly to-morrow morning and I'll -give it back to you." - -"But, Mrs. Boyd, I--" - -"Do as I tell you," the elder woman commanded, "and see that you keep -this thing from Jane Hemingway. I don't want her to know the part I've -taken to-night. Seems to me I'd rather die. What I've done, I've done, -but it isn't for her to know. I've helped her daughter out of trouble, -but the fight is still on between me and her, and don't you forget it. -Now, go on; don't stand there and argue with me. Go on, I tell you. What -you standing there like a sign-post with the boards knocked off for? Go -on home. I'm going back for that shawl." - -Virginia hesitated for a moment, and then, without speaking again, and -with her head hanging down, she turned homeward. - - - - -XXII - - -As Ann Boyd reached the veranda, on her return to the house, loud and -angry voices came from the parlor through an open window. - -"Blast you, I believe it _was_ some woman," she heard Masters say in a -maudlin tone, "and that's why you are so anxious to hurry us away. Oh, -I'm onto you. George Wilson told me you were hanging round the girl you -refused to introduce me to, and for all I know--" - -"That's no business of yours," Chester retorted, in a tone of sudden -fury. "I've stood this about as long as I'm going to, Masters, even if -you are drunk and don't know what you are about. Peterkin, you'd better -take your friend home; my house is not a bar-room, and my affairs are my -own. I want that understood." - -"Look here, Masters," a new voice broke in, "you _are_ going too far, -and I'm not going to stand for it. Chester's right. When you are full -you are the most unreasonable man alive. This is my turnout at the -door--come on, or I'll leave you to walk to Springtown." - -"Well, I'll go all right," threatened Masters, "but I am not done yet. -I'll see you again, my boy. What they used to say in college is true; -you won't tote fair. You are for number one every time, and would -sacrifice a friend for your own interests at the drop of a hat." - -"Take him on, take him on!" cried Chester. - -"Oh, I'm going all right!" growled Masters. "And I'm not drunk either. -My judgment of you is sober-headed enough. You--" - -They were coming through the hall to gain the door, and Ann quickly -concealed herself behind one of the tall Corinthian columns that -supported the massive, projecting roof of the veranda. She was standing -well in the shadow when Masters, drawn forcibly by his friend, staggered -limply out and down the steps. Langdon followed to the edge of the -veranda, and stood there, frowning sullenly in the light from the -window. He was pale and haggard, his lip quivering in the rage he was -trying to control as he watched Peterkin half lifting and almost roughly -shoving Masters into the vehicle. - -"The puppy!" Ann heard him muttering. "I ought to have slapped his -meddlesome mouth." - -Several minutes passed. Ann scarcely dared to breathe freely, so close -was she to the young planter. Masters was now in the buggy, leaning -forward, his head lolling over the dashboard, and Peterkin was getting -in beside him. The next moment the impatient horses had turned around -and were off down the drive in a brisk trot. - -"Yes, I ought to have kicked the meddling devil out and been done with -it!" Ann heard Langdon say. "She, no doubt, has heard all the racket and -been scared to death all this time, poor little thing!" - -Chester was on the point of turning into the hall when a step sounded at -the corner of the house nearest the negro quarter, and a short, portly -figure emerged into the light. - -"Marse Langdon, you dar?" a voice sounded. - -"Yes, Aunt Maria." The young planter spoke with ill-disguised -impatience. "What is it?" - -"Nothin', Marse Langdon, 'cep' dem rapscallions kept me awake, an' I -heard you stormin' out at um. I tol' yo' pa, Marse Langdon, ef dey was -any mo' night carouses while he was gone I'd let 'im know, but I ain't -gwine mention dis, kase I done see how hard you tried to oust dat low -white trash widout a row. You acted de plumb gentleman, Marse Langdon. -Is de anything I kin do fer you, Marse Langdon?" - -"No, Aunt Maria." Chester's tone betrayed impatience even with the -consideration of the faithful servant. "No, I don't want a thing. I'm -going to bed. I've got a headache. If any one should call to-night, -which is not likely at this hour, send them away. I sha'n't get up." - -Ann was now fearful lest in turning he would discover her presence -before the negro had withdrawn, and, seeing her opportunity while his -attention was still on the road, from which the trotting of the -departing horses came in a steady beat of hoofs, she noiselessly glided -into the big hall through the open door and stood against a wall in the -darkness. - -"Now, I reckon, they will let me alone!" she heard Chester say, as he -came into the hall and turned into the parlor. The next instant he had -blown out the tall prismed lamp, lowered a window, and come out to close -and lock the front door. - -His hand was on the big brass handle when, in a calm voice, Ann -addressed him: - -"I want a word with you, Mr. Chester," she said, and she moved towards -him, the revolver hanging at her side. - -She heard him gasp, and he stood as if paralyzed in the moonbeams which -fell through the open doorway and the side-lights of frosted glass. - -"Who are you?" he managed to articulate. - -"Oh, you know me, I reckon, Mr. Chester. I'm Ann Boyd. I want to see you -on a little private business, just between you and me, you know. It -needn't go any further." - -"Oh, Ann Boyd!" he exclaimed, and the thought ran through his bewildered -brain that she had mistaken him for his father, and that he was -accidentally running upon evidence of an intercourse between the two -that he had thought was a thing of the past. "But, Mrs. Boyd," he said, -"you've made a mistake. My father is away; he left for Savannah--" - -"I didn't want to see your father," Ann snarled, angrily. "My business -is with you, my fine young man, and nobody else." - -"Me?" he gasped, in growing surprise. "Me?" - -"Yes, you. I've come back for Virginia Hemingway's shawl. She says you -kept it. Just between you and me," she went on, "I don't intend to leave -a thing like that in the hands of a man of your stamp to hold over the -poor girl and intimidate her with." - -"You say--you say--" He seemed unable to formulate expression for his -abject astonishment, and he left the door and aimlessly moved to the -railing of the stairs and stood facing her. His eyes now fell on the -revolver in her hand, and the sight of it increased his wondering -perturbation. - -"I said I wanted her shawl," Ann repeated, firmly, "and I don't see no -reason why I should stand here all night to get it. You know what you -did with it. Hand it to me!" - -"Her shawl?" he muttered, still staring at her wide-eyed and bewildered, -and wondering if this might not be some trap the vindictive recluse was -setting for him. - -"Oh, I see," Ann laughed--"you think the poor, frail thing is still up -there locked in that room; but she ain't. I saw her coming this way -to-night, and, happening to know what you wanted her for, I come after -her. You was busy with them galoots in the parlor, and I didn't care to -bother you, so I went up and fetched her down without waiting to send in -a card. She's in her bed by this time, poor little thing! And I come -back for the shawl. I wasn't afraid of you, even without this gun that I -found in your room. Thank God, the girl's as pure as she was the day she -drew milk from her mother's breast, and I'll see to it that you won't -never bother her again. This night you have sunk lower than man ever -sunk--even them in your own family. You tried everything hell could -invent, and when you failed you went to heaven for your bribes. You knew -how she loved her wretched old hag of a mammy and what she wanted the -money for. Some sensible folks argue that there isn't no such place as a -hell. I tell you, Langdon Chester, there _is_ one, and it's full to -running over--packed to the brink--with your sort. For your own low and -selfish gratification you'd consign that beautiful flower of a girl to a -long life of misery. You dirty scamp, I'm a good mind to--Look here, get -me that shawl! You'll make me mad in a minute." She suddenly advanced -towards him, the revolver raised half threateningly, and he shrank back -in alarm. - -"Don't, don't point that thing at me!" he cried. "I don't want trouble -with you." - -"Well, you get that shawl then, and be quick about it." - -He put a foot on the lower step of the stairs. "It's up at the door of -the room," he said, doggedly. "I dropped it there just for a joke. I was -only teasing her. I--I know she's a good girl. She--she knew I was going -to give it back to her. I was afraid she'd get frightened and run down -before those men, and--" - -"And your hellish cake would be dough!" Ann sneered. "Oh, I see, but -that isn't getting the shawl." - -He took another slow step, his eyes upon her face, and paused. - -"You are trying to make it out worse than it is," he said, at the end of -his resources. "I promised to give her the money, which I had locked in -the desk in the library for safe-keeping, and asked her to come get it. -She and I were on the steps when those men drove up. I begged her to run -up-stairs to that room. I--I locked the door to--to keep them out more -than for--for any other reason." - -"Oh yes, I know you did, Langdon Chester, and you took her shawl for the -same reason and made the poor, helpless, scared thing agree to wait for -you. A good scamp pleases me powerful, but you are too good a sample for -any use. Get the shawl." - -"I don't want to be misunderstood," Chester said, in an all but -conciliatory tone, as he took a slow, upward step. - -"Well, you bet there's no danger of me not understanding you," Ann -sneered. "Get that shawl." - -Without another word he groped up the dark steps. Ann heard him walking -about on the floor above, striking matches and uttering exclamations of -anger. Presently she heard him coming. When half-way down the stairs he -paused and threw the shawl to her. - -"There it is," he said, sullenly. "Leave my revolver on the steps." - -Ann caught the shawl, which, like some winged thing, swooped down -through the darkness, and the next instant she had lowered the hammer of -the revolver and laid it on the lowest step of the stairs. - -"All right, it's an even swap," she chuckled--"your gun for our shawl. -Now go to your bed and sleep on this. It's my opinion that, bad as you -are, young man, I've done you a favor to-night." - -"There's one thing I'll try to find out," he summoned up retaliatory -courage to say, "and that is why you are bothering yourself so much -about the daughter of a woman you are doing all you can to injure." - -Ann laughed from the door as she crossed the threshold, the shawl under -her arm. "It will do you good to study on that problem," she said. "You -find that out, and I'll pay you well for the answer. I don't know that -myself." - -From the window of his room above, Langdon watched her as she passed -through the gate and disappeared on the lonely road. - -"She won't tell it," he decided. "She'll keep quiet, unless it is her -plan to hold it over Jane Hemingway. That may be it--and yet if that is -so, why didn't she--wait?" - - - - -XXIII - - -The sun had just risen the next morning, and its long, red streamers -were kindling iridescent fires in the jewels of dew on the dying grass -of the fields. White mists, like tenderly caressing clouds, hung along -the rocky sides of the mountains. Ann Boyd, her eyes heavy from unwonted -loss of sleep, was at the barn feeding her horses when she saw Virginia -coming across the meadows. "She wants her shawl, poor thing!" Ann mused. -"I'll go get it." - -She went back into the house and brought it out just as the beautiful -girl reached the barn-yard fence and stood there wordless, timid, and -staring. "You see, I kept my word," the elder woman said, with an effort -at a smile. "Here is your shawl." Virginia reached out for it. She said -nothing, simply folding the shawl on her arm and staring into Ann's eyes -with a woe-begone expression. She had lost her usual color, and there -were black rings round her wonderful eyes that gave them more depth and -seeming mystery than ever. - -"I hope your mother wasn't awake last night when you got back," Ann -said. - -"No, she wasn't--she was sound asleep," Virginia said, without change of -expression. It was as if, in her utter depression, she had lost all -individuality. - -"Then she don't know," Ann put in. - -"No, she don't suspect, Mrs. Boyd. If she did, she'd die, and so would -I." - -"Well, I don't see as she is likely to know--_ever_, as long as she -lives," Ann said, in a crude attempt at comfort-giving. - -"I fancied you'd _want_ her to know," said the girl, looking at Ann -frankly. "After I thought it over, I came to the conclusion that maybe -you did it all so you could tell her. I see no other reason for--for you -being so--so good to--to me." - -"Well, I don't know as I've been good to anybody." Ann's color was -rising in spite of her cold exterior. "But we won't talk about that. -Though I'll tell you one thing, child, and that is that I'll never tell -this to a living soul. Nobody but you and me an' that trifling scamp -will ever know it. Now, will _that_ do you any good? It's the same, you -see, as if it had never really taken place." - -"But it _did_ take place!" Virginia said, despondently. - -"Oh yes, but you don't know when you are in luck," Ann said, grimly. "In -things like that a miss is as good as a mile. Study my life awhile, and -you'll fall down on your knees and thank God for His mercy. Huh, child, -don't be silly! I know when a young and good-looking girl that has gone -a step too far is fortunate. Look here--changing the subject--I saw your -mammy standing in the back door just now. Does she know you left the -house?" - -"Yes, I came to look for the cow," said Virginia. - -"Then she don't suspicion where you are at," said Ann. "Now, you see, -she may have noticed that you walked off without a shawl, and you'd -better not wear one home. Leave it with me and come over for it some -time in the day when she won't miss you." - -"I think I'd better take it back," Virginia replied. "She wears it -herself sometimes and might miss it." - -"Oh, I see!" Ann's brows ran together reflectively. "Well, I'll tell -you. Tote it under your arm till you get near the house, and then drop -it somewhere in the weeds or behind the ash-hopper, and go out and get -it when she ain't looking." - -"I'll do that, then," the girl said, wearily. "I was thinking, Mrs. -Boyd, that not once last night did I remember to thank you for--" - -"Oh, don't thank _me_, child!" Had Ann been a close observer of her own -idiosyncrasies, her unwary softness of tone and gentleness to a daughter -of her sworn enemy would have surprised her. "Don't thank me," she -repeated. "Thank God for letting you escape the lot of others just as -young and unsuspecting as you ever were. I don't deserve credit for what -I done last night. In fact, between you and me, I tried my level best -not to interfere. Why I finally gave in I don't know, but I done it, and -that's all there is to it. I done it. I got started and couldn't stop. -But I want to talk to you. Come in the house a minute. It won't take -long. Jane--your mother--will think the cow has strayed off, but there -stands the cow in the edge of the swamp. Come on." - -Dumbly, Virginia followed into the house and sank into a chair, holding -her shapely hands in her lap, her wealth of golden-brown hair massed on -her head and exquisite neck. Ann shambled in her untied, dew-wet shoes -to the fireplace and poured out a cup of coffee from a tin pot on the -coals. - -"Drink this," she said. "If what I hear is true, you don't get any too -much to eat and drink over your way." - -Virginia took it and sipped it daintily, but with evident relish. - -"I see you take to that," Ann said, unconscious of the genuine, motherly -delight she was betraying. "Here, child, I'll tell you what I want you -to do. These spiced sausages of mine, dry as powder in the corn-shuck, -are the best and sweetest flavored that ever you stuck a tooth in. They -fry in their own grease almost as soon as they hit a hot pan when they -are sliced thin." - -"Oh no, I thank you," Virginia protested; "I really couldn't." - -"But I know you _can_," Ann insisted, as she cut down from a rafter -overhead one of the sausages and deftly sliced it in a pan already hot -on the coals. "You needn't tell me you ain't hungry. I can see it in -your face. Besides, do you know it's a strange fact that a woman will -eat just the same in trouble as out, while a man's appetite is gone the -minute he's worried?" - -The girl made no further protest, and Ann soon brought some hot slices -of the aromatic food, with nicely browned toast, and placed them in a -plate in her lap. "How funny all this seems!" Ann ran on. - -"Here I am feeding you up and feeling sorry for you when only last night -I--well, I've got to talk to you, and I'm going to get it over with. -I'll have to speak of the part of my life that has been the cud for -every idle woman in these mountains to chaw on for many, many years, but -I'm going to do it, so you will know better what you escaped last night; -but, first of all, I want to ask you a straight question, and I don't -mean no harm nor to be meddling where I have no business. I want to know -if you love this Langdon Chester as--well, as you've always fancied -you'd love the man you became a wife to." - -There was a moment's hesitation on the part of the girl. Her cheeks took -on color; she broke a bit of the sausage with her fork, but did not -raise it to her lips. - -"I'm asking you a simple, plain question," Ann reminded her. - -"No, I don't," Virginia answered, haltingly;--"that is, not now, not--" - -"Ah, I see!" the old woman cried. "The feeling died just as soon as you -saw straight down into his real nature, just as soon as you saw that -he'd treat you like a slave, that he'd abuse you, beat you, lock you up, -if necessary--in fact, do anything a brute would do to gain his aims." - -"I'm afraid, now, that I never really loved him," Virginia said, a catch -in her voice. - -"Humph!" Ann ejaculated. "I see. Then you went all the way over that -lonely road to his house with just one thought in your mind, and that -was to get that money for your mother." - -"As God is my Judge, Mrs. Boyd, that's all I went for," Virginia said, -her earnest eyes staring steadily at her companion. - -"Well, I'm glad it was that way," Ann mused. "There was a time when I -thought you were a silly girl whose head could easily be turned, but -I've been hearing fine things about you, and I see you are made of good, -solid, womanly stuff. Now, I want to tell you the whole truth, and then, -if you want to consider me a friend and a well-wisher, all right. I'm no -better-hearted than the average mortal woman. The truth is, Virginia -Hemingway, I hate your mother as much as one human being can hate -another this side of the bad place. She's been a thorn in my side the -biggest part of my life. Away back when I was about your age, I got into -just such a tight as you was in last night. For a long time afterwards I -was nearly crazy, but when the prime cause of my trouble went off and -married I begun to try to live again. I fell in love with a real -good-natured, honest man. I wanted him to know the truth, but I never -knew how to tell him, and so I kept holding off. He was a great beau -among the girls of that day, making love to all of them, your mother -among the rest. Finally, I give in. I couldn't resist his begging, my -friends advised it, and me and him was married. That was the beginning -of your mammy's enmity. It kept up, and when the truth about me finally -leaked out she saw to it that my husband would not overlook the -past--she saw to it that I was despised, kicked, and sneered at by the -community--and my husband left with my only child. I sent up a daily -prayer to be furnished with the means for revenge, but it didn't do any -good, and then I got to begging the devil for what the Lord had refused. -That seemed to work better, for one day a hint came to me that Langdon -Chester was on your trail. That gave me the first glimpse of hope of -solid revenge I'd had. I kept my eyes and ears open day and night. I saw -your doom coming--I lived over what I'd been through, and the thought -that you were to go through it was as sweet to me as honey in the comb. -Finally the climax arrived. I saw you on the way to his house last -night, and understood what it meant. I was squatting down behind a fence -at the side of the road. I saw you pass, and followed you clean to the -gate, and then turned back, at every step exulting over my triumph. The -very sky overhead was ablaze with the fire of your fall to my level. But -at my gate I was halted suddenly. Virginia--to go back a bit--there is a -certain young man in this world that I reckon is the only human being -that I love. I love him, I reckon, because he always seemed to love me, -and believe me better than I am, and, more than that, he was the only -person that ever pointed out a higher life to me. He was the poor boy -that I educated, and who went off and done well, and has just come back -to this country." - -"Luke King!" Virginia exclaimed, softly, and then she impulsively placed -her hand on her lips and sat staring at the speaker, almost breathlessly -alert. - -"Yes, Luke King," said Ann, with feeling. "Strange to say, he has always -said the day would come when I'd rise above hatred and revenge; he has -learned some queer things in the West. Well, last night when I met him -he said he'd come up to see his mother, who he heard was a little sick, -but he finally admitted that her sickness wasn't all that fetched him. -He said he was worried. He was more downhearted than I ever saw him -before. Virginia Hemingway, he said he was worried about _you_." - -"About _me_? Oh no," Virginia gasped. - -"Yes, about you," Ann went on. "The poor fellow sat down on the -door-step and laid bare his whole young heart to me. He'd loved you, he -said, ever since you was a little girl. He'd taken your sweet face off -with him on that long stay, and it had been with him constantly. It was -on your account he yielded to the temptation to locate in Georgia again, -and when he come back and saw you a full-grown woman he told me he felt -that you and he were intended for one another. He said he knew your -beautiful character. He said he'd been afraid to mention it to you, -seeing you didn't feel the same way, and he thought it would be wiser to -let it rest awhile; but then he learned that Langdon Chester was going -with you, and he got worried. He was afraid that Langdon wouldn't tote -fair with you. I may as well tell you the truth, Virginia. I never was -so mad in all my life, for there I was right at that minute gloating -over your ruin. I was feeling that way while he was telling me, with -tears in his eyes and voice, that if--if harm came to a hair of your -bonny head he'd kill Langdon Chester in cold blood, and go to the -gallows with a smile on his lips. He didn't know anything wrong, he was -just afraid--that was all, just afraid--and he begged me--just think of -it, _me_, who was right then hot with joy over your plight--he begged me -to see you some day soon and try to get you to care for him. I was so -mad I couldn't speak, and he went off, his last word being that he knew -I wouldn't fail him." - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd, I can't stand this!" Virginia bowed her head and began -to sob. "He was always a good friend, but I never dreamed that he cared -for me that way, and now he thinks that I--thinks that I--oh!" - -"Well," Ann went on, disregarding the interruption, "I was left to -tussle with the biggest situation of my life. I tried to fight it. I -laid down to sleep, but rolled and tossed, unable to close my eyes, till -at last, as God is my Judge, something inside of me--a big and swelling -something I'd never felt before--picked me up and made me go to that -house. You know the rest. Instead of standing by in triumph and seeing -the child of my enemy swept away by my fate, I was praying God to save -her. I don't know what to make of my conduct, even now. Last night, when -I come back to my house, I seemed all afire with feelings like none I -ever had. As the Lord is my holy Guide, I felt like I wished I'd -comforted you more--wished I'd taken you in my poor old arms there in -the moonlight and held you to my breast, like I wish somebody had done -me away back there before that dark chasm opened in front of me. I'm -talking to you now as I never dreamt I could talk to a female, much less -a daughter of Jane Hemingway; but I can't help it. You are Luke's chosen -sweetheart, and to cast a slur on you for what took place last night -would be to blight my own eternal chances of salvation; for, God bless -your gentle little soul, you went there blinded by your mother's -suffering, an excuse I couldn't make. No, there's just one thing about -it. Luke is right. You are a good, noble girl, and you've had your cross -to bear, and I want to see you get what I missed--a long, happy life of -love and usefulness in this world. You will get it with Luke, for he is -the grandest character I ever knew or heard about. I don't know but what -right now it is his influence that's making me whirl about this odd way. -I don't know what to make of it. As much as I hate your mother, I almost -feel like I could let her stand and abuse me to my face and not talk -back. Now, dry your eyes and finish that sausage. I reckon I hain't the -virago and spitfire you've been taught to think I am. Most of us are -better on the inside than out. Stop--stop now! crying won't do any -good." - -"I can't help it," Virginia sobbed. "You are so good to me, and to think -that it was from my mother that you got all your abuse." - -"Well, never mind about that," Ann said, laying her hand almost with -shamefaced stealth on the girl's head and looking towards the swamp -through the open door. "I see your cow is heading for home on her own -accord. Follow her. This is our secret; nobody need know but us two. -Your mammy would have you put in a house of detention if she knew it. -Slip over and see me again when her back is turned. Lord, Lord, I wonder -why I never thought about pitying you all along, instead of actually -hating you for no fault of yours!" - -Virginia rose, put the plate on the table, and, with her face full of -emotion, she impulsively put her arms around Ann's neck. - -"You are the best woman on earth," she said, huskily, "and I love you--I -can't help it. I love you." - -"Oh, I reckon you don't do _that_," Ann said, coloring to the roots of -her heavy hair. "That wouldn't be possible." - -"But I _do_, I tell you, I _do_," Virginia said again, "and I'll never -do an unwomanly thing again in my life. But I don't want to meet Luke -King again. I couldn't after what has happened." - -"Oh, you let that take care of itself," Ann said, accompanying Virginia -to the door. - -She stood there, her red hands folded under her apron, and watched the -girl move slowly across the meadow after the plodding cow. - -"What a pretty trick!" Ann mused. "And to think she'd actually put her -arms round my old neck and hug me, and say she--oh, that was odd, very, -very odd! I don't seem to be my own boss any longer." - -An hour later, as she stood in her front porch cutting the dying vines -from the strings which held them upward, she saw Mrs. Waycroft hastening -along the road towards her. "There, I clean forgot that woman," Ann -said, her brow wrinkled. "She's plumb full of what she heard that scamp -saying to Virginia at the graveyard. I'll have to switch her off the -track some way, the Lord only knows how, but off she goes, if I have to -lie to my best friend till I'm black in the face." - -"I've been wanting to get over all morning," the visitor said, as she -opened the gate and hurried in. "I had my breakfast two hours ago, but -Sally Hinds and her two children dropped in and detained me. They -pretended they wanted to talk about the next preaching, but it was -really to get something to eat. The littlest one actually sopped the -gravy from the frying-pan with a piece of bread-crust. I wanted to slip -out last night and come over here to watch the road to see if Virginia -Hemingway kept her promise, but just about that hour Jim Dilk--he lives -in my yard, you know--he had a spasm, and we all thought he was going to -die." - -"Well, I reckon," Ann said, carelessly, as she pulled at a rotten piece -of twine supporting a dead vine, and broke it from its nail under the -eaves of the porch--"I reckon you'd 'a' had your trip for nothing, and -maybe feel as sneaking about it as I confess I do." - -"Sneaking?" echoed Mrs. Waycroft. - -"Yes, the truth is, I was mean enough, Mary, to hold watch on the road -in that chill night air, and got nothing but a twitch of rheumatism in -my leg as a reward. The truth is, Virginia Hemingway is all right. She -wanted that money bad enough, but it was just on old Jane's account, and -she wasn't going to be led into sech a trap as that. I reckon Langdon -Chester was doing most of the talking when you saw them together. She -may be flirting a little with him, as most any natural young girl would, -but, just between me 'n' you--now, see that this goes no further, -Mary--there is a big, big case up between Virginia and Luke King." - -"You _don't say_! How did you drop onto that?" gasped Mrs. Waycroft. - -"Well, I don't feel at liberty exactly to tell how I got onto it," Ann -said, pulling at another piece of twine; "but it will get out before -long. Luke has been in love with her ever since she wore short dresses." - -"Huh, that _is_ a surprise!" said Mrs. Waycroft. "Well, she is -fortunate, Ann. He's a fine young man." - - - - -XXIV - - -Towards sunset that afternoon, as Ann was returning from her -cotton-house, she came upon Virginia in a thicket on the roadside -picking up pieces of fallen tree-branches for fire-wood. Ann had -approached from the rear, and Virginia was unaware of her nearness. To -the old woman's surprise, the girl's eyes were red from weeping, and -there was a droop of utter despondency on her as she moved about, her -apron full of sticks, her glance on the ground. Ann hesitated for a -minute, and then stepped across the stunted grass and touched her on the -arm. - -"What's the matter _now_, child?" she asked. - -The girl turned suddenly and flushed to the roots of her hair, but she -made no response. - -"What's gone wrong?" Ann pursued, anxiously. "Don't tell me your mother -has found out about--" - -"Oh no, it's not that," Virginia said, wiping her eyes with her -disengaged hand. "It's not that. I'm just miserable, Mrs. Boyd, that's -all--thoroughly miserable. You mustn't think I'm like this all the time, -for I'm not. I've been cheerful at home all day--as cheerful as I could -be under the circumstances; but, being alone out here for the first -time, I got to thinking about my mother, and the sadness of it all was -too much for me." - -"She hain't worse, is she?" Ann asked. - -"Not that anybody could see, Mrs. Boyd," the girl replied; "but the -cancer must be worse. Two doctors from Springtown, who were riding by, -stopped to ask for a drink of water, and my uncle told them about -mother's trouble. It looked like they just wanted to see it out of -professional curiosity, for when they heard we had no money and were -deeply in debt they didn't offer any advice. But they looked very much -surprised when they made an examination, and it was plain that they -didn't think she had much chance. My mother was watching their faces, -and knew what they thought, and when they had gone away she fairly -collapsed. I never heard such pitiful moaning in all my life. She is -more afraid of death than any one I ever saw, and she just threw herself -on her bed and prayed for mercy. Oh, it was awful! awful! Then my uncle -came in and said the doctors had said the specialist in Atlanta could -really cure her, if she had the means to get the treatment, and that -made her more desperate. From praying she turned almost to cursing in -despair. My uncle is usually indifferent about most matters, but the -whole thing almost made him sick. He went out to the side of the house -to keep from hearing her cries. Some of his friends came along the road -and joked with him, but he never spoke to them. He told me there was a -young doctor at Darley who was willing to operate on her, but that he -would be doing it only as an experiment, and that nobody but the Atlanta -specialist would be safe in such a case." - -"And the cost, if I understood right," said Ann--"the cost, first and -last, would foot up to about a hundred dollars." - -"Yes, that's what it would take," Virginia sighed. - -Ann's brow was furrowed; her eyes flashed reminiscently. "She ought to -have been laying by something all along," she said, "instead of making -it her life business to harass and pull down a person that never did her -no harm." - -"Don't say anything against her!" Virginia flared up. "If you do, I -shall be sorry I said what I did this morning. You have been kind to me, -but not to her, and she is my mother, who is now lying at the point of -death begging for help that never will come." - -Ann stared steadily, and then her lashes began to flicker. "I don't know -but I think more of you for giving me that whack, my girl," she said, -simply. "I deserve it. I've got no right on earth to abuse a mother to -her only child, much less a mother in the fix yours is in. No, I went -too far, my child. You are not in the fight between me and her." - -"You ought to be ashamed to be in it, when she's down," said Virginia, -warmly. - -"Well, I _am_," Ann admitted. "I _am_. Come on to my gate with me. I -want to talk to you. There is a lot of loose wood lying about up there, -and you are welcome to all you pick up; so you won't be losing time." - -With her apron drawn close up under her shapely chin, her eyes still red -and her cheeks damp, Virginia obeyed. If she had been watching her -companion closely, she might have wondered over the strange expression -of Ann's face. Now and then, as she trudged along, kicking up the back -part of her heavy linsey skirt in her sturdy strides, a shudder would -pass over her and a weighty sigh of indecision escape her big chest. - -"To think this would come to me!" she muttered once. "_Me!_ God knows it -looks like my work t'other night was far enough out of my regular track -without--huh!" - -Reaching the gate, she told Virginia to wait a minute at the fence till -she went into the house. She was gone several minutes, during which time -the wondering girl heard her moving about within; then she appeared in -the doorway, almost pale, a frown on her strong face. - -"Look here, child," she said, coming out and leaning her big, bare -elbows on the top rail of the fence, "I've thought this all over and -over till my head spins like a top, and I can see but one way for your -mother to get out of her trouble. I'm the greatest believer you ever run -across of every human being doing his or her _full_ duty in every case. -Now, strange as it may sound, I left my home last night and deliberately -made it my special business to step in between you and the only chance -of getting the money your mother stands in need of. I thought I was -doing what was right, and I still believe I was, as far as it went, but -I was on the point of making a botched job of it. I'd get mighty few -thanks, I reckon, for saving you from the clutches of that scamp if I -left your mother to die in torment of body and soul. So, as I say, there -ain't but one way out of it." - -Ann paused; she was holding something tightly clasped in her hand, and -not looking at Virginia. - -"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," the girl said, wonderingly. "If -you see any way out, it is more than I can." - -"Well, your mother's got to go to Atlanta," Ann said, sheepishly; "and, -as I see it, there isn't but one person whose duty it is to put up the -cash for it, _and that person is me_." - -"You? Oh no, Mrs. Boyd!" - -"But I know better, child. The duty has come on me like a load of bricks -dumped from a wagon. The whole thing has driven me slap-dab in a corner. -I know when I'm whipped--that's one of the things that has helped me -along in a moneyed way in this life--it was always knowing when to let -up. I've got to wave the white flag in this battle till my enemy's on -her feet, then the war may go on. But"--Ann opened her hand and -displayed the bills she was holding--"take this money home with you." - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd, I couldn't think of--" - -"Well, don't think about it; take it on, and don't argue with a woman -older than you are, and who knows better when and how a thing has to be -done." - -Most reluctantly Virginia allowed Ann to press the money into her -unwilling hand. "But remember this," Ann said, firmly: "Jane Hemingway -must never know where you got it--never! Do you understand? It looks -like I can stand most anything better than letting that woman know I put -up money on this; besides, bad off as she is, she'd peg out before she'd -let me help her." - -Virginia's face was now aflame with joy. "I tell you what I'll do," she -said. "I'll accept it as a loan, and I'll pay it back some day if I have -to work my hands to the bone." - -"Well, you can do as you like about that," Ann said. "The only thing I -absolutely insist on is that she isn't told who sent it. It wouldn't be -hard to keep her in the dark; if you'll promise me right here, on your -word, not to tell, then you can say you gave your sacred promise to that -effect, and that would settle it." - -"Well, I'll do that," Virginia finally agreed. "I know I can do that." - -"All right," Ann said. "It may set the old thing to guessing powerful, -and she may bore you to tell, promise or no promise, but she'll never -suspicion _me_--never while the sun shines from the sky." - -"No, she won't suspect you," Virginia admitted, and with a grateful, -backward look she moved away. - -Ann stood leaning against the fence, her eyes on the receding figure as -the girl moved along the sunlit road towards the dun cottage in the -shadow of the mountain. - -"I reckon I'm a born idiot," she said; "but there wasn't no other way -out of it--no other under the sun. I got my foot in it when I laid in -wait watching for the girl to walk into that trap. If I hadn't been so -eager for that, I could have left Jane Hemingway to her fate. Good Lord, -if this goes on, I'll soon be bowing and scraping at that old hag's -feet--_me!_ huh! when it's been _her_ all this time that has been at the -bottom of the devilment." - - - - -XXV - - -During this talk Jane Hemingway had gone out to the fence to speak to -Dr. Evans, who had passed along the road, a side of bacon on his left -shoulder, and she came back, and with a low groan sat down. Sam -Hemingway, who sat near the fire, shrugged his shoulders and sniffed. -"You are making too much of a hullabaloo over it," he said. "I've been -thinking about the matter a lots, and I've come to the final conclusion -that you are going it entirely too heavy, considering the balance of us. -Every man, woman, and child, born and unborn, is predestinated to die, -and them that meet their fate graceful-like are the right sort. Seeing -you takin' on after them doctors left actually turned _me_ sick at the -stomach, and that ain't right. I'll be sick enough when my own time -comes, I reckon, without having to go through separate spells for all my -kin by marriage every time they have a little eruption break out on -them. Then here's Virginia having her bright young life blighted when it -ought to be all sunshine and roses, if I may be allowed to quote the -poets. I'll bet when you was a young girl your cheeks wasn't kept wet as -a dish-rag by a complaining mother. No, what you've got to do, Sister -Jane, is to pucker up courage and face the music--be resigned." - -"Resigned! I say, resigned!" was the rebellious reply--"I say, resigned! -with a slow thing like this eating away at my vitals and nothing under -high heaven to make it let go. You can talk, sitting there with a pipe -in your mouth, and every limb sound, and a long life ahead of you." - -"But you are openly disobeying Biblical injunction," said Sam, knocking -his exhausted pipe on the heel of his shoe. "You are kicking agin the -pricks. All of us have to die, and you are raising a racket because your -turn is somewhere in sight. You are kicking agin something that's as -natural as a child coming into the world. Besides, you are going back on -what you preach. You are eternally telling folks there's a life in front -of us that beats this one all hollow, and, now that Providence has -really blessed you by giving you a chance to sorter peep ahead at the -pearly gates, you are actually balking worse than a mean mule. I say you -ought to give me and Virginia a rest. If you can't possibly raise the -scads to pay for having the thing cut out, then pucker up and grin and -bear it. Folks will think a sight more of you. Being a baby at both ends -of life is foolish--there ain't nobody willing to do the nursing the -second time." - -"I want you to hush all that drivel, Sam," the widow retorted. "I reckon -folks are different. Some are born with a natural dread of death, and it -was always in my family. I stood over my mother and watched her breathe -her last, and it went awfully hard with her. She begged and begged for -somebody to save her, even sitting up in bed while all the neighbors -were crouched about crying and praying, and yelled out to them to stop -that and do something. We'd called in every doctor for forty miles -about, and she had somehow heard of a young one away off, and she was -calling out his name when she fell back and died." - -"Well, she must have had some load on her mind that she wasn't ready to -dump at the throne," said Sam, without a hint of humor in his drawling -voice. "I've always understood your folks, in the woman line at least, -was unforgiving. They say forgiveness is the softest pillow to expire -on. I dunno, I've never tried it." - -"I'm miserable, simply miserable!" groaned Jane. "Dr. Evans has just -been to Darley. He promised to see if any of my old friends would lend -me the money, but he says nobody had a cent to spare." - -"Folks never have cash for an investment of that sort," answered Sam. "I -fetched up your case to old Milward Dedham at the store the other day. -He'd just sold five thousand acres of wild mountain land to a Boston man -for the timber that was on it, and was puffed up powerful. I thought if -ever a man would be prepared to help a friend he would. 'La me, Sam,' -said he, 'you are wasting time trying to keep a woman from pegging out -when wheat's off ten cents a bushel. Any woman ought to be happy lying -in a grave that is paid for sech times as these.'" - -The widow was really not listening to Sam's talk. With her bony elbows -on her knee, her hand intuitively resting on the painless and yet -insistent seat of her trouble, she rocked back and forth, sighing and -moaning. There was a clicking of the gate-latch, a step on the gravelled -walk, and Virginia, flushed from exercise in the cool air, came in and -emptied her apron in the chimney corner, from which her uncle lazily -dragged his feet. He leaned forward and critically scanned the heap of -wood. - -"You've got some good, rich, kindling pine there, Virginia," he drawled -out. "But you needn't bother after to-day, though. I'll have my wagon -back from the shop to-morrow, and Simpson has promised to lend me his -yoke of oxen, and let me haul some logs from his hill. Most of it is -good, seasoned red oak, and when it gets started to burning it pops like -a pack of fire-crackers." - -Virginia said nothing. Save for the firelight, which was a red glow from -live coals, rather than any sort of flame, the big room was dark, and -her mother took no notice of her, but Sam had his eyes on her over his -left shoulder. - -"Your mother has been keeping up the same old song and dance," he said, -dryly; "so much so that she's clean forgot living folks want to eat at -stated times. I reckon you'll have to make the bread and fry what bacon -is left on that strip of skin." - -Virginia said nothing to him, for her glance was steadily resting on her -mother's despondent form. "Mother," she said, in a faltering, almost -frightened tone, for she had been accustomed to no sort of deception in -her life, and the part she was to play was a most repellent -one--"mother, I've got something to tell you, and I hardly know how to -do it. Down the road just a while ago I met a friend--a person who told -me--the person told me--" - -"Well, what did the person tell you?" Sam asked, as both he and the -bowed wreck at the fire stared through the red glow. - -"The person wants to help you out of trouble, mother, and gave me the -hundred dollars you need. Before I got it I had to give my sacred word -of honor that I'd never let even you know who sent it. I hardly knew -what to do, but I thought perhaps I ought to--" - -"What? You mean--oh, Virginia, you don't mean--" Jane began, as she rose -stiffly, her scrawny hand on the mantel-piece, and took a step towards -her almost shrinking daughter. - -"Here's the money, mother," Virginia said, holding out the roll of -bills, now damp and packed close together by her warm, tense fingers. -"That's all I am allowed to tell you. I had to promise not to let you -know who sent it." - -As if electrified from death to life, Jane Hemingway sprang forward and -took the money into her quivering fingers. "A light, Sam!" she cried. -"Make a light, and let me see. If the child's plumb crazy I want to know -it, and have it over with. Oh, my Lord! Don't fool me, Virginia. Don't -raise my hopes with any trick anybody wants to play." - -With far more activity than was his by birth, Sam stood up, secured a -tallow candle from the mantel-piece, and bent over the coals. - -"Crazy?" he said. "I _know_ the girl's crazy, if she says there's any -human being left on the earth after Noah's flood who gives away money -without taking a receipt for it--to say nothing of a double, iron-clad -mortgage." - -"It looks and feels like money!" panted the widow. "Hurry up with the -light. I wonder if my prayer has been heard at last." - -"Hearing it and answering are two different things; the whole -neighborhood has _heard_ it often enough," growled Sam, as he fumed -impatiently over the hot coals, fairly hidden in a stifling cloud of -tallow-smoke. - -"Here's a match," said Virginia, who had found one near the clock, and -she struck it on the top of one of the dog-irons, and applied it to the -dripping wick. At the same instant the hot tallow in the coals and ashes -burst into flame, lighting up every corner and crevice of the great, -ill-furnished room. Sam, holding the candle, bent over Jane's hands as -they nervously fumbled the money. - -"Ten-dollar bills!" she cried. "Oh, count 'em, Sam! I can't. They stick -together, she's wadded 'em so tight." - -With almost painful deliberation Sam counted the money, licking his -rough thumb as he raised each bill. - -"It's a hundred dollars all right enough," he said, turning the roll -over to his sister-in-law. "The only thing that's worrying me is who's -had sech a sudden enlargement of the heart in this section." - -"Virginia, who gave you this money?" Mrs. Hemingway asked, her face -abeam, her eyes gleaming with joy. - -"I told you I was bound by a promise not to tell you or anybody else," -Virginia awkwardly replied, as she avoided their combined stare. - -"Oh, I smell a great big dead rat under the barn!" Sam laughed. "I'd bet -my Sunday-go-to-meeting hat I know who sent it." - -"You do?" exclaimed the widow. "Who do you think it was, Sam?" - -"Why, the only chap around about here that seems to have wads of cash to -throw at cats," Sam laughed. "He pitched one solid roll amounting to ten -thousand at his starving family awhile back. Of course, he did this, -too. He always _did_ have a hankering for Virginia, anyway. Hain't I -seen them two--" - -"He didn't send it!" Virginia said, impulsively. "There! I didn't intend -to set you guessing, and after this I'll never answer one way or the -other. I didn't know whether I ought to take it on those conditions or -not, but I couldn't see mother suffering when this would help her so -much." - -"No, God knows I'm glad you took it," said Jane, slowly, "even if I'm -never to know. I'm sure it was a friend, for nobody but a friend would -care that much to help me out of trouble." - -"You bet it was a friend," said Sam, "unless it was some thief trying to -get rid of some marked bills he's hooked some'r's. Now, Virginia, for -the love of the Lord, get something ready to eat. For a family with a -hundred dollars in hand, we are the nighest starvation of any I ever -heard of." - -While the girl was busy preparing the cornmeal dough in a wooden -bread-tray, her mother walked about excitedly. - -"I'll go to Darley in the hack in the morning," she said, "and right on -to Atlanta on the evening train. I feel better already. Dr. Evans says I -won't suffer a particle of pain, and will come back weighing more and -with a better appetite." - -"Well, I believe I'd not put myself out to improve on mine," said Sam, -"unless this person who is so flush with boodle wants to keep up the -good work. Dern if I don't believe I'll grow _me_ a cancer, and talk -about it till folks pay me to hush." - - - - -XXVI - - -It was one fairly warm evening, three days after Jane had left for -Atlanta. Virginia had given Sam his supper, and he had strolled off down -to the store with his pipe. Then, with a light shawl over her shoulders, -the girl sat in the bright moonlight on the porch. She had not been -there long when she saw a man on a horse in the road reining in at the -gate. Even before he dismounted she had recognized him. It was Luke -King. Hardly knowing why she did so, she sprang up and was on the point -of disappearing in the house, when, in a calm voice, he called out to -her: - -"Wait, Virginia! Don't run. I have a message for you." - -"For me?" she faltered, and with unaccountable misgivings she stood -still. - -Throwing the bridle-rein over the gate-post, he entered the yard and -came towards her, his big felt-hat held easily in his hand, his fine -head showing to wonderful advantage in the moonlight. - -"You started to run," he laughed. "You needn't deny it. I saw you, and -you knew who it was, too. Just think of my little friend dodging -whenever she sees me. Well, I can't help that. It must be natural. You -were always timid with me, Virginia." - -"Won't you come in and have a chair?" she returned. "Mother has gone -away to Atlanta, and there is no one at home but my uncle and me." - -"I knew she was down there," King said, feasting his hungry and yet -gentle and all-seeing eyes on her. "That's what I stopped to speak to -you about. She sent you a message." - -"Oh, you saw her, then!" Virginia said, more at ease. - -"Yes, I happened to be at the big Union car-shed when her train came in, -and saw her in the crowd. The poor woman didn't know which way to turn, -and I really believe she was afraid she'd get lost or stolen, or -something as bad. When she saw me she gave a glad scream and fairly -tumbled into my arms. She told me where she wanted to go, and I got a -cab and saw her safe to the doctor's." - -"Oh, that was very good of you!" Virginia said. "I'm so glad you met -her." - -"She was in splendid spirits, too, when I last saw her," King went on. -"I dropped in there this morning before I left, so that I could bring -you the latest news. She was very jolly, laughing and joking about -everything. The doctor had not had time to make an examination, but he -has a way of causing his patients to look on the bright side. He told -her she had nothing really serious to fear, and it took a big load off -her mind." - -They were now in the house, and Virginia had lighted a candle and he had -taken a seat near the open door. - -"Doctors have a way of pretending to be cheerful, even before very -serious operations, haven't they?" she asked, as she sat down not far -from him. - -She saw him hesitate, as if in consideration of her feelings, and then -he said, "Yes, I believe that, too, Virginia; still, he is a wonderful -man, and if any one can do your mother good he can." - -"If _anybody_ can?--yes," she sighed. - -"You mustn't get blue," he said, consolingly; "and yet how can you well -help it, here almost by yourself, with your mother away under such sad -circumstances?" - -"Your own mother was not quite well recently," Virginia said, -considerately. "I hope she is no worse." - -"Oh, she's on her feet again," he laughed, "as lively as a cricket, -moving about bossing that big place." - -"Why, I thought, seeing you back so--so soon," the girl stammered; "I -thought that you had perhaps heard--" - -"That she was sick again? Oh no!" he exclaimed, and then he saw her -drift and paused, and, flushed and embarrassed, sat staring at the -floor. - -"You didn't--surely you didn't come all the way here to--to tell me -about my mother!" Virginia cried, "when you have important work to do -down there?" - -There was a moment's hesitation on his part; then he raised his head and -looked frankly into her eyes. - -"What's the use of denying it?" he said. "I don't believe in deception, -even in small things. It never does any good. I _did_ have work to do -down there, but I couldn't go on with it, Virginia, while you were here -brooding as you are over your mother's condition. So I stayed at my desk -till the north-bound train was ready to pull out. Then I made a break -for it, catching the last car as it whizzed past the crossing near the -office. The train was delayed on the way up, and after I got to Darley I -was afraid I couldn't get a horse at the stable and get here before you -were in bed; but you see I made it. Sam Hicks will blow me up about the -lather his mare is in. I haven't long to stay here, either, for I must -get back to Darley to catch the ten-forty. I'll reach the office about -four in the morning, if I can get the conductor to slow up in the -Atlanta switch-yard for me to hop off at the crossing." - -"And you did all that simply to tell me about my mother?" Virginia said. -"Why, she could have written." - -"Yes, but seeing some one right from the spot is more satisfying," he -said, with embarrassed lightness. "I wanted to tell you how she was, and -I'm glad, whether you are or not." - -"I'm glad to hear from her," said Virginia. "It is only because I did -not want to put you to so much trouble." - -"Don't bother about that, Virginia. I'd gladly do it every night in the -week to keep you from worrying. Do you remember the day, long ago, that -I came to you down at the creek and told you I was dissatisfied with -things here, and was going away off to begin the battle of life in -earnest?" - -"Yes, I remember," Virginia answered, almost oblivious of the clinging, -invisible current which seemed to be sweeping them together. - -He drew a deep breath, as if to take in courage for what he had to say, -and then went on: - -"You were only a little girl then, hardly thirteen, and yet to me, -Virginia, you were a woman capable of the deepest feeling. I never shall -forget how you rebuked me about leaving my mother in anger. You looked -at me as straight and frank as starbeams, and told me you'd not desert -your mother in her old age for all the world. I never forgot what you -said and just the way you said it, and through all my turbulent life out -West your lecture was constantly before me. I was angry at my mother, -but finally I got to looking at her marriage differently, and then I -began to want to see her and to do my filial duty as you were doing -yours. That was one reason I came back here. The other was -because--Virginia, it was because I wanted to see _you_." - -"Oh, don't, don't begin--" but Virginia's protest died away in her -pulsing throat. She lowered her head and covered her hot face with her -hands. - -"But I have begun, and I must go on," he said. "Out West I met hundreds -of attractive women, but I could never look upon them as other men did -because of the--the picture of you stamped on my brain. I was not -hearing a word about you, but you were becoming exactly what I knew you -would become; and when I saw you out there in the barn-yard that first -day after I got back, my whole being caught fire, and it's blazing -yet--it will blaze as long as there is a breath of my life left to fan -it. For me there can be but one wife, little girl, and if she fails me -I'll go unmarried to my grave." - -"Oh, don't! don't!" Virginia sobbed, her tones muffled by her hands -pressed tightly over her face. "You don't know me. I'm not what you -think I am. I'm only a poor, helpless, troubled--" - -"Don't! don't!" he broke in, fearfully--"don't decide against me -hastily! I know--God knows I am unworthy of you, and if you don't feel -as I do you will never link your young life to mine. Sometimes I fear -that your shrinking from me as you often do is evidence against my -hopes. Oh, dear, little girl, am I a fool? Am I a crazy idiot asking you -for what you can't possibly give?" - -A sob which she was trying to suppress shook her from head to foot, and -she rose and stepped to the door and stood there looking out on the -moonlit road, where his impatient horse was pawing the earth and -neighing. There was silence. King leaned forward, his elbows on his -knees, his strong fingers locked like prongs of steel in front of him, -his face deep cut with the chisel of anxiety. For several minutes he -stared thus at her white profile struck into sharp clearness by the -combined light from without and within. - -"I see it all," he groaned. "I've lost. While I was away out there -treasuring your memory and seeing your face night after night, day after -day--holding you close, pulling these rugged old mountains about you for -protection, you were not--you were not--I was simply not in your -thoughts." - -Then she turned towards him. She seemed to have grown older and stronger -since he began speaking so earnestly. - -"You must not think of me that way any longer," she sighed. "You mustn't -neglect your work to come to see me, either." - -"You will never be my wife, then, Virginia?" - -"No, I could never be that, Luke--no, not that--never on earth." - -He shrank together as if in sudden, sharp physical pain, and then he -rose to his full height and reached for his hat, which she had placed on -the table. His heavy-soled boots creaked on the rough floor; he tipped -his chair over, and it would have fallen had he not awkwardly caught it -and restored it to its place. - -"You have a good reason, I am sure of that," he said, huskily. - -"Yes, yes, I--I have a reason." Her stiff lips made answer. "We are not -for each other, Luke. If you've been thinking so, so long, as you say, -it is because you were trying to make me fit your ideal, but I am not -that in reality. I tell you I'm only a poor, suffering girl, full of -faults and weaknesses, at times not knowing which way to turn." - -He had reached the door, and he stepped out into the moonlight, his -massive head still bare. He shook back his heavy hair in a determined -gesture of supreme faith and denial and said: "I know you better than -you know yourself, because I know better than you do how to compare you -to other women. I want you, Virginia, just as you are, with every sweet -fault about you. I want you with a soul that actually bleeds for you, -but you say it must not be, and you know best." - -"No, it can't possibly be," Virginia said, almost fiercely. "It can -never be while life lasts. You and I are as wide apart as the farthest -ends of the earth." - -He bowed his head and stood silent for a moment, then he sighed as he -looked at her again. "I've thought about life a good deal, Virginia," he -said, "and I've almost come to the conclusion that a great tragedy must -tear the soul of every person destined for spiritual growth. This may be -my tragedy, Virginia; I know something of the tragedy that lifted Ann -Boyd to the skies, but her neighbors don't see it. They are still -beating the material husk from which her big soul has risen." - -"I know what she is," Virginia declared. "I'm happy to be one who knows -her as she is--the grandest woman in the world." - -"I'm glad to hear you say that," King said. "I knew if anybody did her -justice it would be you." - -"If I don't know how to sympathize with her, no one does," said the -girl, with a bitterness of tone he could not fathom. "She's wonderful; -she's glorious. It would be worth while to suffer anything to reach what -she has reached." - -"Well, I didn't come to talk of her, good as she has been to me," King -said, gloomily. "I must get back to the grind and whir of that big -building. I shall not come up again for some time. I have an idea I know -what your reason is, but it would drive me crazy even to think about -it." - -She started suddenly, and then stared steadily at him. In the white -moonlight she looked like a drooping figure carved out of stone, even to -every fold of her simple dress and wave of her glorious hair. - -"You think you know!" she whispered. - -"Yes, I think so, and the pronunciation of a single name would prove it, -but I shall not let it pass my lips to-night. It's my tragedy, -Virginia." - -"And mine," she said to herself, but to him it seemed that she made no -response at all, and after a moment's pause he turned away. - -"Good-bye," he said, from the gate. - -"Good-bye, Luke," she said, impulsively. - -But at the sound of his name he whirled and came back, his brow dyed -with red, his tender eyes flashing. "I'll tell you one other thing, and -then I'll go," he said, tremulously. "Out West, one night, after a big -ball which had bored the life out of me--in fact, I had only gone -because it was a coming-out affair of the daughter of a wealthy friend -of mine. In the smoking-room of the big hotel which had been rented for -the occasion I had a long talk with a middle-aged bachelor, a man of the -world, whom I knew well. He told me his story. In his younger days he -had been in love with a girl back East, and his love was returned, but -he wanted to see more of life and the world, and was not ready to settle -down, and so he left her. After years spent in an exciting business and -social life, and never meeting any one else that he could care for, a -sudden longing came over him to hear from his old sweetheart. He had no -sooner thought of it than his old desires came back like a storm, and he -could not even wait to hear from her. He packed up hastily, took the -train, and went back home. He got to the village only two days after she -had married another man. The poor old chap almost cried when he told me -about it. Then, in my sympathy for him, I told him of my feeling for a -little girl back here, and he earnestly begged me not to wait another -day. It was that talk with him that helped me to make up my mind to come -home. But, you see, I am too late, as he was too late. Poor old Duncan! -He'd dislike to hear of my failure. But I've lost out, too. Now, I'll go -sure. Good-bye, Virginia. I hope you will be happy. I'm going to pray -for that." - -Leaning against the door-jamb, she saw him pass through the gateway, -unhitch his restive horse, and swing himself heavily into the saddle, -still holding his hat in his hand. Then he galloped away--away in the -still moonlight, the--to her--peaceful, mocking moonlight. - -"He thinks he knows," she muttered, "but he doesn't dream the _whole_ -truth. If he did he would no longer think that way of me. What am I, -anyway? He was loving me with that great, infinite soul while I was -listening to the idle simpering of a fool. Ah, Luke King shall never -know the truth! I'd rather lie dead before him than to see that wondrous -light die out of his great, trusting eyes." - -She heard Sam coming down the road, and through the silvery gauze of -night she saw the red flare of his pipe. She turned into her own room -and sat down on the bed, her little, high-instepped feet on the floor, -her hands clasped between her knees. - - - - -XXVII - - -The events which took place at Chesters' that adventurous night had a -remarkable effect on the young master of the place. After Ann Boyd had -left him he restlessly paced the floor of the long veranda. Blind fury -and unsatisfied passion held him in their clutch and drove him to and -fro like a caged and angry lion. The vials of his first wrath were -poured on the heads of his meddlesome guests, who had so unceremoniously -thrust themselves upon him at such an inopportune moment, and from them -his more poignant resentment was finally shifted to the woman whom for -years he, with the rest of the community, had contemptuously regarded as -the partner in his father's early indiscretions. That she--such a -character--should suddenly rise to remind him of his duty to his -manhood, and even enforce it under his own roof, was the most -humiliating happening of his whole life. - -These hot reflections and secret plans for revenge finally died away and -were followed by a state of mind that, at its lowest ebb, amounted to a -racking despair he had never known. Something told him that Ann Boyd had -spoken grim truth when she had said that Virginia would never again fall -under his influence, and certainly no woman had ever before so -completely absorbed him. Up to this moment it had been chiefly her rare -beauty and sweetness of nature that had charmed him, but now he began to -realize the grandeur of her character and the depths to which her -troubles had stirred his sympathies. As he recalled, word by word, all -that had passed between them in regard to her nocturnal visit, he was -forced to acknowledge that it was only through her absorbing desire to -save her mother that she, abetted by her very purity of mind, had been -blindly led into danger. He flushed and shuddered under the lash of the -thought that he, himself, had constituted that danger. - -He went to bed, but scarcely closed his eyes during the remainder of the -night, and the next morning was up before the cook had made the fires in -the kitchen range. He hardly knew what he would do, but he determined to -see Virginia at the earliest opportunity and make an honest and -respectful attempt to regain her confidence. He would give her the money -she so badly needed--give it to her without restrictions, and trust to -her gratitude to restore her faith in him. He spent all that morning, -after eating a hasty breakfast, on a near-by wooded hill-side, from -which elevation he had a fair view of Jane Hemingway's cottage. He saw -Virginia come from the house in search of the cow, and with his heart in -his mouth he was preparing to descend to meet her, when, to his -consternation, he saw that she had joined Ann Boyd at the barn-yard of -the latter, and then he saw the two go into Ann's house together. This -augured ill for him, his fears whispered, and he remained at his post -among the trees till the girl came out of the house and hastened -homeward. For the next two days he hung about Jane Hemingway's cottage -with no other thought in mind than seeing Virginia. Once from the -hill-side he saw her as she was returning from Wilson's store, and he -made all haste to descend, hoping to intercept her before she reached -home, but he was just a moment too late. She was on the road a hundred -yards ahead of him, and, seeing him, she quickened her step. He walked -faster, calling out to her appealingly to stop, but she did not pause or -look back again. Then he saw a wagon filled with men and women -approaching on the way to market, and, knowing that such unseemly haste -on his part and hers would excite comment, he paused at the roadside and -allowed her to pursue her way unmolested. The next day being Sunday, he -dressed himself with unusual care, keenly conscious, as he looked in the -mirror, that his visage presented a haggard, careworn aspect that was -anything but becoming. His eyes had the fixed, almost bloodshot stare of -an habitual drunkard in the last nervous stages of downward progress. -His usually pliant hair, as if surcharged with electricity, seemed to -defy comb and brush, and stood awry; his clothes hung awkwardly; his -quivering fingers refused to put the deft touch to his tie which had -been his pride. At the last moment he discovered that his boots had not -been blacked by the negro boy who waited on him every morning. He did -this himself very badly, and then started out to church, not riding, for -the reason that he hoped Virginia would be there, and that he might have -the excuse of being afoot to join her and walk homeward with her. But -she was not there, and he sat through Bazemore's long-winded discourse, -hardly conscious that the minister, flattered by his unwonted presence, -glanced at him proudly all through the service. - -So it was that one thing and another happened to prevent his seeing -Virginia till one morning at Wilson's store he heard that Jane Hemingway -had, in some mysterious way, gotten the money she needed and had already -gone to Atlanta. He suffered a slight shock over the knowledge that -Virginia would now not need the funds he had been keeping for her, but -this was conquered by the thought that he could go straight to the -cottage, now that the girl's grim-faced guardian was away. So he -proceeded at once to do this. As he approached the gate, a thrill of -gratification passed over him, for he observed that Sam Hemingway was -out at the barn, some distance from the house. As he was entering the -gate and softly closing it after him, Virginia appeared in the doorway. -Their eyes met. He saw her turn pale and stand alert and undecided, her -head up like that of a young deer startled in a quiet forest. It flashed -upon him, to his satisfaction, that she would instinctively retreat into -the house, and that he could follow and there, unmolested even by a -chance passer-by, say all he wanted to say, and say it, too, in the old -fashion which had once so potently--if only temporarily--influenced her. -But with a flash of wisdom and precaution, for which he had not given -her credit, she seemed to realize the barriers beyond her and quickly -stepped out into the porch, where coldly and even sternly she waited for -him to speak. - -"Virginia," he said, taking off his hat and humbly sweeping it towards -the ground, "I have been moving heaven and earth to get to see you -alone." He glanced furtively down the road, and then added: "Let's go -into the house. I've got something important to say to you." - -Still staring straight at him, she moved forward till she leaned against -the railing of the porch. "I sha'n't do it," she said, firmly. "If I've -been silly once, that is no reason I'll be so always. There is nothing -you can say to me that can't be spoken here in the open sunlight." - -Her words and tone struck him like a material missile well-aimed and -deliberately hurled. There was a dignity and firm finality in her -bearing which he felt could not be met with his old shallow suavity and -seductive flattery. From credulous childhood she seemed, in that brief -period, to have grown into wise maturity. If she had been beautiful in -his eyes before, she was now, in her frigid remoteness, in her thorough -detachment from their former intimacy, far more than that. - -"Well, I meant no harm," he found himself articulating, almost in utter -bewilderment. "I only thought that somebody passing might--" - -"Might see me with you?" she flashed out, with sudden anger. "What do I -care? I came out here just now and gave a tramp something to eat. If -they see you here, I suppose it won't be the first time a girl has been -seen talking to a man in front of her own home." - -"I didn't mean to offend you," he stammered, at the end of his -resources; "but I've been utterly miserable, Virginia." - -"Oh! is that so?" she sneered. - -"Yes, I have. I feel awfully bad about what took place. I wanted to give -you that money for your mother, and that night when I finally got rid of -those meddlesome devils and--" - -"In the name of Heaven, stop!" Virginia cried. "I simply will not stand -here and talk about that." - -"But I have the money still," he said, feebly. "You kept your word in -coming for it, and I want to keep mine." - -"I wouldn't touch a cent of it to save my life," she hurled at him. "If -my mother lay before my eyes dying in agony and your money would save -her, I wouldn't have it. I wouldn't take it to save my soul from -perdition." - -"You are making it very hard for me," he said, desperately; and then, -with a frankness she could not have looked for even from his coarsest -side, he went on passionately: "I'm only a man, Virginia--a human being, -full of love, admiration, and--passion. Young as you are, I can't blame -you, and, still you _did_ encourage me. You know you did. I'm nearly -insane over it all. I want you, Virginia. These meetings with you, and -the things you have let me say to you, if you have said nothing -yourself, have lifted me to the very sky. I simply cannot bear up under -your present actions, knowing that that old woman has been talking -against me. I am willing to do anything on earth to set myself right. I -admire you more than I ever dreamed I could admire a woman, and my love -for you is like a torrent that nothing can dam. I must have you, -Virginia. The whole thing has gone too far. You ought to have thought of -this before you agreed to come to my house alone at night, when you knew -I was--when you knew I had every reason to expect that you--" - -"Stop!" she cried, with white lips and eyes flashing. "You are a coward, -as well as a scoundrel! You are daring to threaten me. You have made me -hate myself. As for you, I despise you as I would a loathsome reptile. I -hate you! I detest you! I wake up in the night screaming in terror, -fancying that I'm again in that awful room, locked in like a slave, a -prisoner subject to your will--waiting for you to bid good-night to your -drunken friends--locked in by your hand to wait there in an agony of -death. Love you? I hate you! I hate the very low-browed emptiness of -your face. I hate my mother for the selfish fear of death which blinded -me to my own rights as a woman. Oh, God, I want to die and be done with -it!" - -She suddenly covered her impassioned face with her hands and shook -convulsively from head to foot. - -"Oh, Virginia, don't, don't make a mountain out of a molehill," he -began, with a leaning towards his old, seductive persuasiveness. "There -is nothing to feel so badly about. You know that Ann Boyd got there -before I--I--" - -"That's all _you_ know about it," she said, uncovering eyes that flashed -like lightning. "When I went there, with no interest in you further than -a silly love of your honeyed words and _to get your money_, I did what -I'll never wipe from my memory." - -"Virginia"--he tried to assume a light laugh--"this whole thing has -turned your head. You will feel differently about it later when your -mother comes back sound and well. Ann Boyd is not going to tell what -took place, and--" - -"And you and I will have a secret of that nature between us!" she broke -in, furiously. "That's got to blacken my memory, and be always before -me! You are going to know _that_ of me when--when, yes, I'll say -it--when another man whose shoes you are unworthy to wipe believes me to -be as free from contact with evil as a new-born baby." - -Chester drew his brows together in sudden suspicion. - -"You are referring to Luke King!" he snapped out. "Look here, Virginia, -don't make this matter any more serious than it is. I will not have a -man like that held up to me as a paragon. I have heard that he used to -hang around you when you were little, before he went off and came back -so puffed up with his accomplishments, and I understand he has been to -see you recently, but I won't stand his meddling in my affairs." - -"You needn't be afraid," Virginia said, with a bitterness he could not -fathom. "There is nothing between Luke King and myself--absolutely -nothing. You may rest sure that I'd never receive the attentions of a -man of his stamp after what has passed between me and a man of your--" -She paused. - -He was now white with rage. His lower lip hung and twitched nervously. - -"You are a little devil!" he cried. "You know you are driving me crazy. -But I will not be thrown over. Do you understand? I am not going to give -you up." - -"I don't know how you will help yourself," she said, moving back towards -the door. "I certainly shall never, of my own free will, see you alone -again. What I've done, I've done, but I don't intend to have it thrown -into my face day after day." - -"Look here, Virginia," he began, but she had walked erectly into the -house and abruptly closed the door. He stood undecided for a moment, and -then, crestfallen, he turned away. - - - - -XXVIII - - -One bright, crisp morning a few days later, after her uncle had ridden -his old horse, in clanking, trace-chain harness, off to his field to do -some ploughing, Virginia stole out unnoticed and went over to Ann -Boyd's. The door of the farm-house stood open, and in the sitting-room -the girl saw Ann seated near a window hemming a sheet. - -"I see from your face that you've had more news," the old woman said, as -she smiled in greeting. "Sit down and tell me about it. I'm on this job -and want to get through with it before I put it down." - -"I got a letter this morning," Virginia complied, "from a woman down -there who said she was my mother's nurse. The operation was very -successful, and she is doing remarkably well. The surgeon says she will -have no more trouble with her affliction. It was only on the surface and -was taken just in time." - -"Ah, just in time!" Ann held the sheet in her tense hands for a moment, -and then crushed it into her capacious lap. "Then _she's_ all right." - -"Yes, she is all right, Mrs. Boyd. In fact, the doctor says she will -soon be able to come home. The simple treatment can be continued here -under their directions till she is thoroughly restored." - -There was silence. Ann's face looked as hard as stone. She seemed to be -trying to conquer some rising emotion, for she coughed, cleared her -throat, and swallowed. Her heavy brows were drawn together, and the -muscles of her big neck stood up under her tanned skin like tent-cords -drawn taut from pole to stake. - -"I may as well tell you one particular thing and be done with it," she -suddenly gulped. "I don't believe in deception of any sort whatever. I -hate your mother as much as I could hate anything or anybody. I want it -understood between us now on the spot that I done what I did for _you_, -not for her. It may be Old Nick in me that makes me feel this way at -such a time, but, you see, I understand her well enough to know she will -come back primed and cocked for the old battle. The fear of death didn't -alter her in her feelings towards me, and, now that she's on her feet, -she will be worse than ever. It's purty tough to have to think that I -put her in such good fighting trim, but I did it." - -"I am afraid you are right about her future attitude," Virginia sighed, -"and that was one reason I did not want help to come through you." - -"That makes no odds now," Ann said, stoically. "What's done is done. I'm -in the hands of two powers--good and evil--and here lately I never know, -when I get out of bed in the morning, whether I'm going to feel the cool -breath of one or the hot blast of the other. For months I had but one -desire, and that was to see you, you poor, innocent child, breathing the -fumes of the hell I sunk into; and just as my hopes were about to be -realized the other power caught me up like a swollen river and swept me -right the other way. Luke King really caused it. Child, since God made -the world He never put among human beings a man with a finer soul. That -poor, barefoot mountain boy that I picked up and sent off to school has -come back--like Joseph that was dropped in a pit--a king among men. -Under the lash of his inspired tongue I had to rise from my mire of -hatred and do my duty. I might not have been strong enough in the right -way if--if I hadn't loved him so much, and if he hadn't told me, poor -boy, with tears in his eyes and voice, that you were the only woman in -the world for him, and that his career would be wrecked if he lost you. -I let him leave me without making promises. I was mad and miserable -because I was about to be thwarted. But when he was gone I got to -thinking it over, and finally I couldn't help myself, and acted. I -determined, if possible, to pull you back from the brink you stood on -and give you to him, that you might live the life that I missed." - -Virginia sank into a chair. She was flushed from her white, rounded neck -to the roots of her hair. - -"Oh, I didn't deserve it!" she cried. "I have remained silent when my -mother was heaping abuse upon you. I made no effort to do you justice -when your enemies were crying you down. Oh, Mrs. Boyd, you are the best -and most unselfish woman that ever lived." - -"No, I am not that," Ann declared, firmly. "I'm just like the general -run of women, weak and wishy-washy, with dry powder in my make-up that -anybody can touch a match to. There is no counting on what I'll do next. -Right now I feel like being your stanch friend, but I really don't know -but what, if your mammy hemmed me in a corner, I'd even throw up to her -what you did that night. I say I don't know what notion might strike me. -She can, with one word or look of hers, start perdition's fire in me. I -don't know any more than a cat what made me go contrary to my plans that -night. It wasn't in a thousand miles of what I wanted to do, and having -Jane Hemingway come back here with a sound body and tongue of fire isn't -what I saved money to pay for. If forgiveness is to be the white garment -of the next life, mine will be as black as logwood dye." - -"The pretty part of it all is that you don't know yourself as you really -are," Virginia said, almost smiling in her enthusiasm. "Since I've seen -the beautiful side of your character I've come almost to understand the -eternal wisdom even in human ills. But for your hatred of my mother, -your kindness to me would not be so wonderful. For a long time I had -only my mother to love, but now, Mrs. Boyd, somehow, I have not had as -great anxiety about her down there as I thought I would have. Really, my -heart has been divided between you two. Mrs. Boyd, I love you. I can't -help it--I love you." - -Ann suddenly raised her sheet and folded it in her lap. Her face had -softened; there was a wonderful spiritual radiance in her eyes. - -"It's powerful good and sweet of you to--to talk that way to a poor, -despised outcast like I am. I can't remember many good things being said -about me, and when you say you feel that way towards me, why--well, it's -sweet of you--that's all, it's sweet and kind of you." - -"You have _made_ me love you," Virginia said, simply. "I could not help -myself." - -Ann looked straight at the girl from her moist, beaming eyes. - -"I'm a very odd woman, child, and I want to tell you what I regard as -the oddest thing about me. You say you feel kind towards me, and, -and--love me a little. Well, ever since that night in that young scamp's -room, when I came on you, crouched down there in your misery and fear, -looking so much like I must 'a' looked at one time away back when not a -spark of hope flashed in my black sky--ever since I saw you that way, -helpless as a fresh violet in the track of a grazing bull, I have felt a -yearning to draw you up against this old storm-beaten breast of mine and -rock you to sleep. That's odd, but that isn't the odd thing I was -driving at, and it is this, Virginia--I don't care a snap of my finger -about my _own_ child. Think of that. If I was to hear of her death -to-night it wouldn't be any more to me than the news of the death of any -stranger." - -"That _is_ queer," said Virginia, thoughtfully. - -"Well, it's only nature working, I reckon," Ann said. "I loved her as a -baby--in a natural way, I suppose--but when she went off from me, and by -her going helped--child though she was--to stamp the brand on me that -has been like the mark of a convict on my brow ever since--when she went -off, I say, I hardened my heart towards her, and day after day I kept it -hard till now she couldn't soften it. Maybe if I was to see her in -trouble like you were in, my heart would go out to her; but she's -independent of me; the only thing I've ever heard of her is that she -cries and shudders at the mention of my name. She shudders at it, and -she'll go down to her grave shuddering at it. She'll teach her children -not to mention me. No, I'll never love her, and that's why it seems odd -for me to feel like I do about you. Heaven knows, it seems like a dream -when I remember that you are Jane Hemingway's child and the chief pride -of her hard life. As for my own girl, she's full grown now, and has her -natural plans and aspirations, and is afraid my record will blight them. -I don't even know how she looks, but I have in mind a tall, -stiff-necked, bony girl inclined to awkwardness, selfish, grasping, and -unusually proud. But I can love as well as hate, though I've done more -hating in my life than loving. There was a time I thought the very seeds -of love had dried up in me, but about that time I picked up Luke King. -Even as a boy he seemed to look deep into the problems of life, and was -sorry for me. Somehow me and him got to talking over my trouble as if -he'd been a woman, and he always stood to me and pitied me and called me -tender names. You see, nobody at his home understood him, and he had his -troubles, too, so we naturally drifted together like a mother and son -pulled towards one another by the oddest freak of circumstances that -ever came in two lives. We used to sit here in this room and talk of the -deepest questions that ever puzzled the human brain. Our reason told us -the infinite plan of the universe must be good, but we couldn't make it -tally with the heavy end of it we had to tote. He was rebellious against -circumstances and his lazy old step-father's conduct towards him, and he -finally kicked over the traces and went West. Well, he had his eyes open -out there, and came back with the blaze of spiritual glory in his manly -face. He started in to practise what he was preaching, too. He yanked -out of his pocket the last dollar of his savings and forked it over to -the last people on earth to deserve it. That made me so mad I couldn't -speak to him for a while, but now I'm forced to admit that the sacrifice -hasn't harmed him in the least. He's plunging ahead down there in the -most wonderful way, and content--well, content but just for one thing. I -reckon you know what that is?" - -Ann paused. Virginia was looking out through the open doorway, a flush -creeping over her sensitive face. She started to speak, but the words -hung in her throat, and she only coughed. - -"Yes, you know as well as I do," Ann went on, gently. "He come over here -the other night after he left your house. He hitched his horse at the -gate and come in and sat down. I saw something serious had happened, and -as he was not due here, and was overwhelmed with business in Atlanta, I -thought he had met with money trouble. I made up my mind then and there, -too, that I'd back him to the extent of every thimbleful of land and -every splinter of timber in my possession; but it wasn't money he -wanted. It was something else. He sat there in the moonlight that was -shining through the door, with his head on his breast plumb full of -despair. I finally got it out of him. You'd refused him outright. You'd -decided that you could get on without the love and life-devotion of the -grandest man that ever lived. I was thoroughly mad at you then. I come -in an inch of turning plumb against you, but I didn't. I fought for you -as I'd have fought for myself away back in my girlhood. I did it, -although I could have spanked you good for making him so miserable." - -"You know why I refused him," Virginia said, in a low voice. "You, of -all persons, will know that." - -"I don't know as I do," Ann said, with a probing expression in her eyes. -"I don't know, unless, after all, you have a leaning for that young -scamp, who has no more real honor than a convict in his stripes. Women -are that way, except in very rare cases. The bigger the scoundrel and -the meaner he treats them the more they want him. If it's that, I am not -going to upbraid you. Upbraiding folks for obeying the laws of nature is -the greatest loss of wind possible. If you really love that scamp, no -power under high heaven will turn you." - -"Love him? I loathe him!" burst passionately from Virginia's lips. - -"Then what under the sun made you treat Luke King as you did?" asked -Ann, almost sternly. - -"Because I could not marry him," said the girl, firmly. "I'd rather die -than accept the love and devotion of a man as noble as he is -after--after--oh, you know what I mean!" - -"Oh, I see--I see," Ann said, her brows meeting. "There comes another -law of nature. I reckon if you feel that way, any argument I'd put up -would fall on deaf ears." - -"I could never accept his love and confidence without telling him all -that took place that night, and I'd kill myself rather than have him -know," declared the girl. - -"Oh, _that's_ the trouble!" Ann exclaimed. "Well, I hope all that will -wear away in time. It's fortunate that you are not loved by a narrow -fool, my child. Luke King has seen a lots of the world in his young -life." - -"He has not seen enough of the world to make him overlook a thing of -that kind, and you know it," Virginia sighed. "I really believe the -higher a man becomes spiritually the higher his ideal of a woman is. I -know what he thinks of me now, but I don't know what he would think if -he knew the whole truth. He must never be told that, Mrs. Boyd. God -knows I am grateful to you for all you have done, but you must not tell -him that." - -Ann put down her sheet and went to the fireplace, and with the tip of -her coarse, gaping shoe she pushed some burning embers under a -three-legged pot on the stone hearth. With her tongs she lifted the iron -lid and looked at a corn-pone browning within, and then she replaced it. -Her brow was deeply wrinkled. - -"You told me everything that happened that night, if I remember right," -she said, tentatively. "In fact, I know you did." - -Virginia said nothing; her thoughts seemed elsewhere. - -Leaning the tongs against the fireplace, Ann came forward and bent over -her almost excitedly. - -"Look here, child," she said, "you told me that--that I got there in -time. You told me--" - -"I told you all I thought was necessary for you to understand the -situation," said Virginia, her eyes downcast, "but I didn't tell you all -I'd have to tell Luke King--to be his wife." - -"You say you didn't." Ann sat down heavily in her chair. "Then be plain -with me; what under the sun did you leave out?" - -"I left out the fact that I was crazy that night," said Virginia. "I -read in a book once that a woman is so constituted that she can't see -reason in anything which does not coincide with her desires. I saw only -one thing that night that was worth considering. I saw only the awful -suffering of my mother and the chance to put an end to it by getting -hold of that man's money. Do you understand now? I went there for that -purpose. I'd have laid down my life for it. When those men came he urged -me to run and hide in his room, as he and I stood on the veranda, and it -was not fear of exposure that drove me up the stairs holding to his -hand. It was the almost appalling fear that the promised money would -slip through my fingers if I didn't obey him to the letter. And when he -whispered, with his hot breath in my ear, there in his room, as his -friends were loudly knocking at the door below, that he would rid -himself of them and come back, and asked me if I'd wait, I said yes, as -I would, have said it to God in heaven. Then he asked me if it was '_a -promise_,' and I said yes again. Then he asked me, Mrs. Boyd, he asked -me--" - -Virginia's voice died out. She fell to quivering from head to foot. - -"Well, well, go on!" Ann said, under her breath. "Go on. What did he ask -you?" - -Virginia hesitated for another minute, then, with her face red with -shame, she said: "He asked me to prove it by--kissing him--kissing him -of my own free will. I hesitated, I think. Yes, I hesitated, but I heard -the steps of the men in the hall below at the foot of the stairs. I -thought of the money, Mrs. Boyd, and I kissed him." - -"You did?" - -"Yes. I did--there, _in his room_!" - -"Well, I'm glad you told me that," Ann breathed, deeply. "I think I -understand it better now. I understand how you feel." - -"So you see, all that's what I'd have to tell Luke King," Virginia said; -"and I'll never do it--never on this earth. I want him always to think -of me as he does right now." - -Ann locked her big hands in her lap and bent forward. - -"I see my greatest trouble is going to lie with you," she said. "You are -conscientious. Millions of women have kept worse things than that from -their husbands and never lost a wink of sleep over them, but you seem to -be of a different stripe. I think Luke King is too grand a man to hold -that against you, under all the circumstances. I think so, but I don't -know men any better than they know women, and I'm not going to urge you -one way or the other. I thought my easy-going husband would do me -justice, but he couldn't have done it to save his neck from the loop. In -my opinion there never will be any happy unions between men and women -till men quit thinking so much about the weakness of women's _bodies_ -and so little of the strength of their _souls_. The view you had that -night of the dark valley of a living death, and your escape from it, has -lifted you into a purity undreamt of by the average woman. If Luke -King's able to comprehend that, he may get him a wife on the open -mountain-top; if not, he can find her in the bushes at the foot. He'll -obey his natural law, as you and I will ours." - - - - -XXIX - - -In dire dread of facing the anger of his father, who was expected back -from Savannah, for having sold the horse which the Colonel himself was -fond of riding, and being in the lowest dregs of despondency and chagrin -over the humiliating turn his affair with Virginia had taken, Langdon -Chester packed his travelling-bag and hurried off to Atlanta. - -There he had a middle-aged bachelor cousin, Chester Sively, who was as -fair an example as one could well find of the antebellum Southern man of -the world carried forward into a new generation and a more active and -progressive environment. Fortunately for him, he had inherited a -considerable fortune, and he was enabled to live in somewhat the same -ease as had his aristocratic forebears. He had a luxurious suite of -rooms in one of the old-fashioned houses in Peachtree Street, where he -always welcomed Langdon as his guest, in return for the hospitality of -the latter during the hunting season on the plantation. - -"Another row with the head of the house?" he smiled, as he rose from his -easy-chair at a smoking-table to shake hands with the new arrival, who, -hot and dusty, had alighted from a rickety cab, driven by a sleepy negro -in a battered silk top-hat, and sauntered in, looking anything but -cheerful. - -"Why did you think that?" Langdon asked, after the negro had put down -his bag and gone. - -"Why? Oh, because it has been brewing for a long time, old chap," Sively -smiled; "and because it is as natural for old people to want to curb the -young as it is for them to forget their own youth. When I was up there -last, Uncle Pres could scarcely talk of anything but your numerous -escapades." - -"We didn't actually have the _row_," Langdon sighed, "but it would have -come if I hadn't lit out before he got back from Savannah. The truth -is"--the visitor dropped his eyes--"he has allowed me almost no -pocket-money of late, and, getting in a tight place--debts, you know, -and one thing and another--I let my best horse go at a sacrifice the -other day. Father likes to ride him, and he's going to raise sand about -it. Oh, I couldn't stand it, and so I came away. It will blow over, you -know, but it will do so quicker if I'm here and he's there. Besides, he -is always nagging me about having no profession or regular business, and -if I see a fair opening down here, I'm really going to work." - -"You'll never do it in this world." Sively laughed, and his dark eyes -flashed merrily as he pulled at his well-trained mustache. "You can no -more do that sort of thing than a cat-fish can hop about in a bird-cage. -In an office or bank you'd simply pine away and die. Your ancestors -lived in the open air, with other people to work for them, and you are -simply too near that period to do otherwise. I know, my boy, because -I've tried to work. If I didn't have private interests that pin me down -to a sort of routine, I'd be as helpless as you are." - -"You are right, I reckon." Langdon reached out to the copper bowl on the -table and took a cigar. "I know, somehow, that the few business openings -I have heard of now and then have simply sickened me. When I get as much -city life as is good for me down here, I like to run back to the -mountains. Up there I can take my pipe and gun and dog and--" - -"And enjoy life right; you bet you can," Sively said, enthusiastically. -"Well, after all, it's six of one and half a dozen of the other. My life -isn't all it's cracked up to be by men who say they are yearning for it. -Between you and me, I feel like a defunct something or other when I hear -these thoroughly up-to-date chaps talking at the club about their big -enterprises which they are making go by the very skin of their teeth. -Why, I know one fellow under thirty who has got every electric car-line -in the city tied to the tips of his fingers. I know another who is about -to get Northern backing for a new railroad from here to Asheville, which -he started on nothing but a scrap of club writing-paper one afternoon -over a bottle of beer. Then there is that darned chap from up your way, -Luke King. He's a corker. He had little education, I am told, and sprang -from the lowest cracker stock, but he's the sensation of the hour down -here." - -"He's doing well, then," Langdon said, a touch of anger in his tone as -he recalled Virginia's reference to King on their last meeting. - -"Well? You'd think so. Half the capitalists in Atlanta are daft about -him. They call him a great political, financial, and moral force, with a -brain as big as Abraham Lincoln's. I was an idiot. I had a chance to get -in on the ground-floor when that paper of his started, but I was wise--I -was knowing. When I heard the manager of the thing was the son of one of -your father's old tenants, I pulled down one corner of my eye and turned -him over to my financial rivals. You bet I see my mistake now. The stock -is worth two for one, and not a scrap on the market at that. Do you know -what the directors did the other day? When folks do it for you or me we -will feel flattered. They insured his life for one hundred thousand -dollars, because if he were to die the enterprise wouldn't have a leg to -stand on. You see, it's all in his big brain. I suppose you know -something about his boyhood?" - -"Oh yes," Langdon said, testily; "we were near the same age, and met now -and then, but, you know, at that time our house was so full of visitors -that I had little chance to see much of people in the neighborhood, and -then he went West." - -"Ah, yes," said Sively, "and that's where his boom started. They are -circulating some odd stories on him down here, but I take them all with -a grain of salt. They say he sold out his Western interests for a good -sum and gave every red cent of it to his poor old mother and -step-father." - -"That's a fact," said Langdon. "I happen to know that it is absolutely -true. When he got back he found his folks in a pretty bad shape, and he -bought a good farm for them." - -"Well, I call that a brave thing," said the older man--"a thing I -couldn't do to save my neck from the halter. No wonder his editorials -have stirred up the reading public; he means what he says. He's the most -conspicuous man in Atlanta to-day. But, say, you want to go to your -room, and I'm keeping you. Go in and make yourself comfortable. I may -not get to see much of you for two or three days. I have to run out of -town with some men from Boston who are with me in a deal for some coal -and iron land, but I'll see you when I return." - -"Oh, I can get along all right, thanks," Langdon said, as Pomp, Sively's -negro man-servant, came for his bag in obedience to his master's ring. - -Three days later, on his return to town from a trip to the country, -Sively, not seeing anything of his guest, asked Pomp where he was. - -"Don't know whar he is now, boss," the negro said, dryly. "I haint seed -'im since dis mawnin', when he got out o' bed an' had me shave 'im up -an' bresh his clothes. I tell you, Marse Sively, dat man's doin' -powerful funny. He's certainly gone wrong somehow." - -"Why, what do you mean?" the bachelor asked, in alarm. "He looked all -right when he got here." - -"Huh, I don't know what ails 'im, suh," the negro grunted, "but I kin -see he's actin' curious. Dat fust mawnin' when I went in his room to -clean up an' make de baid I come in easy like to keep fum wakin' 'im, -but, bless you, he was already up, standin' at de window lookin' out in -de street an' actually groanin' to hisse'f like some'n' was wrong wid -his insides. I axed 'im what was de matter, an' if he wants me to -telephone fer de doctor, but he lit in to cussin' me at sech a rate dat -I seed it wasn't any ailment o' de flesh, anyway. He ordered me to go to -de cafe fer his breakfast, an' I fetched 'im what he always did -fancy--fried chicken, eggs on toast, an' coffee wid whipped cream--but, -bless you, he let 'em get stone cold on de table, an' wouldn't touch a -thing but what was in yo' decanter." - -"You don't tell me," Sively said, anxiously. "What has he been doing of -evenings? Did he go to the Kimball House dance? I had Colville send him -tickets. The Williamsons asked him to their card-party, too. Did he go?" - -"Not a step," Pomp replied. "He had me lay out his claw-hammer coat an' -get it pressed at de tailor-shop dat fust night, and stirred around -considerable, wid several drinks in 'im. He even had me clean his -patent-leather pumps and ordered a cab fum de stable. Said he wasn't -goin' to ride in one o' dem rickety street hacks wid numbers on 'em an' -disgrace you. But, suh, de cab come an' I had everything out clean on de -baid even to a fresh tube-rose for his button-hole. He sat around -smokin' and runnin' fer de decanter ever' now and den, but wouldn't take -off a rag of his old clothes, an' kept walkin' de flo', fust to de -winder an' den back to de lounge, whar he'd throw hisse'f down at full -length an' roll an' toss like he had de cramps. I went to 'im, I did, at -ten o'clock, an' told 'im he was gwine to miss de grand promenade an' -let all de rest of 'em fill up de ladies' cards, but he stared at me, -suh, like he didn't know what I was talkin' about, an' den he come to -his senses, an' told me he wasn't goin' to no dance. He went to de -window an' ordered de cab off. De next mawnin' he had all his nice -dress-suit stuffed in a wad in his valise. It was a sight, I'm here to -tell you, an' he was settin' on de baid smoking. He said he'd had enough -o' dis town, an' believed he'd take de train home; but he didn't, suh. -De next night I was sho' oneasy, an' I watched 'im de best I could -widout makin' 'im mad. He et a bite o' de supper I fetched 'im, and den, -atter dark, he started out on foot. I followed 'im, kase I 'lowed you'd -want me to ef you was here." - -"Yes, of course," Sively said; "and where did he go?" - -"Nowhar, suh--dat is, he didn't stop a single place. He just walked and -walked everywhar and anywhar. It didn't make no odds to him, jest so he -was movin' his laigs. He must 'a' covered five good miles in de most -zigzag travellin' you ever seed--went clean to de gate o' de Exposition -grounds, an' den back, an' plumb round de Capitol and out Washington -Street, wid me on his scent like a blood-hound after a runaway nigger; -but dar wasn't much danger o' me bein' seen, fer he didn't look round. -Well, he finally turned an' come home an' tumbled in baid about two in -de mawnin'. Yesterday de Williamson ladies an' deir maw driv' up to de -do' an' axed about 'im. Dey said he was down on de list fer dinner at -dey house, an', as he didn't come or send no word, dey 'lowed he was -laid up sick. De lawd knows, I didn't know what to tell 'em. I've got -myse'f in trouble befo' now lyin' fer white men widout knowin' what I -was lyin' about, an' I let dat chance slide, an' told 'em I didn't know -a blessed thing about it. Dey driv' off in a big huff; all three dey -backs was as straight as a ironin'-board." - -"Have you any idea where he is now?" Sively inquired, anxiously. - -"I think he's over at de club, suh. De waiters in de cafe told me dat he -makes a habit o' loungin' round de back smokin'-room by hisse'f." - -"Drinking?" - -"No, suh--dat is, not any mo'n he kin tote. He walks straight enough, it -jest seems like it's some'n' wrong in his mind, Marse Sively," and Pomp -touched his black brow significantly. - -"Well," Sively said, after a moment's reflection, "order the horses and -trap. If I can find him I'll take him out to the Driving Club. I'm glad -I got back. I'll take him in hand. Between me and you, Pomp, I think -he's had bad news from his father. I'm afraid my uncle has really laid -down the law to him, cut off his spending-money, or something of the -kind." - - - - -XXX - - -In the darkest corner of the quietest room in the club, Sively found his -cousin gloomily smoking a cigar, a bottle of brandy on a table near him, -and a copy of Luke King's paper on the floor at his feet. As he looked -up his eyes had a shifting glare in them, and there was an air of utter -dejection on him, though, on recognizing his cousin, he made a valiant -effort to appear at ease. - -"Oh, you are back, are you?" he said, awkwardly, flicking the ashes of -his cigar over a tray. - -"Yes, just in, old boy, and I've got my horses out for a spin to the -Driving Club. Come along. The whole town is out on wheels; the afternoon -is perfect. The idea of your sitting cooped up here, in smoke thick -enough to cut with an axe, when you ought to be filling your lungs with -ozone and enjoying life!" - -Langdon hesitated, but it was evident that he could formulate no -reasonable excuse for declining the invitation, and so he reluctantly -gave in. "Let me get my hat," he said, and together they strolled down -the wide entrance-hall to the hat-rack. - -"I felt rather uneasy when I missed you at my rooms," Sively remarked, -as they were approaching the trap at the door. "Pomp could give no -account of you, and I didn't know but what you'd skipped out for home. -Have a good time while I was away?" - -"Oh yes, yes," Chester answered, as he got into the vehicle and began to -adjust the lap-robes about him. "I got along all right. You see, old -man, I'm sort of getting on the social retired-list. Living in the -country, where we have few formalities, has turned me somewhat against -your teas, dinners, and dances. I never go without feeling out of it -somehow. You Atlanta men seem to know how to combine business and -society pretty well; but, having no business when I'm here, I get sick -of doing the other thing exclusively." - -"Oh, I see," said Sively, who was too deeply versed in human nature to -be misled. - -As they sped along the smooth asphalt pavement of Peachtree Street, -dodging trolley-cars and passing or meeting open vehicles filled with -pleasure-seekers, Sively's hat and arm were in continual motion bowing -to friends and acquaintances. The conversation languished. Sively found -it very difficult to keep it going as he noted the deep lines of care -which marked his cousin's face. He was quite sure something of a very -serious nature had happened to Langdon, and his sympathies were deeply -stirred. - -After twenty minutes' brisk driving, they reached the club-house and -entered the throng of fashionably dressed men and women distributed -about at the numerous refreshment-tables under the trees. The club was -on a slight elevation, and below them stretched the beautiful greensward -of the extensive Exposition grounds. Several of the liveried servants, -recognizing Sively, approached and offered chairs at their respective -tables, but, sensing his cousin's desire not to be thrown with others, -he led the way through the laughing and chattering assemblage to a quiet -table in a little smoking-room quite in the rear of the building. - -"There," he smiled, "this will suit you better, I know." - -"Yes, I think it will, if it's all the same to you," Chester admitted, -with a breath of relief. "The Lord only knows what I'd talk about out -there in that chattering gang." - -Sively ordered cigars, and, when the waiter had gone for them, he said, -lightly: "No more liquor for you to-day, my boy. You hold your own all -right, but you are too nervous to take any more." - -"Nervous? Do you think so? Do I look it?" Chester asked. - -"Oh yes, a little," said Sively. He was taking a bunch of cigars from -the waiter, and, when he had signed his name to the accompanying slip of -paper, he said, "Harry, pull the door to after you, and see that we are -not disturbed." - -"Certainly, sir." - -Langdon, with widening eyes, watched the negro as he went out and closed -the door, then he glanced at his cousin inquiringly. - -"I want to be alone with you, my boy," Sively said, with ill-assumed -ease. "You can trust me, you know, and--well, the truth is, my boy, I -want to know what you are in trouble about." - -"Me? Good gracious!" - -"Oh, don't begin that!" Sively said, firmly, as he struck a match and -held it to the end of his cigar. "I won't stand it. You can't keep your -feelings from me. At first, when Pomp told me about your not going out -to those affairs when I was away, I thought your father had thrown you -over for good and all, but it isn't that. My uncle couldn't do it, -anyway. You are in trouble, my boy; what is it?" - -Langdon flushed and stared defiantly across the table into the fixed -eyes of his cousin for a moment, and then he looked down. - -"No, my father is all right," he said. "He's found out about the horse, -but he didn't take it so very hard. In fact, he went to Darley and -bought him back for only a slight advance on what I sold him for. He is -worried about me, and writes for me to come on home." - -"Then, as I supposed, it is _not_ your father," said Sively. - -There was a pause. Langdon, with bloodless fingers, nervously broke his -cigar half in two. He took another and listlessly struck a match, only -to let its flame expire without using it. - -"What's the trouble, my boy?" pursued Sively. "I want to befriend you if -I can. I'm older than you." - -"Well, I _am_ in trouble," Langdon said, simply. Then, in a low tone, -and with frequent pauses, he told all about his acquaintance with -Virginia. Once started, he left out no detail, extending his confidence -till it had included a humble confession even of his humiliation by Ann -Boyd and the girl's bitter words of contempt a few days later. "Then I -had to come away," Langdon finished, with a sigh that was a whispered -groan. "I couldn't stand it. I thought the change, the life and -excitement down here, would make me forget, but it's worse than ever. -I'm in hell, old man--a regular hell." - -Sively leaned back in his chair. There was an expression of supreme -disgust about his sensitive nose and mouth, and his eyes burned with -indignant, spirit-fed fires. - -"Great God!" he exclaimed; "and it was _that_ girl--that particular -one--Jane Hemingway's daughter!" - -"You've seen her, then?" Langdon said, in awakening surprise. - -"Seen her? Great Heavens, of course, I've seen her, and, now that I know -all this, her sweet, young face will never go out of my mind--never as -long as life is in me." - -"I don't exactly see--I don't understand--" Langdon began, but his -cousin interrupted him. - -"I had a talk with her one day," he said, feelingly. "I had been hunting -with your gun and dogs, and stopped at her mother's house to get a drink -of water. Virginia was the only one at home, and she brought it to me in -the little porch. I've met thousands of women, Langdon, but her beauty, -grace, intelligence, and dazzling purity affected me as I never was -before. I am old enough to be her father, but do you know what I thought -as I sat there and talked to her? I thought that I'd give every dollar I -had for the love and faith of such a girl--to leave this rotten -existence here and settle down there in the mountains to earn my living -by the sweat of my brow. It was almost the only silly dream I ever had, -but it was soon over. A thousand times since that day, in the midst of -all this false show and glitter, my mind has gone back to that wonderful -girl. She'd read books I'd never had time to open, and talked about them -as freely and naturally as I would about things of everyday life. No -doubt she was famished for what all women, good or bad, love--the -admiration of men--and so she listened eagerly to your slick tongue. Oh, -I know what you said, and exactly how you said it. You've inherited that -gift, my boy, but you've inherited something--perhaps from your -mother--something that your father never had in his make-up--you've -inherited a capacity for remorse, self-contempt, the throes of an -outraged conscience. I'm a man of the world--I don't go to church, I -play cards, I race horses, I've gone all the gaits--but I know there is -something in most men which turns their souls sick when they consciously -commit crime. _Crime!_--yes, that's it--don't stop me. I used a strong -word, but it must go. There are men who would ten thousand times rather -shoot a strong, able-bodied man dead in his tracks than beguile a young -girl to the brink of doom (of all ways) as you did--blinding her to her -own danger by the holy desire to save her mother's life, pulling her as -it were by her very torn and bleeding heart-strings. God!" - -"Oh, don't--don't make it any worse than it is!" Langdon groaned. -"What's done's done, and, if I'm down in the blackest depths of despair -over it, what's the use to kick me? I'm helpless. Do you know what I -actually thought of doing this morning? I actually lay in bed and -planned my escape. I wanted to turn on the gas, but I knew it would -never do its work in that big, airy room." - -"Oh, don't be a fool, Langdon!" Sively said, suddenly pulled around. -"Never think of such a thing again. When a man that _is_ a man does a -wrong, there is only one thing for him to do, and that is to set it -right." - -"Set it right? But how?" Langdon cried, almost eagerly. - -"Why, there are several ways to make a stab at it, anyway," Sively said; -"and that is better than wiping your feet on a gentle creature and then -going off and smoking a gas-pipe. What I want to know is this: do you -_love_ that girl, really and genuinely _love_ her?" - -"Why, I think I do," said Langdon; "in fact, I now _know_ it; if I -didn't, why should I be here miserable enough to die about what has -happened and her later treatment of me?" - -"I couldn't take your diagnosis of your particular malady." Sively -puffed thoughtfully at his cigar. "You'd be the last person, really, -that could decide on that. There are some men in the world who can't -tell the difference between love and passion, and they are led to the -altar by one as often as the other. But the passion-led man has walked -through the pink gates of hell. When his temporary desire has been fed, -he'll look into the face of his bride with absolute loathing and -contempt. She'll be too pure, as a rule, to understand the chasm between -them, but she will know that for her, at least, marriage is a failure. -Now, if I thought you really loved that pretty girl--if I thought you -really were man enough to devote the rest of your days to blotting from -her memory the black events of that night; if I thought you'd go to her -with the hot blood of hell out of your veins, and devote yourself to -winning her just as some young man on her own social level would do, -paying her open and respectful attentions, declaring your honorable -intentions to her relatives and friends--if I thought you were man -enough to do that, in spite of the opposition of your father and mother, -then I'd glory in your spunk, and I'd think more of you, my poor boy, -than I ever have in all my life." - -Langdon leaned forward. He had felt his cousin's contemptuous words less -for the hope they embodied. "Then you think if I did that, she might--" - -"I don't know what _she'd_ do," Sively broke in. "I only know that when -you finally saw her after that night and made no declarations of -honorable intentions, that you simply emphasized the cold-blooded insult -of what had already happened. She saw in your following her up only a -desire to repeat the conduct which had so nearly entrapped her. My boy, -I am not a mean judge of women, and I am afraid you have simply lost -that girl forever. She has lowered herself, as she perhaps looks at it, -in the eyes of another woman--the one who saved her--and her young eyes -have been torn open to things she was too pure and unsuspecting even to -dream of. However, all her life she has heard of the misfortune of this -Mrs. Boyd, and she now realizes only too vividly what she has escaped. -It might take you years to restore her confidence--to prove to her that -you love her for herself alone, but if I stood in your shoes I'd do it -if it took me a lifetime. She is worth it, my boy. In fact, I'm afraid -she is--now pardon me for being so blunt--but I'm afraid she is superior -to you in intellect. She struck me as being a most wonderful woman for -her age. Given opportunity, she'd perhaps out-strip you. It is strange -that she has had so little attention paid to her. Has she never had an -admirer before?" - -Langdon exhaled a deep breath before replying. "That is something I've -been worried about," he admitted. "From little things she has dropped I -imagine this same Luke King used to be very fond of her before he left -for the West. They have met since he got back, and I'm afraid she--" - -"Good gracious! that puts another face on the business," said Sively. "I -don't mean any disparagement to you, but if--if there ever was any -understanding between them, and he has come back such a success, why, it -isn't unlikely that you'd have a rival worth giving attention to. A man -of that sort rarely ever makes a mistake in marrying. If he is after -that girl, you've got an interesting fight ahead of you--that is, if you -intend to buck against him. Now, I see, I've made you mad." - -"Do you think I'd let a man of his birth and rearing thwart me?" Langdon -cried--"a mountain cracker, a clodhopper, an uncouth, unrefined--" - -"Stop! you are going too far," said Sively, quickly. "Our old idea that -refinement can only come from silk-lined cradles is about exploded. It -seems to me that refinement is as natural as a love of art, music, or -poetry. And not only has that chap got refinement of a decided sort, but -he's got a certain sort of pride that makes him step clean over a -reverence for our defunct traditions. When he meets a scion of the old -aristocracy his clear eye doesn't waver as he stares steadily into the -face as if to see if the old regime has left a fragment of brains there -worth inspecting. Oh, he gets along all right in society! The Holts had -him at the club reception and dinner the other night, and our best women -were actually _asking_ to be introduced to him, and--" - -"But why are you telling all this stuff to me?" Langdon thundered, as he -rose angrily to signify that he was ready to go. - -"Why do I?" Sively said, pacifically. "Because you've simply got to know -the genuine strength of your rival, if he _is_ that, and you have to -cross swords with him. If the fellow really intends to win that girl, he -will perhaps display a power in the undertaking that you never saw. I'd -as soon fight a buzz-saw with bare hands as to tackle him in a fight for -a woman's love. Oh, I've got started, my boy, and I'll have to reel it -all off, and be done with it. There is one thing you may get mad and -jealous enough to do--that is, in case you are this fellow King's -rival--" - -"What do you mean? What did you start to say?" Langdon glared down at -his cousin. - -"Why, you might--I say might--fall low enough to try to use the poor -girl's little indiscretion against her. But if you do, my boy, I'll go -back on you. I'll do it as sure as there is a God in heaven. I wish you -luck with her, but it all depends on you. If you will be a man, you may -be happy in the end, get a beautiful, trusting wife, and wipe the mire -off your soul which is making you so miserable. Go straight home and set -about it in the right way. Begin with a humble proposal of marriage. -That will show your intentions at the outset. Now, let's get out in the -open air." - -They walked through the gay throng again to the carriage, and as they -were getting in Langdon said, almost cheerfully: "I'm going to take your -advice. I know I love her, honestly and truly, for I want her with every -nerve in my body. I haven't slept a single night through since the thing -happened. I've simply been crazy." - -"Well, the whole thing lies with you," said Sively. "The girl must have -cared _something_ for you at one time, and you must recover your lost -place in her estimation. A humble proposal of marriage will, in my -judgment, soften her more than anything else. It will be balm to her -wounded pride, too, and you may win. You've got a fair chance. Most poor -mountain girls would be flattered by the opportunity to marry a man -above them in social position, and she may be that way. Be a man, and -pay no attention to your father's objections. When the proper time -comes, I'll talk to him." - - - - -XXXI - - -After leaving Atlanta, with only her normal strength and flesh to -regain, Jane Hemingway returned to her mountain home in most excellent -spirits. She had heartily enjoyed her stay, and was quite in her best -mood before the eager group of neighbors who gathered at her cottage the -afternoon of her return. - -"What _I_ can't understand," remarked old Mrs. Penuckle, "is why you -don't say more about the cutting. Why, the knife wasn't going into _me_ -at all, and yet on the day I thought the doctors would be at work on you -I couldn't eat my dinner. I went around shuddering, fancying I could -feel the blade rake, rake through my vitals. Wasn't you awfully afraid?" - -"Bless your soul, no!" Jane laughed merrily. "There wasn't a bit more of -a quiver on me than there is right now. We was all talking in a funny -sort of way and passing jokes to the last minute before they gave me -ether. They gave it to me in a tin thing full of cotton that they -clapped over my mouth and nose. I had to laugh, I remember, for, just as -he got ready, Dr. Putnam said, with his sly grin, 'Look here, I'm going -to muzzle you, old lady, so you can't talk any more about your -neighbors.'" - -"Well, he certainly give you a bliff there without knowing it," remarked -Sam Hemingway, dryly. "But he's a fool if he thinks a tin thing full o' -drugs would do that." - -"Oh, go on and tell us about the cutting," said Mrs. Penuckle, wholly -oblivious of Sam's sarcasm. "That's what _I_ come to hear about." - -"Well, I reckon getting under that ether was the toughest part of the -job," Jane smiled. "I took one deep whiff of it, and I give you my word -I thought the pesky stuff had burnt the lining out of my windpipe. But -Dr. Putnam told me he'd give it to me more gradual, and he did. It still -burnt some, but it begun to get easy, and I drifted off into the -pleasantest sleep, I reckon, I ever had. When I come to and found nobody -in the room but a girl in a white apron and a granny's cap, I was afraid -they had decided not to operate, and, when I asked her if there'd been -any hitch, she smiled and said it was all over, and I wouldn't have -nothing to do but lie still and pick up." - -"It's wonderful how fine they've got things down these days," commented -Sam. "Ten years ago folks looked on an operation like that as next to a -funeral, but it's been about the only picnic Jane's had since she was -flying around with the boys." - -The subject of this jest joined the others in a good-natured laugh. -"There was just one thing on my mind to bother me," she said, somewhat -more seriously, "and that was wondering who gave that money to Virginia. -Naturally a thing like that would pester a person, especially where it -was such a big benefit. I've been at Virginia to tell me, or give me -some hint so I could find out myself, but the poor child looks awfully -embarrassed, and keeps reminding me of her promise. I reckon there isn't -but one thing to do, and that is to let it rest." - -"There's only one person round here that's _got_ any spare money," said -Sam Hemingway, quite with a straight face, "and it happens, too, that -she'd like to have a thing like that done." - -"Why, who do you mean, Sam?" His sister-in-law fell into his trap, as -she sat staring at him blandly. - -"Why, it's Ann Boyd--old Sister Ann. She'd pay for a job like that on -the bare chance of the saw-bones making a miss-lick and cutting too -deep, or blood-pizen settin' in." - -"Don't mention that woman's name to me!" Jane said, angrily. "You know -it makes me mad, and that's why you do it. I tried to keep a humble and -contrite heart in me down there; but, folks, I'm going to confess to you -all that the chief joy I felt in getting my health back was on account -of that woman's disappointment. I never mentioned it till now, but that -meddlesome old hag actually knew about my ailment long before I let it -out to a soul. Like a fool, I bought some fake medicine from a tramp -peddler one day, and let him examine me. He went straight over to Ann -Boyd's and told her. Oh, I know he did, for she met me at the wash-hole, -during the hot spell, when water was scarce, and actually gloated over -my coming misfortune. She wouldn't say what the ill-luck was, but I knew -what she was talking about and where she got her information." - -"I never thought that old wench was as black as she was painted," Sam -declared, with as much firmness as he could command in the presence of -so much femininity. "If this had been a community of men, instead of -three-fourths the other sort, she'd have been reinstated long before -this. I'll bet, if the Scriptural injunction for the innocent to cast -the first stone was obeyed, there wouldn't be no hail-storm o' rocks in -this neighborhood." - -"Oh, she would just suit a lot of men!" Jane said, in a tone which -indicated the very lowest estimation of her brother-in-law's opinion. -"It takes women to size up women. I want to meet the old thing now, just -to show her that I'm still alive and kicking." - -Jane had this opportunity sooner than she expected. Dr. Putnam had -enjoined upon her a certain amount of physical exercise, and so one -afternoon, shortly after getting back, she walked slowly down to -Wilson's store. It was on her return homeward, while passing a portion -of Ann's pasture, where the latter, with pencil and paper in hand, was -laying out some ditches for drainage, that she saw her opportunity. - -"Now, if she don't turn and run, I'll get a whack at her," she chuckled. -"It will literally kill the old thing to see me walking so spry." - -Thereupon, in advancing, Jane quickened her step, putting a sort of -jaunty swing to her whole gaunt frame. With only the worm fence and its -rough clothing of wild vines and briers between them, the women met face -to face. There was a strange, unaggressive wavering in Ann's eyes, but -her enemy did not heed it. - -"Ah ha!" she cried. "I reckon this is some surprise to you, Ann Boyd! I -reckon you won't brag about being such a wonderful health prophet now! I -was told down in Atlanta--by _experts_, mind you--that my heart and -lungs were as sound as a dollar, and that, counting on the long lives of -my folks on both sides, I'm good for fifty years yet." - -"Huh! I never gave any opinion on how long you'd live, that I know of," -Ann said, sharply. - -"You didn't, heigh? You didn't, that day at the wash-place when you -stood over me and shook your finger in my face and said you knew what my -trouble was, and was waiting to see it get me down? Now, I reckon you -remember!" - -"I don't remember saying one word about your cancer, if that's what you -are talking about," Ann sniffed. "I couldn't 'a' said anything about it, -for I didn't know you had it." - -"Now, I know _that's_ not so; you are just trying to take backwater, -because you are beat. That peddler that examined me and sold me a bottle -of medicine went right to your house, and you pumped him dry as to my -condition." - -"Huh! he said you just had a stiff arm," said Ann. "I wasn't alluding to -that at all." - -"You say you wasn't, then what was you talking about? I'd like to know." - -"Well, that's for me to know and you to find out," Ann said, goaded to -anger. "I don't have to tell you all I know and think. Now, you go on -about your business, Jane Hemingway, and let me alone." - -"I'll never let you alone as long as there's a breath left in my body," -Jane snarled. "You know what you are; you are a disgrace to the county. -You are a close-fisted, bad woman--as bad as they make them. You ought -to be drummed out of the community, and you would be, too, if you didn't -have so much ill-gotten gains laid up." - -There was a pause, for Jane was out of breath. Ann leaned over the -fence, crushing her sheet of paper in her tense fingers. "I'll tell you -something," she said, her face white, her eyes flashing like those of a -powerful beast goaded to desperation by an animal too small and agile to -reach--"I'll tell you one thing. For reasons of my own I've tried to -listen to certain spiritual advice about loving enemies. Jesus Christ -laid the law down, but He lived before you was born, Jane Hemingway. -There isn't an angel at God's throne to-day that could love you. I'd as -soon try to love a hissing rattlesnake, standing coiled in my path, as -such a dried-up bundle of devilment as you are. Could I hit back at you -now? _Could_ I? Huh! I could tell you something, you old fool, that -would humble you in the dust at my feet and make you crawl home with -your nose to the earth like a whipped dog. And I reckon I'm a fool not -to do it, when you are pushing me this way. You come to gloat over me -because your rotten body feels a little bit stronger than it did. I -could make you forget your dirty carcass. I could make you so sick at -the soul you'd vomit a prayer for mercy every minute the rest of your -life. But I won't do it, as mad as I am. I'll not do it. You go your -way, and I'll go mine." - -Jane Hemingway stared wildly. The light of triumph had died out in her -thin, superstitious face. She leaned, as if for needed support, on the -fence only a few feet from her enemy. Superstition was her weakest -point, and it was only natural now for her to fall under its spell. She -recalled Ann's fierce words prophesying some mysterious calamity which -was to overtake her, and placed them beside the words she had just had -hurled at her, and their combined effect was deadening. - -"You think you know lots," she found herself saying, mechanically. - -"Well, I know what I _know_!" Ann retorted, still furious. "You go on -about your business. You'd better let me alone, woman. Some day I may -fasten these two hands around that scrawny neck of yours and shake some -decency into you." - -Jane shrank back instinctively. She was less influenced, however, by the -threat of bodily harm than by the sinister hint, now looming large in -her imagination, that had preceded it. Ann was moving away, and she soon -found herself left alone with thoughts which made any but agreeable -companions. - -"What can the woman mean?" she muttered, as she slowly pursued her way. -"Maybe she's just doing that to worry me. But no, she was in -earnest--dead in earnest--both times. She never says things haphazard; -she's no fool, either. It must be something simply awful or she wouldn't -mention it just that way. Now, I'm going to let _this_ take hold of me -and worry me night and day like the cancer did." - -She paused and stood in the road panting, her hand, by force of habit, -resting on her breast. Looking across the meadow, she saw Ann Boyd -sturdily trudging homeward through the waist-high bulrushes. The -slanting rays of the sun struck the broad back of the hardy outcast and -illumined the brown cotton-land which stretched on beyond her to the -foot of the mountain. Jane Hemingway caught her breath and moved on -homeward, pondering over the mystery which was now running rife in her -throbbing brain. Yes, it was undoubtedly something terrible--but what? -That was the question--what? - -Reaching home, she was met at the door by Virginia, who came forward -solicitously to take her shawl. A big log-fire, burning in the wide -chimney of the sitting-room, lighted it up with a red glow. Jane sank -into her favorite chair, listlessly holding in her hands the small -parcel of green coffee she had bought at the store. - -"Let me have it," Virginia said. "I must parch it and grind it for -supper. The coffee is all out." - -As the girl moved away with the parcel, Jane's eyes followed her. -"Should she tell her daughter what had taken place?" she asked herself. -Perhaps a younger, fresher mind could unravel the grave puzzle. But how -could she bring up the matter without betraying the fact that she had -been the aggressor? No, she must simply nurse her new fears in secret -for a while and hope for--well, what could she hope for, anyway? She -lowered her head, her sharp elbows on her knees, and stared into the -fire. Surely fate was against her, and it was never intended for her to -get the best of Ann Boyd in any encounter. Through all her illness she -had been buoyed up by the triumphant picture of Ann Boyd's chagrin at -seeing her sound of body again, and this had been the result. Instead of -humiliating Ann, Ann had filled her quaking soul with a thousand -intangible, rapidly augmenting fears. The cloud of impending disaster -stretched black and lowering across Jane Hemingway's horizon. - -Sam came in with a bundle of roots in his arms, and laid them carefully -on a shelf. "I've dug me some sassafras of the good, red variety," he -said, over his shoulder, to her. "You folks that want to can spend money -at drug stores, but in the fall of the year, if I drink plenty of -sassafras tea instead of coffee, it thins my blood and puts me in -apple-pie order. But I reckon you don't want _your_ blood any thinner -than them doctors left it. Right now you look as flabby and limber as a -wet rag. What ails you, _anyway_?" - -"I reckon I walked too far, right at the start," Jane managed to fish -from her confused mind. "I'm going to be more careful in the future." - -"Well, you'd better," Sam opined. "You may not find folks as ready to -invest in your burial outfit as they was to prevent you from needing -one." - - - - -XXXII - - -The following morning, in her neatest dress and white sun-bonnet, -Virginia walked to Wilson's store to buy some sewing-thread. She was on -her way back, and was traversing the most sequestered part of the road, -where a brook of clear mountain water ran rippling by, and an abundance -of willows and reeds hid the spot from view of any one approaching, when -she was startled by Langdon Chester suddenly appearing before her from -behind a big, moss-grown bowlder. - -"Don't run, Virginia--for God's sake don't run!" he said, humbly. "I -simply _must_ speak to you." - -"But I told you I didn't want to meet you again," Virginia answered, -sternly. "Why won't you leave me alone? If I've acted the fool and -lowered myself in my estimation for all the rest of my life, that ought -to be enough. It is as much as I can stand. You've simply got to stop -following me up." - -"You don't understand, Virginia," he pleaded. "You admit you feel -different since that night; grant the same to me. I've passed through -absolute torment. I thought, after you talked to me so angrily the last -time I saw you, that I could forget it if I left. I went to Atlanta, but -I suffered worse than ever down there. I was on the verge of suicide. -You see, I learned how dear you had become to me." - -"Bosh! I don't believe a word of it!" Virginia retorted, her eyes -flashing, though her face was deathly pale. "I don't believe any man -could really care for a girl and treat her as you did me that night. God -knows I did wrong--a wrong that will never be undone, but I did it for -the sake of my suffering mother. That's the only thing I have to lessen -my self-contempt, and that is little; but you--you--oh, I don't want to -talk to you! I want to blot it all--everything about it--from my mind." - -"But you haven't heard me through," he said, advancing a step nearer to -her, his face ablaze with admiration and unsatisfied passion. "I find -that I simply can't live without you, and as for what happened that -awful night, I've come to wipe it out in the most substantial way a -self-respecting man can. I've come to ask you to marry me, Virginia--to -be my wife." - -"To be your wife!" she gasped. "Me--you--_we_ marry--you and I? Live -together, as--" - -"Yes, dear, that's what I mean. I know you are a good, pure girl, and I -am simply miserable without you. No human being could imagine the depth -of my love. It has simply driven me crazy, along with the way you have -acted lately. My father and mother may object, but it's got to be done, -and it will all blow over. Now, Virginia, what will you say? I leave it -all to you. You may name the place and time--I'm your slave from now on. -Your wonderful grace and beauty have simply captured me. I'll do the -best I can to hold up my end of the thing. My cousin, Chester Sively, is -a good sort of chap, and, to be frank, when he saw how miserable I was -down there, he drew it out of me. I told him my folks would object and -make it hot for me, but that I could not live without you, and he -advised me to come straight home and propose to you. You see, he thought -perhaps I had offended you in not making my intentions plainer at the -start, and that when you knew how I felt you would not be so hard on me. -Now, you are not going to be, are you, little girl? After all those -delicious walks we used to have, and the things you have at least let me -believe, I know you won't go back on me. Oh, we'll have a glorious time! -Chester will advance me some money, I am sure, and we'll take a trip. -We'll sail from Savannah to New York and stay away, by George, till the -old folks come to their senses. I admit I was wrong in all that -miserable business. I ought to have given you that money and not made -you come for it, but being a mad fool like that once doesn't prove I -can't turn over a new leaf. Now, you try me." - -He advanced towards her, his hand extended to clasp hers, but she -suddenly drew back. - -"I couldn't think of marrying you," she said, almost under her breath. -"I couldn't under any possible circumstances." - -"Oh, Virginia, you don't mean that!" he cried, crestfallen. "You are -still mad about being--being frightened that night, and that old hag -finding out about it. No woman would relish having another come up at -just such an awkward moment and get her vile old head full of all sorts -of unfair notions. But this, you see--you are old enough to see that -marriage actually puts everything straight, even to the bare possibility -of anything ever leaking out. That's why I think you will act sensibly." - -To his surprise, Virginia, without looking at him, covered her face with -her hands. He saw her pretty shoulders rise as if she had smothered a -sob. Hoping that she was moved by the humility and earnestness of his -appeal, he caught one of her hands gently and started to pull it from -her face. But, to his surprise, she shrank back and stared straight and -defiantly in his eyes. - -"That's the way _you_ look at it!" she cried, indignantly. "You think I -hopelessly compromised myself by what I did, and that I'll have to tie -myself to you for life in consequence; but I won't. I'd rather die. I -couldn't live with you. I hate you! I detest you! I hate and detest you -because you've made me detest myself. To think that I have to stand here -listening to a proposal in--in the humiliating way you make it." - -"Look here, Virginia, you are going too far!" he cried, white with the -dawning realization of defeat and quivering in every limb. "You are no -fool, if you _are_ only a girl, and you know that a man in--well, in my -position, will not take a thing like this calmly. I've been desperate, -and I hardly knew what I was about, but this--I can't stand this, -Virginia." - -"Well, I couldn't marry you," she answered. "If you were a king and I a -poor beggar, I wouldn't agree to be your wife. I'd never marry a man I -did not thoroughly respect, and I don't respect you a bit. In fact, -knowing you has only shown me how fine and noble, by contrast, other men -are. Since this thing happened, one man--" She suddenly paused. Her -impulse had led her too far. He glared at her for an instant, and then -suddenly grasped her hand and held it in such a tight, brutal clasp that -she writhed in pain, but he held onto it, twisting it in his unconscious -fury. - -"I know who you mean," he said. "I see it all now. You have seen Luke -King, and he has been saying sweet things to you. Ann Boyd is his -friend, too, and she hates me. But look here, if you think I will stand -having a man of that stamp defeat me, you don't know me. You don't know -the lengths a Chester will go to gain a point. I see it all. You've been -different of late. You used to like him, and he has been talking to you -since he got back. It will certainly be a dark day for him when he dares -to step between me and my plans." - -"You are going entirely too fast," Virginia said, grown suddenly -cautious. "There's nothing, absolutely nothing, between Luke King and -myself, and, moreover, there never will be." - -"You may tell that to a bigger fool than I am," Chester fumed. "I know -there is something between you two, and, frankly, trouble is brewing for -him. He may write his long-winded sermons about loving mankind, and bask -in the praise of the sentimental idiots who dote on him, but I'll draw -him back to practical things. I'll bring him down to the good, -old-fashioned way of settling matters between men." - -"Well, it's cowardly of you to keep me here by brute force," Virginia -said, finally wresting her hand from his clasp and beginning to walk -onward. "I've said there is nothing between him and me, and I shall not -repeat it. If you want to raise a fuss over it, you will only make -yourself ridiculous." - -"Well, I'll look after _that_ part of it," he cried, beside himself with -rage. "No mountain razor-back stripe of man like he is can lord it over -me, simply because the scum of creation is backing up his shallow ideas -with money. _I'll_ open his eyes." - -And Langdon Chester, too angry and disappointed to be ashamed of -himself, stood still and allowed her to go on her way. A boy driving a -drove of mules turned the bend of the road, and Chester stepped aside, -but when they had passed he stood still and watched Virginia as she -slowly pursued her way. - -"Great God, how am I to stand it?" he groaned. "I want her! I want her! -I'd work for her. I'd slave for her. I'd do anything under high heaven -to be able to call her my own--all my own! My God, isn't she beautiful? -That mouth, that proud poise of head, that neck and breast and form! -Were there ever such eyes set in a human head before--such a maddening -lip, such a--oh, I can't stand it! I wasn't made for defeat like this. -Marry her? I'd marry her if it impoverished every member of my family. -I'd marry her if the honeymoon ended in my death. At any rate, I would -have lived awhile. Does Luke King intend to marry her? Of course he -does--he has _seen_ her; but _shall_ he? No, there is one thing certain, -and that is that I could never live and know that she was receiving -another man's embraces. I'd kill him if it damned me eternally. And yet -I've played my last and biggest card. She won't marry me. She would -_once_, but she won't _now_. Yes, I'm facing a big, serious thing, but -I'll face it. If he tries to get her, the world will simply be too small -for both of us to live in together." - - - - -XXXIII - - -The following morning, after spending a restless, troublous night in -reflecting over the protestations and threats of Langdon Chester, -Virginia went frequently to the rear door of the house and looked out -towards Ann Boyd's domicile in the hope of seeing her new friend. It was -a cool, bleak day. The skies were veiled in thin, low-hanging, gray -clouds which seemed burdened with snow, and sharp gusts of wind bore the -smoke from the chimney down to the earth and around the house in -lingering, bluish wisps. Finally her fitful watch met its reward, and -she saw Ann emerge from her house and trudge down towards the -cotton-field between the two farms. Hastily looking into the kitchen, -and seeing that her mother was busily engaged mashing some boiled -sweet-potatoes into a pulpy mixture of sugar, butter, and spices, with -which to make some pies, Virginia slipped out of the house and into the -cow-lot. Here she paused for a moment, her glance on the doorway through -which she had passed, and then, seeing that her leaving had not -attracted her mother's attention, she climbed over the rail-fence and -entered the dense thicket near by. Through this tangle of vines, bushes, -and briers she slowly made her way, until, suddenly, the long, regular -rows of Ann's dead cotton-stalks, with their empty boles and withered -leaves, stretched out before her. And there stood Ann, crumbling a -sample of the gray soil in her big, red hand. She heard Virginia's -approach over the dry twigs of the wood, and looked up. - -"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know but what it was another -catamount that had got out of its beat up in the mountains and strayed -down into civilization." - -"I happened to see you leave your house and come this way," Virginia -said, somewhat embarrassed, "and so I--" - -"Yes, I came down here to take one more look at this field and make up -my mind whether to have it turned under for wheat or try its strength on -cotton again. There was a lots of fertilizer put on this crop, child. I -can always tell by the feel of the dirt. That's the ruination of farming -interests in the South. It's the get-a-crop-quick plan that has no solid -foundation. An industrious German or Irishman can make more off of an -acre than we can off of ten, and be adding value to the property each -year. But did you want to see me about--anything particular?" - -"It seems like I'm born to have trouble," Virginia answered, with -heightening color and a studious avoidance of the old woman's keen -glance. - -"I see; I reckon your mother--" - -"No, it's not about her," Virginia interrupted. "In fact, it's something -that I could not confide in her." - -"Well, you go ahead and tell me about it," Ann said, consolingly, as she -threw the sample of soil down and wiped her hand on her apron. "I think -it's powerful odd the way things have turned around, anyway. Only a few -days ago if anybody had told me I'd ever be half-way friendly with a -daughter of Jane Hemingway, I'd have thought they was clean off their -base. I'm trying to act the impartial friend to you, child, but I don't -know that I can. The trouble is, my flesh is too weak. It's only fair to -tell you that I come in the breadth of a hair the other day of betraying -you outright to your mammy. She met me down the road and drove me too -far. She caught me off my guard and came at me in her old, catlike way, -spitting and snarling--a thing I'm not proof against. She was gloating -over me. I'm ashamed to say it to a sweet, trusting face like yours, but -she came charging on me at such a rate that she drove away my best -intentions and made me plumb forget what I was trying to do for you." - -Ann hung her head for a moment, almost sheepishly kicking a cotton-stalk -from its mellow hill with the toe of her shoe. - -"Don't bother about that," Virginia said, sweetly. "I know how she can -exasperate any one." - -"Well, I'm satisfied I won't do to trust in the capacity of a friend, -anyway," Ann said, frankly. "I reckon I would be safe with anybody but -that woman. There is no use telling you what I said, but I come in an -inch of giving you plumb away. I come that nigh injuring a pure, -helpless little thing like you are to hit her one sousing lick. As it -was, I think I cowed her considerable. She's superstitious, and she -broods as much over an imaginary trouble as a real one. The Lord knows -I've been busy enough in my life tackling the genuine thing." - -"I wanted to tell you," Virginia said, "that ever since Langdon Chester -got back from Atlanta he has been trying to meet me, and--" - -"The dirty scamp!" Ann broke in, angrily. "I told him if he ever dared -to--" - -"Wait a minute, Mrs. Boyd!" Virginia put out her hand and touched the -old woman's arm. "He seems awfully upset over what has happened. I never -saw any one change so completely. He looked very thin, his eyes were -bloodshot, and he shook all over like a man who has been on a long -spree. Mrs. Boyd, he came--and I'm sure he was serious--to ask me to -marry him." - -"Marry him? Why, child, you don't mean _that_--surely you don't mean--" - -"I only know what he said," Virginia declared. "He says he is absolutely -miserable over it all and wants me to marry him. His cousin, Chester -Sively, advised him to propose to me, and he did. He says he loves me, -and that nothing else will satisfy him." - -"Well, well, well!" Ann exclaimed, as her great, astonished eyes bore -down on Virginia's face. "I thought he was a chip off of the old block, -but maybe he's got a little streak of good in him, and yet, let me study -a minute. Let's walk on down to the spring. I want to see if it doesn't -need a new gum--the old one is about rotted out. Well, well, well!" - -They strolled along the fence, side by side, neither speaking till the -spring was reached. There was a rustic bench near by, and Ann sat down -on it, putting out her hand and drawing the girl to a seat at her side. - -"Yes, there may be a streak of good," she went on. "And yet that may be -just another phase of bad. You must be very careful, child. You have no -idea how beautiful you are. He may mean what he says, all right enough, -but maybe he isn't being led by the best motive. I know men, I reckon, -about as well as any other woman of my age. Now, you see, it may be like -this: Langdon Chester brought to his aid all the _foul_ means he could -command to carry his point and failed. Maybe, now, he's just reckless -enough and his pride is cut deep enough to make him resort to fair means -rather than be plumb beat to a finish. If that's so, marrying him would -be a very risky thing, for as soon as his evil fires smouldered he'd -leave you high and dry. He'd convince himself he'd married below his -standard, and go to the dogs--or some other woman. Sometimes I think -there isn't no real love, like we read about in story-books. I believe a -man or a woman will love their own offspring in a solid, -self-sacrificing way, but the sort of love that makes a continuous happy -dream of marriage is powerful rare. It's generally one-sided and like a -damp fire that takes a lot of fanning and fresh kindling-wood to keep -going. But what did you tell him, I wonder?" - -"Why, I refused him," Virginia answered. - -"You did? You don't tell me! And how did his high and mighty lordship -take that, I wonder?" - -"It made him awfully mad. He almost swore at me, and took hold of my -hand roughly. Then, from something I happened to say, he imagined that I -was in love with--with some one else, and he made awful threats of what -he might do." - -"Ah, I see, I see, I see!" Ann muttered, as if to herself, her slow, -thoughtful glance on her broad lands, which stretched out through the -murky atmosphere. "It's wonderful how much your life is like mine used -to be. The other night, lying in bed, I got to studying over it all, and -it suddenly flashed on me that maybe it is the divine intention that I -was to travel that rough road so I'd know how to lead you, that was to -come on later, over the pits I stumbled in. And with that thought I felt -a strange sort of peaceful contentment come over me. You see, I'm nearly -always in a struggle against my inclination to treat Jane Hemingway's -daughter half decent, and such thoughts as those kind o' ease my pride. -If the Lord is making me pity you and like you, maybe it's the devil -that is trying to pull me the other way. That's why I'm afraid I won't -do to trust, wavering about like I am. In this fight I haven't the -slightest idea which influence is going to win in the end. In a tight -pinch I may be tempted to use our very friendship to get even with your -mammy. When she faces me with that confident look in her eye and that -hateful curl to her lip, I loose my grip on all that's worth a red cent -in me." - -"You couldn't do a wrong thing to save your life," said Virginia, -putting out her hand and taking that of her companion. - -"Don't you bet too high stakes on that," Ann replied, deeply touched. -"I'm no saint. Right now I'm at daggers' points with nearly every -neighbor I've got, and even my own child over the mountain. How I ever -got this way with you is a mystery to me. You certainly were the last -one I'd 'a' lifted a finger to help, but now--well, well--I reckon I'd -worry a lots if you met with any further misfortune. But you are keeping -back something, child. Did Langdon Chester seem to think that other -'_somebody_' could possibly be Luke King?" - -Virginia flushed and nodded. "He seemed to think so, Mrs. Boyd." - -Ann sighed. She was still holding Virginia's hand, and she now began -timidly to caress it as it lay on her knee. - -"I don't like the way it's turned out a bit," she said. "The Chester -stock can't stand being balked in anything; they couldn't bear to be -beat in love by a poor, self-made man like Luke, and great, big trouble -may be brewing. Langdon might push a row on him. Luke is writing all -sorts of things against the evil of war and fighting and the like, but -under pressure he'd resent an insult. I'd hate to see him plumb mad. -Then, again, Langdon might sink low enough to actually throw that -imprudence of yours at him. If he did, that would be a match to powder. -If Luke was a preacher and stood in the pulpit calling up mourners, he'd -step down and act on that sort of an invitation. Virginia, if ever a man -loved a woman, he loves you. His love is one of the exceptions to the -rule I was talking about just now, and it seems to me that, no matter -how you treat a man like that other scamp, you won't have a right to -refuse Luke King. The truth is, I'm afraid he never could stand it. He's -set his great, big, gentle soul on having you for his helpmeet, and I -don't believe you will let any silly notion ruin it all. He's got brain -enough to tackle the biggest human problems and settle them, but he'll -never give his heart out but once." - -Virginia withdrew her hand and swept it across her face, as if to brush -away the flush upon it. - -"I can never be his wife," she faltered. She paused, turned her face -away, and said, in a low tone: "I am not good enough. I deliberately -flirted with Langdon Chester. I used to love to have him say sweet -things to me, and I led him on. I've no excuse to make. If I had been -good enough to be the wife of a man like Luke King, I'd never have been -caught in that trap, even to save my mother, for if I'd acted -differently he'd never have done what he did. It's all my fault. If -Langdon Chester is upset and bent on trouble, I'm the cause of it. If it -results in unhappiness to the--to the noblest and best man I ever knew, -it will all be my fault. You needn't try to comfort me, Mrs. Boyd. I -tell you I'd rather die than have Luke King know all that has happened, -and God knows I'd never be his wife otherwise. So that is the end of -it." - -Ann was silent for several minutes, then she said: "I feel like you are -wrong somehow, and yet I don't exactly know how to make you see it my -way. We must both study over it. It's a problem, and no little one. -There is one thing certain: I'll never advise you to start married life -on deception of any kind. I tried that, with the best intentions, and it -was the worst investment I ever made." - - - - -XXXIV - - -During this conversation Sam Hemingway had returned to the house from -his field. He had an armful of white, silky, inside leaves of cornhusks -closely packed together, and these he submerged in a washtub full of -water, in the back-yard, placing stones on them to hold them down. - -"What are you about now?" his sister-in-law asked, as she appeared in -the doorway of the kitchen. - -"Now, what could a body be about when he's wetting a passle of shucks?" -he answered, dryly. "I'm going to make me some stout horse-collars for -spring ploughing. There ain't but one other thing a body could make out -of wet shucks, and that's foot-mats for town folks to wipe their feet -on. Foot-mats are a dead waste of money, for if fewer mats was used, -women would have to do more sweeping and not get time to stand around -the post-office watching men as much as they do. I reckon it's the way -old daddy Time has of shifting women's work onto men's shoulders. I'll -bet my hat that new-fangled churn that fellow passed with yesterday was -invented by a man out o' pure pity for his sex." - -"I was wondering where Virginia went to," Jane said, as if she had not -heard his philosophical utterances. "I've been all round the house -looking for her, even to the barn, but she's disappeared entirely." - -Sam shrugged his shoulders significantly. He placed the last stone on -the submerged husks and drew himself up erect. "I was just studying," he -drawled out, "whether it ud actually do to tell you where she is at this -minute. I'd decided I'd better not, and go on and finish this work. From -what I know about your odd disposition, I'd expect one of two solitary -things: I'd expect to see you keel over in a dead faint or stand -stock-still in your tracks and burn to a cinder from internal fires." - -"Sam, what do you mean?" The widow, in no little alarm, came towards -him, her eyes fixed steadily on his. - -"Well, I reckon you might as well know and be done with it," he said, -"though you'll be sure to let them pies burn afterwards. Jane, your only -child is right now a-sitting on the bench at the gum spring, side by -side with Ann Boyd. In fact, as well as I could see from the rise I was -on in my potato-patch, I'd 'a' took my oath that they was holding hands -like two sweethearts." - -"I don't believe a word of it," Jane gasped, turning pale. "It might -have been Virginia with somebody else, but not _that_ woman." - -"I wouldn't mistake Ann Boyd's solid shape and blue linsey frock ten -miles off," was the cold comfort Sam dispensed in his next remark. "If -you doubt what I say, and will agree not to jump on Ann and get yourself -drawed up at court for assault and battery, with intent to _get killed_, -you may go look for yourself. If you'll slip through the thicket, you -can come up on 'em unbeknownst." - -With a very grave look on her emaciated face, Jane Hemingway, without -wrap for her thin shoulders or covering for her gray head, strode across -the yard and into the bushes. Almost holding her breath in dire suspense -and with a superstitious fear of she knew not what, she sped through the -wood, briers and thorn-bushes clutching at her skirt and wild -grape-vines striking her abreast and detaining her. Presently she was -near enough to the spring to hear voices, but was, as yet, unable to see -who was speaking. Then she became fearful lest the dry twigs with which -the ground was strewn, in breaking under her feet, would betray her -presence, and she began, with the desperate caution of a convict -escaping from prison, to select her way, carefully stepping from one -patch of green moss to another. A few paces ahead of her there was a -group of tall pines, and the earth beneath their skeleton boughs was a -veritable bed of soft, brown needles. She soon gained this favorable -point of progress, and sped onward as noiselessly as the gentle breeze -overhead. Suddenly, through the bushes, she caught a gleam of color, and -recognized the dark-blue skirt Ann Boyd wore so constantly, and--her -heart stood still, for, massed against it, was the light gray of -Virginia's dress. Ah, there could be no shadow of a doubt now. Sam was -right, and with bowed head and crouching form Jane gave bewildered ear -to words which caused her blood to stand still in her veins. - -"Yes, I've thought a lots about it, child," she heard Ann saying. "I -can't make it out at all, but I really love you more than I do my own -daughter. I reckon it was the divine intention for me and you to have -this secret between us, and pity one another like we do. I can't help -it, but when you tell me you love me and think I'm good and the best -friend you've got on earth, why, it is the sweetest sound that ever fell -on human ear." - -There was a pause. Jane Hemingway held her breath; her very soul hung on -the silence. Then, as if from the dun skies above the shaft descended, -as if dropped from the lips of the Avenging Angel. It was the child of -her own breast uttering sounds as inexplicable, as damning to her hopes, -as if the gentle, tractable girl had approached her bed in the dead -hours of night and said: "Mother, I've come to kill you. There is no way -out of it. I must take your life. I am stronger than you. You must -submit. Ann Boyd has willed it so. Mother, I am Retribution!" - -"Yes, I do love you, with all my heart," were the words Jane heard. "I -can't help it. You have been kinder to me, more considerate of my -feelings, than my own mother. But I will make amends for all her cruelty -towards you. I'll love you always. I'll go to my grave loving you. You -are the best woman that ever lived. Suffering has raised you to the -skies. I have never kissed you. Let me now--_do, do_ let me!" - -As if in a horrible dream, Jane Hemingway turned back homeward. Without -knowing why, she still moved with the same breathless caution. Hers was -a dead soul dragging a body vitalized only by sheer animal instinct to -escape torture. To escape it? No, it was there ahead--it was here, -encompassing her like a net, yonder, behind, everywhere, and it would -stretch out to the end of time. She told her benumbed consciousness that -she saw it all now. It was not the cancer and its deadly effect that Ann -had held over her that hot day at the wash-place. No wonder that Ann had -not told her all, for that would have marred her comprehensive and -relentless plans. Ann's subtle plot had been to rob her enemy of the -respect and love of her only child. Jane had succeeded in tearing from -Ann Boyd's arms her only offspring, and Ann, with the cunning of her -great, indefatigable brain, had devised this subtle revenge and carried -it through. She had won over to herself the love and respect, even -reverence, of her enemy's child. It had been going on in secret for a -long time, and even now the truth was out only by sheer accident. Jane -Hemingway groaned aloud in agony and self-pity as, with her gray head -down, she groped homeward. What was there to do now? Nothing! She was -learning her final grim lesson in the realization that she was no -possible match for her rival. How well she now recalled the fierce words -Ann had hurled at her only a few days since: "Could I hit back at you -now? Could I? Huh! I could tell you something, Jane Hemingway, that -would humble you to the dust and make you crawl home with your nose to -the earth like a whipped dog." Ah, it was true, only too true! Humbled? -It was more than that. Pride, hope, even resentment, was gone. She now -cowered before her enemy as she had so recently before death itself. For -once she keenly felt her own supreme littleness and stood in absolute -awe of the mighty personality she had been so long and audaciously -combating. - -Reaching the fence which bounded her own property, Jane got over it with -difficulty. She seemed to have lost all physical strength. She saw Sam -behind the house, under the spreading, leafless boughs of an apple-tree, -repairing a break in the ash-hopper. She could not have explained what -impulse prompted it, but she paused in front of him, speaking in a tone -he had never heard from her before. "Sam," she said, a stare like the -glaze of death in her eyes, "don't you mention this to my child; do you -hear me? Don't you tell Virginia what we've found out. If you do you'll -get your foot into something you'll be sorry for. Do you hear me, man? -This is my business--_mine_, and not a thing for you to treat lightly. -If you know what's good for you, you'll take my hint and not meddle." - -"Well, I never!" Sam exclaimed. "Good Lord, woman, what have them two -folks done to you down there. I never saw you look so plumb -flabbergasted in my life." - -"Never you mind about that," Jane said. "You remember what I said and -don't meddle with what doesn't concern you." - -"Well, she kin bet I won't," Sam mused, as he stood looking after her, -as she disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen. "This is one of -the times, I reckon, that I'll take her advice. Some'n' big has taken -place, or is about to take place, if I'm any judge." - -Jane sank into a chair in the kitchen and softly groaned as she cast her -slow eyes about her. Here all seemed sheer mockery. Every mute object in -the room uttered a cry against her. The big, open fireplace, with its -pots and kettles, the cupboard, the cleanly polished table, with the row -of hot pies Sam had rescued from the coals and placed there to cool, the -churn, the milk and butter-jars and pans, the pepper-pods hanging to the -smoked rafters overhead--all these things, which had to do with mere -subsistence, seemed suddenly out of place among the things which really -counted. Suddenly Jane had a faint thrill of hope, as a thought, like a -stray gleam of light penetrating a dark chamber, came to her. Perhaps, -when Virginia was told that Ann Boyd had only used her as a tool in a -gigantic and subtle scheme of revenge against her own flesh and blood, -the girl would turn back to her own. Perhaps, but it was not likely. Ann -Boyd had never failed in any deliberate undertaking. She would not now, -and, for aught Jane knew to the contrary, Virginia might be as confirmed -already in her enmity as the older woman, and had long been a dutiful -and observant spy. It was horrible, but--yes, Jane was willing to admit -that it was fair. The worm had turned, and its sting was equal to the -concentrated pain of all Ann Boyd's years of isolated sufferings. - - - - -XXXV - - -In about half an hour Virginia returned home. She passed Sam under the -apple-tree, where he now had a big pot full of shelled corn and lye over -an incipient fire preparing to make whole-grained hominy, and hastened -into the kitchen, where Jane sat bowed before the fire. - -"Is there anything I can do, mother?" she inquired. - -There was a pause. Mrs. Hemingway did not look up. In some surprise, -Virginia repeated her question, and then Jane said, calmly and -deliberately: - -"Yes; there is something you can do. You can get out of my sight, and -_keep_ out of it. When I want anything from you, I'll call on you." - -Virginia paused, dumfounded, and then passed out into the yard and -approached her uncle. - -"Can you tell me," she asked, "if anything has gone wrong with mother?" - -Sam gave her one swift glance from beneath his tattered, tent-shaped -wool-hat, and then, with his paddle, he began to stir the corn and lye -in the pot. - -"I reckon," he said, after a momentary struggle over a desire to tell -the plain truth instead of prevaricating, "if you don't know that woman -by this time, Virgie, it's your own fault. I'm sure I don't try to keep -up with her tantrums and sudden notions. That woman's died forty-seven -times in her life, and been laid out and buried ten. Maybe she's been -tasting them pies she was cooking, and got crooked. You let a body's -liver be at all sluggish and get a wad o' sweet-potato dough lodged -inside of 'em, and they'll have a sort of jim-jams not brought on by -liquor. I reckon she'll cough it down after a while. If I was you, -though, I'd let her alone." - -Jane was, indeed, acting strangely. Refusing to sit down to the mid-day -meal with them, as was her invariable custom, she put on her bonnet and -shawl and, without a word of explanation, set off in the direction of -Wilson's store. She was gone till dusk, and then came in with a slow -step, passed through the sitting-room, where Sam had made a cheerful -fire, and went on to her own room in the rear of the house. Virginia -rose to follow her solicitously, but Sam put out a detaining hand, -shifting his pipe into the corner of his mouth. - -"I'd let her alone if I was in your place," he said. "Let her go to bed -and sleep. She'll get up all right in the morning." - -"I only wanted to see if there was anything I could do for her," -Virginia said, in a troubled tone. "Do you suppose it is a relapse she -is having? Perhaps she has discovered that the cancer is coming back. -The fear of that would kill her, actually kill her." - -"I don't think that's it," said Sam, impulsively; "the truth is, -Virginia, she--" He pulled himself up. "But maybe that _is_ it. Anyway, -I'd let her alone." - -Darkness came down. Virginia spread the cloth in the big kitchen and put -the plates and dishes in their places, and then slipped to the door of -her mother's room. It was dark and still. - -"Supper is on the table, mother," she said; "do you want anything?" - -There was a sudden creaking of the bed-slats, a pause, then, in a -sullen, husky voice, Jane answered, "No, I _don't_; you leave me alone!" - -"All right, mother; I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Good-night." - -Sam and his niece ate alone in the big room by the wavering light of the -fire. The wind had risen on the mountain-top, and roared across the -fields. It sang dolefully in the pines near by, whistled shrilly under -the eaves of the house, and scurried through the open passage outside. -After the meal was over, Sam smoked a pipe and thumped off to bed, -carrying his shoes in his hand. Virginia buried the remains of the big -back-log in the hot ashes, and in the darkness crept into her own room, -adjoining that of her mother, and went to bed. - -Jane Hemingway was not sleeping; she had no hope of a respite of that -sort. She would have doubted that she ever could close her eyes in -tranquillity till some settlement of the life-crushing matter was -reached. What was to be done? Only one expedient had offered itself -during her aimless walk to the store, where she purchased a spool of -cotton thread she did not need, and during her slow return along the -road and the further hours of solitude in her darkened chamber, and that -expedient offered no balm for her gashed and torn pride. She could -appeal to the law to protect her innocent daughter from the designing -wiles of a woman of such a reputation as Ann Boyd bore, but, alas! even -Ann might have foreseen that ruse and counted on its more deeply -stirring Virginia's sympathies and adding to her faith. Why she had not -at once denounced her child for her filial faithlessness she could not -have explained, unless it was the superstitious dread of having -Virginia's infidelity reconfirmed. Of course, she must fight. Yes, she'd -have to do that to the end, although her shrewd enemy had already beaten -her life-pulse dead in her veins and left her without a hope of adequate -retaliation. Going to law meant also that it was her first public -acknowledgment of her enemy's prowess, and it meant, too, the -wide-spread and humiliating advertisement of the fact that Virginia had -died to her and been born to the breast of her rival; but even that must -be borne. - -These morose reflections were broken, near midnight, by a step in the -passage outside. The door was opened softly, and Virginia, in her -night-robe, came in quietly and approached the bed. - -"I know you are not asleep, mother," she said, tremulously. "I've heard -you rolling and tossing ever since I went to bed." - -Jane stared from her hot pillow for an instant, and then slowly propped -herself up on her gaunt, quivering elbow. "You are not asleep either, it -seems," she said, hollowly. - -"No, I couldn't for thinking about you," Virginia replied, gently, as -she sat down on the foot of the bed. - -"You couldn't, huh! I say!" Jane sneered. "Huh, _you_! It's a pity about -you!" - -"I have reason to worry," Virginia said. "You know the doctors told you -particularly not to get depressed and downhearted while you are -recovering your strength." - -"Huh! what do they mean by prescribing things that can't be reached -under the sun? They are idiots to think I could have peace of mind after -finding out what I did this morning. I once had a cancer in the flesh; -I've got one now in my heart, where no knife on earth can reach it." - -There was a pause. The eyes of the mother and daughter met in the -half-darkness of the room. There was a lull in the whistling of the wind -outside. Under the floor a hen with a brood of chickens was clucking -uneasily and flapping her wings in the effort to keep her brood warm. -Across the passage came the rasping sound of Sam's snoring, as -unconscious of tragedy as he had been in his cradle, and yet its -creeping shadow lay over his placid features, its bated breath filled -the air he was breathing. Virginia leaned forward wonderingly, her lips -parted and set in anxiety. - -"You are thinking about the debt on the farm?" she ventured. "If that's -it, mother, remember--" - -"The debt on this paltry shack and few acres of rocky land? Huh! if that -was all I had to complain about I'd bounce out of this bed and shout for -joy. Oh, Lord, have mercy on me!" - -"Then, mother, what--" Virginia drew herself up with a start. Her -mother, it now struck her, had said her trouble was due to a discovery -she had made that morning. What else could it be than that her mother -had accidentally seen her in company with Ann Boyd? Yes, that was it, -and Virginia hastily told herself that some satisfying explanation must -be made, some plausible and pacifying reason must be forthcoming that -would allay her mother's anger, but it was hard to lie, in open words, -as she had been doing in act. The gentle girl shuddered before the -impending ordeal and clinched her hands in her lap. Yes, it was hard to -lie, and yet the truth--the _whole_ truth--was impossible. - -"Mother," she began, "you see--I suppose I'll have to confess to you -that Mrs. Boyd and I--" - -"Don't blacken your soul with lies!" her mother hurled at her, -furiously. "I slipped up in a few feet of you both at the spring and saw -you kissing her, and heard you tell her you loved her more than anybody -in the world, and that she'd treated you better than I ever did, and -that she was the best woman that ever lived. Explain all that, if you -can, but don't set there and lie to me who gave you what life you've -got, and toiled and stinted and worked my hands to the bone to raise, -you and let you hold your own with others. If there's a speck of truth -in you, don't deny what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my two -ears." - -"I'll not deny it, then," Virginia said. She rose and moved to the -small-paned window and stood with her face turned away. "I have met Mrs. -Boyd several times and talked to her. I don't think she has ever had -justice done her by you and her neighbors; she is not rightly -understood, and, feeling that you have been all along the chief -influence against her, and have always kept her early trouble stirred -up, I felt like being her friend as well as I could, and at the same -time remain true to you." - -"Oh, you poor, poor little sniffling idiot!" Jane said, as she drew her -thin legs out from the coverings and rested her feet on the floor and -leaned forward. "All this time you've been thinking, in your grand way, -that you were doing a kindness to her, when she was just using you as a -tool, to devil me. Huh! didn't she throw it up to me once at the -wash-place where she and I met? She told me to my teeth that something -was coming that would bring my face to the earth in shame. I thought she -knew about the cancer, and was gloating over it; but she wasn't speaking -of that, for when I came back from Atlanta, sound and whole, she hurled -her hints at me again. She said she knew nothing about the cancer at -that time, but that she still knew something that would make me slink -from the faces of men and women like a whipped hound. I discovered what -she meant to-day. She meant that because my testimony had something to -do with Joe Boyd's leaving with _her_ child, she had won over _mine_ to -herself. That's been her mean and sneaking plot all this time, in which -she has been decoying you from a respectable roof and making you her -easy tool--the tool with which she expected to stab at my pride and -humble me in the eyes of everybody." - -"Mother, stop!" Virginia turned and sat down again on the bed. "That -woman shall not have another--not one other--_false_ charge piled up -around her. God knows I don't see how I can tell you _all_ the truth, -but it is due to her now. It will more than justify her, and that's my -duty. Listen, and don't interrupt me. I want to go straight through -this, and when I have finished you may turn from me and force me to go -to her for a home. You have never dreamed that I could do what I am -about to confess I did. I am not going to excuse myself, either. What I -did, I did. The shame of it, now that I see clearly, is killing me. No, -stop! Let me go on. I have been receiving the attentions of Langdon -Chester in secret. After the first time you saw us together and objected -so strongly, I told him not to come to the house again; but, like many -another silly girl, I was hungry for admiration, and met him elsewhere. -I loved to hear the nice things he said, although I didn't always -believe them. He--he tried to induce me to do a number of imprudent -things, which, somehow, I was able to refuse, as they concerned my own -pleasure alone; but then you began to worry about the money to go to -Atlanta on. Day by day you grew more and more despondent and desperate -as every effort failed, and one day, when you were down at the lowest -ebb of hope, he told me that he--do you understand, mother?--Langdon -Chester told me that he thought he could get up the money, but that no -one must know that he--" - -"Oh, my God, don't, don't, don't!" Jane groaned. "Don't tell me that -you--" - -"Stop! let me go on," Virginia said, in a low, desperate tone. "I'm -going to tell the whole horrible thing and be done with it forever. He -said he had sent his best horse to Darley to sell it, and that the man -would be back about ten o'clock at night with the money. He told me, -mother, that he wanted me to slip away from home after you went to sleep -and come there for the money. I didn't hesitate long. I wanted to save -your life. I agreed. I might have failed to go after I parted with him -if I'd had time to reflect, but when I came in to supper you were more -desperate than ever. You went to your room praying and moaning, and kept -it up till you dropped asleep only a few minutes before the appointed -time. Well, I slipped away and--_went_." - -"Oh, God have mercy on me--mercy, mercy, mercy!" Jane groaned. "You went -there to that man!" - -Virginia nodded mutely and then continued her recital. Jane Hemingway's -knees bent under her as she stood holding to the bedpost, and she slowly -sank to the floor a few feet away. With a low, moaning sound like a -suffering dumb brute, she crawled on her hands and knees to her daughter -and mutely clutched the girl's cold, bare ankles. "You say he locked you -in his _bedroom_!" she said, in a rasping whisper. "_Locked_ -you--actually _locked_ you in! Oh, Lord have mercy!" - -"Then, after a long wait," the girl went on, "in which I was praying -only for the money, mother--the money to save your life and put you out -of agony--I heard steps, first on the stairs and then at the door. -Somebody touched the latch. The door held fast. Then the key was turned, -and as I sat there with covered face, now with the dread of death upon -me for the first time, somebody came in and stood over me." - -"The scoundrel! The beast!" Jane's hands slipped from their hold on the -girl's ankles and fell; her head and shoulders sank till her brow -touched the floor. - -"A hand was laid on my head," Virginia went on. "I heard a voice--" - -"The fiend from hell!" Jane raised her haggard face and glaring eyes. -"Don't, don't tell me that he dared to--" - -"It was Mrs. Boyd, mother--Ann Boyd," said Virginia. - -"Ann Boyd!" Jane groaned. "I see it now; _she_ was at the bottom of it; -it was all _her_ doing. _That_ was her plot. Ah, God, I see it now!" - -"You are mistaken," the girl said. "She had accidentally overheard my -agreement to go there, and came for no other reason than to save me, -mother--to save me." - -"To save you?" Jane raised herself on her two hands like a four-footed -animal looking up from its food. "Save your" she repeated, with the -helpless glare of insanity in her blearing eyes. - -"Yes, to save me. She was acting on impulse, an impulse for good that -she was even then fighting against. When she heard of that appointment -she actually gloated over it, but, mother, she found herself unequal to -it. As the time which had been set drew near, she plunged out into the -night and got there only a few minutes before--" - -"In time--oh, my God, did you say _in time_?" Jane gasped, again -clutching her daughter's ankles and holding desperately to them. - -"Yes, in time to save me from all but the life-long consciousness of my -awful indiscretion. She brought me away, and after that how could I be -other than a grateful friend to such a noble creature?" - -"In time--oh, my God, in _time_!" Jane exclaimed, as she sat erect on -the floor and tossed her scant hair, which, like a wisp of tow, hung -down her cheek. Then she got up stiffly and moved back to the bed as -aimlessly as if she were wandering in her sleep. - -"There is no use in my saying more, mother." Virginia rose and turned to -the door. "I'm going back to my room. You can think it all over and do -as you please with me. I deserve punishment, and I'm willing to take -it." - -Jane stared at her from her hollow eyes for a moment, then she said: -"Yes, go! I never want to see you again; Ann Boyd saved you, but she is -now gloating over _me_. She'll call it heaping coals of fire on my head; -she'll brag to me and others of what she's done, and of what I owe her. -Oh, I know that woman! You've escaped one thing, but have made me face -another worse than death. Go on away--get clear out of my sight. If you -don't I'll say something to you that you will remember all your life." - -"Very well, mother." Virginia moved to the door. Her hand was on the -latch, when, with a startled gasp, her mother called out: - -"Stop!--stop! For God's sake don't you dare to tell me that I went to -Atlanta and bought back my life with that young scoundrel's money; if -you do, as God is my Judge, I'll strike you dead where you stand." - -"No, I refused to take it," Virginia said. "He came to me afterwards and -begged me to accept it, but I refused." - -"Then how under the sun--" Jane began, but went no further. - -Virginia turned in the doorway and stood still; a look of resigned -despair was on her. "You may as well know _all_ the truth," she said. "I -promised not to tell, but you really ought to know this, too. Mother, -Ann Boyd, gave me the money. The woman you are still hounding and hating -earned the money by the sweat of her brow that saved your life." - -"Ann Boyd! Oh, my God, and to think you can stand there and tell me -that! Get out of my sight. You have acted the fool all along, and -humiliated me in the dust by your conduct. You are no child of mine. It -was all a plot--a dirty, low plot. She has used you. She has used me. -She is laughing at us both right now. Oh, I know her! Get out of my -sight or I'll forget myself and--go, I tell you!" - - - - -XXXVI - - -The next morning Jane did not come out to breakfast. Virginia had it -ready on the table and went to her mother's room to call her. There was -no response. Opening the door, she saw Jane, fully dressed, standing at -the window looking out, but she refused to speak when gently informed -that breakfast was ready. Then Virginia went back to the kitchen, and, -arranging some delicacies, a cup of coffee, and other things on a tray, -she took it in and left it on her mother's table and retired, closing -the door after her. - -For a week Jane refused to leave her room or speak to her daughter. -Three times a day Virginia took her mother's food to her, always finding -the window-shade drawn and the chamber dark. - -One morning, about this time, Virginia happened to see Ann in her -peanut-patch, a rich spot of ground below the old woman's barn-yard, -and, seeing that she would be quite unobserved, she put on her bonnet -and shawl and joined Ann, who, with a long, narrow hoe, was carefully -digging the peanuts from the hills, and pulling them out by the brown, -frost-bitten vines, and shaking the earth from their roots and leaving -them to dry and season in the open air. - -"I never saw goobers to beat these," Ann said, proudly, as she held up a -weighty bunch. "I reckon this patch will turn out a good hundred bushel. -I hit it just right; they tell me in town that they are bringing a fine -price. I've been wondering what was the matter with you, child. You've -been keeping powerful close in-doors." - -Then, as Ann leaned on her smooth hoe-handle, Virginia told her frankly -all that had taken place, leaving out nothing, and ending with her -mother's self-incarceration and sullen mood. - -"Well," Ann exclaimed, her brow ruffled with pained perplexity, "I -hardly know what to say in the matter. I don't blame you for letting out -the whole business after you once got started. That was just natural. -But don't worry about her. She'll pull through; she's tough as -whitleather; her trouble's not of the body, but the mind. I know; I've -been through enough of it. Mark my prophecy, she'll come out one of -these days feeling better. She'll crawl out of her darkness like a -butterfly from its dead and useless husk. She'll see clearer out in the -open light when once she strikes it. Look here, child. I don't want to -look like a sniffling fool after all the hard rubs I've had in this life -to toughen me, but I'm a changed woman. Reading Luke's wonderful -articles every week, and remembering the things the boy has said to me -off and on, had something to do with it, I reckon, and then this -experience of yours on top of it all helped. Yes, I'm altered; I'm -altered and against my natural inclination. That very woman is _the_ one -particular human thorn in my flesh, and yet, yet, child, as the Lord is -my Master, I mighty nigh feel sorry for her. I mighty nigh pity the -poor, old, sin-slashed creature housed up there in solitary darkness -with her bleeding pride and envy and hate. I pity her now, I reckon, -because the way this has turned out hurts her more than any open fight -she could have with me. I'd 'a' died long ago under all the slush and -mire that was dabbed on me if I hadn't amused myself making money. I -didn't have the social standing of some of these folks, but I had the -hard cash, and the clink of my coin has been almost as loud as their -taunts. But your ma--she's had very little substance all along, and that -little has been dwindling day by day, till she finds herself without a -dollar and owing her very life to a woman she hates. Yes, her lot is a -hard one, and I'm sorry for her. I pity your mammy, child." - - - - -XXXVII - - -For two weeks longer Jane Hemingway, to the inexplicable sorrow of her -gentle and mystified daughter, kept the seclusion of her room. The -curtains of the single window looking out on the yard in the rear were -constantly drawn, and, though the girl sometimes listened attentively -with her ear to the wall, she heard no sound to indicate that her mother -ever moved from her bed or her chair at the fireplace, where she sat -enveloped in blankets. She had allowed Virginia to push a plate -containing her meals three times a day through the door, but the things -were promptly received into the darkness and only sullen silence was the -invariable response to the frequent inquiries the girl made. - -One morning Sam stopped his niece in the yard near the well, a droll, -half-amused expression on his face. "Do you know," he said, "that I -believe I'd 'a' made a bang-up detective if I'd given time to it." - -"Do you think so?" Virginia said, absently. - -"Yes, I do," he replied. "Now, I'm going to give you an instance of what -a body can discover by sticking two and two together and nosing around -till you are plumb sure you know what a certain thing means. Now, you -are a woman--not an old one, but a woman all the same--and they are -supposed to see what's at the ends of their noses and a heap beyond, but -when it comes to detective work they are not in it. I reckon it's -because they won't look for what they don't want to see, and to make a -good detective a body must pry into everything that is in sight. Well, -to come down to the case in hand, you've been sticking grub through that -crack in the door to your mammy, who put herself in limbo several weeks -ago, but in all that time you haven't seen the color of her cheeks to -know whether the fare is fattening her or thinning her down to the bone. -In fact, you nor me, on the outside, hain't supposed to know a blasted -thing about what's going on in there. But--and there's where detective -work comes in--one morning--it was day before yesterday, to be -accurate--I took notice that all the stray cats and ducks and chickens -had quit basking on the sunny side of the house and was staying around -your mammy's window. Now, thinks I, that's odd; that's not according to -the general run; so I set in to watching, and what do you reckon? I -found out that all them Noah's Ark passengers, of the two and four -footed sort, had assembled there to get their meals. Your mammy was -regularly throwing out the dainty grub you fixed for her. I laid in wait -nigh the window this morning and saw her empty the plate. I went close -and took a look. She had just nibbled a bit or two, like the pecking of -a sparrow, out of the centre of the bread-slices, but she hadn't touched -the eggs nor the streak-o'-lean-streak-o'-fat you thought she set such -store by. Good Lord, Virgie, don't you think the thing's gone far -enough--having a drove of cats fed on the fat o' the land, when me and -you are living on scraps?" - -"Uncle"--Virginia's startled eyes bore down on him suddenly--"what does -it mean?" - -"Mean? Why, that there'll be a passle of cats on this place too fat to -walk, while me 'n' you'll be too lean to cast a shadow if we stood side -by side in the sun." - -"Oh, uncle, do you suppose she is worse?" Virginia asked, in deep -concern. - -"I don't know," Sam said, seriously, "my Pinkerton job ended with the -discovery of them cat banquets, but I've about reached _one_ opinion." - -"And what is that?" the girl asked, anxiously, as she bent towards her -uncle. - -"Why, I think maybe she's so mad and set back by all that's happened -that she's trying to starve herself to death to get even." - -"Oh, uncle, don't say that!" Virginia cried--"don't! don't!" - -"Well, then, you study it out," he said. "It's too much for me." - -That morning Virginia quietly slipped over to Ann Boyd's and confided -the new phase of the situation to her sympathetic friend, but Ann could -not account for Jane's strange conduct, and Virginia returned home no -wiser than she had left. However, at the fence she met Sam. His face was -aglow with excitement. - -"What you reckon?" he said. "The bird has flown." - -"Mother, you mean?" - -"Yes, she's skipped clean out. It was this way: Pete Denslow drove past -about twenty minutes ago in his empty two-horse wagon, and I hollered -out to him and asked him where-away. He pulled up at the gate and said -he was going over the mountain to Gilmer after a load of ginseng to -fetch back to Darley. Well, sir, no sooner had he said that than your -mammy piped up from her dungeon, where she stood listening at a crack, -and said, said she, sorter sheepish-like: 'Sam, ask him if he will let -me go with him; I promised to go see Sally Maud Pincher over there the -first time any wagon was passing, and I want to go.' Well, I told Pete, -and he looked at the sun and wanted to know how long it would take her -to get ready. She heard him, and yelled out from the door that she'd be -out in five minutes, and, bless you, she was on the seat beside him in -less time in her best clothes and carpet-bag in hand. She was as white -in the face as a convict out taking a sunning, and her gingham looked -like it was hanging from a hook on her neck, she was that thin. She -never said a word to me as she went by. At first I thought she was plumb -crazy, but she had the clearest eye in her head I ever saw, and she was -chattering away to Pete about the weather as if he was an unmarried man -and she was on the carpet." - -"Oh, uncle, what do you think it means?" Virginia sighed, deeply -worried. - -"Why, I think it's a fine sign, myself," said Sam. "I'm not as good a -judge of women as I am of mules--though a body ought to know as much of -one as the other--but I think she's perhaps been wanting to get a breath -of fresh air for some time and didn't like to acknowledge she was tired -of cave-life. Over there at Pincher's, you see, she can slide back into -her old ways without attracting attention by it." - -"And she didn't leave a word of directions to me?" the girl said, sadly. - -"Not a word," was the droll reply. "I didn't say good-bye to her myself. -To tell the truth, I had noticed that she'd forgot to put up a snack for -her and Pete to eat on the way, and I was afraid she might remember it -at the last minute and take what little there was left for you and me." - -But Jane evidently had something to attend to before paying her promised -visit to Sally Maud Pincher, for on their arrival at the village of -Ellijay, the seat of the adjoining county, she asked her obliging -conveyer to put her down at the hotel, where she intended to spend the -night. It was then about five o'clock in the afternoon, and she went -into the little office, which looked like a parlor in a farm-house, and -registered her name and was given a room with a sky-blue door and -ceiling and whitewashed walls, at the head of the stairs. She sat after -that at the window, looking out upon the dreary street and the lonely, -red-clay road leading up the mountain, till it grew dark. She went down -to the dining-room when the great brass bell was rung by a negro boy who -shook it vigorously as he walked through the hall and around the house, -but she had no appetite--the long, jolting journey over the rough road -had weakened rather than stimulated her faint physical needs, and so she -took only a glass of milk, into which she had dropped a few morsels of -bread, eating the mixture with a spoon like a child. - -"If I'm going to do this thing," she mused, as she sat on her bed in her -night-dress and twisted her hair in a knot, "the quicker it's over the -better. When I left home it seemed easy enough, but now it's -awful--simply awful!" - -She slept soundly from sheer fatigue, and was up the next morning and -dressed before the hotel cook, an old woman, had made a fire in the -range. She walked down-stairs into the empty hall and out on the front -veranda, but saw no one. The ground was white with frost and the -mountain air was crisp and cutting, but it seemed to have put color into -her cheeks. Going through the office, where she saw no one, she went -into the dining-room just as the cook was coming in from the adjoining -kitchen. - -"Good-morning," Jane said. "I've got about four miles to walk, and, as -I've lately been down sick in bed, I want to sorter take it slow and get -an early start. I paid my bill before I went to bed last night, -including breakfast, and if you could give me a slice of -bread-and-butter and a cup of coffee that will be all I want." - -"Well, I can get them ready in a minute," said the woman, "but I'd hate -to do a four-mile walk on as little as that." - -"I've been sort of dieting myself," Jane said, perhaps recalling her -past bounty to the cats and chickens at the window of her room, "and I -don't need much." - -"Well, all right," said the cook, spreading a napkin at one end of a -long table; "you set down here and I'll supply you in a few minutes. The -landlord leaves me in charge here till he gets up. He's a late sleeper; -he was out last night at the trial of the moonshiners. You say you paid -for breakfast in your bill. I think it's a shame. If he wasn't so easy -to make mad, I'd go shake him up and get some of your money back. I -don't happen to tote the key to the cash-drawer. I reckon you paid -seventy-five cents for supper, bed, and breakfast--'s., b., and b.,' we -call it for short--and you are entitled to a full round--meat, eggs, -fish (in season), batter-cakes or waffles, whichever it is. Our -waffle-irons are split right half in two, and we just give batter-cakes -now; but folks know the brand clean to Darley. You ought to see the -judge tackle 'em during court week; him and the district-attorney had a -race the other night to see which could eat the most. I had three pans -running, and such a smoke of burning lard in the kitchen you couldn't -have seen a white cat in an inch of your nose. The whole jury and a lots -of witnesses under guard of the sheriff was allowed to look on. The -judge beat. The lawyer got so full he couldn't talk, and that was the -signal to call a halt. I was glad, for old Mrs. Macklin was waiting in -the kitchen to try to hear if there was any chance to save her son, who -was being tried for killing that feller in the brick-yard last summer. -Ever' time I'd come in for fresh cakes she'd look up sorter pitiful-like -to see if I'd heard anything. They'd already agreed to send 'im up for -life, but I didn't know it. Yes, you ought to have a quarter of that -money back, _anyway_. Unless a knife and fork is used, I make a habit, -when it's left to me, not to charge a cent, and you don't look like you -are overly flush." - -"No, but I'm satisfied as it is," Jane said, as she finished her bread -and milk. "I didn't expect to get it for any less." - - - - -XXXVIII - - -A few minutes later, with her flabby carpet-bag on her sharp hip, Jane -fared forth on the mountain road, which led farther eastward. She walked -slowly and with increased effort, for the high altitude seemed to affect -her respiration, and, light as it was, the carpet-bag became cumbersome -and she had to pause frequently to rest. - -"Yes, if I'm going to do it, I'll have to plunge in and do it, and be -done with the matter," she kept saying. "I reckon it isn't the first -time such a thing has been heard of." She passed several humble mountain -houses, built of logs, on the way, but stopped at none of them. The sun -was near the zenith when she came to a double log-cabin standing back on -a plot of newly cleared land a hundred yards from the rocky road. A -tall, plain-looking girl, with a hard, unsympathetic face, stood in the -doorway, and she stepped down to the ground and quieted a snarling dog -which was chained to a stake driven into the earth. - -"I reckon you are Nettie Boyd, ain't you?" Jane said. - -"I used to be," the young woman answered. "I married a Lawson--Sam -Lawson--awhile back." - -"Oh yes, I forgot that. I'd heard it, too, of course, but it slipped my -memory. I'm a Hemingway, from over in Murray County--Jane Hemingway. I -used to be acquainted with your pa. Is he handy?" - -"Yes, he was here just a minute ago," Ann Boyd's daughter answered. -"He's around at his hay-stack pulling down some roughness for the cow. -Go in and take a seat and I'll call him. Lay your bonnet on the bed and -make yourself at home." - -Jane went into the cabin, the walls of which were unlined, being only -the bare logs with the bark on them. The cracks where the logs failed to -fit closely together were filled with the red clay from the hills -around. There was not a picture in sight, not an ornament on the crude -board shelf over the rugged mud-and-stone fireplace. From wooden pegs -driven in auger-holes in the walls hung the young bride's meagre finery, -in company with what was evidently her husband's best suit of clothes -and hat. Beneath them, on the floor, stood a pair of new woman's shoes, -dwarfed by contrast to a heavier and larger masculine pair. Jane sat -down, rolling her bonnet in her stiff fingers. The chair she sat on was -evidently of home make, for the rockers were unevenly sawed, and, on the -unplaned boards of the floor, it had a joggling, noisy motion when in -use. There were two beds in the room, made of rough, pine planks. The -coverings of the beds were not in order and the pillows were soiled. - -"If she'd 'a' stayed on with Ann she would 'a' made a better -house-keeper than that," Jane mused. "She's a sight, too, with her hair -uncombed and dress so untidy so soon after the honeymoon. I can see now -that her and Ann never would get on together. Anybody could take one -look at that girl and see she's selfish. I wonder what that fellow ever -saw in her?" - -There was a sound of voices outside. With a start, Jane drew herself -erect. The carpet-bag on her knees threatened to fall, and she lowered -it to the floor. Her ordeal was before her. - -"Why, howdy do?" - -Joe Boyd, in tattered shirt, trousers patched upon patches, and gaping -shoes through which his bare toes showed, stood in the doorway. That the -old beau and the once most popular young man of the country-side could -stand looking like that before her, even after the lapse of all those -trying years, and not feel abashed, was one of the inexplicable things -that rushed through Jane Hemingway's benumbed brain. That she, herself, -could be looking at the very husk of the ideal of manhood she had held -all those years and not cry out in actual pain over the pitiful -evidences of his collapse from his high estate was another thing she -marvelled over. Joe Boyd! Could it actually be he? Could those gaunt, -talon-nailed members, with their parchment-like skin, be the hands she -used to think so shapely? Could those splaying feet be the feet that had -tripped more lightly in the Virginia Reel than those of any other man -for miles around? Could those furtive, harsh-glancing eyes be the deep, -dreamy ones in which she had once seen the mirage of her every girlish -hope? Could that rasping tone come from the voice whose never -diminishing echo had rung in her ears through all those years of hiding -her secret from the man she had married out of "spite," through all her -long tooth-in-flesh fight with the rival who had temporarily won and -held him? - -She rose and gave him her hand, and the two stood facing each other, she -speechless, he thoroughly at his indolent ease. - -"Well, I reckon, Jane, old girl," he laughed, as he wiped a trickling -stream of tobacco-juice from the corner of his sagging mouth, "that you -are the very last human being I ever expected to lay eyes on again. I -swear I wouldn't 'a' known you from Adam's cat if Nettie hadn't told me -who it was. My, how thin you look, and all bent over!" - -"Yes, I'm changed, and you are too, Joe," she said, as, with a stiff -hand beneath her, she sought the chair again. - -"Yes"--he went to the doorway and spat voluminously out into the yard, -and came back swinging a chair as lightly in his hand as if it had been -a baseball bat with which he was playing--"yes, I reckon I am altered -considerable; a body's more apt to see changes in others than in -himself. I was just thinking the other day about them old times. La me! -how much fun we all did have, but it didn't last--it didn't last." - -He sat down, leaning forward and clasping his dry-palmed hands with a -sound like the rubbing together of two pieces of paper. There was an -awkward silence. Nettie Lawson came to the door and glanced in -inquiringly, and then went away. They heard her calling her chickens -some distance from the cabin. - -"No, I wouldn't have recognized you if I'd met you alone in the big -road," he said, "nor you wouldn't me, I reckon." - -"Joe"--she was looking about the room--"somehow I had an idea that you -were in--in a little better circumstances than--than you seem to be in -now." - -"Well, that wouldn't be hard to imagine, anyway," he said, with an -intonation like a sigh, if it wasn't one. "If a body couldn't imagine a -better fix for a man to be in than I am in, they'd better quit. Lord, -Lord, I reckon I ought to be dead ashamed to meet you in this condition -when you knew me away back in them palmy days, but, Jane, I really -believe I've sunk below that sort of a feeling. You know I used to cut a -wide swath when I had plenty of money and friends, but what's the use of -crying over spilt milk? This is all there is left of me. I managed to -marry Nettie off to a feller good enough in his way. I thought he was a -fine catch, but I don't know. I was under the impression that his folks -had some money to give him to sorter start the two out, but it seems -they didn't have, and was looking for a stake themselves. Since they -married he just stays round here, contented and about as shiftless as -anybody could be. I thought, for instance, that he never got in debt, -but a store-keeper in town told me the other day that he owed him for -the very duds he was married in." - -"That's bad, that's powerful bad," Jane said, sympathetically. Then a -fixed look took possession of her eyes, and her fingers tightened on her -bonnet in her lap, as she plunged towards the thing with which she was -burdened. "Joe," she continued, "I've come all the way over the mountain -in my delicate health to see you about a particular matter. God knows -it's the hardest thing I ever contemplated, but there is no other way -out of it." - -"Well, I think I know what you are going to say," he answered, avoiding -her eyes. - -"You do, Joe?" she exclaimed. "Oh no, surely, you can't know that." - -"Well, I think I can make a good guess," he said, awkwardly twirling his -fingers round and round. "You see, I always make a habit, when I happen -to meet anybody from over your way, of asking about old acquaintances, -and I heard some time back that you was in deep trouble. They said you -had some high-priced doctoring to do in Atlanta, and that you was going -from old friend to old friend for what little help they could give. I'm -going to see what I can do towards it myself, since you've taken such a -long trip, though, Jane, to tell you the truth, I haven't actually seen -a ten-cent piece in a month. I've gone without tobacco when I thought -the desire for it would run me distracted. So--" - -"I didn't come for help--Lord, Lord, I only wish it was that, Joe. I've -already had the operation, and I'm recovering. I've come over here, Joe, -to make an awful confession." - -"A--a--what?" he said. - -There was a pause. Jane Hemingway unrolled her bonnet and put it on, -pulling the hood down over her line of vision. - -"Joe, I've come to tell you that I've been a bad woman; I've been a bad, -sinning woman since away back there when you married Ann. Things you -used to say to me, I reckon, turned my silly head. You remember when you -took me to camp-meeting that night, and we sat through meeting out in -the buggy under the trees. I reckon, if it was all to do over you -wouldn't have said so much. I reckon you wouldn't if you'd known you -were planting a seed that was going to fructify and bear the fruit of -hate and enmity that would never rot; but, for all I know, you may have -been saying the same things to other girls who knew better how to take -them than I did." - -"Oh, Jane, I was a fool them days," Joe Boyd broke in, with an actual -flush of shame in his tanned face. - -"Well, never mind about that," Jane went on, with a fresher -determination under his own admission. "I reckon I let it take too -strong a hold on me. I never could give up easy, and when you got to -going with Ann, and she was so much prettier and more sprightly than me, -it worked against my nature. It hardened me, I reckon. I married soon -after you did, but I won't tell about that; he's dead and gone. I had my -child--that was all, except--except my hate for Ann. I couldn't stand to -see you and her so happy together, and you both were making money and I -was losing what I had. Then, Joe, we all heard about--we all learned -Ann's secret." - -"Don't--for the love of mercy--don't fetch that up!" Boyd groaned. - -"But I _have_ to, Joe," Jane persisted, softly. "At first I was the -happiest woman that the devil ever delighted by flashing a lying promise -with his fire on a wall. I thought you were going to scorn her, but I -saw that day I met you at the meeting-house that you were inclined to -condone the past, and that drove me wild; so I--" Jane choked up and -paused. - -"I remember that day," Joe Boyd said, with a deep breath. "I'll never -forget it as long as I live, for what you said dropped me back into the -bottomless pit of despair. I'd been trying to think she'd been straight -with me _since_ we married, but when you--" - -"What I told you that morning, Joe, was a cold, deliberate lie!" - -"A--a--" he stammered. "No, no, you don't mean that--you can't mean--" - -"Every--single--thing--I--told--you--that--day--was--a--lie!" Jane said, -with an emphatic pause between each word. - -"I can't understand. I don't see--really, Jane, you can't mean that what -you said about Chester's going there day after day when my back was -turned, and that you saw them together in the woods below your house -that day when I was--" - -"Everything I told you was a lie from the devil, out of the very fumes -of hell," Jane said, pulling off her bonnet and looking him squarely in -the face. "A lie--a lie, Joe." - -"Oh, my God!" Boyd cried. "And I, all these years I have--" - -"You've been believing what I said. But I'm not through yet. I've been -in a dark room fasting and praying for a month to overcome my evil -inclination not to speak the truth, and I finally conquered, so I'm -going to tell the whole thing. Joe, Ann Boyd is the best woman God ever -let live. She was as true as steel to you from the day she married till -now. I have been after her day and night, never giving her a moment's -rest from my persecutions, and how do you reckon she retaliated? She -paid me back by actually saving my worthless life and trying to keep me -from knowing who did it. She did something else. She did me the greatest -favor one woman could possibly do another. I don't intend to say what -that particular thing was, but she must have the credit. Now I'm -through. I'm going back home." - -Boyd drew his ill-clad feet towards him. He spread out his two arms wide -and held them so, steadily. "Look at me--just look at me," he said. -"Woman, before you go back, take one good look at me. You come to me--a -mere frazil of what I once was--when there is no hope of ever regaining -my youth and self-respect--and tell me--oh, my God!--tell me that I -believed _you_ instead of _her_! She said, with tears in her eyes, on -her knees before me, that that first mistake was all, and I told her she -lied _in her throat_, and left her, dragging from her clinging arms the -child of her breast, bringing it up and raising it to what you see she -is. And now you come literally peeping into my open coffin and telling -_this_ to my dead face. Great God, woman, before Heaven I feel like -striking you where you set, soaked in repentance though you are. All -these misspent years I've been your cowardly tool, and her--her--" - -"I deserve it--talk on!" Jane Hemingway said, as she rose and clutched -her carpet-bag and held it tremblingly. - -But Joe Boyd's innate gentleness had been one of the qualities many -women loved, and even before the cowering creature who had wrecked his -life he melted in manly pity. - -"No," he said, stretching out his hand with something like one of his -old gestures--"no, I'm going too far, Jane. We are all obedient to -natural laws, as Ann used to say. Your laws have made you do just as you -have, and so have mine. Away back there in the joy-time of youth my laws -made me say too much to you. As you say, I planted the seed. I did; I -planted the seed that bore all the fruit; I planted it when I kissed -you, Jane, and said them things to you that night which I forgot the -next day. Ann could have made something out of me better than this. As -long as I had her to manage me, I did well. You see what I am now." - -"Yes, I see; and I'm as sorry as I know how to be." Jane sighed as she -passed out into the open sunlight. "I'm going home, Joe. I may never lay -eyes on you again in this life. If you can say anything to make me feel -better, I'd be thankful." - -"There isn't anything, except what I said just now about our natural -laws, Jane," he said, as he stood shading his eyes from the glare of the -sun. "Sometimes I think that nobody hain't to blame for nothing they do, -and that all of this temporary muddle is just the different ways human -beings have of struggling on to a better world beyond this." - -"I thought maybe you might, in so many words, say plain out that you'd -forgive me, Joe." She had turned her face towards the road she was to -travel, and her once harsh lip was quivering like that of a weeping -child. - -"The natural law would come in there, too," Boyd sighed. "Forgiveness, -of the right sort, don't spring to the heart in such a case as this like -a flash of powder in the pan. If I'm to forgive, I will in due time, I -reckon; but right now, Jane, I feel too weak and tired, even for -that--too weak and heartsick and undone." - -"Well, I'm going to pray for it, Joe," she said, as she started away. -"Good-bye. May the Lord above bless you." - -"Good-bye, Jane; do the best you can," he said, "and I'll try to do the -same." - - - - -XXXIX - - -The following Sunday afternoon Mrs. Waycroft hastened over to Ann -Boyd's. She walked very rapidly across the fields and through the woods -rather than by the longer main road. She found Ann in her best dress -seated in her dining-room reading Luke King's paper, which had come the -day before. She looked up and smiled and nodded to the visitor. - -"I just wish you'd listen to this," she said, enthusiastically. "And -when you've heard it, if you don't think that boy is a genius you'll -miss it by a big jump. On my word, such editorials as this will do more -good than all the preaching in Christendom. I've read it four times. Sit -down and listen." - -"No, you've got to listen to me," said the visitor. "That can wait; it's -down in black and white, while mine is fairly busting me wide open. Ann, -do you know what took place at meeting this morning?" - -"Why, no, how could I? You know I said I'd never darken that door again, -after that low-lived coward--" - -"Stop, Ann, and listen!" Mrs. Waycroft panted, as she sank into a chair -and leaned forward. "You know I go seldom myself, but by some chance I -went this morning. I always feel like doing the best I can towards the -end of a year. Well, I had hardly got my seat and Brother Bazemore had -just got up to make some announcements, when who should come in but Jane -Hemingway. Instead of stopping at her usual place, nigh the stove, she -walked clean up to the altar-railing and stood as stiff as a post, -gazing at the preacher. He was busy with his notes and didn't see her at -first, though every eye in the house was fixed on her in wonder, for she -was as white as a sheet, and so thin and weak that it looked like the -lightest wind would blow her away. 'Brother Bazemore,' she said, loud -enough to be heard, in her shrill voice, clean out to the horse-rack, 'I -want to say something, and I want to say it out before all of you.'" - -"Huh!" Ann grunted--"huh!" - -"Well, he looked good surprised," Mrs. Waycroft went on, "but you know -he's kind o' resentful if folks don't show consideration for his -convenience, so he looked down at her over his specks and said: - -"'Well, sister, I reckon the best time for that will be after preaching, -and then them that want to stay can do so and feel that they got what -they waited for.' - -"'But I can't wait,' said she. 'What I've got to say must be said now, -while I'm plumb in the notion. If I waited I might back out, and I don't -want to do it.' - -"Well, he give in; and, Ann, she turned around facing us all and took -off her bonnet and swung it about like a flag. She was as nigh dead in -looks as any corpse I ever saw. And since you was born, Ann, you never -heard the like. Folks was so interested that they stared as if their -eyes was popping out of their sockets. She said she'd come to confess to -crime--that's the way she put it--_crime!_ She said she'd been passing -for half a lifetime in this community as a Christian woman, when in -actuality she had been linked body and soul to the devil. Right there -she gulped and stood with her old head down; then she looked at us like -a crazy person and went on. She said away back when she was a girl she'd -been jealous of a certain girl, and that she'd hounded that girl through -a long life. She had made it her particular business to stir up strife -against that woman by toting lies from one person to another. She turned -sort o' sideways to the preacher and said: 'Brother Bazemore, what I -told you Ann Boyd said about you that time was all made up--a lie out of -whole cloth. I told you that to make you denounce her in public, and you -did. I kept telling her neighbors things to make 'em hate her, and they -did. I told her husband a whole string of deliberate lies that made him -leave her and take her child away. I spent half my life at this thing, -to have it end like this: Men and women, the woman that I was doing all -that against was the one who came up with the money that saved my -worthless life and tried to hide it from me and the rest of the world. -She not only done that, but she done me even a greater favor. I won't -say what that was, but nobody but an angel from heaven, robed in the -flesh of earth, could have done that, for it was the very thing she had -every right to want to see visited on me. That act would have paid me -back in my own coin, and she wanted to count out the money, but she was -too much of heaven to go through it. Instead of striking at me, she -saved me suffering that would have dragged me to the dust in shame. I've -come here to say all this because I want to do her justice, if I can, -while the breath of life is in me. I've just got back from Gilmer, where -I went and met the man whose life I wrecked--her husband. I told him the -truth, hoping that I could do him some good in atonement, but the poor, -worn-out man seemed too utterly crushed to forgive me.'" - -"Joe--she went to Joe!" Ann gasped, finding her voice. "Now, I reckon, -he believes me. And to think that Jane Hemingway would say all that--do -all that! It don't seem reasonable. But you say she actually--" - -"Of course she did," broke in the narrator. "And when she was through -she marched straight down the middle aisle and stalked outside. Half the -folks got up and went to the windows and watched her tottering along the -road; and then Brother Bazemore called 'em back and made 'em sit down. -He said, in his cold-blooded way, hemming and hawing, that the whole -community had been too severe, and that the best way to get the thing -settled and smooth-running again was to agree on some sort of public -testimonial. Ann, I reckon fully ten men yelled out that they would -second the motion. I never in all my life saw such excitement. Folks was -actually crying, and this one and that one was telling kind things you -had done to them. Then they all got around me, Ann, and they made a lots -over me, saying I was the only one who had acted right, and that I must -ask you to forgive them. That was the motion Bazemore put and carried by -a vote of rising. Half of them was so anxious to have their votes -counted that they climbed up on the benches and waved their hats and -bonnets and shawls, and yelled out, 'Here! here!' Bazemore dismissed -without preaching; it looked like he thought nothing he could say, in -any regular line, would count in such a tumult. And after meeting dozens -of 'em slid up to me and snatched my hands and told me to speak a good -word for them; they kept it up even after I'd got outside, some of 'em -walking part of the way with me and sending messages. Wait till I catch -my breath, and I'll tell you who spoke and what each one said, as well -as I can." - -"Never mind," said Ann, an absent look in her strong face. "I believe -I'd rather not hear any more of it; it don't make one bit of difference -one way or another." - -"Why, Ann, surely you won't entertain hard feelings, now that they all -feel so bad. If you could only 'a' been there, you would--" - -"Oh, it isn't that," Ann sighed, and with her closed hand she pounded -her heavy knee restlessly. "You see, Mary--oh, I don't know--but, well, -I can't possibly be any way but the way the Lord made me, and to save my -life I can't feel grateful. They all just seem to me like a lot of -spoilt children that laugh or cry over whatever comes up. Somehow a -testimonial from a congregation like that, after a lifetime of beating -me and covering me with slime, seems more like an insult than a -compliment. They think they can besmirch the best part of my life, and -then rub it off in a minute with good intentions and a few words. Why, -it was the same sort of whim that made them all follow Jane Hemingway -like sheep after a leader. I don't hate 'em, you understand, but what -they do or say simply don't alter my feelings a speck. I have known all -along that I had the right kind of--character, and to listen to their -sniffling testimony on the subject would seem to me like--well, like -insulting my own womanhood." - -"You are a powerful strange creature, Ann," Mrs. Waycroft said, -reflectively, "but, I reckon, if you hadn't been that way you wouldn't -be such a wonderful woman in so many ways. I was holding something back -for the last, but I reckon you'll sniff at that more than what I've -already told you. Ann, when I got home, and had just set down to eat a -snack before running over to you, who should come to my back gate and -call me out except Jane herself. She stood leaning against the fence -like the walk had nearly done her up, and she refused to come in and set -down. She said she wanted me to do her a favor. She said she knew I was -at meeting and heard what she said, but that she wanted me to come to -you for her. As God is my final Judge, I never felt such pity for a poor -rotten shred of humanity in all my life. She looked like she was trying -to cry, but was too dry inside to do anything but wheeze; her very eyes -seemed to be literally on fire; she looked like a crazy person talking -rationally. She said she wanted me to tell you how sorry and broke up -she was, that she'd pay back that hundred dollars if she had to deed -away her dead body to some medical college. She said she could do -anything on earth to make amends _except_ go to you face to face and -apologize--she'd walk from door to door all over the country, she said, -and tell her tale of shame, but she couldn't say it to you. She said she -had tried for weeks to do it, but she knew she'd never have the moral -strength." - -"She talked that way?" Ann said, looking steadily out into the sunshine -through the open doorway. - -"Yes; and I reckon you have as little patience with her message as you -have with the balance," said the visitor. - -"No, she's different, Mary," Ann declared. "Jane Hemingway is another -proposition altogether. She's fought a long, fierce fight, and God -Almighty's forces have whipped her clean out. She was a worthy foe, and -I respect her more now than I ever did. She was different from the rest. -_She_ had a cause. _She_ had something to fight about. She loved Joe -Boyd with all the heart she ever had, and when I married him she -couldn't--simply couldn't--let it rest. She held on like a bull-dog with -his teeth clamped to bone. She's beat; I won't wait for her to come to -me; I may take a notion and go to her." - - - - -XL - - -It was a crisp, clear day in December. Langdon Chester had gone to -Darley to attend to the banking of a considerable amount of money which -his father had received for cotton on the market. It happened to be the -one day in the year in which the town was visited by a mammoth circus, -and the streets were overflowing with mountain people eager to witness -the grand street-parade, the balloon ascension, the side-shows, and, -lastly, the chief performance under the big tent. From the quaint old -Johnston House, along Main Street to the grain warehouses and the -throbbing and wheezing cotton compress, half a mile distant, the street -was filled with people afoot, in carts, wagons, and buggies, or on -horseback. All this joy and activity made little impression on Langdon -Chester. His face was thin and sallow, and he was extremely nervous. His -last conversation with Virginia and her positive refusal to consider his -proposal of marriage had left him without a hope and more desperate than -his best friend could have imagined possible to a man of his supposedly -callous temperament. And a strange fatality seemed to be dogging his -footsteps and linking him to the matter which he had valiantly attempted -to lay aside, for everywhere he went he heard laudatory remarks about -Luke King and his marvellous success and strength of character. In the -group of lawyers seated in the warm sunshine in front of Trabue's little -one-storied brick office on the street leading to the court-house, it -was a topic of more interest than any gossip about the circus. It was -Squire Tomlinson's opinion, and he had been to the legislature in -Atlanta, and associated intimately with politicians from all sections of -the state, that King was a man who, if he wished it, could become the -governor of Georgia as easy as falling off a log, or even a senator of -the United States. The common people wanted him, the squire declared; -they had worshipped him ever since his first editorial war-whoop against -the oppression of the political ring, the all-devouring trusts, and the -corrupt Northern money-power. The squire, blunt man that he was, caught -sight of Langdon among his listeners and playfully made an illustration -out of him. "There's a chap, gentlemen, the son of a good old friend of -mine. Now, what did money, aristocratic parentage, family brains, and -military honors do for him? He was sent to the best college in the -state, with plenty of spending-money at his command, and is still -hanging onto the strap of his daddy's pocket-book--satisfied like we all -were in the good old days when each of us had a little nigger to come -and put on our shoes for us and bring hot coffee and waffles to the bed -after we'd tripped the merry toe on somebody's farm all night. Oh, you -needn't frown, Langdon; you know it's the truth. He's still a chip off -the old block, gentlemen, while his barefoot neighbor, a scion of po' -white stock, cooked his brain before a cabin pine-knot fire in studying, -like Abe Lincoln did, and finally went forth to conquer the world, and -_is_ conquering it as fast as a dog can trot. It's enough, gentlemen, to -make us all take our boys from school, give 'em a good paddling, and put -'em at hard toil in the field." - -"Thank you for the implied compliment, Squire," Langdon said, angrily. -"You are frank enough about it, anyway." - -"Now, there, you see," the squire exclaimed, regretfully. "I've gone and -rubbed him the wrong way, and I meant nothing in the world by it." - -Langdon bowed and smiled his acceptance of the apology, though a scowl -was on his face as he turned to walk down the street. From the -conversation he had learned that King was expected up that day to visit -his family, and a sickening shock came to him with the thought that it -really was to see Virginia that he was coming. Yes, he was now sure that -it had been King's attentions to the girl which had turned her against -him--that and the powerful influence of Ann Boyd. - -These thoughts were too much for him. He went into Asque's bar, at the -hotel, called for whiskey, and remained there for hours. - -Langdon was in the spacious office of the Johnston House when the -evening train from Atlanta came into the old-fashioned brick car-shed at -the door, and King alighted. His hand-bag was at once snatched by an -admiring negro porter, and the by-standers crowded around him to shake -hands. Langdon stood in the office a moment later, his brain benumbed -with drink and jealous fury, and saw his rival literally received into -the open arms of another eager group. Smothering an oath, the young -planter leaned against the cigar-case quite near the register, over -which the clerk stood triumphantly calling to King to honor the house by -writing the name of the state's future governor. King had the pen in his -hand, when, glancing up, he recognized Langdon, whom he had not seen -since his return from the West. - -"Why, how are you, Chester?" he said, cordially. - -Langdon stared. His brain seemed pressed downward by some weight. The -by-standers saw a strange, half-insane glare in his unsteady eyes, but -he said nothing. - -"Why, surely you remember me," Luke exclaimed, in honest surprise. -"King's my name--Luke King. It's true I have not met you for several -years, but--" - -"Oh, it's King, is it?" Langdon said, calmly and with the edge of a -sneer on his white, determined lip. "I didn't know if you were sure -_what_ it was. So many of your sort spring up like flies in hot weather -that one can't tell much about your parentage, except on the maternal -side." - -There was momentous silence. The crowded room held its breath in sheer -astonishment. King stared at his antagonist for an instant, hoping -against hope that he had misunderstood. Then he took a deep breath. -"That's a queer thing for one man to say to another," he said, fixing -Chester with a steady stare. "Are you aware that a remark like that -might reflect on the honor of my mother?" - -"I don't care who it reflects on," retorted Chester. "You can take it -any way you wish, if you have got enough backbone." - -As quick as a flash King's right arm went out and his massive fist -landed squarely between Chester's eyes. The blow was so strong that the -young planter reeled back into the crowd, instinctively pressing his -hands to his face. King was ready to strike again, but some of his -friends stopped him and pushed him back against the counter. Others in -the crowd forcibly drew his maddened antagonist away, and further -trouble was averted. - -With a hand that was strangely steady, King registered his name with the -pen the clerk was extending to him. - -"Let it drop, King," the clerk said. "He's so drunk he hardly knows what -he's doing. He seems to have it in for you, for some reason or other. It -looks like jealousy to me. They were devilling him over at Trabue's -office awhile ago about his failure and your big success. Let it pass -this time. He'll be ashamed of himself as soon as his liquor dies out." - -"Thank you, Jim," King replied. "I'll let it rest, if he is satisfied -with what he's already had." - -"Going out home to-night?" the clerk asked. - -"If I can get a turnout at the stable," King answered. - -"You will have to take a room here, then," the clerk smiled, "for -everything is out at the livery. I know, because two travelling men who -had a date with George Wilson over there are tied up here." - -"Then I'll stay and go out in the morning," said King. "I'm tired, -anyway, and that is a hard ride at night." - -"Well, take the advice of a friend and steer clear of Chester right -now," said the clerk. "He's a devil when he's worked up and drinking. -Really, he's dangerous." - -"I know that, but I'll not run from him," said King. "I thought my -fighting day was over, but there are some things I can't take." - - - - -XLI - - -It was dusk the following evening. Virginia was at the cow-lot when her -uncle came lazily up the road from the store and joined her. "Well," he -drawled out, as he thrust his hands into his pocket for his pipe, "I -reckon I'm onto a piece o' news that you and your mother, nor nobody -else this side o' Wilson's shebang, knows about. Mrs. Snodgrass has just -arrived by hack from Darley, where she attended the circus and tried to -get a job to beat that talking-machine they had in the side-show. It -seems that this neighborhood has furnished the material for more -excitement over there than the whole exhibition, animals and all." - -"How is that, uncle?" Virginia asked, absent-mindedly. - -"Why, it seems that a row has been on tap between Langdon Chester and -Luke King for, lo, these many months, anyway, and yesterday, when the -population of Darley turned out in as full force to meet Luke King as -they did the circus parade, why it was too much for Chester's blood. He -kept drinking and drinking till he hardly knew which end of him was up, -and then he met Luke at the Johnston House face to face. Mrs. Snod says -Langdon evidently laid his plans so there would have to be a fight in -any case, so he up and slandered that good old mammy of King's." - -"Oh, uncle, and they fought?" Virginia, pale and trembling, gasped as -she leaned for support on the fence. - -"You bet they did. Mrs. Snod says the vile slander had no sooner left -Chester's lips than King let drive at him right between the eyes. That -knocked Langdon out of the ring for a while, and his friends took him to -a room to wash him off, for he was bleeding like a stuck pig. King was -to come out here last night, but Mrs. Snod says he was afraid Chester -would think he was running from the field, and so he stayed on at the -hotel. Then, this morning early, the two of them come together on the -street in front of the bank building. Mrs. Snod says Chester drawed -first and got Luke covered before he could say Jack Robinson, and then -fired. Several shots were exchanged, but the third brought King to his -knees. They say he's done for, Virginia. He wasn't dead to-day at -twelve, but the doctors said he couldn't live an hour. They say he was -bleeding so terrible inside that they was afraid to move him. I'm here -to tell you, Virgie, that I used to like that chap; and when he got to -coming to see you, and I could see that he meant business, I was in -hopes you and him would make a deal, but then you up and bluffed him off -so positive that I never could see what it meant. Why, he was about the -most promising young man I ever--But look here, child, what's ailing -you?" - -"Nothing, uncle," Virginia said; and, with her head down, she turned -away. Looking after her for a moment in slow wonder, Sam went on into -the farm-house, bent on telling the startling news to his sister-in-law. -As for Virginia, she walked on through the gathering dusk towards Ann -Boyd's house. "Dead, dying!" she said, with a low moan. "It has come at -last." - -Farther across the meadow she trudged, unconscious of the existence of -her physical self. At a little stream which she had to cross on -stepping-stones she paused and moaned again. Dead--actually dead! Luke -King, the young man whom the whole of his state was praising, had been -shot down like a dog. No matter what might be the current report as to -the cause of the meeting, young as she was she knew it to be the outcome -of Langdon Chester's passion--the fruition of his mad threat to her. -Yes, he had made good his word. - -Approaching Ann's house, she entered the gate just as Mrs. Boyd came to -the door and stood smiling knowingly at her. - -"Virginia," she called out, cheerily, "what you reckon I've got here? -You could make a million guesses and then be wide of the mark." - -"Oh, Mrs. Boyd!" Virginia groaned, as she tottered to the step and -raised her eyes to the old woman's face, "you haven't heard the news. -Luke is dead!" - -"Dead?" Ann laughed out impulsively. "Oh no, I reckon not. Come in and -take a chair by the fire; you've got your feet wet with the dew." - -"He's dead, he's dead, I tell you!" Virginia stood still, her white and -rigid face upturned. "Langdon Chester, the contemptible coward, shot him -at Darley this morning." - -"Oh, _that's_ it, is it?" A knowing look came into Ann Boyd's face. She -stroked an impulsive smile from her facile lips, but Virginia still saw -its light in the twinkling eyes above the broad, red hand. "You say he's -dead? Well, well, that accounts for something I was wondering about just -now. You know I am not much of a hand to believe in spiritual -manifestations like table-raising folks do, but I'll give you my word, -Virginia, that for the last hour and a half I'd 'a' sworn Luke King -_himself_ was right here in the house. Just now I heard something like -him walking across the floor. It seemed to me he went out to the shelf -and took a drink of water. I'll bet it's Luke's spirit hanging about -trying to tell me good-bye--that is, if he really _was_ shot, as you -say." Ann smiled again and turned her face towards the inside of the -room, and called out: "Say, Ghost of Luke King, if you are in my house -right now you'd better lie low and listen. This silly girl is talking so -wild the first thing you know she will be saying she don't love Langdon -Chester." - -"Love him? what's the matter with you?" Virginia panted. "I hate him. -You know I detest him. I'll kill him. Do you hear me? I'll kill him as -sure as I ever meet him face to face." - -Ann stared at the girl for a moment, her face oddly beaming, then she -looked back into the room again. "Do you hear that, Mr. Ghost? She now -says she'll kill Langdon Chester on sight. She says that after sending -_you_ about your business for no reason in the world. You listen good. -Maybe she'll be saying after a while that she loved you." - -"I _did_ love him. God knows I loved him!" Virginia cried. "I loved him -with every bit of my soul and body. I've loved him, worshipped him, -adored him ever since I was a child and he was so good to me. He was the -noblest man that ever lived, and now a dirty, sneaking coward has -slipped up on him and shot him down in cold blood. If I ever meet that -man, as God is my Judge, I'll--" With a sob that was almost a shriek -Virginia sank to the door-step and lay there, quivering convulsively. - -A vast change swept over Ann Boyd. Her big face filled with the still -blood of deep emotion. She heaved a sigh, and, turning towards the -interior of the room, she said, huskily: - -"Come on, Luke; don't tease the poor little thing. I wouldn't have -carried it so far if I could have got it out of her any other way. She's -yours, dear boy--heart, soul, and body." - -Hearing these words, Virginia raised her head in wonder, just as Luke -King emerged from the house. He bent over her, and tenderly raised her -up. He was drawing her closer to him, his fine face aflame with tender -passion, when Virginia held him firmly from her. - -"Don't! don't!" she said. "If you knew--" - -"I've told him everything, Virginia," Ann broke in. "I had to. I -couldn't see my dear boy suffering like he was, when--" - -"You know--" Virginia began, aghast, "you know--" - -"About you and Chester?" King said, with a light laugh. "Yes, I know all -about it, and it made me think you the grandest, most self-sacrificing -little girl in all the world. So you thought I was dead? That was all -gossip. It was only a quarrel that amounted to nothing. I understand, -now that he is sober, that Chester is heartily ashamed of himself." - -Half an hour afterwards Ann stood at the gate and saw them walking -together towards Virginia's home. She watched them till they were lost -from her sight in the dusk, then she went back into the house. She stood -over the low fire for a moment, then said: "I won't get any supper -ready. I couldn't eat a bite. Meat and bread couldn't shove this lump -out of my throat. It's pretty, pretty, pretty to see those two together -that way. I believe they have got the sort of thing the Almighty really -meant love to be. I know _I_ never got that kind, though, as a girl, I -dreamt of nothing else--nothing from morning till night but that one -thing, and yet here I am this way--_this way_!" - - - - -XLII - - -The next morning the weather was as balmy as spring. Ann had taken all -the coverings from her beds and hung them along the fence to catch the -purifying rays of the sun. Her rag-carpet was stretched out on the -ground ready to be beaten. She was occupied in sweeping the bare floor -of her sitting-room when a shadow fell across the threshold. Looking up, -she saw a tall, lean man, very ill-clad, his tattered hat in hand, his -shoes broken at the toes and showing the wearer's bare feet. - -"It's me, Ann," Boyd said. "I couldn't stay away any longer. I hope you -won't drive me off, anyway, before I've got out what I come to say." - -She turned pale as she leaned her broom against the wall and began to -roll her sleeves down her fat arms towards her wrists. "Well, I wasn't -looking for you," she managed to say. - -"I reckon not, Ann," he returned, a certain wistful expression in his -voice and strangely softened face; "but I had to come. As I say--I had -to come and speak to you, anyway." - -"Well, take a chair," she said, awkwardly. "I've got the windows up to -let the dust drive out, and I'll close them. It's powerful draughty. I -don't feel it, working like I am, but you might, coming in from the -outside." - -He advanced to one of the straight-backed chairs which he remembered so -well, and laid an unsteady hand on it, but he did not draw it towards -him nor sit down. Instead, his great, hungry eyes followed her -movements, as she bustled from one window to another, like those of a -patient, offending dog. - -"Well, why don't you sit down?" She had turned back to him, and stood -eying his poor aspect with strange misgivings and pity. In her comfort -and luxury, he, with his evidences of poverty and despair, struck a -strangely discordant note. - -He drew the chair nearer, and with quivering knees she saw him sink into -it, with firmness at the beginning and then with the sudden collapse of -an invalid. She went to a window and looked out. Not seeing his horse -hitched near by, she came back to him. - -"Where did you hitch?" she asked, her voice losing firmness. - -"I didn't have no horse," he said; "I walked, Ann. Lawson was hauling -wood with the horse. He wouldn't have let me take it, anyway. He's got -awfully contrary here lately. Me 'n' him don't get along at all." - -"Do you mean to tell me--do you mean to tell me you walked all that way, -in them shoes without bottoms, and--and you looking like you've just got -up from a long sick spell?" - -"I made it all right, Ann, stopping to rest on the way." A touch of -color seemed to have risen into his wan cheeks. "I had to come -to-day--as I did awhile back--to do my duty, as I saw it. In fact, this -seems even more my duty. Ann, Jane Hemingway came over to Gilmer awhile -back. She come straight to my house, and, my God, Ann, she come and told -me she'd been at the bottom of all our trouble. She set right in and -acknowledged that she lied; she said she'd been lying all along for -spite, because she hated you." - -"And loved you," Ann interposed, quickly. "Yes, she came back here, so -I've been told, and stood up in meeting and said she'd been to see you, -and she confessed it all in public. I can't find it in my heart to be -hard with her, Joe. She was only obeying her laws of nature, as you have -obeyed yours and I have mine, and--and as our offspring is now obeying -hers. Tell me the straight truth, Joe. I reckon Nettie still feels -strange towards me." - -Joe Boyd's mild eyes wavered and sought the fire beyond the toes of his -ragged shoes. - -"Tell me the truth, Joe," Ann demanded. "I'm entitled to that, anyway." - -"She's always been a queer creature," Boyd faltered, evasively, without -looking up, and she saw him nervously laving his bony hands in the -sheer, unsuggestive emptiness about him. "But you mustn't think it's -just _you_ she's against, Ann. She's plumb gone back on me, too. The -money you furnished cleared the place of debt and bought her wedding -outfit, and she got her man; but not long back she found out where the -means come from, and--" - -Ann's lips tightened in the pause that ensued. Her face was set like a -grotesque mask of stone. She leaned over the fire and pushed a fallen -ember back under the steaming logs with a poker. - -"She couldn't stomach that, I reckon?" Ann said, in assumed calmness. - -"Well, it made her mad at me. I won't tell you all she done or said, -Ann. It wouldn't do no good. I'm responsible for what she is, I reckon. -She might have growed up different if she'd had the watchful care of--of -a mother. What she is, is what any female will become under the care of -a shiftless man like I am." - -"No, you are wrong, Joe," Ann said. "Why it is so I don't intend to -explain, but Nettie would have been like she is under all circumstances. -Money and plenty of everything might have glazed her character over, but -down at bottom she'd have been what she is. Adversity generally brings -out all the good that's in a person; the reason it hasn't fetched it out -in her is because it isn't there, nor never has been. You say you and -her don't get on well?" - -"Not now," he said. "She just as good as driv me from home yesterday. -She told me point-blank that there wasn't room for me, and that when the -baby comes they would be more crowded and pinched than ever. She -actually sent Lawson to the Ordinary at Springtown to see if there was a -place on the poor-farm vacant. When I dropped onto that, Ann, I come -off. For all I know, they may have some paper for vagrancy ready to -serve on me. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm not going back to -them two, never while there is a lingering breath left in my body." - -"The poor-farm!" Ann said, half to herself. "To think that she would -consent to that, and you her father." - -"I think his folks is behind it, Ann. They've got a reason for wanting -to get rid of me." - -"A reason, you say?" Ann was staring at him steadily. - -Joe Boyd's embarrassment of a moment before returned. He twisted his -hands together again. "Yes; it's like this, Ann," he went on, awkwardly: -"a short time back Lawson's mother and father got onto the fact that you -were in good circumstances, and it made the biggest change in them you -ever heard of. They talked it all over the settlement. They are hard up, -and they couldn't talk of anything but how much you was worth, and what -you had your money invested in, and the like. After they got onto that, -they never--never paid no attention to what had been--been -circulated--your money covered all that as completely as a ten-foot -snow. Instead of turning up their noses, as Nettie was afraid they would -do, it only made them brag about how well their boy had done, and what a -fool I was. They tried all sorts of ways to get Nettie interested in -some scheme to attract your attention, but Nettie would just cry and -take on and refuse to come over here or to write to you." - -"I understand"--Ann stroked her compressed lips with an unsteady -hand--"I understand. I've never been a natural mother to her; she -couldn't come to me like that. But you say they turned against you." - -"Yes. You see, the Lawsons got an idea--the old woman did, in -particular, from something she'd picked up--that it was _me_ that stood -between you and Nettie. They thought you and me had had such a serious -falling-out that a proud woman like you never would have anything to do -with Nettie as long as I was about, and that the best thing was to shove -me off so the reconciliation would work faster. The truth is, they said -that would please you." - -"I see, I see," Ann said. "And they set about putting you at the -poor-farm." - -"Yes; they seemed to think that was as good a place as any. And they -could get all the proof necessary to put me there, for I hadn't a cent -to my name nor a whole rag to my back; and, Ann, for the last three -months I haven't been able to do a lick o' work. I've had a strange sort -of hurting all down my left side, and my right ankle seems affected in -the same way." - -Ann Boyd suddenly turned away. Through the window she had seen the wind -blowing one of her sheets from the fence, and she went out and put it in -place. He limped out into the sunlight and stood at the little, sagging -gate a few yards from her. Something of his old dignity and gallantry of -manner was on him: he still held his hat in his hand, his thin, -iron-gray hair exposed to the warm rays of the sun. - -"Well, I'd better be going, Ann," he said. "There is no telling when -somebody might come along and see me here, and start the talk you hate -so much. I come all the way here to tell you how low and mean I feel for -taking Jane Hemingway's word instead of yours, and how plumb sorry I am. -You and me may never meet again this side of the Seat of Judgment, and -I'll say this if I never speak again. Ann, the only days of perfect -happiness I ever had was here with you, and, if all of it was to do over -again, I'd suffer torture by fire rather than believe you anything but -an angel from heaven. Oh, Ann, it was just my poor, weak inferiority to -you that made me misjudge you. If I'd ever been a _real_ man--a man -worthy of a woman like you--I'd have snapped my fingers at all that was -said, but I was obeying my laws, as you say. I simply wasn't deep enough -nor high enough to do you justice." - -He drew the little gate ajar and dragged his tired feet through the -opening. The fence was now between them. She looked down the road. A -woman under a sun-bonnet and little shawl was coming towards them. By a -strange fatality it was Jane Hemingway, but she was not to pass directly -by them, as her path homeward turned sharply to the left a hundred yards -below. They both recognized her. - -"I don't know fully what you mean, Joe," Ann said, softly, "but if you -mean by what you just said that you'd be willing now to--to come -back--if _that's_ what you mean, I'd have something to say that maybe, -in justice to myself, I ought to say." - -"_Would_ I come back? Would I? Oh, Ann, how could you doubt that, when -you see how miserable and sorry I feel. God knows I'd never feel worthy -of you; but if you would--if you only could--let me stay, I--" - -"I couldn't consent to _that_, Joe--that's the point," Ann answered, -firmly. "Anything else on earth but _that_. I expect to provide for -Nettie in a substantial way, and I expect to have a lawyer make it one -of the main conditions that her income depends on her good treatment of -you as long as you and she live. I expect to do that, but the other -matter is different. A woman of my stamp has her pride and her rights, -Joe. I've been through a lot, but I can endure just so much and no more. -If--if you _did_ come back, and we was married over again, it would go -out to the world that you had taken _me_ back, and I couldn't stand -that. My very womanhood rises up and cries out against that in a voice -that rings clear to the end of truth and justice and woman's eternal -rights. Joe, I'm too big and pure in _myself_ to let the world say a man -who was--was--I'm going to say it--was little enough to doubt my word -for the best part of my days had at last taken _me_ back--taken me back -when my lonely life's sun was on the decline. No, no, never; for the -sake of unborn girl infants who may have to meet what I fell under when -I was too young to know the difference between the smile of hell and the -smile of heaven, I say No! We'd better live out our days in loneliness -apart--you frail and uncared for, and me on here without a friend or -companion--than to sanction such a baleful thing as that." - -"Then I'll tell you what you let _me_ do," Boyd said, with a flare of -his old youthful adoration in his face. "Let me get down on my knees, -Ann, and crawl with my nose in the dust to everybody that we ever knew -and tell them that I'd begged and begged for mercy, and at last Ann had -taken _me_ back, weak and broken as I am--weak, ashamed, and unworthy, -but back with her in the place I lost through my own narrowness and -cowardice. Let me do that, Ann--oh, let me do that! I can't go away. I'd -die without you. I've loved you all, all these years and had you in my -mind night and day." - -Ann was looking at the ground. The blood had mounted red and warm into -her face. Suddenly she glanced down the road. Jane Hemingway was just -turning into the path leading to her home; her eyes were fastened on -them. She paused and stood staring. - -"Poor thing!" Ann said, her moist, glad eyes fixed upon Jane. "She is as -sorry and repentant as she can be. Her only hope right now, Joe, is that -we'll make it up. She used to love you, too, Joe. You are the only man -she ever did love. Let's wave our hands to her so she will understand -that--we have come to an understanding." - -"Oh, Ann, do you mean--" But Ann, with a flushed, happy face, was waving -her hand at her old enemy. As for Boyd, he lowered his head to the fence -and sobbed. - - THE END - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANN BOYD *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37551 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. 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