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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7229690 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #56046 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56046) diff --git a/old/56046-0.txt b/old/56046-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b4fcafa..0000000 --- a/old/56046-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13009 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Duciehurst; a tale of the -Mississippi, by Charles Egbert Craddock - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Story of Duciehurst; a tale of the Mississippi - -Author: Charles Egbert Craddock - -Release Date: November 25, 2017 [EBook #56046] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Bryan Ness, Chuck Greif and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - - - - - - THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST - - - - - [Illustration: colophon] - - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO - DALLAS · ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO - - MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED - LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA - MELBOURNE - - THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. - TORONTO - - - - - THE STORY OF - DUCIEHURST - - _A Tale of the Mississippi_ - - BY - CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK - - AUTHOR OF “THE FAIR MISSISSIPPIAN,” “THE AMULET,” “THE STORM - CENTRE,” “THE STORY OF OLD FORT LOUDON,” “A SPECTRE - OF POWER,” “THE ORDEAL,” “THE PROPHET OF - THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS,” ETC. - - New York - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1914 - - - COPYRIGHT, 1914 - BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - - Set up and electrotyped. Published July, 1914. - - - - - THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Dead low water and there the steamboat lay on the sand-bar, stranded and -helpless. The surging swirls of the swift current raced impetuously on -either side. Scarcely a furlong distant on that corrugated, rippling -surface the leadsman had heaved the plummet of the sounding-line at -“deep four.” Nevertheless the craft had grounded here on a submerged -projection of a “tow-head” built of silt and detritus by the ever -shifting Mississippi, attaining dangerous proportions since the last run -of the boat. All unknown and unsuspected it lurked till “quarter less -twain” was sung out, but the next cry of the leadsman smote the air like -the sound of doom. Before the engines could be reversed the steamer was -in shoal water, ploughing into the sand with the full momentum of her -speed, the shock of the impact shattering the equilibrium of all on -board. - -Straight ensued the contortions of mechanical energy common to such -occasions; the steamboat repeatedly sought to back off from the sand; -failing in this she went forward on one wheel and then on the other, -finally on both, trying to force her way across the barrier to her -progress, in technical phrase “to jump the bar.” - -At length the Captain confessedly relinquished the attempt to effect -the release of the craft under her own steam. The fires sank down in the -furnaces; the water cooled in the boilers; and the passengers of the -still and silent boat resigned themselves to await with such patience as -they could muster the rescue which might be furnished by a passing -packet, none due for twenty-four hours, or which a rise in the river -might compass, for the clouds of the dull October afternoon were heavy -and sullen and intimated the near probability of rain. - -A group had begun to assemble on the promenade deck, disconsolately -looking out at the rippling tawny expanse of the vast vacant river, for -the bight of the bend was as lonely a spot as could be found throughout -its course. On either side of the deep groove of the great channel the -banks rose high, seeming precipitous at this shrunken stage of the -water. In the background loomed gigantic forests with foliage sere or -green as the nature of the growths might determine. - -The leveling effect of the stereotyped surroundings of travel served to -bring out in distinct relief the individual characteristics of the -passengers. Mr. Floyd-Rosney received the Captain’s final admission of -defeat with the silence and surly dignity befitting an implacable -affront, and his manner could scarcely have been justified had he and -his family been wilfully abducted by orders of the owners of the packet -line. In his wonted environment at his home, encompassed by all the -insignia of wealth and station, he might have seemed a man of such -preëminent importance and fashion as to render a contretemps impertinent -and significant of a failure of respect and service, but here, on the -deck of the steamer, his sullen impatience of the common disaster, his -frowning ungenial mien in receiving the apology of the Captain, poor -victim of the underhand wiles of the great Mississippi, betokened an -exacting ill-conditioned temperament, and suggested that his wife might -be anything but a happy woman, even before she emerged from the saloon -and he met her with a rebuke, which was the obvious vent of his general -ill-humor that could not be visited on independent strangers. - -“Too late,--_as usual_!” He turned and placed a chair for her with an -air of graceful and considerate courtesy. “The fun is all over,--the -Captain has given up the game.” - -The coercions of good society rendered it imperative that he should -somewhat veil his displeasure, but the thin veneer of his graciousness -was patently insincere and did not commend his pretense of regret for -her sake that she should have missed the spectacle of the gyrations of -the boat in seeking to free itself from the sand-bar, though, indeed, -one might travel far and never witness the like. - -He was singularly handsome, about thirty-five years of age, tall, well -built, admirably groomed, fair and florid, with finely chiseled -features, straight dark hair and large brown eyes, whose inherent luster -was dulled by their haughty, disparaging gaze. He rated his fellow-men -but lightly in the scale of being, and, save for the detention, he would -not have appeared on deck or exchanged a word with the rest of the -passengers in the tedious interval of making his landing. - -“I am glad that you have at last consented to sit here awhile,” he -continued to his wife, with flimsy solicitude. “That stuffy little -state-room is enough to asphyxiate you.” - -His moods, indeed, were elements to be reckoned with and his wife was -eager and smiling in making her excuses. “Oh, I should have come at -once,” she protested,--“only the baby was so reluctant to take his nap. -I couldn’t get away till he was asleep.” She was nervously adjusting her -wrap, appropriate and handsome, but evidently hastily flung on. - -“I think he has a nurse,” her husband remarked in surly sarcasm. - -“Oh, yes, of course,--but he wanted me,--he would not let go my hand -till he was fast asleep.” - -She was as much as ten years her husband’s junior, of a blonde type very -usual in American life. One might have thought to have seen her often, -so familiar have become the straight, delicate somewhat angular -lineaments, the fair hair, the gray or blue eyes, the slender, yet -strong, elastic physique. The degree of beauty, of course, is dependent -on the blending of these elements and its pleasing appeal. Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney was one of the finer examples of the ordinary mold. Her -features were classic in their regularity; her delicately kept, -redundant blonde hair had a silken sheen that simulated burnished gold; -her gray eyes were of a darkly greenish luster that suggested -moss-agates, and they were shaded by long, pensive lashes almost black; -the whole effect was heightened by her dark brown cloth gown with narrow -bands of seal fur, the hat corresponding with the rich yet plain costume -that betokened a traveling garb. She had a certain covertly derisive -expression in her eyes, whenever diverted from her husband, for it must -needs be a brave wife, indeed, who could banter that imposing presence. -To this look a trick of an occasional upward cant of the chin gave -special emphasis. When she seemed amused one could not be sure whether -she was laughing with her interlocutor, or at him. In fact, she had a -marked gift of irony which she sometimes carried so far as to suggest -the danger of recoil. Her old nurse, in the state-room, who had tended -her infancy, as well as now her three-year-old boy, had often warned her -in years agone, when the victim of her unhallowed mirth, “You surely -will stump your toe some day,--better mind how you skip along.” The -discerning observer might well fancy she had duly met this check in her -career in her choice of a husband, for the obvious repression in her -manner toward him suggested a spirit-breaking process already well in -hand. Her deprecatory disarming glance when their eyes met had in it an -eager plea for approval which was almost derogatory, curiously at -variance with her beauty, and position, and handsome garb, and her -assured manner in deporting herself toward others. - -“The best you can do for us, Captain Disnett?” she had caught the words -of the skipper’s apology as she issued. “Then all I can say is that bad -is the best!” - -She regarded the immense spread of the great river with disparaging -objection. “How low it is,--in every sense of the word.” - -Despite her assured pose a certain consciousness informed her manner -when her eyes suddenly fell upon a young man of thirty, perhaps, who was -standing near the railing of the guards, apparently ruefully revolving -the Captain’s announcement that it was impossible to get the _Cherokee -Rose_ off the sand-bar under her own steam. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s -surprise, for she had started on perceiving him and flushed with -embarrassment, was not reciprocal. He gave her no glance of recognition, -although his eyes met hers in a casual regard as he turned from the rail -and drew forth his cigar-case with the presumable intention of making -himself as comfortable as the detention would permit. As yet the baleful -sign, “Cotton aboard. No smoking on deck,” had not been displayed, for -the boat was on its downward beat and would not take on cotton until -returning up the river. His muscles were suddenly stilled, however, and -there was a moment of intent, though covert, observation of her, when -her name was abruptly called out in blithe tones as a young girl emerged -upon the deck. - -“Oh, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney! I did not know you were on board. How perfectly -delightful,” with a swift cordial rush, both hands outstretched. -“Captain Disnett,” she whirled upon the skipper, in buoyant parenthesis, -“I forgive you! You have merely contrived us an enchanting week-end -house party. I don’t know when or where I should have met Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney otherwise. And Mr. Floyd-Rosney, too. Is little Ned here? -Asleep?--Well, I’ll spare his nap.” - -The deck, the whole dull day, seemed suddenly irradiated by the presence -of the joyous young beauty. Naught but happiness surely came her way. -Eternal springtide shone lustrous, soft, mellow in the depths of her -great sapphire eyes with their long black lashes and thick white lids. -Her hair was black and straight but her complexion was transparently -fair and an exquisitely delicate rose bloomed on her cheek. Her coral -lips were slightly parted, for she was always exclamatory and -breathless, and showed a glimpse of her even white teeth. She was tall -and slender, very erect, and moved with the deft certainty of trained -muscles, the athletic girl of the day. She wore a simple gown of rough -gray cloth, and a knowing little gray toque. She had no disposition to -await events and, after a brief comprehensive survey of the personnel of -the group, she abruptly accosted the young man at the rail, an impassive -spectator of her entrance on the scene. - -“Why, Mr. Ducie,” she exclaimed in blended surprise and affront, “aren’t -you going to speak to me?” - -He started as if he had been shot. He had much ado to get his hat off -his head with a cigar in one hand and a blazing match in the other. But -this accomplished, through casting the match overboard, he came forward, -replying with genial grace, albeit in some embarrassment: “I think my -brother has the advantage of me. I am Mr. Ducie, all right, but my -Christian name is Adrian. I fancy it must be Mr. Randal Ducie who has -the honor of your acquaintance.” - -“Oh,--oh,--yes,--but this----” She was leaning on the back of one of the -stiff arm-chairs and across it openly studying his lineaments. He had -distinctive features; a thin, delicate, slightly aquiline nose, a firm -well-rounded chin, bold, luminous hazel eyes, with a thick fringe of -long straight lashes, a fair complexion not altogether devoid of the -concomitant freckles here and there; fine teeth and mobile red lips; and -his hair, glowing in the light, for he still held his hat in his hand, -was of that rich auburn shade that artists love and that one sees in -paintings and seldom elsewhere. “But this----” she continued, “oh,--you -are fooling us. Do you think I can forget you so soon when I waltzed ten -miles with you last winter, if it were all strung out in a row! This is -certainly Randal Ducie.” - -He had begun to laugh in enjoyment of her perplexity. “Randal Ducie is -not half so good a man,” he protested gaily. - -“_Les absens ont toujours tort_,” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney brought herself, -uninvited, into the conversation. Not altogether welcome was her -interpolation, for the laugh faded from Mr. Ducie’s face and he -remembered to resume his hat and to slip his cigar-case into his pocket, -as if in preparation to betake himself elsewhere. But if this were his -intention it was forestalled by Miss Dean. - -“Now, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” she turned vivaciously to that lady, since she -had of her own motion entered the discussion, “wouldn’t anybody think -this was Randal Ducie?” - -“They are much alike, but I saw the difference in a moment,” Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney was smiling naturally, graciously, and looking extremely -pretty, as her husband, leaning against one of the posts that supported -the superstructure of the deck and, smoking with strong long-drawn -puffs, watched her with fixed inscrutable eyes. - -“Oh, you didn’t,” Miss Dean contradicted gaily. “You _couldn’t_! The -likeness is amazing! Oh, pshaw! it is no likeness. He is guying us. This -_is_ Randal Ducie.” - -“You are the twin brother of my young friend, Randal Ducie?” Colonel -Kenwynton asked, smiling, an old gentleman of the old school, with a -courteous manner and a commanding presence. His tall figure still -retained the muscular slenderness of his athletic youth and his stately -martial carriage; his dense snowy hair, brushed forward to his brow and -parted on the side, and also, straight down the back, the white imperial -and long military mustachios gave him the look of a portrait of some -by-gone celebrity rather than a man of to-day, so had the thought of -this fashion perished. His age was frosty but kindly, and the young man -responded with covert humor, as if elucidating a mystery. - -“Oh, yes, we have always been twins,” he declared. - -“How _did_ you know the difference, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?” demanded Miss -Dean. - -“I knew it at once,” she replied, still smiling, but the gravity in the -eyes of her husband deepened momently as he gazed, silently, -motionlessly at her. “I myself don’t know the difference at all,” said -the subject of the discussion. “When I am with Ran I feel as if I were -looking into a mirror.” - -“Oh, how quaint,--how enchanting it must be,” cried Miss Dean -extravagantly. - -“And so convenient,--I have always made Ran try the new hair cuts -first.” - -“Oh, I didn’t mean any such preposterous thing as that--but to have -another self so near, so dear, to duplicate one’s lot in life, to -understand and sympathize with every sentiment, to share one’s mind, -one’s heart----” - -“No,--no,--we draw the line there. I am a deep secret fellow! I could -tolerate no twin of an inner consciousness to spy out my true soul.” -Ducie was letting himself go in this badinage, and he had no meaning of -a deeper intent than the surface of jest. “And I could undertake no such -contract as to sympathize with Ran’s extravagant enthusiasms and silly -sentimentalities.” - -The attention of the group was focused on the speaker. None of them -noticed the uprising conscious flare in the face of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney--except, indeed, her husband, who was quick, too, to -recollect the significant fact that only she had had the keen -discernment to detect the difference between this man and the twin -brother of whom he seemed the counterpart. - -“Oh, Mr. Ducie, how unkind!” cried Miss Dean. - -“Yes, indeed,” with affected obduracy, “Ran must sigh his sighs, and -hope his hopes, and shed his tears all by himself. For my own part I -don’t deal in goods of that grade. But if ever he strikes on some nice -little speculation, or discovers a gold mine, why I am his own only twin -brother and I will come in with him on the ground floor.” - -“And, speaking of business,” said Colonel Kenwynton, “how goes it in the -south of France? Your brother did not accompany you.” - -The group had taken chairs, and, with the permission of the ladies, -Ducie had lighted his cigar. “No, Ran sticks to cotton through thick and -thin. It is his creed that God never thought it worth while to create -anything but the cotton plant, and the earth was evolved to grow and -market it.” - -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was struggling with the species of discomposure which -is incompatible with reserve and silence. “You went into the wine trade -instead,” she made the parenthetical statement from an imperfect -memory. - -Mr. Ducie had that air of averse distaste which one feels in hearing -one’s own affairs misrepresented. “Beg pardon,” he said, “I quitted New -Orleans some six years ago with old Mr. Chenault; he was a wine merchant -there, a branch of a Bordeaux house,--knew my father and used to furnish -my grandfather’s cellar at Duciehurst in the long ago. He offered me an -opening in the French house at Bordeaux, but I didn’t take kindly to the -trade, and as the Chenaults had connections with the silk manufacturing -interests in Lyons they contrived to wedge me in with their relatives.” - -“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had obviously lost her poise, “I remember -now,--but I can’t recall who was speaking of you and your success the -other day,--to be a junior partner in the concern.” - -Adrian Ducie’s consciousness of the breach of the commercial verities -turned him stiff. “Oh no! I?--a junior partner? Why, never in the -world!” he exclaimed brusquely. Then, realizing that there was no reason -for heat, since the matter had no concern for those present, he went on -more suavely. “I occupy a sort of confidential and privileged relation -to the members of the firm, owing chiefly to the value of the Chenault -interest, but I have neither the responsibility nor the profits of a -junior partner.” - -As he ceased to speak he had a sudden look of affront--more than aught -else it suggested the impulse of some spirited horse refusing a mandate -of urgency, and ready to bolt, to rear, to assert an insurgent and -untamed power. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s words might bear an interpretation -of an ill-judged patronage,--her facile foolish blandness in magnifying -the importance of his opportunity that at its best must seem so very -small to her. With an almost visible effort he brought himself under -control without a snort of contempt or an impatient stamp. There was an -interval of silence so awkward, in view of these forced disclosures of -commercial status and financial interest, that Ducie was disposed to -continue the personal relation as a less crude method of its conclusion -than bolting precipitately from the subject. “We have close connections, -of course, with importers in America as well as elsewhere. It is my -mission to effect a settlement of a matter in controversy with a company -having extensive dealings with us and I am glad to utilize the -opportunity to run in on Ran at his plantation in this lower country -while I am en route to New Orleans. It makes this detention all the more -unfortunate. I lose time that I might otherwise spend with him.” - -“You must be awfully lonesome over on the other side without your twin -brother, your other self,” said Miss Dean, sweetly commiserative. - -And, indeed, his face fell. - -“But how lovely to be in France,” sighed Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. “I envy you -your Paris.” - -“Paris!” he could but fleer. “I see as much of Paris as if I were in the -Mississippi swamp.” Then, recovering himself, “Paris is not France, so -far as the silk manufacturing interest is concerned.” - -An interruption was at hand and this seemed well. An old gentleman, -dressed in black, a Prince Albert coat, a wide soft felt hat, with a -white beard and sightless eyes, seeming more aged and infirm than he -really was, by reason of his groping progress between a stout stick and -a pompous negro man-servant, was steered down the guards and toward the -group; perceiving whom, Colonel Kenwynton hastily arose and advanced. - -“Here we are, Major,” he exclaimed jovially, “and here we are likely to -stay. (Make yourself scarce, Tobe,” he added in parenthesis to the -servant, “I’ll look after the Major.”) And Tobe relinquished his charge -with a grateful bow, after the manner of the servitors of yore. -Doubtless, he was glad of the leisure thus vouchsafed him to spend, -after his own liking, but he showed no undue alacrity to avail himself -of it. He did not disappear until he had placed chairs both for the -Major and Colonel Kenwynton, glanced discerningly at the clouds to judge -whether a possible outburst of the setting sun might render the spot -selected undesirable, asked if he should not bring glasses of water, -notified the Major that he had placed a light overcoat on a chair hard -by, in case the veering of the wind should necessitate protection, and -only then did the Major’s faithful body-servant “make himself scarce.” - -It was seldom, indeed, that Major Lacey ventured so far from his home, -in view of his increasing age, with which his infirmities waxed in -proportion, except, indeed, on the various occasions of Confederate -reunions, when his years fell from him, and the scales dropped from his -eyes, and he was once more a dashing young officer with his sword in his -hand and his heart in his cause. He was now returning from one of these -symposia, and the old soldier would canvass its incidents, and discuss -its personnel, and repeat the toasts, and recount the old stories and -live again in the days of yore, growing ever dimmer, till the next -reunion would endow the past with reviviscence and it would glow anew -and the dull present would sink out of sight. He was barely ensconced in -his chair when Miss Dean gaily accosted him. - -“Yes,--here we are, indeed, Major,--you remember me?--Miss Hildegarde -Dean,--but you ought to have been on deck when we were trying to get -away. It was just like an attempt to jump over a fence by pulling on the -rosettes of your slippers,--wasn’t it, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?” - -“Oh, she didn’t witness it,” said Floyd-Rosney hastily, reminded of his -displeasure because of her tardiness. “Too late,--_as usual_. She -closely resembles Athelstane the Unready. You remember the Saxon -nobleman, Major Lacey.” - -His bland patronage was a bit more insufferable than his obvious -disapproval, if such comparison be attempted, for the casual stranger -had done naught to incur his unwelcome benignities, whereas his wife, by -consenting to become his wife, had brought her doom upon her own head. - -The receptivity of the object of his grace in this instance was blunted -by misunderstanding. “Well, now,” the Major replied, knitting his brows, -“there was a foreign nobleman--a native of Saxony,--for a time on the -staff of General Lancaster while I, too, was a member of his military -family. This stranger was eager to see our artillery in action,--greatly -interested in the Gatling gun,--it was new, then, invented by a -gentleman from North Carolina. But I don’t remember that the officer’s -name was Athelstane,--my memory is not so good as it once was,--his -name has escaped me. But he had been a lieutenant of the Line in his own -country,--light artillery.” - -Colonel Kenwynton observed Floyd-Rosney’s satiric smile and resented it. -He would not suffer the matter to rest here. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney is -alluding to a character in one of the Waverley novels, Major,” he said -tactfully. - -“Eh? Oh, I remember, now,--I remember,--Ivanhoe,--Athelstane of -Coningsburgh,” the Major replied casually. “But I was thinking of that -foreign nobleman from Saxony,--much impressed by the Gatling gun in -action.” - -The war was all-in-all with the Major. - -Miss Hildegarde Dean suddenly rose and, with her swinging athletic gait, -walked across the deck and seated herself in a chair beside the Major. -He was conscious, of course, of an approach and a new proximity, but -whose presence it was and of what intent he could not divine. He turned -his sightless face toward his unseen neighbor, expressive of a courteous -abeyance, ready and reciprocal toward the advance were it charged with a -meaning for him, yet with a dignity of reserve in awaiting it. He, of -course, could not see Hildegarde smiling at him so brightly that one -must needs deplore afresh his affliction which debarred him from such -suffusive and gracious radiance. - -“Major Lacey,” she began blithely, “I have just lived for this moment. I -want you to tell me exactly how your grandmother--now that is your -great-niece Elodie Lacey’s great, great stupendously great -grandmother,--Elodie is a chum of mine and a precious monkey-fied -thing.” (The Major’s eyebrows were elevated doubtfully at this -description of his young relative, but the tone was one of approval and -affection and he took the compliment on trust.) “We have such gay old -times together,” in a burst of reminiscent enthusiasm. “But now about -your grandmother’s romance. How did she happen to marry the -Revolutionary lieutenant and not the rich English baronet whom she sent -away in despair. Elodie delights in telling the story,--all about the -fox-chase and all--but she mixes things up so with a piece of the white -brocade of the wedding dress that she treasures and the carved ivory fan -and the white satin slippers and she owns the whole bertha too--it is -Honiton,--lovely lace, but out of style now,--that one can’t get at the -details for the millinery. A rational account of the whole affair would -be as sentimental and exciting as a novel. Take a turn with me up and -down the guards, Major, and justify your grandmother’s choice. I am as -steady as a rock, and this ship is not going to pitch and toss among the -breakers on this sand-bar,--eh, Captain Disnett?” with an arch smile -over her shoulder. - -The old man’s stick was tremulously feeling the way as he arose. Then -she passed her arm through his, and moved forward at a measured pace, -with the other hand deftly putting out of the way chairs that might have -otherwise blocked their progress. Colonel Kenwynton looked on with a -benignant smile, for, presently, their slow and wavering march up and -down, the old blind soldier, supported between the radiant young beauty -and his stout cane, was interrupted by bursts of laughter, genuine and -hearty, such as he had not enjoyed for many a day. - -Then ensued deep and earnest narrative, entangled in such a whirl of -questions as would imply that Miss Hildegarde Dean had never before -heard of the great battle of Shiloh, and, indeed, save that she had once -been of an excursion party that had visited the famous site, she would -have scarcely remembered its name. But she was gifted with a keen and -enduring observation, and ever and anon she broke into his detail of -special incidents,--the fall of noted officers, the result of intrepid -charges, the location of certain troops,--to describe the monuments that -now marked the spot, their composition, their approximate measurements, -their inscriptions, and her opinion of the general effect, with such -gusto as to incite a revival of recollection and to recall an episode or -two of that momentous event which had eluded till now his comprehensive -memory. - -“That is a lovely, lovely girl,” said Colonel Kenwynton to Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, as he contemplated the incongruous cronies. - -“Yes, indeed,” she acceded with graceful alacrity, “but she should not -trifle with the affections of the venerable Major.” - -“Perhaps the venerable Major is a bit of a flirt himself”; the flavor of -Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s pleasantry was acrid to the taste. - -“Why, I should not call that ‘flirting,’ on her part,” said the -matter-of-fact captain of the steamboat. “I have known her since she was -that high,”--he indicated with his right hand a minute stature,--“her -uncle has a plantation down here a bit and she and her mother have often -been passengers of the _Cherokee Rose_. She was always just of that -kind, thoughtful disposition.” - -For the old Major was laughing on keys of mirth so long disused that -they had fallen out of tune and accord with the dominant tones of his -voice, as if in another moment he might burst into tears. - -“Well, perhaps not exactly ‘flirting,’--only a bit of her universal -fascination system,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with her chin in the air. - -“I shouldn’t think she pursues any sort of system,--she seems all -spontaneity. She is incapable of calculation,” said young Ducie. - -Once more Mrs. Floyd-Rosney flushed unaccountably, but she said, -lightly, “I perceive that you are profoundly versed in that most -difficult science, the knowledge of human nature.” - -“You do me too much honor,” he replied, looking not at her but at his -cigar as he flipped off the ash. “It requires a very superficial -observation to discern that she is as open and undesigning as the day.” - -“For my own part I think the day is particularly enigmatic,” she -retorted with her scathing little laugh, that yet was so sweetly keyed. -“I think it has something in reserve, especially obnoxious for us.” - -“So it seems that you, too, are a profound observer, and that -meteorological phenomena are your province,” her husband ponderously -adopted her method of persiflage. Then he added pointedly, “I beg you to -observe it was not I that initiated the personal tone of this talk.” - -He rose with his pervasive suggestion of a lordly ill-humor, which -enabled one to realize how grievous it was to be alone with him and -privileged to note the workings of his disaffected and censorious -moods. He strolled casually off, and began to talk at some little -distance to one of the several passengers about the price of cotton and -the disposition of the planters to hold it back from the market for a -rise. - -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney and Mr. Ducie were left seated near each other amidst -a cluster of vacant chairs. With that peculiar clarity of the twilight -air when there is no mist every detail of this limited world was visible -with special distinctness, as if there were no insufficiency of light, -but one looked through amber glasses;--the slate-tinted lowering sky, -the ceaseless silent flow of the vast murky river, the high bank so far -above the water at this low stage that the grassy levee, an elevation of -prominent emphasis in so level a country, was far withdrawn and -invisible from this point of view. There was on the bank a swamper’s hut -perched on tall grotesque supports to escape inundation in the rise of -the river, which gave some idea of the height of the flood-level in -times of high water. The red glow from the open door of the cabin pulsed -like the fluctuating fires of an opal, and thus intimated that a mist -was insidiously beginning to rise. There was no other token of life in -the riparian borders,--no token on the broad spread of the river, save -that a tiny craft, a dugout, was slowly making its way across the -tortured currents,--seemingly an insignificant object, for who could -imagine it was freighted with grim Fate? The moment was of peculiarly -lonely intimations and she spoke abruptly. - -“By your leave I shall make the conversation even more personal.” Then, -with an intent gaze, “Where is your brother?--and what is he doing?” - -Adrian Ducie flushed deeply, looking both affronted and indignant. Then -he replied in his wonted vein: “You do not know but that I am my -brother,--you could not distinguish one of us from the other to save -your life.” - -“Oh, yes, the difference is obvious to me,” she exclaimed in agitated -tones. “Besides, Randal would have spoken,--he would have greeted me. -When you evidently did not recognize me I was sure that you were the one -I had never seen.” - -“Doubtless, Randal would have rejoiced to offer you the compliments of -the season.” He could not altogether maintain his self-control and his -voice had a tense note of satire. - -She cast upon him a quick upbraiding glance. Then, as if with an -afterthought: “I am aware that you must resent my course toward Randal.” - -“Oh, no,--not at all,--though it would scarcely be courteous to say that -I congratulate him upon your inconstancy. But when a lady plays a man -out within a fortnight of their anticipated marriage with no reason or -provocation, his relatives can hardly be expected to lament his escape. -Pardon my blunt phrase for its sincerity, since I am no artist in words, -and this discussion has taken me by surprise.” - -She flushed hotly, feeling arraigned for having introduced the -inappropriate subject. Yet she persisted: “Oh, you do not understand,” -she said in increasing agitation. “You haven’t the temperament, I can -see, to make subtle deductions.” - -“Well, if Randal has such a temperament as you seem disposed to credit -him with,--or to discredit him with, if I may appraise the endowment,--I -am happy to say, in reply to your kind inquiries, that his subtlety has -not affected his health or spirits. He is in fine fettle and as happy as -he deserves to be. As to the rest, he is much absorbed in business,--in -fact, he is in a fair way to make a fortune. He is of a speculative turn -and has always been peculiarly lucky. Randal is something of a gambler.” - -“No, never,” she interrupted hastily, “Randal was never a gambler.” - -He revolted at her tone of defense and arrogations of superior -knowledge. He could not restrain a smile of sarcastic rebuke as he -retorted: “Oh, of course I meant only in a commercial way. He is bold -and takes chances that would deter many men. He has great initiative.” - -“We have been abroad so long that I had lost sight of him altogether,” -she said in embarrassment. - -The subject was infinitely distasteful to him but its sensitive -avoidance would seem a disparagement of his slighted brother. His -fraternal affection nerved him to complete the response she had -elicited. - -“Randal has made a ‘ten strike’ several times, and has a long lease of -some fine land that this year has produced a stunning crop of cotton. He -has had a rare chance, too, to buy a standing crop, and, of course, he -took it in. The planter had shot a man,--very unpopular affair,--and had -to quit the country.” - -Even as he spoke he realized how meager were these scanty graces of -opportunity in comparison with Floyd-Rosney’s magnificent fortune, but -he would not seem to recognize the fact. He would not minimize his -brother’s lot in life as too small for her consideration, since, with an -avid curiosity and interest, she had sought information. - -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was silent for a moment. She had achieved a startling -and florid success in her brilliant marriage, a girl of very limited -means. But this temperate, conventional atmosphere, the opportunities of -people of moderate resources and high lineage, was her native element, -and somehow it exerted a recurrent fascination upon her at the moment, -it had the charm of old associations forever relinquished. The joy of -effort, of laborious acquisition, the splendor of superior capacity, of -trying conclusions with Fate could never be hers to share, but she felt -it was fine to ride at Fortune with lance in rest as in the jousts of -some great tourney. She listened wistfully to the simple annals of -agricultural ventures so familiar to her early experience, with the -sentiment of gazing through barred gates,--she, to whom all the world -was open. - -“I am glad to know that Randal is well and happy,” she said at length. -“You may think it strange that I should introduce this topic with -you,--and you not even an acquaintance.” - -She paused to give him space for a disclaimer, but he was rancorous on -this theme,--he would not make it easy for her. “No, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” -he said gravely, “nothing that you could do would seem strange to me.” - -She was accustomed to deference, apart from the sullen tyranny of her -husband, and this experience of conjugal life was only within the last -five years. She scarcely knew how to dispense with the phrase, the -smile, the bow, which, however little genuine, respectfully annotated -and acquiesced in her discourse. Adrian Ducie’s blunt rebuke,--it did -not affect her as discourtesy, for it was too sincere--his obvious -hatred of her, not only of her course, his absolute lack of confidence -or approval, the impossibility of winning him even to a modicum of -neutrality baffled her. She was losing her composure,--the threads of -her intention. Her eyes, looking at him wistfully, large and lustrous, -despite the closing dusk, pleaded with him for help. When the sound of -the dynamo began to pulse on the stillness, the electric lights flared -out on the deck as well as in the saloon, and showed that those eyes -were full of tears. He met their glance calmly with unconcern. He had -not caused her grief. This evident attitude of mind flung her back on -her pride, her own individuality. In the supreme crisis of her life she -was arguing within herself, she had exerted her feminine prerogative of -choice, and this in the manner that best suited her. He should not sit -in judgment thus on the justice of her decisions, on her line of -conduct, and she wondered at her meekness that had permitted him to take -this position, that had made his standpoint possible. She sought to -rally her self-control, and then she said, in her clear-cut enunciation: - -“Thank you very much,--the idea occurred to me when I saw you this -afternoon that I had here an opportunity which I have long sought.” - -She glanced about among the shadows, bulkier, blacker, because of the -keenness of the electric glare, as if she feared observation or -interruption. The piano in the saloon was beginning to strum “Oh, rosy -dreams!” with a disregard of accidentals calculated to give the -nightmare to the fellow-passengers of the performer. The perfume of -cigars floated down from the hurricane deck--Ducie’s was dead in his -hand. A dreary cow on the lower deck seemed to have just discovered that -she was in process of shipment and was mournfully lowing for her calf a -hundred miles or more up-stream. Deep guttural voices of roustabouts -rose in jocose altercation for a moment from the depths of the boiler -deck, and then all was silent again. - -“I have long sought an opportunity to restore to Randal one of his -gifts, overlooked at the time that I returned the others. I found it -afterward, and was embarrassed,--shocked, in fact----” she paused -abruptly. - -“There was the registered mail, or the express, I suppose,” he suggested -coolly. - -“I wanted to explain.” She felt her face flame. “It was of intrinsic -value other than sentimental.” - -“----which was great,” he interpolated. - -“And,” she sturdily held to her purpose, “I did not wish him to -misinterpret my motive in keeping it.” - -“You could not write to him?” - -“Oh, no, I could not write to him.” - -“I can easily understand that,” he fleered, full of vicarious rancor. - -“It is a bauble in the shape of a key--it is set with a large diamond -and a circle of rubies. It was understood between us as the key of his -heart,” she could but falter at the revelation of the forlorn little -sentimentalities, shallow of root and wilted in the sun of a sudden -blaze of prosperity. “And I kept it,” she quavered. - -“Randal would never think of the diamond and rubies,” he said, reaching, -indeed, the limit. “You have too many jewels, doubtless, for your -motive to be misconstrued.” - -There was a moment of dead silence. “He could never have said that,” she -replied, in a voice that trembled with anger. “He is not in the least -like you. I hate you for looking like him.” - -“Thank you for dispensing with ceremony and telling me this on so short -an acquaintance. It is more than evident that you like neither of us -over-much. May I ask what are the commands you design to lay upon me, -for if you have no more to say I should be glad to withdraw, with your -kind permission.” - -“Only this,--that you will take this valuable which I chance to have -with me and give it to him,--explaining that there was no sentimental -motive in my retention of it, only the accident of overlooking it at a -moment of great commotion.” - -He remembered that this event was the famous nuptials that filled the -countryside with _éclat_, and the metropolitan newspapers with the names -of the guests of distinction and the description of their jewels and -gowns. To him, to whom the journals had been sent in France, and to his -brother, this tawdry phase of display cheapened the marriage and lowered -it, and that it was the splendid superstructure on the ruins of the -heart of the jilted lover did not serve to further commend it. - -“I wonder that you remembered to return any of the little trinkets,” he -remarked. “But, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, you must forgive me for declining to -repair your negligence. I really cannot undertake your commission. The -relations between my brother and me are peculiarly tender. All my life I -can remember almost in every scene that other self, from the time when -we were little toddlers in our red coats and toboggan caps.” - -He paused, for he saw, at the moment, almost with the distinctness of -actuality, the swift little image of himself and its replica in -childhood days, scuttling about among the vacant chairs of the deserted -deck, snow-balling each other in juvenile joviality in some forgotten -winter. He caught himself and went on. “My brother is dear to me and I -to him, and I will not allow the shadow you cast to come between us.” - -“And you will do nothing in the matter?” Her voice was keen with its -plaint of surprise and disappointment. - -“Oh, you will easily find another emissary,” he said, rising and -standing with one hand on the back of his chair. “Permit me to suggest -that you give the thing to Miss Dean. She, evidently, is very well -acquainted with Randal. Tell her that it is the key to his heart, and, -perhaps, she may unlock it.” - -And with that he lifted his hat and left her. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -In all riparian estimation the grotesque plight of a craft stranded is -more or less a catastrophe. Even in this sequestered nook spectators -were not slow to mark, at a distance, the grounding of the _Cherokee -Rose_ in the afternoon and to discuss the magnitude and the management -of the mishap. - -The earliest of these were two men summoned from the swamper’s shack -situated in the “no man’s land,” thrown out between the levee and the -high precipitous bank of the river. It was mounted on four pillars some -twelve feet in height, and was entered by means of a ladder placed at -the door. These supports not long before had been stanch cotton-wood -trees, and their roots still held fast in the ground despite its -frequent submergence. Having been sawn off at a height that lifted the -little domicile to a level with the crest of the levee beyond, they -served so far to render the hearth-stone safe from the dangers of flood. -If the river should rise above this limit, why then was the deluge, -indeed, and the swamper’s hut must needs share with the more opulent and -protected holdings the common disaster of the overflow. - -The two men were standing on the brink of the high bank, using -alternately a binocle of elaborate finish and great power. The swamper, -however, presently relinquished the glass altogether to his companion, -who was evidently a stranger and of a much higher condition in life. He -seemed to develop an inexplicable agitation as he continued to gaze -through the lenses across the tawny expanse of the river at the big, -white bulk of the steamer stranded on the bar, and the groups of -passengers on the decks, easily differentiated as they loitered to and -fro. His breath was coming in quick gasps,--he was suddenly a-quiver in -every fiber. All at once he broke forth as if involuntarily: “Colonel -Kenwynton, by God!” - -There was a sort of frenzy of recognition in the tense bated tones, yet -incredulity too, as one might doubt the reality of a vision, though -incontestably perceived. The swamper watched in silence, patient, -curious, sinister, this manifestation of emotion. It seemed to surprise -him when the stranger spoke to him with a certain unthinking openness. - -“Did you notice,--could you distinguish--a gentleman there on the -hurricane deck walking to and fro,--his hair is white,--oh, how -strange!--his hair is white!” - -He asked the question in an eager, excited way, his dark, distended eyes -wildly agaze. - -“Yes, sir,--oh, yes, sir,--I seen him plain,” the swamper replied -casually, but he did not relax the keenness of his inquisitive -observation of the stranger beside him, nor even again glance at the -boat. - -“Did you ever before see him?” The question was less a gasp than a -convulsive snap,--it was articulated in such a paroxysm of excitement. - -“Yes, sir,--oh, yes, sir.” - -“Do you know his name?” - -“Yes, sir,--oh, yes, sir.” - -The swamper’s replies were as mechanical as the ticking of a clock. - -The stranger turned, lowered the binocle and glanced at him with an odd -blending of animosity and contempt. The swamper was of an aspect queerly -disheveled, water-soaked and damaged, collapsed almost out of all -semblance of humanity. He suggested some distorted bit of unclassified -and worthless flotsam of the great river, washed ashore in one of its -stupendous floods and left high and dry with other foul detritus when -the annual shrinkage regained once more low water mark. He was an -elderly man with a pallid, pasty face, large, pouch-like cheeks and a -sharp rodential nose. His small, bright eyes were so furtive of -expression that they added to his rat-like intimations and he had a long -bedraggled grizzled beard. He wore trousers of muddy corduroy, and a -ragged old gray sweater. His sodden, diluvian, pulpy aspect would -justify the illusion that he had been drowned a time or two, -resuscitated and dried out, each immersion leaving traces in slime, and -ooze, and water-stains on his garments and character. He must have -seemed incongruous, indeed, with the acquaintance he claimed, for it was -a most commanding and memorable figure focused by the lenses. - -“Who is he, then,--what is his name?” the stranger asked with sudden -heat, as if he fancied some deception was practiced upon him, and -evidently all unaware that he had himself, in the surprise of the first -glimpse, pronounced aloud the name he sought. His interlocutor discerned -his incredulity and replied with a flout. - -“Who? him?--that old blow-hard? Why ever’ body all up an’ down the ruver -knows old Cunnel Kenwynton.” - -“God!” exclaimed the wild-eyed stranger, with a most poignant -intonation, “to doubt my own sight,--my own memory,--my”--he became -suddenly conscious of that sinister scrutiny, so much more -discriminating and intelligent than accorded with the status of the -water-rat that it had an inimical suggestion. He broke off with an -abrupt air of explanation. “I have been under treatment for--for--an -ocular difficulty, my eyes, you know.” - -“Edzac’ly,” exclaimed the swamper, with a tone of bland acceptance of -the statement. “Well, now, Mister, I thought your eyes appeared queer.” - -“Do they?” asked the stranger with an inexplicable eagerness. “Have they -an odd expression,--to your mind?” - -“Why, I dunno ez I would have tooken notice of it, but my darter-in-law, -Jessy Jane, remarked it las’ night. She is mighty keen, though, Jessy -Jane is,--an’ spies out mos’ ever’ think.” - -The stranger was a conventional, reputable looking person, not -remarkable in any respect save for that recurrent optical dilatation. He -was neatly dressed in one of the smart hand-me-down suits to be had -anywhere in these times and he wore a dark derby hat. He was himself an -elderly man, although he had a certain fresh pallor that bespeaks an -indoor life and that gave him an unworn aspect of youth. His -clean-shaven face was notably delicate, but the years were registered in -the fine script of wrinkles about the eyes and were obvious to the -careful observer. He had dark, straight, thin hair, and keen features, -and there was an intent look in his wild, dark eyes. He cast over his -shoulder so lowering a glance at the daughter-in-law under discussion, a -young woman who was sitting in the door of the cabin, that even at the -distance she marked the expression of disfavor, of suspicion, of -resentment that informed it. She could not divine the nature of their -communication but, justifying old Josh Berridge’s account of her powers -of discernment, she knew, in some subtle way, that she was its subject. -She tossed her head with a flirt of indifference and spat out on the -ground below her contempt for the stranger’s displeasure. - -Her red calico dress and her tousled mass of copper red hair made a bit -of flare amidst the dull hues of the somber scene. As she sat on the -elevated threshold at the summit of the ladder that led to the door she -was dandling a muscular though small infant in her arms, who with his -blond, downy head almost inverted twisted here and there with motions so -sudden and agile that he might have been expected presently to twist -quite out of the negligent maternal clasp and fall to the earth below. -But, suddenly, she rose and, tossing the child to her shoulder, went -within the house. - -So definite was the impression of something abnormal about the stranger -that she experienced a sentiment of relief when the swamper came in to -his supper alone. “Jessy Jane,” he said, pausing in the doorway and -jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the subject of his -discourse, “that man is as queer a fish as ever war cotched. Says he is -waitin’ fur a boat an’ has hired my old dugout an’ is paddling out to -that air steamboat whut’s aground on the sand-bar.” - -She gazed dully at him, a big spoon in her hand with which she had been -lifting a mass of cat-fish from a skillet on a red-hot monkey-stove. -“Nuthin’ queer in that as I kin see,--Hesh up!” she broke off in jocose -objurgation of the baby who was beaming upon the supper table from where -he was tied in one of the bunks and who lifted his voice vociferously, -apparently in pæans of praise of the great smoking cat-fish spread at -length on a dish. “You ain’t goin’ ter have none,--fish-bone git cotched -in yer gullet, an’ whar-r would Tadpole-Wheezie be then.” Resuming the -conversation in her former serious tone, “What’s queer in waitin’ fur a -boat? Plenty folks have waited fur boats, an’ cotch ’em an’ rid on ’em -too.” - -“But this feller is goin’ ter cotch a boat what can’t go nowhar. He is -right now paddlin’ fur dear life out to the _Cher’kee Rose_, old -stick-in-the-mud, out thar on the sand-bar.” - -Josh Berridge flung himself down in a chair at the half prepared table, -and awaited there in place the completion of the “dishing up” of supper. - -She stood eyeing him doubtfully, the big spoon still in her hand. “I -wonder all them passengers don’t come ashore, an’ track off through the -woods, like he spoke of doin’ las’ night an’ flag the train.” - -“Gosh, Jessy Jane,--it’s a durned sight too fur. Ten mile, at least, ez -the crow flies, an’ thar ain’t no road nor nuthin’.” - -He said no more for his mouth was full, and the attention of the woman -was diverted by the entrance of her husband, with the declaration that -he was as hungry as a bear. He was of a bulky presence, seeming to -crowd the restricted little apartment, which was more like the cabin of -a shanty-boat than a room in a stationary dwelling. It was of a hazy -aspect, low-ceiled and soot-blackened, as shown by a lamp swinging from -the central beam, smoking portentously from an untrimmed protrusion of -charring wick. Two tiers of bunks were arranged nautically on either -side, and the windows still above were small oblong apertures, -suggestive of cabin lights or transoms; perhaps this had been their -earlier use, for several articles about the place betokened an origin -inapposite to the culture and condition of its occupants. A fine -barometer in a shining mahogany case graced the wall near a door leading -to an inner apartment. The handsome binocular glass lay on a shelf so -rough that the undressed wood offered an opportunity for splinters to -every unwary touch. Each of the pillow-cases bore a rude patch where the -name of a steamboat had been cut out, and the dirty cloth on the table -was of linen damask suited to the requirements of the somewhat exacting -traveling public. Even the bowl into which the woman was heaping a -greasy mass of potatoes and pork from the pot was of the decorated china -affected by the packet usage, and a compote filled with doughy fat -biscuits bore the title of a steamer that went to the bottom one windy -night some years ago. - -Now and again the ladder without would creak beneath the weight of a -sudden footfall when the woman would desist from her occupation, the big -spoon brandished in her hand, and her red hair flying fibrous in the hot -breath of the stove, to mark in eager excitement the entrance of first -one and then another figure that seemed evolved from the falling night, -cogeners of the gloom and the solitude, normal to the place and the -hour. - -“Ye’re sharp on time,--how did ye know the _Cher’kee Rose_ had struck?” -she cried, as a pallid, wiry, small man with close cropped sandy hair, -wearing jockey boots and riding breeches, with a stable cap on one side -of his head, climbed into view up the ladder without. - -He vouchsafed her a wink of his lashless, red-lidded left eye, in full -of all accounts of greeting and reply. He stood flicking his boots with -a crop and wagged his sandy head knowingly at the group of men about the -stove. - -“I was at Cameron Landing, the last p’int she teched. I went aboard an’ -seen her passenger list. She’s got some swell guys aboard.” - -“Pity, then, she didn’t go down when she struck,” said a lowering, -square-faced man, of a half sailor aspect, the master of a shanty-boat -lying snugly under the willows in a bayou hard by. “The water on this -side the bar is full twenty fathom, even at dead low water.” - -“Bless my stirrups, that’s one hundred an’ twenty feet!” cried “Colty” -Connover, palpably dismayed by the loss of the opportunities of the -accident. - -“The wind is fixin’ ter blow,” said Daniel Berridge from the table, with -his mouth full, but glancing up through the open door at the darkening -skies. “Mought h’ist the old tub off the tow-head after all’s come an’ -gone.” - -“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” said Connover, wagging his head -expressively,--“there’d be rich pickings for true in those passengers’ -baggage.” He smacked his lips wistfully. - -For this was a coterie of riverside harpies brought together by the -rumor of the disaster in the hope of the opportunity of spoils. They had -long infested the riparian region, not only baffling the law and justice -but even evading suspicion. Their operations were cleverly diversified, -restricted to no special locality. By the aid of the swift and -inconspicuous dug-out an emissary could drop down the river twenty miles -and abstract a bale of cotton, from a way-landing, awaiting shipment, or -roll off a couple of boxes or a barrel, under cover of the water, till -such time as the shanty-boater should find it practicable to fish them -thence some dark midnight,--while the suits for their non-delivery -dragged on in the courts between the shipper and the consignee. A bunch -of yearlings driven off from the herds that were wont to be grazed in -the “open swamp” throughout seasons of drought when these dense -low-lying woodlands are clear of water, would seem the enterprise of -professed cattle thieves, and suspicion pointed to rogues of bucolic -affiliations, but the beef had been slaughtered and salted and shipped -down the Mississippi by the small craft of the tramp or pirate -proclivities and sold in distant markets before the depletion in the -numbers of the herd was discovered by the owner. - -The cunning and capacity that devised these exploits tolerated no policy -of repetition. Never did the gang fit their feet into their old tracks. -Thus the thwarted authorities failed of even a clew to forward -conviction and certain tempting baits dangled unnoticed and ineffective, -while the miscreants for a season went their ways with circumspection -and kept well within the law. Only once did they attempt the exploit of -a railroad hold-up, and so entirely did it succeed that at the mere -recollection the small, light gray eyes of the shanty-boater narrowed to -a mere slit as he gazed speculatively from his chair across the room and -through the open door at the great dim bulk of the stranded steamboat, -lying there on the bar in the midst of the weltering surges of deep, -swift water on every side. There was no smoke from her chimneys, no stir -now on her decks, but a series of shining yellow points had just begun -to gleam from her cabin lights, and a circlet of shifting topaz -reflections gemmed the turgid waters. Purple and gray were the clouds; -the sky was starless and blank; the great bare terraces of the bank on -either side were like a desert in extent, uninhabited, unfrequented. -Anything more expressive of helplessness than the steamer aground it -were difficult to conceive,--bereft of all power of locomotion, of -volition, of communication. - -“Now, just how many of those ‘swell guys’ are on that boat?” a deep bass -voice queried. - -The speaker was of more reputable aspect than any of the others. He was -the only man in the room with a clean-shaven jaw and wearing a coat; the -abnormal size of his right arm, visible under the sleeve, indicated the -vocation of a blacksmith. He had a round bullet head that implied a sort -of brute force, and his black hair was short and close-clipped. In view -of his mental supremacy and his worldly superiority as a respectable -mechanic the authority he arrogated was little questioned, and, as he -flung himself back in his chair, tilted on the hind legs and fixed his -sharp black eyes on the half tipsy jockey, Connover sought to justify -his statement by adducing proofs. - -“Why,” still flicking his boots and thrusting his stable-cap far back on -his sparse sandy hair, “there is Edward Floyd-Rosney and family, and he -is a millionaire. You are obliged to know that.” - -Jasper Binnhart nodded his head in acceptance of the statement. - -“And, Lord, what a string he had before he sold out when he went abroad. -He owned ‘County Guy,’ the third son of imported Paladin, dam Fortuna, -blood bay, stands sixteen hands high, such action.” He smote his meager -thigh in the abandonment of enthusiasm. “I saw him in Louisville at the -training stables--such form!” - -“And who else?” demanded Binnhart. - -“Why, a beautiful roan filly--three years old--Floyd-Rosney gave only -three thousand dollars for her, but speedy! And he owned----” - -“Who else is on that boat?” reiterated Binnhart raucously. “I don’t want -to hear ’bout no horses, without I’m on my shoeing stool,” he added with -a sneer. - -“Oh, yes, I know, of course.” The jockey felt the bit himself and -adapted his pace to the pressure of control. It seems strange to -contemplate, but even such a nature as his has its æsthetic element, its -aspirations and enthusiasms, its dreams and vicissitudes of hope. All -these just now had a string on them, as he would have phrased it, and -were dragging in the dust. He had ridden with credit in several events -elsewhere, but he was the victim of intemperance and his weak moral -endowment offered special material for the fashioning of a cat’s paw. -It was said and believed that he had “pulled” more than one horse in a -race, and although this was not indisputable, the suspicion barred him -from the employ of cautious turfmen. In connection with his frequent -intoxication, it had brought him down at last to work as a groom for his -daily bread, and what was to him more essential, his daily dram, in a -livery stable in the little inland town of Caxton, some ten or twelve -miles distant, for there was scant opportunity in view of the stringent -laws against gambling to ply his vocation as a jockey in Mississippi. - -“Oh, you are talkin’ about the passenger list. The _Cherokee Rose_ has -sure got swells aboard. There are Mrs. Dean and Miss Hildegarde Dean. -You must have read a deal about _her_ in the society columns of the -newspapers. She won hands down in Orleans las’ winter. Reg’lar favorite, -an’ distanced the field.” - -“I ain’t talkin’ about the wimmen,” said the smith. - -“Well, mebbe old Horace Dean ain’t as rich as some, but they are dressed -as winners, sure. I seen ’em in a box at the horse-show--I was there -with Stanley’s stable--an’ the di’monds Mrs. Dean had on mos’ put out my -eyes.” - -“She don’t wear di’monds on a steamboat, I reckon,” put in Mrs. -Berridge. “Them I have seen on deck ginerally don’t look no better -’n--’n--me.” - -“But you are a good-looker, ennyways, Mrs. Berridge,” said the jockey, -and he paid her the tribute of another facetious wink. - -“But the woman would carry her di’monds in her trunk or hand-bag,” -suggested the shanty-boater. - -“Horace Dean ain’t aboard, eh? Let us have the men’s names,” said the -smith. He was turning the matter over exactly as if he had it in some -raw material on the anvil before him, striking it here and there, -testing its malleability, shaping it to utility. - -“Oh, well, there’s one of the Ducies, the fellow that has been abroad so -long--registers from Lyons, France. Adrian Ducie.” - -The younger Berridge turned half around from the table, chewing hard to -clear his mouth before he spoke impressively: “One of the Ducies? Now -you are coming to the Sure-enoughs! They used to own Duciehurst. They -did for a fack. Finest place in Mississippi; in the world, I reckon.” - -“But, used to be ain’t now, by a long shot,” said Jorrocks, the -shanty-boater, sustaining the intention of the investigation. “No Ducie -nowadays would be worth a hold-up.” - -“This is a young man?” Binnhart queried. - -“Rising thirty, I reckon,” replied the jockey. - -“You dunno--you ain’t seen his teeth,” said Mrs. Berridge. “That’s the -way you jockeys jedge of age.” She could be facetious, too. - -“Then there’s old Colonel Kenwynton?” said Connover. - -“He has got a deal of fight left in him yet,” observed Binnhart, -reflectively. “He would put up a nervy tussle.” - -“Yes, sir,” corroborated the shanty-boater, with emphasis. “The devil -himself will have a tough job when he undertakes to tow old Jack -Kenwynton in.” - -“There are several other men, names I don’t know--dark horses,” said -the jockey seriously, seeing at last the trend of the discussion. - -Binnhart was slowly, thoughtfully, shaking his head. “A good many men, I -misdoubts. Then there are the captain and the clerks and the mate, but -they would all be took by surprise, an’ mos’ likely without arms.” - -“An’ then there’s another man, besides,” suggested the elder Berridge. A -certain wrinkled anxiety had corrugated the bedraggled limpness of his -countenance and he was obviously relieved by the effect of the -computation of the odds. - -“Oh, yes,” cried Mrs. Berridge, “that comical galoot what bided here -las’ night, an’ this evenin’ hired our dugout an’ paddled out to the -steamboat. He ain’t back yit.” She paused at the door and peered into -the gathering gloom. - -“Jessy Jane,” cried her husband with an accession of interest, “tell ’em -all what you heard him say las’ night. Every other word was -‘Duciehurst.’” - -The younger Berridge was a stalwart fellow, in attire and features -resembling his father, save that his straw-tinted beard and shock of -hair were not yet bleached by the river-damp and the damage of time to -the dull drab hue of the elder’s locks. The woman had evidently intended -to reserve such values as she had discovered for the benefit of her own, -her husband and his father. But Dan Berridge, all improvident and -undiscerning, was gobbling a second great supply of the cat-fish, and -did not even note the expanding interest that began to illumine -Binnhart’s sharp eyes as they followed her around the table while she -again set on the platter. She sought to gain time and perchance to -effect a diversion by inviting him to partake of the meal, but he -replied that he had eaten his supper already, “and a better one,” he -added as he cast a disparaging glance at the cloth. The rude jeer would -have served to balk his curiosity, one might have thought,--that in -resentment she would have withheld the disclosure he coveted. But the -jeer tamed her. She realized and contemned their poverty, and despised -themselves because they were so poor. The dignity of labor, the -blessedness of content, the joy of health and strength, the relative -values of the gifts of life, the law of compensation, no homilies had -ever been preached here on these texts. She could not controvert nor -contend. It was indeed a coarse, cheap meal brought to the door by the -river, a poverty-cursed home on its fantastic stilts, where they might -live only so long as the waters willed, and she was all at once ashamed -of it, and of her own compact of rude comfort and quiescence with it. -She had a certain spirit, however, and when the other visitors chuckled -their enjoyment of her discomfiture she included them in the invitation -after this wise, “Mebbe you-all ain’t too proud to take a snack with -us.” The shanty-boater, who permitted nothing good to pass him, -compromised on a slice of pork, eaten sandwich-wise, in a split pone of -corn-bread held in his hands as he crouched over the monkey-stove at the -other end of the room. Nevertheless, she was submissive and in some sort -constrained to respond when Binnhart said with a suave intonation: “Yes, -ma’am, we would like to hear from you about that talk of Duciehurst.” - -“I dunno what you mean,” she said, still with an effort to fence: “oh, -yes, the man jus’ talks in his sleep, that’s all.” - -“He’s got secrets,” said her husband, over his shoulder to Binnhart. He -paused suddenly with an appalled countenance to extract from his mouth a -great spiny section of fishbone, which seemed to have caught on the -words. “Tell on, Jesse Jane. I can’t. I’m eatin’.” - -It was obviously useless to resist. “Why,” she said, “when the baby had -the croup las’ night an’ kep’ me up an’ awake--don’t you dare to look at -me an’ laugh, you buzzard!” she broke off to speak to the infant, who -was bouncing and crowing jovially at the end of his tether where he was -tied in the bunk, “he knows I’m talkin’ about him. Why, what was I -saying? Oh, I was in the back room there, an’ the man was sleepin’ in -here. An’ he talked, an’ talked in his sleep, loud fur true every wunst -in a while. I wonder he didn’t wake up everybody in the house.” - -“What did he say?” asked Binnhart with a look of sharp curiosity. - -“I didn’t take time to listen much,” replied the woman, fencing anew. -“Old ‘Possum thar,” nodding at the baby, “looked like he’d choke every -other minute. He’ll smell of turkentine fur a month of Sundays. I fairly -soaked his gullet with that an’ coal-oil.” - -“A body kin make money out of other folks’ secrets ef they air the right -kind of secrets.” Binnhart threw out the suggestion placidly. - -The woman hesitated. She noted her father-in-law behind the stove, -almost collapsing over his pipe, so inert he might scarcely make shift -to fill it; her husband, his younger image, was still at the table, -lazily chasing the last morsel of fish about his greasy plate with a bit -of cornbread. Little might they hope to metamorphose the babble of a -dreamer into discoveries of value. Jasper Binnhart, on the contrary, was -a man of force, of action, the leader, the prime mover, in every scheme -that had brought to them some measure of success and gain, and then, -too, would she not be present, to aid, to hear, invested with the -mystery and controlling its preservation. - -She took on the air of retrospective pondering as she sank down in a -chair on one side of the table, putting her bare elbows on the cloth and -supporting her chin in her hands. “Lemme see,” she said, “ef I kin call -any of his gabble to mind.” She glanced up to find Binnhart’s eyes, -contracted to mere points of light, fixed upon her, and once more she -bent her gaze on the pattern of the damask. - -“’Twar mos’ly ’bout Duciehurst, all night, all night. Duciehurst was the -word.” - -“That sounds like something doing,” Binnhart remarked. “All my life I -have heard of hidden money at Duciehurst.” - -Jessy Jane ceased to pose. She lifted her head suddenly with the -contempt of the uninformed, her lips thickening with a sneer. “Now, what -fool would put money in that old ruined shell, instead of a bank?” - -“Why, lots of folks, during the war,” explained Binnhart. “The banks -were not open then, and people hid their vallybles wherever they could. -After the peace some things, here and there, were never found again.” - -“Why, shucks, Mrs. Berridge, the name of Duciehurst is famous for hidden -treasure, has been ever since I could remember,” the shanter-boater -said. “You see, Major Ducie and two of his sons were killed in the war, -an’ only one was left, this passenger’s father.” He jerked his thumb -toward the bar, where the boat lay so still in the night, amidst its -element of surging waters. “This son, being so young at the time, just a -child, didn’t know anything about where they had stowed the family -silver and jewels, and a power of gold money, they say.” - -“The family gave up the search more than forty years ago, and the place -was sold to satisfy a mortgage,” Binnhart commented. - -“But the river folks take up the search every wunst in a while, an’ go -thar and dig around the walls,” said the younger Berridge. - -“Sure!” exclaimed the shanty-boater. “I have been thar myself with a -git-rich-quick gang.” He leered humorously at the party from behind the -stove-pipe. Presently he continued reminiscently:-- - -“Then pirates tore all the hearths up, mighty nigh, that night. They had -a stonemason along, with crowbars and chisels, an’ such like tools. He -was a tombstone worker, an’ I reckon his biz queered the job, for we -found nothing at all.” - -“’Tain’t in a hearthstone,” said the woman, suddenly. “Is there anything -about a house named pillow? He kep’ a-talkin’ about a pillow--I thought -he meant the one he had his head on.” - -Jasper Binnhart started as with a galvanic shock. He suddenly let down -the forelegs of his chair and sat stiff and upright. - -“Pillar?” he said, in a curiously muffled tone. “Has this mansion of -Duciehurst got anything like a porch with posts? I have never seen the -river-front of the house.” - -“Posts!” exclaimed the younger Berridge. “The porch has got posts the -size of a big gum tree, a round dozen, too, an’ mighty nigh as high as a -gum tree.” He fell to steadily picking his teeth with a fish-bone, and -idly riding his chair to and fro. - -“What did he say about ‘pillars,’ Mrs. Berridge?” asked the blacksmith, -eagerly. - -“He talked about a base, an’ a pilaster, an’ columns, an’ a capital.” - -“That’s Jackson, capital o’ Miss’ippi, seat of government, second to -none in the Union,” explained her husband. - -“Sometimes he would call ‘Archie, Archie.’” - -“Lieutenant Archibald Ducie as sure as you are born,” said the -shanty-boater, solemnly. “He died in Vicksburg, an’ he war the one -rumored to have had charge of hidin’ the money.” - -“This man never said nothin’ ’bout no money. Jes’ kept on ’bout -docyments, an’ a chist,” persisted Mrs. Berridge, incredulously. - -“Money mought have been in the chist,” remarked her husband. - -“He war specially concerned ’bout a ‘pilaster’--he went back to that -ag’in an’ ag’in. He’d whisper, sly an’ secret, ‘in the pilaster.’ What -is a pilaster?” - -There was no information forthcoming, and she presently resumed, with a -drawling voice and a dispirited drooping head. “He seemed to say the -docyments was there, though I thought he meant something about a pillow. -I wish I had paid mo’ attention, though I had never heard ’bout a pot o’ -money bein’ hid at Duciehurst. I wish I could git the chance to hear -him talk agin in his sleep.” - -“But will he come back?” asked Binnhart, eagerly. - -“Sure. He said so when he hired the dugout,” said the old water-rat; -“but I made him pay fust, as much as it is wuth--two dollars. He’s got -plenty rocks in his pocket.” - -“Well, I should think he’d stay the night with the steamboat, a man of -his sort,” Binnhart said. He cast a glance of gruff distaste about the -squalid and malodorous place, reeking with the greasy smell of fish, and -the sullen lamp. He thought of the contrast with the carpeted saloon, -the glittering chandeliers, the fine pure air, the propinquity of people -of high tone and good social station. Strange! Indeed, it would seem -that no man in his senses would resort instead to this den of thieves -and cut-throats. - -“He’ll come back fast enough,” protested the elder Berridge. “There’s -something queer about that man, though he made no secret o’ his name, -Captain Hugh Treherne.” - -“There’ll be something mighty queer about me if I don’t git a-holt of -some of them rocks in his pockets ye war tellin’ about,” declared the -shanty-boater. - -“What ailed him to take out for the steamer?” demanded Binnhart. - -“He seemed all struck of a heap when he seen old Cunnel Kenwynton -through the spy-glass. He claims he knows the old Cunnel,” replied the -water-rat. - -“And yet he is coming back here,” exclaimed Binnhart, incredulously. “I -wish I could have heard him talk.” - -He rose, still with that intent and baffled look, and went to the door -staring out into the gloomy night to descry, if he might, the course of -the little craft on the face of the waters and its progress; to canvass -the object of the man who wielded the paddle and the nature of the -business he could have with old Colonel Kenwynton; and to speculate in -futile desperation as to the knowledge he might possess of the storied -treasure of Duciehurst, and how this secret might be wrested from him. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -That night Colonel Kenwynton had a strange dream. He had come to the -time of life when he had no appreciable future. His possibilities were -limited to the renewal of his promissory notes secured on his mortgaged -lands and the stress to feed the monster debt with its accustomed -interest. Beyond these arid vicissitudes he never looked. The day -bounded his scope of view. His life lay in the past, and although the -present constrained his waking moments, all the furniture of his dreams -had garnished the years come and gone. It was not strange to him, -therefore, as he lay asleep in his berth, that he should hear in the -shaking of the glass-door of his stateroom that opened on the guards the -clanking of sabers. The sound was loud, assertive in the night. The wind -had risen. Along the convolutions of the “great bends” it swirled, with -a wide breathy resonance, the gusts seeming full of gasps. Now and then -the timbers of the boat creaked and groaned and the empty chimneys -towering into the gloom of the upper atmosphere sometimes piped forth -sonorous blasts. No longer the somber monotony held the sky. Clouds were -rolling in tumultuous surges from the south, and the wind fretted the -currents into leaping turbulence as it struck upon the waves, directly -against the course of the waters. Low along the horizon pale lightnings -flickered. The river became weirdly visible in these fluctuating -glimmers, and anon there was only the sense of a vast black abyss where -it flowed, and an overpowering realization of unseen motion--for it was -silent, this stupendous concourse of the waters of the great valley, -silent as the grave. In the fitful illuminations the lace-like summit of -the riparian forest would show momentarily against the clouds; the big, -inert structure of the boat, and long ghastly stretch of the arid -sand-bar, would be suddenly visible an instant, then as suddenly sunken -into darkness. - -And again and again the door of Colonel Kenwynton’s stateroom shook with -a clatter in its casing. - -He was not a light sleeper, which is usual to old age. His robust -physique was recruited by the sound slumber that might have accorded -with a score less years than had whitened his hair. The lightnings, -glimmering ever and anon through the glass door and into his placid, -aged, sleeping face--that ere long should sleep hardly more placidly and -to stir no more--did not rouse him. The violent vibrations of the glass -door would scarcely have impinged upon his consciousness save that the -sound suggested the clash of sabers. But all at once Colonel Kenwynton’s -whole being was translated into a day of the past--a momentous day. The -air blared with a trumpet’s imperious mandate; the clank of sabers -filled his ears, and in the lightning’s pale flare he saw, plainly -against the surging clouds of the southwest, the face of the man who had -ridden close to his bridle rein in a furious cavalry charge that broke -the serried ranks of a redoubtable square. - -“Regiment! Draw--_swords_! Trot!--_March!_ Gallop!--_March!_ -Charge!--_Charge!_” - -The stentorian, martial cry was filling the restricted spaces of the -little stateroom. Colonel Kenwynton, awakened by the sound of his own -voice, had pulled himself up on his elbow and was staring in amazement -at the dull, opaque black square of the glass door of his stateroom, -which might be only discerned because the apartment was partially -illumined through the transom of the opposite door, admitting the -tempered radiance of the lights burning all night in the saloon within. - -He was nettled as with a sense of ridicule. He had known an old -war-horse that after peace had been degraded to cheap domestic uses, but -was accustomed to prance in futile senility and in stately guise to the -sound of a child’s drum. He listened to discern if his wild martial cry -had reached other ears. No--the scoffers slept. Peace to their pillows. -He grimly wished them rest. He--he was an old man, an old man, and not -of much account any more, save at the reunions. Ah, it must have been -the associations of the reunion which resurrected that face--the face of -a man to whom he owed much, a man but for whom he would scarcely be here -now, laying his head down in undisturbed slumber. Once more the -similitude of the clank of sabers. With the thought of the possible -ridicule should he again, in his dreaming, audibly refer this noisy -tumult to the memory of his battles--fought anew here in the dim -midnight, he leaned forward to obviate the repetition of the sound and -the renewal of the hallucination. From his berth he easily reached the -door to the guards, flung it open, and lay down content in the -comparative quiet. The river air was dank, but this was on the lee side -of the boat, and though he could hear the wind rush by he could only -slightly feel its influx here. Still illusions thronged the night. The -chimneys piped in trumpet tones to his dreams. The doors of neighboring -staterooms clanked faintly; whole squadrons rode by, their sabers -unsheathed, and suddenly he became conscious of a presence close at hand -that he could not discern in his sleep. All at once he was stiff, -vigilant, expectant, fired by the pulses of a day long dead! - -“The parole, officer of the day,” he gasped, curiously waking, yet still -in the thrall of slumber. - -“Shoulder to shoulder,” came in a shivering whisper from the twilight of -the stateroom. - -Suddenly impressed with the reality of the experience the old man, -agitated, almost speechless, breathless, struggled up on his elbow. - -“Why, Captain,” he began, in a piping travesty of his wonted sonorous -greeting, “when did you come aboard?” - -“Colonel,” said the man standing by the bed, and even the twilight -glimmer of the room showed the wild light in his eyes, “you haven’t -forgotten the day when ‘Shoulder to Shoulder’ was the parole?” - -“Never--! Never!” Colonel Kenwynton clasped his hand on the visitor’s -hand. “But for you on that day I should have been these forty odd years -in hell.” - -“Then follow me. I have something to say. It must be in -private--something to disclose. You can trust me, Colonel--Shoulder to -Shoulder!” - -“Trust you? To the death--Shoulder to Shoulder!” Colonel Kenwynton -cried, in a fervor of enthusiasm. - -Nevertheless he was chilled while he hastily half dressed and emerged -into the dank obscurity of the guards. His hand trembled as he laid it -on the stair rail. “An old man,” his lips were involuntarily formulating -the words, as he followed his guide, who was descending to the lower -deck. “An old man,” and he drew his overcoat about him. - -Colonel Kenwynton was born to authority and had had the opportunities of -command. But his martial experience had taught him also to obey, and -when he had once accepted a mandate he did not hesitate nor even harbor -an independent thought. With his soft, broad felt hat drawn far over his -brows, down the stairs thumped his groping old feet, doggedly active. -The wind was surging amidst the low clouds which were flying before the -blast in illimitable phalanxes in some distraught panic of defeat. There -must have been a moon lurking beyond their rack and rout, for the weird -night landscape was strangely distinct, the forests that restricted the -horizon bowed, and bent, and rose again in definite undulations to the -successive gusts. One might hardly say how the surface of the far spread -of water was discerned, dark, vaguely lustrous, with abysmal -suggestions, though with never a glimmer, save where the dim lights of -the boat pierced the glooms with a dull ray, here and there, or lay -along ripples close at hand with a limited, shoaling glister. - -These shallows covered the line of the treacherous sand-bar that had -been secretly a-building all summer beneath the surface with the -deposits of silt and in the uncovenanted ways of the great water -course, till now the tow-head was possibly a peninsula in lieu of the -island it had once been, and the packets of the line would never again -find free passage as of yore between its stretches and the bank. -Accustomed eyes could see how far extended the stabilities of the -tow-head and thus differentiate the definite land formation from the -element of land transition, that was neither land nor water. Here the -wind made great sport, shrilling along the desolate arid spaces of the -pallid sand dunes defenseless against the blast. A wild night, and cold. - -The tread of his guide was silent--one might almost say secret. He came -to a shuddering galvanic pause as he suddenly encountered a watchman, a -lantern in his hand. The big, burly Irishman gazed with round, -unfriendly, challenging eyes at the foremost of the two advancing -figures, then catching sight of the familiar face of the Colonel his -whole aspect changed; he beamed with jovial recognition. - -“Oh, the Cunnel, is ut? Faix, the top o’ the mornin’ to yez, sor, if -it’s got anny top to ’t--’tis after twelve. This grisly black night -seems about the ground floor of hell. The river’s risin’ a bit, sor; an’ -if this wind would fall we’d sure have a rain, an’ git out o’ this, -foreshortly.” - -He touched his hat and moved on, the feeble halo of the lantern -betokening his progress among the shadowy piles of freight, dimly -visible in the dull light of the fixed lamps. - -Not even a speculation did Colonel Kenwynton allow himself when suddenly -his precursor put a foot on the gunwale of the boiler deck and sprang -over into the darkness. The old soldier followed without a moment’s -doubt. The unseen water surged about his feet, cold as ice, and at the -swiftly flowing, unexpected impact he caught his breath with a gasp. But -the guide had forgotten the lapse of time--how old a man, how feeble, -was the erstwhile stalwart commander. He pressed on, the water splashing -about his feet, now rising to ankle depth, now even deeper, once surging -about his knees. Even Colonel Kenwynton at last had a thought of -protest. This was always a good soldier, Captain Treherne, but a bit -reckless and disposed to unnecessary risks. There was no word of -remonstrance, however, from the elder man, and he was fairly blown when -suddenly Captain Treherne paused at a considerable distance in a level -space near the river’s margin where was beached a clumsy little craft -which the Colonel recognized as a dug-out. - -Captain Treherne seemed all unconscious of the pallid countenance, the -failing breath, the halting step of the old man. For, indeed, Colonel -Kenwynton was fain to catch at his companion’s arm for support as he -listened, panting. - -“Come, Colonel, you will come with me. I need your advice. You can wield -a paddle, and together we can make the distance.” - -Only the obviously impossible checked the old soldier. - -“Wield a paddle against this current, my dear sir? Make the distance! -You forget my age--seventy-five, sir; seventy-five years.” - -“It is not life and death, Colonel. We have faced that together, you and -I, and laughed at both. Dishonest possession is involved now, and -legalized robbery, and hidden assets. And _I_ have the secret of the -cache, Colonel, _I_, alone. It must be revealed. I need your help. This -is the crucial crisis of my life. My life--!” He broke off with an -accent of scorn--“of lives worth infinitely more than mine. And, Colonel -Kenwynton,” he laid a sudden, lean hand on the old man’s arm, “the -helpless! For they know nothing of their rights. It must be revealed to -one who will annul this wrong, this heinous disaster.” - -He had drawn very close, and his grasp on the Colonel’s arm, that had -once been so firm-fleshed and sinewy, seemed to crush the collapsed -muscles into the very bone. The old man winced with the pain, but stood -firm. - -“I’m with you, heart and soul, always. Command me. But, my dear boy, -this is impracticable. Let’s get a roustabout to row.” - -The intensifying grip might really have broken the old man’s bone. - -“Not for your life--never a whisper to any other living creature! Only -you can do this. I--I--I should not be believed.” - -“Not believed! You!” cried Colonel Kenwynton in a tone of such -indignant, vicarious, insulted pride, that what self-control the other -man possessed broke down; he flung his arms about the old man’s -quivering frame, bowed his head on the Colonel’s shoulder and sobbed -aloud. - -“Not even you would believe me--if you knew--if you knew what I have -been--what I am.” - -“Exactly what I do know,” said the Colonel, sturdily. “You are overcome -by your emotions, dear old fellow. You are overwrought. We will put an -end to this, sir. Come, halloo the boat. I can’t halloo, Cap--think of -that for me!--damn this cough! Halloo the boat, and tell the mate to -send us a roustabout to paddle. Or, hadn’t we better take the yawl? That -dug-out looks tricky--and, by God, man, it’s leaky.” He had advanced to -the brink where the craft lay. - -“No, no,” cried the other, “not a breath, not a whisper. It would -frustrate all.” Then impressively, “Colonel Kenwynton, strange things -have come about in this country because of the war. The rich are the -poor; the right are the wrong; the incompetent sit bridling in the -places that the capable have builded; an old paper, an old treasure, -lost time out of mind, would reverse some lives, by God! And _I_ hold -the secret, like an omnipotent fate. There must be no miscarriage of -justice here, Colonel Kenwynton.” - -The old man’s eyes stared through the dusk like an owl’s. - -“You didn’t call me out here at this time of night to talk of titles to -property and acts of justice, Hugh Treherne, in this marsh--why, there -ain’t a bull-frog left here.” - -He lifted his head and gazed out from the flapping broad brim of his hat -at the windy waste of waters, the indefinite lines of the shore, the -distant summits of the forest trees tossing to and fro against the -tumultuous unrest of the clouded horizon. - -Close at hand rose sheer precipitous elevations of the tow-head; seeming -far away towered the great bulk of the grounded steamer, whitely -glimmering through the night, her lamps a dim yellow focus here and -there, her fires extinguished, her engines sleeping and supine. - -“I called you out here, Colonel, because you are the only man left in -the world who respects his promise, who reverences his Maker, who trusts -his friend and would go through fire and water on his summons.” - -“I’ll take an affidavit to the water, dammy,” said the Colonel, grimly, -stamping about as the trickling icy streams ran sleekly down his -garments, over his instep. “But come to the steamboat, Hugh. We’ll have -a glass of hot brandy and water, and talk this thing over in comfort.” - -Captain Treherne seemed to struggle for a modicum of self-control. His -voice had a remonstrant cadence such as one might use in addressing a -fractious child. - -“Colonel, you knew once what a council of war might mean.” - -“Heigh? I did so--I did so.” - -“This is secret--to be kept in the bottom of your heart. Your own -thoughts must not revolve about it, lest they grow too familiar and -canvass details with which you have no concern.” - -“Hugh, I am an old man. I don’t believe it, as a general thing. The -rheumatism has to give me a sharp pinch to remind me of the fact. I -couldn’t paddle a boat to save my life--and against that current.” - -It showed in the chiaro-oscuro like the solution of the problem of -perpetual motion as the murky waters sped past. - -“Tell me here and now. Where in all the world could we be more -private?” - -Captain Treherne lifted his head and looked about him,--only the bare -sand of the bar, dimly visible in the vague light of the clouded moon, -and of a differing tint from the dull neutral hue of the atmosphere of -darkness. The steamer was absolutely silent, save as a loose chain might -clank, swinging in the wind, for at this distance one could not discern -the shaking of the transoms in their casings. There was no sight or -sound of living creature, until a great bird, driven forth from its -roost by the falling of a bough, or evicted by the wind, went screaming -overhead. A shrill blast pursued his flight and presumably from the dark -distance down the river one could not have distinguished the sounds of -the living cry from the skirling of the restless spirit of the air. - -“We crossed the river in a dug-out, under the nose of a gunboat,” -Captain Treherne began, suddenly. - -“Who? When? Where?” interrupted the old man, his face vaguely mowing -under his big hat as he sought to compose his features. - -“How can I tell where? In forty years who knows any locality in the -course of this deceitful old river? All over here,” he pointed to the -expanse of waters, “used to be dense cypress woods. You couldn’t find -the sign of a tree now, unless some snag gets washed up by the current.” - -“For the government snag-boats to pull up,” commented Colonel Kenwynton. - -“Victor Ducie had been wounded, it was thought mortally, in a skirmish -on the Arkansas side, and his brother, Archie, and I,--we were together -in the rangers then,--slipped through the lines one dark midnight to -Duciehurst with the news. You remember the Ducies?” - -“Indeed, indeed, I do. There is a gentleman of that name--” - -But Treherne was going on. “Mrs. Ducie determined to go to her son -Victor at once; she had only one of her children at home then, a -twelve-year-old boy named Julian, and she could take him with her. The -country was full of bands of wandering marauders and bushwhackers, and -in leaving the house Archie placed a few of his father’s most important -papers, with a lot of specie, and some family jewels, in a strong box, -which we wrapped in an old knapsack and hid away.” - -He had pushed his hat back from his brow and Colonel Kenwynton felt a -pang of blended pity and surprise to note that the head was nearly bald. -The years had trafficked with Treherne as well as with himself, hard -dealings, it seemed. For they had taken his youth, his spirit, his -pervasive cheer; there was something indefinable suggested that savored -of deep melancholy. And had these covetous years given him full value in -return--learning, in the lessons of life, just judgment, self-control, -disciplined purpose, earnest effort, and, last and not least, -resignation and calm and restful faith? Colonel Kenwynton was -unwittingly shaking his old white head at the thought in his mind. Time -had not dealt honestly by Hugh Treherne. Time had exacted usury and had -paid no fair equivalent for the ineffable possession of youth. Colonel -Kenwynton realized, however, that his own foible was hasty judgment, and -he sought to hold his conclusions in suspension while he listened. - -“We will come to the end of the story sooner if I give him his head,” he -said to himself and ruefully added as he shivered in his drenched garb, -“that is, if it _has_ any end.” - -“Archie understood the value of these papers of his father’s,” Treherne -resumed suddenly. “There was a mortgage on Duciehurst that had been -lifted, but as all courts of record were closed by the operations of war -the satisfaction had not been noted on the registered instrument. -Carroll Carriton, who held the mortgage, happened to be in Mississippi -at the time and he executed a formal release, and quit claim, signed and -witnessed, but, of course, not registered. You know the chaotic state of -courts of law at that time. The release also expressed a formal -relinquishment of the promissory notes, secured on the land, for they -were not returned; in fact, all the original papers were still out, -having been placed for safekeeping in a bank in Nashville, Tennessee, -where Carriton then resided, and which was within the Federal lines. The -whole matter of the lifting of the mortgage and the full satisfaction of -the debt was thoroughly understood between the principals and the -witnesses, although it was a hasty transaction and in a way irregular, -owing to the lack of facilities for recording the instruments in the -state of war.” - -“But, look here,” cried the Colonel in great excitement, -“Duciehurst--you know, I was a friend of George Ducie--Duciehurst was -sold to satisfy that mortgage, in behalf of the heirs of Carroll -Carriton.” - -“Ah, Lord. That’s why I am here, Colonel,” cried Treherne with a strange -note of pathos. - -“But, man alive, you ought to have been here forty years ago with -Carriton’s release.” - -“Ah-h, Lord, Colonel, you don’t understand.” - -“But I do understand, I understand mighty well,” cried the Colonel. -“Archie, God bless his soul, I remember him like yesterday, died of -typhoid fever in Vicksburg, where his father was killed by the explosion -of a cannon during the siege. His mother died in Arkansas, succumbed to -pneumonia, contracted on the river that cold night when she crossed it -to join her wounded son, and never returned to Duciehurst. Victor did -not die till long afterward, he recovered from his wound and fell at -last in the battle before Nashville. Not one of the family was left when -the war closed except the youngest son, Julian, and although the suit on -the promissory notes, brought by the executors of Carriton, was defended -in his behalf, he being a minor at the time, no proof of the -satisfaction of the debt could be made, and in default of payment the -mortgage was foreclosed, and the magnificent estate of Duciehurst went -under the hammer for a mere fraction of its value in the collapsed -conditions of those disorganized times.” - -“Ah-h-hh, Lord, Colonel,” Treherne was swaying back and forth as in a -species of anguish. - -“No time to say ‘Ah, Lord, Colonel,’” the old man muttered the words in -irascible mimicry. “Where did you and Archie hide that knapsack?” and, -with increasing sternness, “why have you never produced those -valuables?” - -Was there a fluctuating glimmer of moonlight in the rack of clouds, or -did the pallid day look forth for one moment, averse and reluctant--he -saw distinctly that face which he once knew so well, with something -new, strangely unrecognizable upon it. Then he had a sudden vision of a -scene wreathed in the smoke of cannon and the mists of rain; the glitter -of dull gray light on the polished, serried, fixed bayonets of an -infantry square; the sense of the motion of a mad tumultuous gallop of a -charge; the sound of trumpets wildly blowing, pandemonium, yells, -shrieks of pain, hoofbeats, a gush of blood suffusing eyes, and all -consciousness lost save that this man was helping him to his own horse -from under the carcass of the slain charger, humbly holding by the -stirrup in their mad precarious escape through the broken square. - -The years since that momentous day had been something to Colonel -Kenwynton, and but for this man’s courage and devotion he would not have -lived them. - -“Hugh, dear old boy, remember one fact. Through everything misty, I -trust you; I trust you implicitly, Hugh. I know your honorable motives. -Tell me anything you will, but through thick and thin I trust you.” - -“The Ducie valuables are what I am coming to,” said Treherne uneasily, -his voice husky, his articulation muffled, his tongue thick. “We hid -’em--Archie and I. We hid ’em at Duciehurst in the mansion. That is what -I want to tell you.” - -He paused to gaze about, pointing wildly, now up, now down the river. - -“Then we crossed there, no, there, and landed on the Arkansas side. We -had put Mrs. Ducie and Julian into the skiff, which we rowed ourselves. -She had a lot of things with her that she was taking to Victor, -bed-linen, blankets, clothes, medicines, wines and such like, so hard to -come by in the Confederacy in those times. We landed there, no, -_there_.” - -Again he was pointing wildly from place to place. Now and then he took -short, agile runs to and fro, as if he sought a better view in the windy -obscurity. - -“It was very cold and a pitch black night. We almost got under the hull -of a Yankee gunboat--she was a vessel that had been captured from the -Confederates, armored with iron rails, you know--that kind of iron-clad. -As she swung at anchor I wonder the suction didn’t swamp us, but it -didn’t. The look-out on deck never challenged nor heard us. We hit it -like the bull’s eye, at the Arkansas landing,--Archie knew every twist -and quirk in the current like an old song, born at Duciehurst, you know. -And after we made it to the farm-house, where Victor was lying at the -point of death it seemed, we returned to our command according to -orders, our leave being expired, for we had already hid the box in the -knapsack at Duciehurst. And that’s all.” - -He laid his hand on Colonel Kenwynton’s shoulder and gazed wistfully -into his face. Day was coming surely, for the elder man’s feebler vision -read a strange fact in those eyes, a fact that made him shudder, even -when half perceived, a fact against which his credulity revolted. - -“Hugh, Hugh, why in the name of God have you not produced those papers, -restored the gold and jewels?” - -“Why, why, why,” Treherne’s voice rose to a shriek. “Why, I have -_forgotten_ where they were hidden. Forgotten! Forgotten! Forgotten!” - -Colonel Kenwynton was trembling like a leaf. A chill keener than the -cold had set his heart a-quiver. “Forgotten,” he echoed in a vague -fright. “Forgotten--impossible!” - -The contradiction seemed to restore Treherne--not so much that it -aroused the instinct of contention as the determination to set himself -right in the eyes of his old commander. - -“Do you know, Colonel, where I have been these forty years?” he -demanded, quietly. - -“I thought, in Paradise, dear old boy. I often asked, but could never -hear a word.” - -Wherever he had been it was evident he had not been happy there. The -trembling clasp of Colonel Kenwynton’s arm on his shoulder brought the -younger man’s face down on the soft old wrinkled neck. But now there -were no tears. - -“I have been at Glenrose.” - -The words came from between set teeth, in the merest thread of a voice. - -“Glenrose?” Colonel Kenwynton was aware that there was a significance in -the reply which he had not grasped. “A beautiful little town, I am told, -not far from Caxton, and growing quite into commercial importance,” he -said, glibly, his instinct of courtesy and compliment galvanically -astir. - -“Oh, horrible! Horrible!” Hugh Treherne cried, poignantly. “Do you -wonder now that I have forgotten? _I_ can only wonder that I remember -anything. They pretend that it was the wound at Franklin--the injury to -the medulla substance.” - -“Hugh! Hugh!” the old Colonel was near to falling into the marshy slough -at his feet. “You don’t mean--you can’t mean--the--asylum--the private -sanatorium for the insane. Oh, my poor boy, my poor boy. Wait, wait, -give me your hand, I shall fall, wait, wait.” - -But there were sudden voices on the wind, calling here, calling there. -Colonel Kenwynton heard his own name, but he did not respond. He only -sought to detain his old comrade in his endearing clasp. The younger man -was the stronger. Treherne wrested himself away, though not without -repeated efforts, seized the paddle, pushed off the dug-out, and in a -moment was lost in the gloom, for the moon was down, mists were rising -from the low-lying borders of a bayou delta, and the frail craft was -invisible on the face of the waters. - -Colonel Kenwynton was not devoid of a certain kind of policy. He rallied -his composure, realizing that the Captain of the steamboat had been -alarmed by his absence on this precarious spot which the sound of his -voice had betrayed, and before the emissaries sent out to seek him had -reached the old man he had determined on his line of conduct. He -maintained a studied reticence, the more easily since Treherne’s -presence had not been observed to excite curiosity and he himself was in -a state of exhaustion and cold that precluded more than a shivering gasp -in reply to questions. For he was determined to take counsel within -himself before he indulged in explanations. He said to himself that he -could better afford misconstruction of his conduct as some fantastic -freak of drunkenness than run the risk of divulging the interests of -another man to his possible detriment,--this man, who had so obviously, -so appealingly suffered. He steeled himself in this, although he loved -the approval, or rather the admiration, of his fellows, and he felt -that his position in some sort forfeited it, not being aware how -thoroughly established he was as a public favorite, so that, indeed, he -could hardly incur reprobation. - -“Ain’t the old Colonel game--must have been tight as a drum last night,” -the Captain said to the clerk. “He was making the tow-head fairly sing -when I heard him, luckily enough.” - -Then to the Boots, who was looking from one to the other of the miry -shoes into which he had thrust each hand: “Take his clothes and get them -dried and pressed and see that you are careful about it. Colonel -Kenwynton shall have the best service aboard as long as I have a plank -afloat.” - -He had no plank afloat now, high and dry as the _Cherokee Rose_ was on -the sand-bar, but his meaning was clear, and Colonel Kenwynton’s gear, -despite its strenuous experience, seemed improved by this careful -handling when once more donned, and he strode out, serene and smiling, -into the outer air. - -“How the old fellows stand their liquor--a body would think he was never -overtaken in his life.” - -The Captain possessed the grace of reticence. None of the passengers had -any inkling of the incident of the previous night, either as Colonel -Kenwynton knew it, or in the interpretation which the Captain had placed -upon it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -If the patience, the concentration, the tireless endurance with which -Jasper Binnhart awaited the return of the stranger, could have been -applied to any object of worthy endeavor commensurate results must have -ensued. It was necessarily, even in his own estimation, a fantastic -expectation to learn from him aught of value concerning the treasure -hidden at Duciehurst during the Civil War. If the stranger really had -knowledge of the place of its concealment it was not likely that he -would divulge it, since this would require the division of the windfall. -But, he argued speciously, the man might need assistance, which probably -explained his singular mission to the stranded _Cherokee Rose_ to confer -with Colonel Kenwynton. This confirmed the impression of the Berridge -family that there was something eccentric, inexplicable about him. What -he needed in such an enterprise was not a man of seventy-five, as soft -as an old horse turned out to grass, but a master mechanic, such as -himself, indeed, a man accustomed to the use of tools, with the -dexterity imparted by constant work and the strength of muscles trained -to endurance. The Colonel! Why he would be as inefficient as a baby. But -perhaps only his advice was desired. Binnhart wished again and again -that it had chanced that he could have seen the stranger first. More -than once he despondently shook his round bullet head, with its closely -cropped black hair,--as sleek as a beaver’s, from his habit of sousing -it into the barrel of water where he tempered his steel,--as he sat on -one of the steps of the rude flight that led to the door of the -semi-aquatic dwelling of the water-rat’s family, and gazed across the -darkling river at the orange-tinted lights of the _Cherokee Rose_, lying -high and dry on the bar. It was a pity for Colonel Kenwynton to be let -into the secret at all. If the stranger had any right to possess himself -of the hidden money he could boldly hire laborers and go to the spot in -the open light of day. If his right were complicated or dubious, and -this was most likely, or why had it lain so long unasserted, the old -Colonel would clamp down on it with both feet. The Colonel had highflown -antiquated ideas, unsuited to the world of to-day; Binnhart had heard -him speak in public. He talked about honor, and patriotism, and -fair-dealing in politics, and such chestnuts, and, although the people -applauded, they were secretly laughing at him in their sleeves. No, no! -Binnhart shook his head once more. It was a thousand pities to bring old -Kenwynton into it at all; nothing he knew was of any value -nowadays,--except the Colonel did know how a horse should be shod, and -the proper care of the animal’s feet; people said he used to own fine -racers in his rich days. If Colonel Kenwynton returned with the stranger -there might be trouble. The old man was a hard proposition. He seemed to -think himself a Goliath, and would certainly put up a stiff fight on an -emergency. “I’d rather see him come back with any three men than the old -Colonel,” Binnhart concluded ruefully. - -This was the hour of the night when a mist began to rise, and the -orange-tinted lights from the steamer’s cabin glimmered faintly through -the haze. Binnhart became apprehensive that he might not discern the -tiny craft in the midst of the great river, struggling across its -intricate braided currents, and thus the stranger return unaware, or -perhaps give him the slip altogether. He rose and took his way down the -successive terraces to the verge of the water. He must needs have heed -not to walk into the river, for silent as the grave it flowed through -the deep gorge of its channel, and but for some undiscriminated sense of -motion in the dark landscape one might never know it was there. - -Long, long he stood at gaze, watching in the direction of the bar, his -ear keenly attentive, aware that he could hear from far the slightest -impact of a paddle on that silent surface. But the wind was rising now; -the mists, affrighted, spread their tenuous white wings and flitted -away. Presently there lay visible before him, vaguely illumined by the -light of a clouded moon, the vast spread of the tossing turmoils of the -sky, the dark borders of the opposite bank, the swift swirling of the -great river, and the white structure of the steamboat, rising dimly into -the air on the sand-bar. Her lights were faint now, lowered for the -night; the vague clanking of the dynamo came athwart the currents; still -the surface of the waters showed no gliding craft, and listen as he -might he heard no measured dip of paddle. - -Once more he betook himself back to the shack and found Connover and -Jorrocks seated on the outer stair. They evidently had no faith in the -adage of honor among thieves, and albeit they had alternately enjoyed -the refreshment of a nap in the bunks of the cabin one remained always -vigilant as to the movements of Binnhart. As the night wore on and -naught was developed both had taken up a position on the outer stair and -alertly awaited the crisis. - -Dan Berridge and his father were but poor exemplifications of the -sybarite, but the paramount instincts of self-indulgence overpowered -their hope of loot, and their doubt of the fair-dealing of their -co-conspirators, and in their respective bunks they snored as noisily as -if in the sleep of the just. - -Jessy Jane alone took note of the fact that, but for their disclosure of -the somnolent talk of the stranger, the others would have known naught -of the possibility of the discovery of the hidden valuables at -Duciehurst and she resented the chance that they would profit to the -exclusion of her and hers. She remained in the dark in the back room of -the little cabin, but up and dressed, now and again listening intently -for any stir of movement or sound of voices. When she heard the heavy -tread of Jorrocks and Connover tramping to the outer stair as they -relieved each other’s watch, she would set the communicating door ajar -to thrust in her tousled red head to spy upon their motions, withdrawing -it swiftly. Now she perceived through the dim vista of the room the -square face of Jorrocks against the gloom of the night, looking at her -with calculating, narrowing eyes, evidently appreciating the full -significance of her espionage, and, beyond still, a vague shadowy -outline which she recognized as Jasper Binnhart’s profile. She closed -the door with a bang, partly in pettishness and partly through -embarrassment, at the moment that Binnhart grew stiff and rigid, -motionless in excitement. He had sighted a canoe down the river, which -was shining in a rift of the clouds, a mile, nay, two, below the landing -for which it was bound. Thus she did not see his wild, silent gesture of -discovery, his hand thrown high into the air. Its muscles became -informed with a mandatory impulse as he beckoned to Jorrocks and -Connover to follow and set forth in a dead run for the water’s side. - -A skiff was lying there scarcely discernible in the vague light. It -belonged to the shanty-boater, and into it the owner threw himself, -grasping the oars, the other two with less practiced feet tumbled into -the space left available, and the craft shot out from the land under the -swift, strong strokes of the shanty-boater, rowing as if for a purse. -There was a belt of pallor along the horizon. A sense of dreary -wistfulness, of sadness, lay on the land, coming reluctantly into view. -The clouds hung low and menacing, although the wind still was high. The -dawn was near, or even the practiced eyes of the river pirates might not -have distinguished the dugout, seeking to cross the great expanse, yet -being carried by the strong current further and further down the river -from its objective point. - -“See her now?” asked Jorrocks, resolutely rowing and never turning his -head. - -“Well out todes mid-stream,” replied Binnhart. “Nigh to swampin’, too. -Git a move on ye, Jorrocks, git a move on ye.” - -After a contemplative moment he suddenly threw himself on another pair -of oars and the combined strength of the two men sent the light boat -shooting like an arrow down the surface of the river upon the craft, -evidently having shipped water and beginning to welter dangerously, -showing a tendency to capsize, the trick so frequently practiced by the -faithless dug-out. - -“Hello, sport!” called out Binnhart, as soon as he was within earshot. -“You’ll go to the bottom in three minutes unless you can swim agin the -Mississippi current better than I can. Will you have a lift?” - -The stranger’s exhausted face showed ghastly white in the dull, slow -light. His wide, dark eyes were wild and suspicious. There was something -in their expression that sent a chill coursing down the spine of the -impressionable Connover, his shaken, exacerbated nerves all on edge from -his constant potations, as well as from the excitements of this -experience and the strain of his long vigil. The stranger scanned them -successively, keeping the canoe in place by an occasional dip of the -paddle. It might seem as if he debated the alternative--Davy Jones’s -locker or a place among these boat-men. When he spoke his reserved -gentlemanly tone struck their attention. - -“I shall be much obliged,” he said, with grave and distant courtesy, -evidently recognizing a vast gulf between their station and his. - -“Move out of the gentleman’s way, Connover,” said Binnhart, quickly. For -this was a gentleman, however water-soaked, however queer of conduct, -whatever project he might have in view. - -After securing the dug-out as a tow, Binnhart seated himself opposite -the stranger, who was given the place of honor in the stern. - -“Nothin’ meaner afloat than a dug-out,” Binnhart remarked, keenly -watching the face of his guest, whose lineaments became momently more -distinct as the dull dawn grew into a dreary day. “Though to be sure a -dug-out ain’t used commonly for crossing the river, jes’ for scoutin’ -about the banks, and in the bayous, and lakes.” - -“I am not accustomed to its use,” the stranger replied. - -“You come mighty nigh swampin’, an’ that’s a fact, though you couldn’t -have got nothin’ better at Berridge’s, an’ I s’pose your business with -Colonel Kenwynton on the _Cherokee Rose_ wouldn’t wait.” - -“Colonel Kenwynton!” cried the gentleman, with a strange sharpness. “How -do you know I had business with Colonel Kenwynton?” - -“No offense, sir. You spoke of it at Berridge’s. He is a leaky-mouthed -old chap. What goes in at his ears comes out of his jaws.” - -“I spoke of it? _I_ spoke of it?” repeated the stranger. His voice was -keyed to the cadences of despair. The modulation of those dying falls -was scarcely intelligible to Binnhart; he could not have interpreted -them nor even the impression they made upon his mind. But some -undiscriminated faculty appraised their true intendment and on it -fashioned his course. Once more he looked keenly at the stranger’s face, -while the gentleman gazed with deep reflectiveness at the swift waters -so near at hand racing by on either side. - -“Where shall we set you ashore, sir?” Binnhart asked with respectful -urbanity. - -Ah, here was evidently a dilemma. Berridge’s hut was now far up stream, -since the brawny practiced arms of Jorrocks had steadily continued to -row the skiff down and down the current, which of itself would have been -ample motive power for a swift transit. An expression of despondency -crossed the stranger’s face. - -“I should have noticed earlier,” he said. “I had intended to return to -Berridge’s, but I cannot ask you to go so far out of your way against -the current. Just set me ashore at the nearest practicable point and I -can walk back.” - -“All ’ight, sir. Duciehurst is the nearest safe landing, the bank is -bluff an’ caving above.” - -Binnhart was quick to note as the word was spoken the change of -expression and a sudden sharp gasp that was not unlike a snap, so did -the muscles evade control. - -“You are acquainted with the old mansion, sir, spoke of it bein’ part of -your business with Colonel Kenwynton to git the hidden money an’ papers -an’ vallybles--take care, Colty, he’ll fall out of the boat!” - -For Captain Treherne, his eyes distended, his lower jaw fallen, his face -livid, had risen in the boat and stood tottering in the unsteady craft, -staring aghast and dumfounded at Binnhart. “_I_ spoke of that? _I_ told -you that?” - -“No, sir, but you told Berridge, Josh, the old man.” - -“You lie, you infamous liar! What, _I_ publish abroad the secret that I -have kept through thick and thin, till after forty years of acute mania -I may right the wrong and establish the title. Oh, my God!” he broke -forth shrilly, “am I raving now? Is this a species of hallucination, -obsession,” he waved his wild hands toward sky, and woods, and -sinister, silent river, “or, worse still, is it stern fact and have I -betrayed my sacred trust at last?” - -“He’ll turn this boat upside down,” the shanty-boater in a low voice -warned the others. - -“‘Liar’ is a toler’ble stiff word for me to have to take off ’n you, -Mister,” said Binnhart, with affected gruffness, for his affiliations -with the truth were not so close as to cause him to actually resent an -accusation of divagation. “It ain’t my fault if you got absent-minded -an’ told Berridge that the vallybles are hid in a pillar or a pilaster,” -he broke off abruptly. - -A shrill scream rent the air. It seemed for one moment as if Captain -Treherne himself had made a discovery, so elated were his eyes, so -triumphant was his face, changed almost out of recognition in the -moment. Agitated as he was he had lost his balance and was swaying to -and fro as if he might pitch head-foremost into the river. - -“If you don’t want the whole water-side popilation rowing out here to -see what’s the matter aboard you had better make him stop that n’ise,” -the shanty-boater urged. “Gag him. Take his handhercher, or his hat,” he -recommended, still swiftly rowing. - -The dull, purplish twilight of the slow-coming day gave little token of -stir amongst the few scattered inhabitants of the riverside within -earshot; cottonpickers are never in the field till the sun has dried the -dew from the plant, but Jorrocks was mindful of the fact that there are -barnyard duties in an agricultural community requiring early rising; -cows are to be milked, horses fed and watered, and any bucolic errand -might bring to the bank an inquisitive interest in these weird cries -ringing from shore to shore in an intensity of agonized emotion. The -suggestion of Jorrocks was acted upon instantly. Binnhart roughly -knocked the hat from Captain Treherne’s head, crushed it into a stiff, -shapeless mass, thrust it between his jaws, attempting to secure it with -his large linen handkerchief, despite his strenuous resistance. The -struggle was fierce, and the miscreants were dismayed by the strength -the victim put forth. The two could scarcely hold him; over and again he -shook off both Binnhart and Connover. The shanty-boater had great ado -even with his practiced skill to keep the skiff from overturning -altogether, as it listed from side to side as the weight of the -combatants shifted. The stranger fought with a sort of frenzy, striking, -kicking, butting with his head, even biting with his strong snapping -jaws. - -“He is like a maniac,” cried Binnhart, in amaze, and once more that -awful cry rang upon the air, shrill, wild, freighted with demoniacal -bursts of laughter, yet with an intonation more pathetic than tears. - -Not until Jorrocks shipped his oars and, leaning forward, caught -Treherne’s feet, throwing him on his back in the bottom of the boat, was -the gag again introduced into his mouth, to be promptly and dexterously -ejected as he sought to rise. Again was the semi-nautical skill of the -shanty-boater of avail. A crafty knot in a rope’s end and the stranger’s -arms were pinioned to his side, and while the gag was secured the -surplusage of the cord was bound again and again about his legs till he -was helpless, able neither to move nor to speak. Only his wild eyes -expressed his indomitable courage, his sense of affronted dignity, his -resentful fury. - -“I do declar’ I’m minded to spit in his face,” exclaimed Binnhart, -vindictively, as panting and breathless, he towered above his victim, -lying at his feet. - -“Better not!” the shanty-boater admonished the blacksmith. Then, in a -lower voice: “You fool you, we depend on his good will to show us the -place where the swag is hid.” - -“Tend to your own biz,” roughly replied Binnhart. “Look where your boat -is driftin’. Bound for Vicksburg, ain’t ye?” - -For, left to its own devices when the oarsman had gone to the aid of his -comrades, the skiff had been carried by the swift current far down the -stream and toward the bank, so close, indeed, that Binnhart apprehended -its grounding. He had not an acquaintance with the river front equal to -the practical knowledge of the shanty-boater, whose peregrinations made -him the familiar of every bogue and bight, of every bar and tow-head for -a hundred miles or more. - -“Look what’s ahead of your blunt pig-snout, an’ maybe ye’ll have sense -enough to follow it,” Jorrocks retorted. - -For a great looming structure had appeared on the bank in the murky -atmosphere, that was not so shadowy as night, yet in its obscurity could -hardly assume to be day. An imposing mansion of three stories, with a -massive cornice and commodious wings, stood well back on the shelving -terraces. Woods on either hand pressed close about and many of the trees -being magnolias and of coniferous varieties foreign to the region, the -foliage was dense despite the season, and gave the entourage a singular, -sinister sense of deep seclusion. In the dim light one could hardly -discern that there was no glass in the windows, but the black, gaping -intervals intimated somehow vacancy and ruin, and Binnhart was quick to -notice the dozen great pillars rising to the floor of the third story -and supporting the roof of the long broad portico. Then he gave no -further attention to the unwonted surroundings, but fixed his gaze on -the face of their prisoner as his helpless bulk was lifted from the boat -by the three. He was of no great weight and they bore him easily enough, -inert and motionless, along the broad broken stone pavement to the -deserted ruin. - -A ready interpretation had Binnhart, a keen intuition. The native -endowment might have wrought him good service in a better field. As it -was it had been the pivotal faculty on which had turned with every wind -of opportunity the nefarious successes that the thieves had achieved. He -now watched the glimmer of recognition in Captain Treherne’s eyes as he, -too, gazed breathlessly with intent interest at the mansion, despite his -bound and gagged situation. He even made shift to turn his head that he -might fix his eyes on the eastern side. Only to the east he looked, and -always. Binnhart felt a bounding pulse of prideful discovery that in the -east the treasure was hidden, in an eastern pilaster of the portico. - -He was not familiar with the meaning of the architectural term, but just -what a “pilaster” was he would know before he was an hour older, he -swore to himself, if there was a carpenter or builder awake in the -little town of Caxton where his shop was located and where he must needs -repair for tools. There he would learn this all-significant fact, for -that there was treasure hidden at Duciehurst all the country-side had -been aware for forty years--the question was, where? - -They bore Captain Treherne through half a dozen darkling rooms, showing -as yet scant illumination from the slow coming day. The windows gave -upon a gray nullity outside, and even the size and condition of the -bare, echoing apartments could not be ascertained by the prisoner’s -searching gaze as he was laid down on the floor at full length, watching -the preparations of his captors for their temporary departure. One of -them would remain, as he was assured by Binnhart, who had again adopted -a tone of deference suited to the evident station and culture of the -victim. Connover would stay and see to it that he was not molested in -any manner whatever during the short absence of the others. Binnhart, -making his words as few as possible, took his leave and once more in the -boat Jorrocks pulled down the river with every pulse of energy he could -command. - -Captain Treherne had spent forty years of his life in an insane asylum, -but the experience had not bereft him in this lucid interval of the -appreciation of certain fundamental facts of human nature. He realized -that although he could not use his hands, Connover was in no wise -restricted. Perhaps the offer of the funds in his pocket might compass -his release if he could find means to intimate this delicate -proposition. Treherne waited till he heard the shuffling gait of -Jorrocks and the swift assured step of Binnhart die away in the -distance before he would seek to communicate his desire by means of -winks and such significant grimaces as the gag would permit. Before the -others were clear of the house Connover had come and stood beside him -gazing down at him with a sort of vacant curiosity on his weak, -dissipated face, unmeaning and without intention. But he immediately -turned away, and, repairing to a long hall hard by, began to tramp idly -back and forth to while away the time of waiting. - -It was likely to be a considerable time, he began to reflect -discontentedly, and he had no particular liking for his commission. The -other fellows would get their feed in Caxton, he argued. Jorrocks would -not go without his breakfast for the United States Treasury. They would -also get drinks, good and plenty. At this thought he took an empty flask -from his pocket and lugubriously smelled it. He was a fool, he said to -himself, and perhaps that was the only true word he had spoken that day. -But, in his opinion, it applied specifically to his consent to remain -here, as if he, too, were bound and gagged. - -Once more he sniffed the departed delights of the empty flask. Suddenly -Captain Treherne heard no more the regular impact of his steps as he -tramped the long length of the vacant hall. There was a livery stable at -a way-station of the railroad some eight miles distant, a goodish tramp -on an empty stomach, but the odor of the flask endued him “with the -strength of ten.” He was known there as an ex-jockey of some success, he -was appreciated after a fashion by its employees; he could count on -their hospitality and conviviality, and perhaps borrowing a rig he could -return before Binnhart and Jorrocks would be here accoutered with their -tools. The prisoner could not report his defection, even when liberated, -for he could not know where in that great building he had seen fit to -bestow himself to enjoy, perchance, what he was pleased to call, “a nap -of sleep.” - -Thus silence as of the tomb settled on the deserted building. The shades -of night gradually wore away and the pale gray light of a sunless and -melancholy day pervaded the dreary vistas of the bare uninhabited ruin. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -In his inexorable view of the sanctity of his promise Colonel Kenwynton -had no impulse to confide the details of the revelation he had received -or to take counsel thereon. Still, he could but look with an accession -of interest at Adrian Ducie when he met him at the breakfast table, the -passengers of the _Cherokee Rose_ dallying over the meal, prolonging it -to the utmost in the dearth of other interest or occupation. - -Although Ducie seemed to have mustered the philosophy to ignore the -serious aspects of this most irksome and dolorous detention, it had -darkened all the horizon to Floyd-Rosney’s exacting and censorious mood. -“I can’t imagine, Captain, how you should not have been on the lookout -for the formation of an obstruction capable of grounding the boat,” was -his cheerful matutinal greeting. - -“Oh, Miss Dean says he knew it was there all the time, and only wished -to entertain us,” his wife interposed, with a view of toning down her -lord’s displeasure, but her sarcastic chin was in the air, and her -clipped, quick enunciation gave token only of one of her ironic -pleasantries. - -“Well, I intend to eat him out of house and home while I am about it,” -said Ducie, with an affectation of roughness. “This table is not run _à -la carte_. You can’t charge more than the passage-money, Captain, no -matter how long we abide with you in this pleasance of a sand-bar--and I -really think, waiter, I can get away with the other wing of that fried -chicken.” - -“You think you can get away; _can_ you?” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney fleered. - -The queer little roughness he affected was incongruous with the delicate -elegance of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s presence. The polish of his own -appearance and ordinary manner warranted it as little, and the -contrariety of his mental attitude was like that of a bad child “showing -off” in the reverse of expectation or desire. Between the heavy sulking -of her husband in the troublous _contretemps_ of the detention of the -boat, and the peculiar tone that Adrian Ducie had taken, in which, -however, offense was at once untenable and inexplicable, it might seem -that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had much ado to preserve her airy placidity and -maintain the poise of the delicate irony of her manner. This became more -practicable when Ducie’s attention was diverted to a little girl of -twelve who had boarded the packet with her father at the landing of a -fashionable suburban school some distance up the river, evidently -designing to spend the week-end at home. She was a bouncing little girl, -with liquid black eyes, and dark red hair, long and abundant, plaited on -either side of her head and tied up with black ribbon bows of -preposterously wide loops. While she was as noisy and as active as a -boy, she was evidently constantly beset with the realization that her -lot in life was of feminine restrictions, and miserably repented of -every alert caper. Her memory, however, was short, as short, one might -say, as her very abbreviated skirts, and the monition of the staid -gait, appropriate to her sex, always struck her after the fantastic -gallopade or muscular skip on her long, handsome, black-stockinged legs, -and never by any chance earlier. She had a most Briarean and centipedal -consciousness in Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s presence, which she instinctively -appraised as critical, and she was covered with confusion as she came -flustering out of her stateroom to the breakfast table to realize that -she had banged the door behind her. By way of disposing of one -superfluous foot at least she crooked her leg deftly at the knee, placed -its foot in the chair and sat down upon it, turning scarlet as she did -so, realizing all too late that the maneuver was perfectly obvious, and -wondering what Mrs. Floyd-Rosney must think of a girl who sat on her -foot. For the opinion of the score of other persons at the tables she -had not a thought or a care, doubtless relying on their good nature to -condone the attitude, curiously affected and prized by persons of her -age and sex. An agile twist had got the foot down to the floor again, -and now with restored composure and rebounding spirits her gushing -loquacity was reasserted, and she was exchanging matutinal greetings -with her traveling companions; her father, a tall, lean, quiet man, who -had marked her entrance with raised eyebrows and a concerned air, having -resumed his talk on the tariff with his next neighbor at table. - -“Have compassion on our dullness, Miss Marjorie,” said Adrian Ducie, -suavely smiling at her from across the board. In his contrariety he -seemed to have divined Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s covert disapproval and made a -point of according his own favor. Marjorie’s heart, however, was in no -danger from his fascinations. To her he seemed a man well advanced in -years, quite an old bachelor, indeed. “Tell us your dreams.” - -“Dreams? oh, mercy!” How often had she been warned against rising -inflections and interjections? “My dreams are all mixed up. I don’t know -now what they were.” - -“I will disentangle them for you,” he said, blandly; then in parenthesis -to the waiter, “Give the cook my compliments and tell him to send up -another omelette, which I will share with Miss Ashley.” - -“Oh, I don’t like eggs,” Marjorie blurted out, then stopped short. How -often had she been admonished never to say at table that she disliked -any article of diet. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, she was sure, must have noticed -that lapse. - -“Then I will eat it all by myself--mark me now, Captain! While awaiting -its construction I will tell your dreams, and interpret their mystery.” - -“Oh, oh,” gurgled Marjorie. What a nice old man was this Mr. Adrian -Ducie! Her blithe young eyes were liquid and brilliant with expectation. - -“You dreamed that you and I went hunting, with some others who don’t -matter and who shall be nameless,” he glanced slightingly up and down -the row of passengers at the table. “We went ashore in the yawl, and I -borrowed the Captain’s rifle, and----” - -“No, you didn’t,” said the Captain, from the next table, “for I haven’t -got one.” - -“You don’t mean it?” said Ducie, stopping short. “Then what would become -of us if pirates should board this gallant craft of ours? Depend wholly -on the pistol pockets of the passengers?” - -“Oh, oh, Mr. Ducie,” cried Marjorie, quite losing her hold on herself, -“you are so funny!” - -“Thank you, oh, very much, I can be funnier than that when I try.” - -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s unseeing eyes perceived no interest apparently in -this conversation. Now and then, with an absorbed air, she recurred to -her tea and toast as if naught were going forward, while her husband ate -his breakfast as silently and with as much gruff concentration as a -hound with a bone. - -Their persistent expression of a lack of interest seemed to stimulate -Mr. Ducie to a further absorption of the attention of the company. “Are -there really no shot-guns, no fowling-pieces aboard, nothing to shoot -with deadlier than the darts of Miss Marjorie’s bright eyes?” - -“Oh, oh,” she squealed, enchanted at this turn, and laid down her knife -and fork to put her hands before her lips apparently to suppress a -series of similar shrillnesses, for this old man’s funniness was of a -most captivating order. - -“I notice that there is a swamper’s cabin over there on the bank; I’ll -bet he has got a rifle; but what is the nearest plantation house, -Captain? Mansion, I should say,” he corrected the phrase with the -satiric flout of the younger generation at the mannerisms of yore. - -The Captain seemed to resent it. “You may very safely call it a -‘mansion,’ sir, it has twenty-five rooms, exclusive of ball-room, -billiard-room, picture-gallery, and the domestic offices, kitchen, -laundry, dairy, and quarters for servants, and so forth. The Duciehurst -plantation-house is the nearest mansion. It is really a ruin, now, and -uninhabited, I suppose, but it was good enough in its day.” - -A sudden portentous gravity smote the countenance of Adrian Ducie. -Although the risible muscles and ligaments still held the laughing -contour, all the mirth was gone out of it. His face was as if stricken -into stone, as if he had suddenly beheld the Gorgon Head of trouble. The -change was so marked, so momentous, that Colonel Kenwynton, forgetting -for the moment whence came the association of ideas, suddenly asked: - -“You have the same name as the former owner, Mr. Ducie, though I suppose -you don’t hold the title to the mansion?” - -“Oh, I hold the title fast enough,” replied Ducie, with his wonted -off-hand manner, “though it’s like my ‘title to a mansion in the skies,’ -I can’t read it clear.” - -Floyd-Rosney’s mood was already lowering enough, but for some reason, -not immediately apparent, his averse discontent was fomented by the -change of the subject. He paused with his tea-cup poised in his hand. -His deep voice weighed more heavily than usual on the silence. - -“It seems to me a mis-statement to say that you have a title to the -property,--a title is a right. There are certainly some forty years’ -adverse possession against any outstanding claim, of which I have never -heard.” - -Ducie was eyeing Floyd-Rosney with a look at once affronted and amazed. -“And where do you derive your information as to my title to -Duciehurst?” - -“I have no information as to your _title_ to Duciehurst, which is the -reason that I could not remain silent when such title was asserted, -though the discussion cannot be edifying to this goodly company.” He -waved his hand at the rows of breakfasting passengers with an unmirthful -smile and his courtesy was so perfunctory as obviously to have no root. -“The title is mine, it comes to me within the year from the will of my -Uncle Horace Carriton, who held it for forty years. But,” with his sour, -condescending smile at the company, “the courts and not the breakfast -table are the proper place to assert a right that is not barred by the -lapse of time.” - -“The remedy may be barred, but not the right,” Ducie retorted angrily. - -Captain Disnett’s voice sounded with pacifying intonations. He did not -seek to change the subject but to steer it clear of breakers. “I never -could understand why Mr. Carriton let the old mansion go to wreck and -ruin, fine old place as there is on the river. Though he rented out the -lands the house has always remained untenanted.” - -Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s dignity was enhanced by the composure which he found -it possible to maintain in this nettling discussion. “The house was much -injured by the occupancy of guerillas and military marauders during the -Civil War,” he rejoined. “After it came into the possession of my uncle, -when peace was restored, it was left vacant from necessity. My uncle, -who was a non-resident,--lived in Tennessee,--would not cut up the -plantation into small holdings; many tenants make much mischief, so he -preferred to lease the entire place to some man of moderate means for a -term of years, as no person of fortune appeared as a purchaser of the -house, which it would cost largely to restore. None of the successive -lessees was able or willing to furnish or maintain the mansion in a -style suitable to its pretensions, yet they were too proud to live in a -corner of it like a mouse in a hole. Such a man would prefer to live in -a neighboring villa or cottage while farming the lands as better suited -to his comfort and credit than that vacant wilderness of architecture.” - -“Strange visitors it must have at odd times,” meditated the Captain. -“Once in a while in our runs I have seen lights flitting about there at -night, quite distinct from the pilot-house. And in wintry weather a -gleam shows far over the snow.” - -“Tramps, gipsies, river-pirates, I suppose,” suggested Colonel -Kenwynton. - -Ducie was glowering down at his spoon as he turned it aimlessly in his -empty cup, a deep red flush on his cheek and his eyes on fire. - -“Yes, yes. There is a tradition of hidden treasure at Duciehurst, one of -the wild riverside stories as old as the hills,” said the Captain, “and -I suppose the water-rats, and the shanty-boaters, and the river-pirates -all take turns in hunting for it when fuel and shelter get scarce, and -the pot boils slow, and work goes hard with the lazy cattle.” - -For one moment Colonel Kenwynton’s head was in a whirl. Had he dreamed -this thing, this story of family jewels and important papers stowed in a -knapsack and hidden on Duciehurst plantation? So sudden was the -confirmation of the war-time legend, so hard it came on the revelation -of last night in the turbulent elements on the verge of the sand-bar -that it scarcely seemed fact. He had not had time to think it over, to -canvass the strange chance in his mind. Treherne had declared that for -forty years he had been an inmate of an insane asylum. Without analyzing -his own mental processes Colonel Kenwynton was aware that he had taken -it for granted that the story was a vain fabrication of half-distraught -faculties, an illusion, a part of the unreasoning adventure that had -summoned him forth from his bed in the midnight to stand knee-deep in -the marsh to hear a recital of baffled rights and hidden treasure. In -all charity and candor he had begun to wonder that Hugh Treherne should -find himself now beyond the bounds of detention. In these corroborative -developments, however, his opinion veered and he made a plunge at -further elucidation of the mystery. - -“Mr. Ducie, I should be glad to know what relation you are to Lieutenant -Archibald Ducie, who died of typhoid in a hospital in Vicksburg during -the war?” - -Ducie answered in a single word, “Nephew.” - -“Then you are George Blewitt Ducie’s grandson.” - -“Grandson,” monosyllabic as before. - -The old man thought himself a strategist of deep, elusive craft. For the -sake of his friend, Captain Treherne, and his plaintive disability; for -the sake of the implied trust accepted in the fact that he had received -this confidence, he must seek to know the truth while he screened the -motive. “Well, since these old world clavers are mighty interesting to -an ancient fossil such as I am--I must look backward having, you know, -no future in view,--wasn’t there some talk of a lost document, a deed -of trust missing, mislaid,--what was it about--a Duciehurst mortgage?” - -“A _release_ of a mortgage,” replied Ducie, his words coming with the -impetus and fury of hot shot. “The lost paper was a release of a -mortgage, a quit-claim, signed and witnessed, but not registered. There -were no facilities at the time to record legal papers, not a court nor a -clerk’s office open in the country, which was filled with contending -armies.” - -Mr. Floyd-Rosney had finished his breakfast and seemed about to rise. -The vexation of this discussion was beyond endurance to a proud and -pompous man. But it was not his temperament to give back one inch. He -stood his ground and presently he began to affect indifference to the -situation, placing an elbow on the table and looking with his imperious -composure first at one speaker and then at the other. He was not so -absorbed, however, that he did not note how his wife loitered over the -waffles before her, spinning out the details of the meal that no point -of the conversation might escape her. - -“I remember now, I remember,” said Colonel Kenwynton, nodding his white -head. “It was claimed that the mortgage was lifted, the debt being paid -in gold, and that a formal release was executed here in Mississippi and -delivered with the original paper, though not noted in the instrument of -registration.” - -“There being no courts in operation,” interpolated Ducie, obviously as -restive as a fiery horse. - -“And by reason of the intervention of the Federal lines and the sudden -deaths of the two principals to the transaction the promissory notes, -thus secured on the plantation, were not returned to the maker, but -remained in Tennessee, where Mr. Carroll Carriton had deposited them in -a bank for safekeeping.” - -“Is this a fairy-story, Colonel Kenwynton?” sneered Floyd-Rosney, his -patience wearing thin under the strain upon it, and beginning to -deprecate and doubt the effect on his wife. - -“No, it is a story of the evil genii,” said Ducie, significantly. - -“You mean War and Confusion, and Loss,” said Floyd-Rosney, in bland -interpretation, and apparently in excellent temper. “They are, indeed, -the evil genii. But you will please to observe, Colonel Kenwynton, that -the executors of the mortgagee, Mr. Carroll Carriton, could not accept -this unsupported representation of an executed release of the mortgage. -The executors had the registered mortgage, with no marginal notation of -its satisfaction, and they had the promissory notes. They sued the -estate of George Blewitt Ducie on the promissory notes and foreclosed on -Duciehurst.” - -“I remember, I remember,” said Colonel Kenwynton, “and although at the -period when the mortgage was made it was for a sum inconsiderable in -comparison with the value of the property Duciehurst went under the -hammer in the collapsed financial conditions subsequent to the war for -less than the amount of the original indebtedness, plantations being a -drug on the market, and the executors of the mortgagee bought it in for -the Carriton estate.” - -“The executors proceeded throughout under the sanction of the court,” -said Floyd-Rosney. “Of course, I would have the utmost sensitiveness to -the position of an interloper or usurper, but in this instance there -can be no such suggestion. No papers could be produced by the defendant, -and a wild legend of the loss of such documents could not withstand the -scrutiny of even the least cautious and strict chancellor. The fact that -Carroll Carriton happened to be in Mississippi at that time and that -George Blewitt Ducie was known to have aggregated a considerable sum in -gold by a successful blockade-running scheme of selling cotton in -Liverpool was dwelt upon by the counsel for the Ducie heir as -corroborative evidence that the two principals to the transaction met -expressly to lift the incumbrance, but this contention was not admitted -by the court.” - -He paused for a moment. Then he turned directly upon Ducie. “While I -should be sorry, Mr. Ducie, if you should grudge me my rightful holding, -I observe that your brother does not share your view. He acquiesced in -the existing status by renting certain of these lands while in my -uncle’s possession before I succeeded under the will.” - -“By no means, by no means,” cried Ducie, furiously. “He is no tenant of -yours. He only purchased the standing crop of cotton from your uncle’s -tenant, who was obliged to leave the country for a time--shot a man. -But, as I understand it, you could not plead that acquiescence, even if -it existed, in the event that the release could be found,--take -advantage of your own tort in the foreclosure of a mortgage duly paid.” - -“Oh, if you talk of ‘torts,’ this ‘knowledge is too excellent for me, I -cannot attain unto it.’” Floyd-Rosney retorted, lightly. - -His wife still held her fork in her hand, but he significantly placed -her finger-bowl beside her plate. Then he rose. “Any rights that you can -prove to my estate of Duciehurst, Mr. Ducie, will be gladly conceded by -me. Kindly remember that, if you please.” - -His wife was constrained to rise and he stood aside with a bow to let -her pass first down the restricted space between the tables and the -wall. They were out on the guards when she lifted her eyes to his and -laid her hand on his arm. - -“Why did you never tell me that the property which has lately come to -you really belongs to the Ducies?” - -He stared down at her, too astonished to be angry. - -“Why? Because it is a lie. The Ducies have not a vestige of a right to -it.” - -“Oh, no, no. The Ducies would never seek to maintain a lie. Only they -can’t substantiate their claim on account of the disastrous chances of -war.” - -She put her hands before her face and shook her head. When she looked up -again there were vague blue circles beneath her eyes. The nervous stress -of the incident and some unformulated association with the idea were -obviously bearing on her heavily. - -“It seems to me that we ought not to keep it,” she faltered. - -“Keep it!” he thundered. “Why, we, that is our predecessors, have owned -it for the last forty years, without a question. Why, Paula, are you -crazy? The whole affair went through the courts forty years ago. ‘_Ought -not to keep it!_’ The Ducie heir, this man’s father, who was then a -minor, had not a scrap of paper nor one material witness, only the -general understanding in the country that as Carroll Carriton happened -to be in Mississippi at the time, and George Blewitt Ducie had a lot of -specie from running his cotton through the blockade to England, he paid -off the mortgage in gold. But that was mere hearsay, chiefly rumor of -the gabble of the men who, it was claimed, had witnessed the execution -of the quit-claim, and who took occasion to die immediately thereafter.” - -“There is some inherent coercive evidence, to my mind, of the truth of -those circumstances,” she declared. “It is too hard that the Ducies -should have paid the money owed on the mortgage and then lose the place -by foreclosure, and, oh, for less than the amount of the original debt.” - -“But, Paula, can’t you see there is not a grain of proof that they ever -paid the money? How, when, where? We held the promissory notes and the -registered deed of trust and the court did not even take the matter -under advisement.” - -“But you know the confusion of the times,--no courts of record, no mail -facilities or means of communication.” - -“Much exaggerated, I believe. But at all events we had the promissory -notes and the registered mortgage and they had their cock-and-bull -story.” - -“Oh, I should like to give it back,--it would be so noble of you. I -cannot bear that we should own what the Ducies claim is theirs, and I -feel sure that if it is not theirs in law it is by every moral sanction. -And for such a poor price!--to lose the whole estate for the little -amount, comparatively, of the debt! It is too sharp a bargain for us. -How much was the amount for which the executors bought it in?” - -His face changed and he did not answer. It had not been a pleasant -morning, and his imperious temper had been greatly strained. “I -remember,” he said, satirically, losing his self-control at last, “that -you once entertained a tender interest in one of these Messieurs Ducie. -I must say that I did not expect it to last so long or to go so far,--to -propose to denude me of my very own, one of the finest properties in -Mississippi, and vest him with it!” - -Her face flushed. Her eyes flashed. “You have broken your promise! You -have broken your promise!” She looked so vehement, so affronted, so -earnest, that her anger tamed him for a moment. - -“It was inadvertent, dear. The circumstances forced it.” - -“It was solemnly agreed between us that we would never mention this man, -never remember that he existed. When I promised to marry you I told you -frankly that I had been engaged to him, and had never a thought, a hope, -a wish, but that I might marry him, until I met you.” - -“I know, dear, I remember.” His warm hand closed down on her trembling -fingers that she had laid on the railing of the guards as if for -support. - -“It is a matter of pride with me. I have no idea that I should feel so -about it if it were any one else. But, of course, I know that he must -reproach me for my duplicity, my inconstancy--” - -“But you do not reproach yourself,” with a quick, searching glance. - -“No, no, I was not inconstant. Only then I had not met you. But I have -caused him unhappiness, and a sort of humiliation among his friends, -who consider that I threw him over at the last minute, and I cannot bear -to own anything that he accounts his. I don’t want _his_ land. I don’t -want _his_ house. I wish you would deed it all back to him.” - -“You tiresome little dunce!” he exclaimed, laughing. “It is one of the -largest plantations in acreage, cleared and tillable, in Mississippi, -and I really should not like to say how much it is worth, especially now -with the price of cotton on the bounce. People would think I was crazy -if I did such a mad thing as to deed it back. I should be unfitted for -any part in the business world. No one would trust me for a moment. And -apart from my own interest, consider our son. What would he think of me, -of you, when he comes to man’s estate, if we should alienate for a whim -that fine property, of which he might one day stand in dire need. Change -is the order of the times. Edward Floyd-Rosney, Junior, may not have a -walk over the course as his father did.” - -“But, Edward, we are rich--” - -“And so would the Ducies be, by hook or by crook, if they knew what is -comfortable.” He laughed prosperously. He was tired of the subject, and -was turning away as he drew forth his cigar-case. He was good to -himself, and fostered his taste for personal luxury, even in every -minute manner that would not be ridiculously obtrusive as against the -canons of good taste. The ring on the third finger of his left hand -might seem, to the casual glance of the uninitiated, the ordinary seal -so much affected, but a connoisseur would discern in it a priceless -intaglio. The match-box which he held as he walked away along the -guards was of solid gold, richly chased. His clothes were the -masterpieces of a London tailor of the first order, but so decorous and -inconspicuous in their fine simplicity that but for their enhancement of -his admirable figure and grace of movement their quality and cost might -have passed unnoticed. - -Paula looked after him with an intent and troubled gaze, her heart -pulsing tumultuously, her brain on fire. It would never have been within -her spiritual compass to make a conscious sacrifice of self for a point -of ethics. She could not have relinquished aught that she craved, or -that was significant in its effects. To own Duciehurst would make no -item of difference in the luxury of their life,--to give it up could in -no way reduce their consequence or splendor of appointment. To her the -acquisition of a hundred thousand dollars, more or less, signified -naught in an estate of millions. They were rich, they had every desire -of luxury or ostentation gratified,--what would they have more? But that -this prosperity should be fostered, aggrandized by the loss of the man -whom she had causelessly jilted, wounded her pride. It was peculiarly -lacerating to her sensibilities that her husband should own Randal -Ducie’s ancestral estate, bought under the disastrous circumstances of a -forced sale for a mere trifle of its value, and that she should be -enriched by this almost thievish chance. She could not endure that it -should be Randal Ducie at last from whom she should derive some part of -the luxury which she had craved and for which she had bartered his -love--that he should be bravely struggling on, bereft of his -inheritance, in that sane and simple sphere to which she had looked -back last night as another and a native world, from which she was exiled -to this realm of alien and flamboyant splendor, that suddenly had grown -strangely garish and bitter to the taste as she contemplated it. What, -indeed, did it signify to her?--She had no part, no choice in dispensing -her husband’s wealth. Everything was brought to her hand, regardless of -her wish or volition, as if she were a puppet. Even her charities, her -appropriate pose as a “lady bountiful,” were not spontaneous. “I think -you had better subscribe two hundred dollars to the refurnishing of the -Old Woman’s Home, Paula,--it is incumbent in your position,” he would -say, or “I made a contribution of five hundred in your name to the -Children’s Hospital,--it is expected that in your position you would do -something.” Her position--this made the exaction, not charity, not -humanity, not generosity. But for the mention in the local journals the -institutions of the city would never have known the lavish hand of one -of its wealthiest and most prominent citizens. The money would, -doubtless, do good even bestowed in this spirit, but the gift had no -blessing for the giver, and she felt no glow of gratulation. Indeed, it -was not a gift,--it was a tax paid on her position. More than once when -she had advocated a donation on her own initiative he had promptly -negatived the idea. “No use in that,” he would declare, or the story of -destitution and disaster was a “fake.” These instances were not -calculated to illustrate her position. She could not endure that it -should levy its tribute on Randal Ducie’s future, and she noted the -significant fact that always hitherto in mentioning the recent -acquisition under his kinsman’s will her husband had avoided the name of -the estate which must have acquainted her with its former ownership. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The weather had been vaguely misting all the dreary morning. Through a -medium not rain, yet scarcely of the tenuity of vapor, Paula had gazed -at the tawny flow of the swift river, the limited perspective of the -banks, the tall looming of the forests, the slate-tinted sky, all dim -and dull like a landscape in outline half smudged in with a stump. -Suddenly this meager expression of the world beyond was withdrawn from -contemplation. In the infinitely dull silence the fall of tentative -drops on the hurricane deck was presently audible, and, all at once, -there gushed forth from the low-hung clouds a tremendous down-pour of -torrents beneath which the _Cherokee Rose_ quivered. Paula turned -quickly to the door of the saloon, which barely closed upon her before -the guards were swept by floods of water. - -The whole interior resounded with the beat of scurrying footsteps -fleeing to shelter from this abrupt outbreak of the elements. Squads of -the passengers, or, sometimes, a single fugitive came at intervals -bursting into the saloon, gasping with the effects of surprise, and the -effort at speed, laughing, flushed, agitated, recounting their narrow -escapes from drenching or submergence. Two or three, indeed, had caught -a ducking and were repairing to their staterooms for dry clothing. There -was much sound of activity from the boiler deck as the roustabouts ran -boisterously in and out of the rain, busied in protecting freight or in -sheltering the few head of stock. The whole episode seemed charged with -a cheerful sense of a jolt of the monotony. - -A group of gentlemen who did not accompany ladies or who were not -acquainted with those on board gathered in the forward cabin, but Ducie -sat silent and listless in one of the arm-chairs in the saloon. -Apparently, he desired to show the Floyd-Rosneys that he perceived no -cause for embarrassment in their society and had no intention by -withdrawing of ameliorating any awkwardness which his presence might -occasion to them. There were very acceptable and cozy suggestions here. -Hildegarde Dean sat at the piano with the two old soldiers beside her. -The blind Major, who had a sweet tenor voice, albeit hopelessly -attenuated now, some tones in the upper register cracked beyond repair -in this world, would sing _sotto voce_ a stanza of an old war song, -utterly unknown to the girl of the present day, and Hildegarde, -listening attentively, would improvise an accompaniment with refrain and -_ritornello_ in a vague tentative way like one recalling a lost memory. -Suddenly she would throw up her head, her hands would crash out the -confident _tema_, Colonel Kenwynton’s powerful bass tones would boom -forth, and the old blind Major’s tremulous voice would soar on the wings -of his enthusiasm, and his memories of the days of yore. Meantime, the -girl’s fresh young face, between the two old withered masks, would glow, -the impersonation of kindly reverent youth and sweet peace and the -sentiment of harmony. - -It was pleasant to listen as song succeeded song. Hildegarde’s mother, -soft-eyed, soft-mannered and graceful, still youthful of aspect, smiled -in her sympathetic accord. Two or three of the more elderly passengers -now and again recognized a strain that brought back a long vanished day. -An old lady had taken out her fancy work and, as she plied her deft -needle in the intricate pattern of the Battenberg, she nodded her head -appreciatively to the rhythm of the music, and looked as if she had no -special desire for her journey’s end or a life beyond the sand-bar. - -When the répertoire was exhausted and silence ensued the blank was -presently filled by childish voices and laughter. Marjorie Ashley had -begun to lead little Ned Floyd-Rosney about, introducing him to the -various passengers disposed on the sofas and rocking-chairs of the -saloon. In this scion of the Floyd-Rosney family seemed concentrated all -its geniality. He was a whole-souled citizen and not only accepted -courtesies with jovial urbanity but himself made advances. He had, -indeed, something the tastes of a roisterer, and his father regarded, -with open aversion, his disposition to carouse with his -fellow-passengers. In his arrogant exclusiveness Floyd-Rosney revolted -from the promiscuous attentions lavished on the child. He resented the -intimacy which the affable infant had contracted with Marjorie Ashley, -the two children rejoicing extremely when the old nurse had been -summoned to her breakfast, thus consigning him in the interval to the -care of his mother, and rendering him more accessible to the -blandishments of his new friend. Floyd-Rosney felt that it was not -appropriate that he should be thrust forward in this unseemly publicity -thus scantily attended. It was the habit of the family to travel in -state, with Floyd-Rosney’s valet, the lady’s maid, a French bonne for -the boy, in addition to the old colored nurse in whom Mrs. Floyd-Rosney -had such confidence that she would not transfer the child wholly to -other tendance. The occasion of this journey, however, did not admit of -such a retinue. It was a visit of condolence which they had made to an -aunt of Mr. Floyd-Rosney who had lost her son, formerly a very intimate -friend of his own. She was an aged lady of limited means and a modest -home. To descend upon a household of simple habitudes, already -disorganized by recent illness and death, with a troop of strange -servants to be cared for and accommodated, was manifestly so -inappropriate that even so selfish a man as Floyd-Rosney did not -entertain the idea, although his wife received in his querulous asides -the full benefit of all the displeasure and inconvenience that he -experienced from “having to jaunt about the world with no attendant but -the child’s nurse.” The nurse, “Aunt Dorothy,” as in the southern -fashion she was respectfully called, had, perhaps, found company at -breakfast agreeable to her of her own race and condition, and her -absence was prolonged, which fact gave Marjorie Ashley the opportunity -to make again the round of the group of passengers in the saloon, -cajoling little Ned Floyd-Rosney to show them how he pronounced Miss -Dean’s Christian name. At every smiling effort she would burst into -gurgles of redundant laughter, so funny did “Miff Milzepar’” for “Miss -Hildegarde” sound in her ears. He was conscious of a very humorous -effect as he repeatedly made the attempt to pronounce this long word -under Marjorie’s urgency, gazing up the while with his big blue eyes -brimful of laughter, his carmine tinted lips ajar, showing his two rows -of small white teeth, his pink cheeks continually fluctuating with a -deeper flush, and his beguiling dimples on display. All the ladies and -several of the gentlemen caught him up and kissed him ecstatically; so -enticing a specimen of joyous, sweet-humored, fresh-faced childhood he -presented. His mother’s maternal pride glowed in her smile as she noted -and graciously accepted the tribute, but Floyd-Rosney fumed indignant. - -“Why don’t you stop that, Paula?” he growled in her ear as he cast -himself down on the sofa beside her. “All that kissing is dangerous.” - -“It has been going on since the beginning of the world, _accelerando_, -as the opportunities multiply,” she retorted with her satiric little -fleer. - -“Be pleased to notice that I am serious,” he hissed in his gruff -undertone. - -“You can easily make me serious,--don’t over-exert yourself,” she said -with a sub-current of indignation. - -She deprecated this public display of his surly mood toward her. There -is no woman, whether cherished or neglected, loving or indifferent, -gifted or deficient, who does not arrogate in public the scepter in her -husband’s affections, who is not wounded to the quick by the slightest -suggestion of reproof, or disparagement, or even the assertion of his -independent sentiment when brought to the notice of others. This is -something that finds, even in the most long-suffering wife, a keen new -nerve to thrill with an undreamed of pain. Paula’s cheek had flushed, -her eyes were hot and excited,--indeed, she did not lift them. She -could not brook the indignity that the coterie, most of all, Adrian -Ducie, should see her husband at her side with a stern and corrugated -brow, whispering in her ear his angry rebukes, commands, comments,--who -could know what he might have to say to her with that furious face and -through his set teeth. The situation was intolerable; her pride groped -for a means of escape. - -Then she did a thing that she felt afterward she could never have done -had she not in that moment unconsciously ceased to love her husband. She -shielded him no more as heretofore. She did not sacrifice herself, as -was her custom in a thousand small preferences. She did not assume his -whim that he might be satisfied, yet incur no responsibility or -ridicule. On the contrary, she led the laugh,--she delivered him, bound -hand and foot, to the scoffer. - -She suddenly rose, and, with her graceful, willowy gait, walked -conspicuously down the middle of the saloon. “Ladies and gentlemen, -fellow travelers and companions in misery,” she said, swaying forward in -an exaggerated bow, “the heir to the throne must not be kissed. Mr. -Floyd-Rosney is a victim of the theory of osculatory microbes. You can -only be permitted to taste how sweet the baby is through his honeyed -words and his dulcet laughter. Why, he might catch a tobacco-bug from -these human smoke-stacks, or the chewing-gum habit from Marjorie Ashley. -Therefore, you had better turn him over to me and the same old germs he -is accustomed to when his muzzer eats him up.” - -Forthwith she swung the big child up lightly in her, slender arms and, -with gurgles of laughter, devoured him with her lips, while he -squealed, and hugged, and kicked, and vigorously returned the kisses. -Then she held him head downward, with his curls dangling and apparently -all the blood in his body surging through the surcharged veins of his -red face as he screamed in delight. - -“Why, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” said the wondering Marjorie volubly, -“everybody on the boat has been kissing Ned ever since he came aboard. -The mate says he is so sweet that he took Ned’s finger to stir his -coffee with and declared it needed no other sweetening, either long or -short. And little Ned believed him and sat on his knee while he ate his -breakfast waiting to stir his second cup for him. Ned has got a whole -heap of microbes if kissing gives ’em. Why, even that big deer-hound -that is freighted to Vicksburg and has been sitting the picture of -despair and home-sickness, refusing to eat,--dog-biscuit, or meat, or -anything,--just tumbled little Ned over on the deck and licked his face -from his hair to his chin. And when he let Ned up at last Ned just -hugged the dog, and they kissed each other smack in the mouth. Then they -raced up and down the deck among the freight, playing hide and seek till -little Ned could hardly stir. Then the deer-hound ate his breakfast, and -is sitting down there right now, begging the leadsman for more.” - -“Oh, well, then, let him go to his nurse and get his mouth washed out -with a solution of carbolic acid or some other anti-toxin,--perhaps that -may be a staggerer for the microbes.” - -She let the child slide to the floor and then followed the tousled -little figure as it sped in a swift trot to her stateroom. He paused for -her to turn the bolt of the door, and as it opened he slipped under her -arm and disappeared, microbe-laden, within. - -Her husband sat silent, dismayed, amazed, scarcely able to believe his -senses. He was of the type of human being who, subtly and especially -fitted to cause pain, was not himself adjusted to stoical suffering. He -had a thousand sensitive fibers. His pride burned within him like an -actual fire. While it was appropriate that in public appearances a wife -should seem to be the predominant consideration, there being more grace -in a deferential affectation than in a sultan-like swagger, this pose -had such scant reality in the domestic economy that when Paula presumed -upon it in this radical nonchalance, he was at once astounded, -humiliated, and deeply wounded. He found it difficult to understand so -strange a departure from her habitual attitude toward him, his -relegation to the satiric methods with which she favored the world at -large, the merciless exposure to ridicule of his remonstrance, which -was, indeed, rather the vent of fretful ill-humor than any genuine -objection or fear of infection. The least exertion of feminine tact in -response to his wish would have quietly spirited the child away and -without comment ended these repugnant caresses of the little fellow by -strangers. Floyd-Rosney began to experience a growing conviction that it -all was the influence of the presence of Ducie. He had had some queer, -not unrelished, yet averse interest in studying in another man the face -of the lover whom he had supplanted. He could scarcely have brooked the -sight of the man she had loved, to tranquilly mark his facial traits, to -appraise his mental development, to speculate on his social culture and -worldly opportunities. But this was merely his image. Here was his twin -brother, his faithful facsimile. Floyd-Rosney had been surprised to note -how handsome he was, how obviously intelligent, how dashing. He had been -flattered as well,--this was no slight mark of honest preference on the -part of Paula, no mean rival he had put aside. He had felt a glow of -added pride in the fact, an accession of affection. He had noted the -studied calm, the inexpressive pose, the haughty simulation of -indifference with which Ducie had sustained the awkward _contretemps_ of -their meeting, the strain upon _savoir faire_ which the conventions -imposed upon the incident. - -And now, as he met Ducie’s eyes again, he perceived elation in them, -disproportionate, futile, but delighted. It was the most trivial of -foolish trifles, Floyd-Rosney said to himself, but this man had seen him -set at naught, put to the blush, held up to ridicule by his wife, airily -satiric, utterly unmindful of his dignity, nay, despising its tenuity, -and leading the laugh at his discomfiture. - -Ducie caught himself with difficulty. He was so conscious of the -unguarded expression of his face, the look of relish, of triumph, of -contempt surprised in his eyes, that he made haste to nullify the -effect. The whole affair was the absent Randal’s, and he must take heed -that he did not interfere by word or look or in any subtle wise in what -did not concern him,--it was, indeed, of more complicated intent than -heretofore he was aware. He was a man of very definite tact but he had -hardly realized the extent of the endowment until that moment. He -appreciated the subtle value of his own impulse, as if it had been -another’s, when he said, directly addressing Floyd-Rosney, as if there -had been only the element of good-natured joviality in the episode, “I -think we are all likely to encounter dangers more formidable than -microbes.--Have you any experience of cloud-bursts, Mr. Floyd-Rosney? -This fall of water is something prodigious, to my mind.” - -In his personal absorptions Floyd-Rosney had not noticed the rain. “Is -it more than a ‘season,’ do you think?--the breaking up of this long -drought?” Floyd-Rosney quickly adopted the incidental tone. - -He was so essentially a proud man that he would fain think well of -himself. His credulity expanded eagerly to the hope that to others the -episode of the morning might seem, as apparently to this man, only a bit -of gay badinage, the feminine insolence of a much indulged wife to her -lenient lord and master. To himself it could not bear this -interpretation, nor to her. He could never forget nor forgive the -impulse that informed it. But he was quick to seize the opportunity to -reinstate his self-possession, nay, the only possibility to “save his -face” and hold up his head. Such demands his assuming dignity made on -the deference of all about him that taken in this wise the incident -could hardly appear serious. - -“If there were thunder and lightning it might seem the equinoctial,” -said Ducie, “although it is something late in the year.” - -They had walked together down the saloon and to the forward part of the -cabin where they stood at the curving glass front looking out on -vacancy. The rain fell, not in torrents now, but in unbroken sheets of -gray crystal, opaque and veined with white. As the water struck the -guards it rebounded with the force of the downfall in white foam more -than a foot high, while sweeping away over the edge with the impetus and -volume of a cataract. But for the list of the boat, for the _Cherokee -Rose_ had not grounded fair and square on the sand-bar, this flood would -have been surging through the saloon, but the rain drove with the gusts -and, the windward side being several inches lower than the other, the -downpour struck upon it and recoiled from the slant. The sound was -something tremendous; the savagery of the roar of the columns of rain -falling upon the roof was portentous, sinister, expressive of the -unreasoning rage of the tempestuous elements and of the helplessness of -human nature to cope with it. Suddenly, whether the turmoil had in some -sort abated, or alien sounds were more insistently apparent, a new -clamor was in the air,--a metallic clanking, repetitious, constantly -loudening, was perceptible from the lower deck. Then ensued a deep, -long-drawn susurrus. The engines were astir once more. Obviously, an -effort was in progress to get the _Cherokee Rose_ off the bar under her -own steam. A babel of joyous, excited comment in the saloon, at the -extreme pitch of the human voice, could hardly be heard in the midst of -the turmoil without. All agreed that a vast flood must have fallen to -raise the river sufficiently to justify the attempt. - -“We are below the junction of several tributaries in this vicinity that -bring down a million tuns a minute in such weather as this,” commented -one of the passengers. - -Another, of the type that must have information at first hand, rushed to -the door to secure a conference with the Captain, regardless, or, -perhaps, unconscious, of the remonstrance of the others. As the door -opened in his hand a torrent of water rushed in, traversing the length -of the saloon over the red velvet carpet, and a blast of the wind -promptly knocked him off his feet, throwing him across the cabin against -a huddle of overturned chairs. The other men, with one accord, sprang -forward, and it was only with the united strength of half a dozen that -the door could be forced to close, although its lock seemed scarcely -able to hold it against the pressure from without. For the wind had -redoubled its fury. This region is the lair of the hurricane, and there -was a prophetic anxiety in every eye. - -It is, indeed, well that these great elemental catastrophes are as -transient as terrible. Human nerves could scarcely sustain beyond the -space of a minute the frightful tumult that presently filled the air. -The wind shrilled with a keen sibilance, and shouted in riotous menace -that seemed to strike against the zenith and rebound and reëcho anew. -The sense of its speed was appalling. The thunderous crashing of the -forests on the river bank told of the riving of timber and the -up-rooting of great trees laid flat in the narrow path of the hurricane. -For in the limitations of the track lies the one hope of escape from -this sudden frenzy of the air. Its area of destruction may be fifty -miles in length, but is often only a hundred yards or so in width, cut -as straight as a road and as regular, when this awful, invisible foe -marches through the country. Perhaps this was the thought in the mind -of every man of the little coterie, the chance that the _Cherokee Rose_ -might be outside the path of the hurricane. The next moment a hollow -reverberation of an indescribably wide and blaring sound broke forth -close at hand, as the smoke-stacks of the _Cherokee Rose_ crashed down -on the texas and rolled thence on the hurricane deck, the guy wires -jangling loose and shivering in keen, metallic tones. The boat yawed -over, suddenly smitten, as it were, by one fierce stroke. The furniture, -the passengers, all were swept down the inclined plane of the floor of -the saloon and against the mirrored doors of the staterooms. An aghast -muteness reigned for one moment of surprise and terror. Then cries broke -forth and futile and frantic efforts were made to reach the upper -portion of the cabin. A wild alarm was heard that the boat was on -fire,--that the boat had slipped off the sand-bar and was sinking. -Reiterated shouts arose for the officers, the Captain, the clerks, the -pilot, the mate, and the tumult without was reflected by the confusion -and terror within. - -Ducie’s brain seemed awhirl at the moment of the disaster. As he -regained his mental poise he saw Mrs. Floyd-Rosney on her knees -frantically struggling with the door of her stateroom, the lock -evidently having somehow sprung in the contortions of the steamer under -the blast. She looked up at him for an instant, but her tongue was -obviously incapable of framing a word in the excitement of that -tempestuous crisis. Ducie suddenly remembered, what everyone else but -the mother had forgotten, that the little boy had scarcely five minutes -earlier gone to the stateroom to be dealt with for the kissing -microbes. Observing the inadequacy of her efforts Ducie rushed to her -assistance and sought, by main strength, to force open the twisted and -warped door. It was so difficult to effect an entrance that he began to -doubt if this could be done without an axe, when he succeeded in -splintering it a trifle where it had already showed signs of having -sustained a fracture. Into the aperture thus made he thrust his foot and -then wedged in his knee, finally shattering a panel from the frame, to -the horror of the prisoners within, whose voices of terror found an echo -in Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s anguished exclamations. - -Ducie triumphantly lifted out little Ned and then the old colored nurse -was dragged through the aperture, scarcely sufficient for the transit. - -“There you are, good as new,” cried Ducie genially. - -Some of the doors of the staterooms had burst from their fastenings, and -were sagging and swaying inward, offering pitfalls for the unwary, and, -in that wild and excited group, Ducie alone bethought himself of -precaution. “Look out for the boy, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,--he may fall -through one of those open doors into deep water or into the furnace,--I -don’t know what is now beneath this part of the saloon,--the boat seems -twisted and broken to pieces.” - -The suggestion of danger to the child was like a potent elixir to Paula. -Her eyes, strained and set, recovered their normal look of perception, -wild and haggard though they were. She caught the child in her arms and, -although trembling and occasionally staggering under his weight, she -would not relinquish him to Ducie as he desired, but carried him -herself safely along the precarious way. Ducie aided her to clamber up -the steep incline where the doors ceased and the wall was unbroken, -there being here the barber-shop and the office, and the large space -utilized as a smoking-room. Through the windows streamed a deluge of -rain, and broken glass lay scattered all about. - -Most of the passengers had gathered here in an attitude of tense -expectancy. A man stood at a speaking-tube and, with a lordly urgency, -was insisting that the Captain should take immediate measures to put the -passengers ashore in the yawl. It was no moment to relish a conspicuous -pose, and Floyd-Rosney was too well habituated to the first place to -give it undue value, but he was obviously in his element and carrying -all before him. It was a one-sided conversation, but the comprehension -of his listeners was quickened by their personal interest in its -progress and result. - -“No danger?” a sarcastic laugh. “We take the liberty of differing as to -that. The boat may go to pieces on the sand-bar.” - -“A shelter? yes,--as long as she lasts, but how long will that be? The -boat not much injured except in the furnishings and glass? You think -not?” very sarcastically. - -“Oh, you guarantee? Now what is your guaranty worth to people drowned in -one hundred feet of water?” - -“No, we won’t wait to be taken off by the next packet. The river is -rising, and the sand-bar might be covered. We demand it,--the passengers -_demand_ to be set ashore in the yawl.” - -“Well, then, we will hold you and the owners liable.” - -“We are not prisoners. What’s that? Responsibility? humanity?--shelter? -I’ll take care of the shelter. Duciehurst mansion is scarcely ten miles -down the river. I own it, and the yawl could put us in it in a trice.” - -“Yes,--we will risk it,--we will risk the wind and the current. _All_ -right. All _right_.” - -He had carried his point against every protest according to his wont. As -he turned, triumphant and smiling, to the anxious, disheveled, drenched -group, he had all the pomp and port of a public benefactor. Absorbed in -himself and the prospect of his speedy extrication from this -uncomfortable and dangerous plight he was utterly unaware that his wife -and only child had had urgent need of the succor that they had received -from a stranger. - -Paula gazed enlightened at Floyd-Rosney as if she saw him for the first -time as he was. The scales had fallen from her eyes. His glance met -hers. He had no sense of gratulation that she and the boy were safe. He -had not known they had encountered special danger. He thought they only -shared the general menace which it was his privilege to render less, to -annul. He objected to her pose with the boy in her arms. He deemed it -inelegant,--as little Ned was much too stalwart for the artistic -presentment of the babe in the bosom of graceful maternity,--and the -backward cant of her figure thus extremely plebeian. It was not this -personal disapproval, however, that informed the coldness in his eyes. -The incident of the ridicule to which she had subjected him among these -passengers still rankled in every pulsation. He was glad of the -opportunity to confer benefits upon them, from his high position to -rescue them from imminent danger, to be reinstated, in their opinion, as -a man of paramount influence and value,--a fleer at him should be -esteemed, indeed, a self-confessed folly. - -“I dare say the old house leaks like a riddle,--I know it is in ruins,” -he said, in a large, off-hand, liberal manner, “but it is on solid -ground, at any rate, and I shall be glad to entertain this worshipful -company there as best I may till we can get a boat that can navigate -water and not tow-heads. I know we can’t spend the night here. In fact, -the Captain proposes to set us ashore as soon as he is convinced that no -boat is coming down,--but, of course, every craft on the river is tied -up in such weather as this. If he will set us ashore at Duciehurst with -some bedding and provisions I will ask no more.” - -There was a murmur of acquiescence and acceptance,--then a general -acclaim of thanks, for the wind was still so high that communication was -conducted almost in shouts. Nevertheless, Ducie heard very distinctly -when Mrs. Floyd-Rosney turned toward him a pale, pained, troubled face. - -“You will come, too? You will have no scruple about--about the -ownership?” she faltered. - -Adrian Ducie laughed satirically. “Not the least scruple in the world. I -have the best right there from every point of view,--even his own!--for -if my brother is only a lessee, and not the rightful owner, as he -contended this morning, Randal is in possession and my welcome is -assured in a house of which he is the host.” - -“I only thought--I wanted to say----” - -The big child was very big in her arms, and had had his share of the -suffering from the general tumult and excitement. He was fractious, -hungry, and sleepy, although he could not sleep. But he burrowed with -his head in her neck and tried to put his cheek before her lips that she -might talk to no one but him, and began to cry, although he forgot his -grievance midway and attempted to get down on his own stout legs. - -“I wanted to say,--you have been so good to me and the baby,--don’t Ned, -be quiet, my pet,--that I could not bear for you to remain in danger or -discomfort on the boat because of any sensitiveness about our presence -at Duciehurst.” - -“Don’t you believe it,” he responded cavalierly. “I am not subject to -any sensitiveness about Duciehurst. I shall have the very best that -Duciehurst can afford and be beholden to nobody for it.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -A diminution in the floods of rain began to be perceptible, and the -extreme violence of the wind was abated. Now and then a gust in -paroxysmal fury came screaming down the river, battering tumultuously at -the shattered doors and windows of the wreck, setting all the loose -wires and chains to clattering, and showing its breadth and muscle by -tearing up some riverside tree and carrying it whirling as lightly as a -straw through the air above the tortured and lashed currents of the -stream. The clouds, dark and slate-tinted, showed occasionally a white -transparent scud driving swiftly athwart their expanse, which gave -obvious token of the velocity of the wind, for, although the hurricane -was spent, the menace of the stormy weather and the turbulent, maddened -waters was still to be reckoned with. It was scarcely beyond noon-day, -yet the aspect of the world was of a lowering and tempestuous darkness. -The alacrity of the Captain in getting them afloat argued that he now -accorded more approval to the plan than when it was first suggested, and -that, although he would not have assumed the responsibility of the -removal of the passengers at such imminent risk, he was glad to forward -it when it was of their own volition, indeed insistence. A fact that his -long riparian knowledge revealed to him was not immediately apparent to -the passengers until the yawl was about to be launched,--the sand-bar -was in process of submergence. The rise of the river was unprecedented -in so short an interval, due to the fall of the vast volume of rain. -During the last ten minutes the Captain began to realize that it was -beyond the power of prophecy to judge what proportion of the tow-head -would be above water within the hour. It was not difficult to launch the -yawl from the twisted timbers of the deck. It swung clear and slipped -down with a smart impact, rocking on the tumultuous current as if there -were twenty feet of water beneath it. - -“Where the yawl is now was bare sand ten minutes ago,” commented -Floyd-Rosney. - -This fact imparted courage to the weak-hearted who had held back at the -sight of the weltering expanse of the great river, the sound of the -blasts of the strong wind, and the overwhelming downpour of the rain. -They were disposed now to depend upon Mr. Floyd-Rosney, who was so -masterful and knowing, and who shared all their interest, rather than -the Captain, whose conservative idea seemed to be to stick to the boat -at all hazards, and to what might be left of the tow-head. - -“This is the season of dead low water,” he argued. “This rain is -local,--the rise of the river is only temporary.” - -But he had the less influence with them, because they felt that he was -complicated by his duty to the owners of the boat and the shippers of -freight, and also the traditions that forbid the Captain’s abandonment -of his deck till the last moment. - -He did not resent the discarding of his opinion, but was quite genial -and hearty as he stood on the guards and himself directed the men who -were handling the yawl. - -“It may be the best thing,--if she doesn’t capsize,” he -admitted,--“though I wouldn’t advise it.” - -Whereupon the weak-hearted again began to demur. - -“Don’t discourage us, Captain,” said Floyd Rosney, frowning heavily, “we -have no other resource.” - -“I shall use my best judgment, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” the Captain retorted. -“I am not here to encourage you in fool-hardy undertakings. We know -where we are now,--and we have the yawl and the other boats as a last -resource. The weather, too, may clear. It can’t rain and blow forever.” - -“I shall show my opinion by taking to the boat and carrying my family -with me,” said Floyd-Rosney loftily. “Any one who wishes to go with us -will be very welcome at Duciehurst.” - -He already had on his overcoat and hat and the other passengers, with -their suit-cases or such other possessions as could be handed out of -their almost inverted staterooms by the grinning roustabouts, began to -make their precarious descent to the lower deck on the reeking and -slippery stair, all awry and aslant. - -“Take care of the Major,--oh, take care of the Major,” cried Hildegarde -Dean, almost hysterically, as the old man was lifted by his colored -servant, who had been with him as a “horse-boy” in the army, and who, -though grizzled, and time-worn, and wrinkled, was still brawny and -active. In fact, he had lived in great ease and competence owing to his -special fidelity and utility in the Major’s infirmities, since “Me an’ -de Major fout through de War.” In fact, if old Tobe might be believed, -the majority of the deeds of valiance in that great struggle were -exploited by “Me an’ de Major.” - -“Sartainly,--sartainly,” his big voice boomed out on the air, responsive -to the caution, “Me an’ de Major have been through a heap worse -troublements dan dis yere.” - -And, indeed, surely and safely he went down the stair, buffeted by the -wind and drenched by the rain and the spray leaping from its impact on -the surface of the water. - -Hildegarde herself descended as easily as a fawn might bound down a -hill, to Colonel Kenwynton’s amazement, accustomed to lend the ladies of -his day a supporting arm. She sprang upon the gunwale of the yawl in so -lightsome a poise that it scarcely tipped beneath her weight before she -was seated beside the old blind soldier, joyous, reassuring and hopeful. - -“It is hard to be in danger and unable to help others or even to see and -judge of the situation,” he said meekly, bending forward under the -down-pour, his face pallid and wrinkled, its expression of groping -wistfulness most appealing. - -“Yes, indeed,” she assented, her voice sounding amidst the rain like the -song of a bird from out a summer shower. “But I think all this hubbub is -for nothing,--the sky is going to clear, I believe, toward the west. -Still, the next packet can take us off at Duciehurst as well as from the -_Cherokee Rose_.” “And, Major,” with a blithe rising inflection, “I can -see a veritable ante-bellum mansion, and you can go over it with me and -explain the life of the old times. You can refurnish it, Major! You can -tell me what ought to stand here and there, and what sort of upholstery -and curtains the ‘Has-Beens’ used to affect.” - -His old face was suddenly relumed with this placid expectation; his -brain was once more thronged with reminiscences. He lifted his aged head -and gazed toward the clearing west and the radiant past, both beginning -to relent to a gentle suffusion of restored peace. - -In this transient illumination the great dun-tinted forests that lined -the banks showed dimly, as well as the vast river swirling intervenient, -tawny, murky, but with sudden mad whorls of white foam where the current -struck some obstruction flung into its course by the storm. The wreck of -the _Cherokee Rose_ was very melancholy as a spectacle since, but for -the hurricane, she would have been floated in five minutes more of the -deluge of rain. The yawl seemed a tiny thing, painfully inadequate, as -it rocked with a long tilt on the swaying undulations of the current. -The preparations for departure were going swiftly forward; another boat -was in process of loading with material comforts, cots, bedding, all -under tarpaulins, boxes and hampers of provisions, and the trunks and -suit-cases of passengers. Since escape was now possible and at hand, one -or two of the faint-hearted began to experience anew that reluctance to -removal, that doubt of an untried change so common to the moment of -decision. “It is a long way--ten miles in this wind,” said one, “how -would it do for a few of us to try that swamper’s shack on the bank? The -yawl is overloaded, anyhow.” - -“Now, I _can_ advise you,” said the Captain definitely. “It won’t do at -all to trust river-side rats. You might be robbed and murdered for your -watch or the change in your purse. I am not acquainted with that -swamper,--I speak from precedent. And how can you judge if the shack is -above water now,--or whether it has been blown by the hurricane down the -river?” - -“Still, the yawl _is_ overloaded,” said Floyd-Rosney, with a trifle of -malice. He was bent on exploiting the situation to his own commanding -credit, and the proposition, reiterated anew, to withdraw for a -different course, nettled his troublous and sensitive pride. - -The next man who stepped into the yawl was the one who had advanced this -divergent theory, and Floyd-Rosney flashed a glance of triumph at his -wife, who still stood with the child in her arms at the warped rail of -the promenade deck. She was pale, anxious, doubtful, in no frame of mind -to furnish her wonted plaudits, the incense of wifely flatteries on -which his vanity lived. These others had admired his initiative, had -gladly adopted his plans, were looking to him with a unanimity of -subservience that had quite restored the tone of his wonted arrogance. -He could ill brook to see her with that discouraged questioning in her -face, gazing forth over the forbidding gray water, letting first one, -then another pass her to a place in the yawl. She should have been the -first to board it,--to show her faith by her works. - -He approached her with a rebuking question. - -“Why do you lug that child around, Paula?” he demanded. “He will break -your back.” He stepped forward, as if to lift the little fellow from -her arms, but she precipitately moved a pace backward. Paula’s grisly -thoughts were of the dungeon, the trap of the warped stateroom,--whence -the boy was liberated by a stranger, while his father, unthinking and -unnoting, was absorbed in his own complacence, in his busy and arrogant -pose. No,--she would not let the child go again, she would hold him in -her arms if his weight broke every bone in her body till they were all -in safety. - -“I don’t want to risk that yawl,” she said querulously. “I think the -Captain knows best,--he has had such long experience. The yawl looks -tricky, and the water is fearful. We ought to take to the yawl as a last -resort, when the steamer can’t house us. That is always the custom. It -is only in cases of absolute necessity that the yawl is used.” - -It would be difficult to say whether he were more surprised or incensed, -as for a moment, with short breaths and flashing eyes, he gazed at her. -He was of an impetuous temper, yet not beyond schooling. He had had a -lesson, he had felt the keen edge of her ridicule this morning, and he -would not again lay himself liable to a public exhibition. - -“Why, you must be a graduated pilot to know so much about the river,” he -cried with a rallying laugh. “The kid and I are going in the yawl at all -events. Unloose your hold,” he added in a furious undertone. “He is -mine,--he is mine,--not yours.” - -He had laid his hand on both hers as they clasped the child. -Floyd-Rosney was still smiling and apparently gracious and good-humored, -which might have seemed much, thus publicly withstood in this moment of -excitement and stress. He was resolved that he would not lower his -pride by an open and obvious struggle. He did not consider her pride. He -forced her fingers apart, invisibly under the folds of the child’s -cloak, by an old school-boy trick of suddenly striking the wrist a sharp -blow. The muscles must needs relax in the pain, the hold give way, and, -as the boy was about to slip from her clasp, his father called for the -nurse, placed the child in the arms of the old servant and consigned -them both to a stout roustabout who had them in the yawl in a trice. -Without a word of apology, of justification, of soothing remonstrance, -Floyd-Rosney turned away from his wife with brisk cheerfulness and once -more addressed himself to the matter in hand. - -Paula felt that if this had been her husband of yesterday it would have -broken her heart. But that identity was dead,--suddenly dead. Indeed, -had he ever lived? She wondered that the revulsion of feeling did not -overpower her. But she was consciously cool, composed, steady, without -the quiver of a muscle. She made no excuses to herself in her -introspection for her husband,--gave him no benefit of doubt,--urged no -palliation of his brutality. Yet these were not far to seek. The -hurricane had come at a crisis in his mental experience. He had been -publicly held up to ridicule, even to reprehension, by his own -subservient wife. He had been released from this pitiable attitude by -some unimaginable impulse in the brother of the man whom she had jilted -at the last moment, and thus confused, absorbed, scarcely himself at the -instant of the stupendous crash, he had lost sight of the fact, if he -had earlier noticed, that the child was not with her, and in the -saloon,--his latest glimpse of the boy was in her arms. It was natural -that he did not witness the rescue by Ducie, for he was planning an -escape for them all, and, surely, it was her place to defer to his -views, his seniority, his experience, and be guided by him rather than -take the helm herself. Naught of this had weight with her. She only -remembered the provocation that had elicited her fleer, his furious -whisper of objection, his censorious interference, the humiliation so -bitter that she could not lift her head while his rebukes hissed in her -ears before them all. Then, in that terrible moment of calamity, he had -not thought of her, of their son,--had not rushed to gather them in his -arms, that they might, at least, die together. Doubtless, he would have -said they could die together in due time,--it was not yet the moment for -dying--and he was preparing to postpone that finality as far as might -be. - -And thus it was Adrian Ducie,--Randal’s brother--who had saved the -child, shut up in the overturned stateroom like a rat in a trap. She -knew, too, how lightly Floyd-Rosney would treat this if it were brought -to his knowledge--he would say that not a drop of water had touched the -child; he had sustained not an instant’s hurt. That he and his nurse had -for a few moments been unable to turn the bolt of a door was only a -slight inconvenience, as the result of a hurricane. One of the -passengers had a badly bruised arm, on which a chandelier had fallen, -another was somewhat severely cut about the head and face by the -shattering of a mirror. The baby was particularly safe in the restricted -little stateroom, where naught more deadly fell upon him than a pillow. - -But it mattered not now to her what Floyd-Rosney said or thought. All -dwindled into insignificance, was nullified by the fact of the covert -blow, on the sly,--how she scorned him--that these men might not see and -despise him for it!--dealt in the folds of the child’s cloak, their -child, his and hers! She wondered that he dared, knowing how she had -surrendered him to scorn in their earlier difference. Perhaps he knew, -and, indeed, she was sure, instinctively, that none would believe; the -blow would be considered unintentional, the incident of the struggle to -wrest the child from her grasp. - -If a moment ago she had seemed pale, haggard, a flaccid presentment of -an ordinary type, that aspect had fallen from her like a mask. Her -cheeks burned, and their intense carmine gave an emphasis to the luster -and tint of her redundant yellow hair. Her eyes were alert, brilliant, -not gray, nor brown, nor green, yet of a tint allied to each, and were -of such a clarity that one could say such eyes might well gaze unabashed -upon the sun. All her wonted distinction of manner had returned to her -unwittingly, with the resumption of her normal identity, the reassertion -of her courage. The necessity to endure had made her brave, quick to -respond to the exigencies of the moment. - -As the child’s voice came to her through the torrents in a plaintive -bleat of reluctance and terror, full of the pain and fear of parting -from her, who was his little Providence, omnipotent, all-caring, -infinitely loving, she nerved herself to call out gaily to him and wave -her hand, and exhort him in the homely phrase familiar to all infancy, -“to be a good boy.” The tears started to her eyes as she noted his -sudden relapse into silence, and saw, through the rain, how humbly and -acquiescently he lent himself to the bestowal of his small anatomy in -the corner deemed fit by the imperious paternal authority. - -Little Marjorie Ashley had been almost stunned into silence for a time. -The terrors of the experience, the exacerbation of nerves in the -tempestuous turmoils, the suspense, the agitation, the fear of injury or -even of death, all seemed nullified now in the expectation of rescue and -under the protective wing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. Her father, going within -to the office for some valuable which he had deposited in the safe of -the boat, had charged Marjorie to stand beside Mrs. Floyd-Rosney till -his return. The little girl utilized the interval more acceptably to -that lady than one might have deemed possible, by her extravagant -praises of baby Ned and her appreciative repetition of his bright -sayings. - -Catching sight of him as he looked up from the yawl, she called out in -affected farewell,--“So long, partner!”--her high, reedy voice -penetrating the down-pour with its keenly sweet and piercing quality, -and she fell back against Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, laughing with delight and -gratified mirth, when the response came shrill, and infantile, and -jubilant,--“So long, Mar’jee! So long, Mar’jee!” - -Floyd-Rosney’s look of inquiry as the business of embarkation brought -him near his wife was so marked as to be almost articulate. He could not -understand her changed aspect. He was prepared for tears, for -reproaches, even for an outbreak of indecorous rage. He had intended -that, in any event, she should feel his displeasure, his discipline, -and it was of a nature under which she must needs writhe. Anything that -affected the boy, however slightly, had power to move her out of all -proportion to its importance. In this signal instance of danger, almost -of despair, her conduct, her accession of beauty, seemed inexplicable. -Her manner of quiet composure, her look, the stately elegance so in -accord with her slender figure, her attitude, her gait, peculiarly -characteristic of her personality, seemed singularly marked now, and out -of keeping with the situation, challenging comment. - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney has got the nerve!” said the Captain admiringly. “She -is fit for the bridge of a man-of-war. Are you going to stand by the -deck till the last passenger has taken to the boats, madam?” - -For Floyd-Rosney, knowing full well that he was imposing on her no -danger that the others did not share, had made it a point to pass her by -in summoning the ladies to descend to the yawl. In fact, a number of men -were seated on the thwarts by his orders. He had only intended to -impress her with a sense of his indifference, his displeasure, his -power. But he had given her the opportunity to assert her independence, -and, incidentally, to levy tribute on the admiration of the whole boat’s -company. - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney doesn’t care for a living thing but little Ned,” -cried the voluble Marjorie. “If little Ned is safe she had just as lief -the rest of us would go to the bottom as not.” - -Mr. Floyd-Rosney took his wife by the elbow. “Come on,” he said, “why -are you lagging back here,--afraid to get in the yawl?” Then he added -in a lower voice, “Can you do nothing to stop that miserable girl’s -chatter?” - -But the voice, even hissing between his set teeth, was not so low that -Marjorie, being near, did not hear it. At all events, _she_ had had no -schooling in self-repression, in the humiliation of a politic deference. -She flamed out with all the normal instincts of self-asserting and -wounded pride. - -“No, there isn’t any way to stop my chatter,”--she exclaimed hotly, “for -I have as good a right to talk as you. I am _not_ a ‘miserable girl.’ -But I don’t care what _you_ say. I don’t train with your gang, anyhow!” - -“Why, Marjorie,” cried Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and her husband had a moment’s -relief in the expectation that the indignity offered to him would be -summarily, yet tactfully rebuked. But his wife only said, “What slang! -Is that the kind of thing you learn at Madame Gerault’s?” - -She passed her arm about the girl’s shoulder, but Marjorie had as yet -learned no self-control at Madame Gerault’s or elsewhere, and burst into -stormy tears. Even after she was seated in the yawl, beside Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, she wept persistently, and sobbed aloud. The -grief-stricken spectacle greatly affected little Ned Floyd-Rosney at the -further end of the yawl. After staring, in grave and flushed dismay and -amaze for a few moments, he made one or two spasmodic efforts to cheer -his boon companion from the distance. Then he succumbed to sympathy and -wept dolorously and loudly in concert. - -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney made no effort to reach him by word or look. Her -husband, whose nerves a crying child affected with such intense -aggravation that he was seldom subjected to this annoyance, was -compelled to set his teeth in helpless discomfort, and endure the -affliction, intensified by the difference in age, and the variance in -pitch and vocal volume of the two lachrymose performers. - -Thus freighted, the yawl pushed off, at length, into the steely rain, -the white foam, and the surging, tawny currents of the river. All looked -back at the sand-bar, doubtless, with some apprehensive regret. The -sight of the stanch Captain on the deck waving his farewell was not -calculated to dispel anxiety. The sand-bar, too, was big,--on board they -had scarcely realized its extent. In comparison with the yawl it seemed -very solid, continental. They sheered off cautiously from it lest the -yawl, too, go aground on some submerged and unsuspected process of land -building. It was obviously safer in the middle of the river, despite the -menacing aspect of the swift tumultuous current, lashed into foaming -swirls by the blast. The tremendous impetus of the flow was demonstrated -by the speed of the yawl; in one moment the steamer had disappeared, its -great white bulk, lifted high on the sand-bar, showed like a mirage -through a sudden parting of the dashing torrents, then fell astern to be -glimpsed no more. When the yawl began to run precipitately toward the -bank there was a general outcry of fear, but the mate, who was -navigating the little craft, explained that it must needs go with the -sweep of the current, which now hugged the shore, for the strength of -his crew could not make headway against it, heavily laden as the yawl -was. - -From this proximity to the land the voyagers could mark the evidences -of the fury of the hurricane. Its track through the woods was near a -hundred yards wide, in almost a perfectly straight line, and in this -avenue the trees were felled, the ground cleared, the levee laid flat. -It was impossible to say what dwellings or farm-buildings shared the -disaster, for no vestige was left to tell the tale. As the yawl fared -onward it encountered one of the great monarchs of the woods, tossed -into the river by the gusts that had uprooted it and now borne swiftly -on by the combined force of the wind and the current. It required all -the strength of the oarsmen to hold back and give precedence to this -gigantic flotsam, lest some uncovenanted swirl of the waters fling it -with all its towering intricacies of boughs upon the boat, and, -hopelessly entangling it, thrash out the life of every creature on -board. For the wind was rife in its branches and thus contorted its -course. It tossed them high; whistled and screamed madly among them, and -the yawl, following reluctantly in the rear, was witness of all the -fantastic freaks of these wild gambols of the gusts. This unlucky -blockade of their course gave rise to some discussion between the mate -and the passengers, and Floyd-Rosney would fain seek to pass the -obstruction by a spurt of rowing to one side. - -“I am not well acquainted with the current just along here,” said the -mate, “but if it should make in toward the land with us between it and -the bank we would be flailed alive and drowned besides.” - -There was a general consensus of opinion with the mate’s position, and -one of the elderly ladies openly remonstrated against Floyd-Rosney’s -risky proposition, but his wife said never a word. - -Suddenly the mate called out in a startled voice: “Back -oars,--back,--back,” and every roustabout put his full force against the -current, but their utmost strength only sufficed to retard the progress -of the boat. The tree had been struck by a flaw of wind which almost -turned it over on the surface of the water, and then went skirling and -eddying down the river. The whirling foliage gave an effect as of a -flash of iridescent light through the sad-hued landscape; the leaves all -green and yellow, as in a blend of some gorgeous emblazonry, showed now -against the white foam and now against the slate-tinted sky. The myriad -wild waves, surging to and fro in the commotion, leaped in long, elastic -bounds, and shook their tawny manes. In the tumultuous undulations of -the waters it required all the skill of the experienced boat-hands to -keep the yawl afloat. - -“Give it up,” said Floyd-Rosney, at length. “We must go back to the -_Cherokee Rose_.” - -“Impossible,--against the current with this load,” said the mate. - -“We can try, at least,” urged Floyd-Rosney. “If we don’t turn back the -current will carry us down into the midst of that cursed tree in case we -have another gust.” - -“Isn’t there a bayou about half a mile further?” suggested Adrian Ducie. -“Does the current make in?” - -“I am not sure whether it’s a creek or a bayou,” said the mate, “but the -current does make in along there.” - -“As if it matters a _sou marqué_ whether it is a creek or a bayou,” -fleered Floyd-Rosney contemptuously. - -“It makes all the difference in the world,” retorted Ducie. “If it is a -creek it flows into the Mississippi,--a tributary. If it is a bayou the -Mississippi flows into it, for it is an outlet. If the current sets that -way it may carry the tree into the bayou, provided it is wide enough, -and, if it is narrow, the boughs may be entangled there.” - -It was one of the misfortunes under which the voyagers labored that -these consultations of the leaders must needs be made in the hearing of -the others, owing to the restricted space which they occupied. Several -had begun to grow panicky with the suggestion that progress was so -environed with danger, and yet that return was impossible. Perhaps the -mate was skilled in weather-signs not altogether of the atmosphere when -he said, casually, - -“You seem to be well acquainted with the river hereabouts, Mr. Ducie.” - -“Not the river itself, but I have made a study of a plot of survey of -the Duciehurst lands. Bayou Benoit touches the northwestern -quarter-section just where it leaves the river. We cannot be far now.” - -And, indeed, a sudden rift in the sullen cypress woods on the eastern -shore revealed, presently, a stream not sluggish as was its wont, when -one might scarce have discerned the course of the water, whether an -inlet or an outlet of the river. Now it was flowing with great speed and -volume obviously directly from the Mississippi. As the mate had said, -the current hugged the shore. The oarsmen made as scant speed as might -be while the great tree, in its rich emblazonment of green and gold, -went teetering fantastically on the force of the river. Its course grew -swifter and swifter with the momentum of the waters, seeking liberation, -until, all at once, it became stationary. As Ducie had thought probable, -its boughs had entangled themselves with the growths on one side of the -narrow bayou. It was effectually checked for the nonce, although, at any -moment, the force of the stream might break off considerable fragments -of the branches and thus compass its dislodgment. - -“Give way, boys,” cried the mate in a stentorian voice. “Give way.” The -crew stretched every muscle, and the yawl skimmed swiftly past the -great, flaring obstruction, swinging and swaying as if at anchor in the -mouth of the bayou. Now and again anxious, frightened glances were cast -astern. But a pursuit by the woodland monster did not materialize. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The aspect of the Duciehurst mansion gave no token of its ruinous -condition when first it broke upon the view. Its stately portico, the -massive Corinthian columns reaching to the floor of the third story of -the main building, impressively dominated the scene, whitely glittering, -surrounded by the green leaves of the magnolia grandiflora, ancient now, -and of great bulk and height. The house was duplicated by the reflection -in water close at hand, whether some lake or merely a pool formed by the -rain, Paula could not determine. A wing on either side expressed the -large scope of its construction, and from a turn in the road, if a -grass-grown track could be so called, came glimpses, in the rear of the -building, of spacious galleries both above and below stairs, shut in by -Venetian blinds, so much affected in the architecture of Southern homes -in former years. A forest of live oak, swamp maple, black gum closed the -view of the background, and cut off the place from communication with -the cotton lands appurtenant to it, but at a very considerable distance. -For the region immediately contiguous to the house had become in the -divagations of the great river peculiarly liable to overflow, and thus -the forest, known, indeed, as the “open swamp,” continued uncleared, -because of the precarious value of the land for agricultural -operations. In fact, the main levee that protected the fields now lay -far in the rear of the old Duciehurst mansion. Doubtless in times of -specially high water seeping rills effected entrance at door and -casement and ran along the floors and rose against the walls, and -brought as tenants crayfish and frogs, water-snakes and eels, and other -slimy denizens of the floods, who explored the strange recesses of this -refuge, and, perhaps, made merry, thus translated to the seat of the -scornful. - -Paula paused on the crest of the old levee. It had been in its day a -redoubtable embankment, and despite the neglect of a half century, it -still served in partial efficiency, and its trend could be discerned far -away. She gazed at the place with emotions it was difficult for her to -understand. She could not shake off the consciousness of the presence of -Adrian Ducie, nor could she cease to speculate how it must affect him to -see his ancestral estate in the possession of the usurper, for thus he -must consider her husband. Ducie had grown silent since they had -disembarked, and walked a little apart from the cluster of tramping -refugees. She dared not look at his face. - -But law is law, she argued within herself. It was not the fiat of her -husband or of his predecessors, but the decree of the court that had -given the property to them. Nevertheless, there was to her mind an -inherent coercive evidence of the truth of the tradition of the released -mortgage, duly paid and satisfied, and she looked at the old place with -eyes rebuked and deprecatory, and not with the pride or interest of the -rightful owner. - -It was still raining as the group reached the pavement of heavy stone -blocks. These had defied the growths of neglect and the wear of time, -and were as they had always been save that one of them had scaled and -held a tiny pool of shallow water, which reflected the sky. Her husband -walked beside her, now and again glancing inquiringly at her. Never -before in all their wedded life had so long a difference subsisted -between them. For, even if she were not consciously at fault, Paula had -always hitherto made haste to assume the blame, and frame the apology, -for what odds was it, in good sooth, who granted the pardon, she was -wont to argue, so that both were forgiving and forgiven. Now, she recked -not of his displeasure. She seemed, indeed, unusually composed, -absorbed, self-sufficient. She did not even glance at him, yet how her -eyes were accustomed to wait upon him. She looked about with quiet -observation, with obvious interest. One might suppose, in fact, that she -did not think of him at all, as she walked so daintily erect and -slender, with such graceful, sober dignity beside him. He had acquitted -himself well that day, he thought, had certainly earned golden opinions, -but he was beginning to miss sadly the most adroit flatterer of all his -experience, the woman who loved him. As together they ascended the broad -stone steps he suddenly paused, took her hand in one of his and with -ceremony led her through the great arched portal, from which the massive -doors had been riven and destroyed long ago. - -“Welcome to your own house, my wife,” he said with his fine florid smile -and a manner replete with his conscious importance and his relish of it. - -At that moment there came a sound from the ghastly vacancy glimpsed -within, a weird, shrill sound, full of sinister suggestion. The group, -peering in from behind them, thrilled with horror, broke into sudden -frightened exclamations, before its keen repetition enabled them to -realize that it was only the hooting of an owl, roused, doubtless, from -his diurnal slumbers by the tones of the echoing voice and the -vibrations of the floor under an unaccustomed tread. Some sheepish -laughter ensued, at themselves rather than at Floyd-Rosney, but at this -moment any merriment was of invidious suggestion and he flushed deeply. - -“Here, you fellow,” he hailed one of the roustabouts, “get that owl out -of here, and any other vermin you can find,” and he tossed the darkey a -dollar. - -The roustabout showed all his teeth, and he had a great many of them, -and with a deprecatory manner ran to pick up the silver coin. He was -trained to a degree of courtesy, and he fain would have left it where it -had fallen on the pavement until he had executed the commission. But he -knew of old his companions of the lower deck, now busied in bringing up -the luggage of the party. Therefore, he pocketed the gratuity before he -went briskly and cheerfully down the long hall to one of the inner -apartments whence proceeded the sound of ill-omen. - -While they were still making their way into the main hall they heard a -great commotion of hootings and halloos, and all at once a tremendous -crash of glass. It is a sound of destruction that rouses all the -proprietor within a man. - -“Great heavens,” cried Floyd-Rosney, “is the fool driving the creature -through the window without lifting the sash, little glass as there is -left here.” - -It seemed that this was the case, for a large white owl, blinded by the -light of day, floundering and fluttering, went winging its way clumsily -scarcely six feet from the ground through the rain, still falling -without, and after several drooping efforts contrived gropingly to perch -himself on a broken stone vase on the terrace, whence the other -roustabouts presently dislodged him, and with gay cries and great -unanimity of spirit, proceeded to dispatch him, hooting and squawking in -painful surprise and protesting to the last. - -Paula had caught little Ned within the doorway to spare his innocence -and infancy the cruel spectacle. And suddenly here was the roustabout -who had been sent into the recesses of the house, coming out again with -a strange blank face, and a peculiar, hurried, dogged manner. - -“Did you find any more owls? And why did you break the glass to get him -out?” Floyd-Rosney asked, sternly. - -“Naw, sir,” the man answered at random, but loweringly. He bent his head -while he swiftly threaded his way through the group as if he were -accustomed to force his progress with horns. He was in evident haste; he -stepped deftly down the flight to the pavement and, turning aside on the -weed-grown turf, reached the shrubbery and was lost to view among the -dripping evergreen foliage. - -As it is the accepted fad to admire old houses rather than the new, a -gentleman of the party who made a point of being up-to-date began to -comment on the spacious proportions of the hall, and the really stately -curves of the staircase as it came sweeping down from a lofty -_entresol_. “It looks as if it might be a spiral above the second story, -isn’t that an unusual feature, or is it merely the attic flight?” he -interrogated space. - -For Floyd-Rosney, all the host, was looking into the adjoining rooms and -giving orders for the lighting of fires wherever a chimney seemed -practicable. - -“Listen how the old rattle-trap is leaking,” said one of the elderly -ladies, ungratefully. - -Paula made no comment. She was hearing the melancholy drip, drip, drip -of the rain through the ceilings of the upper stories. As the drops -multiplied in number and increased in volume they sounded to her like -foot-falls, now rapid, now slow, circumspect and weighty; sometimes -there was a frenzied rush as in a wild catastrophe, and again a light -tripping in a sort of elastic tempo, as of the vibrations of some gay -dance of olde. The echoes,--oh, the echoes,--she dropped her face in her -hands for a moment, lest she should see the echoes materialized, that -were coming down the stairs, evoked from the silence, the solitude, the -oblivion of the ruined mansion. Neglected here so long, who would have -recked if the old memories had taken wonted form--who would have seen, -save the moonbeam, itself wan and vagrant, or the wind of kindred -elusiveness, going and coming as it listed. - -Yet there had been other and more substantial tenants. “The damned -rascals have pulled up nearly every hearth in the house,” Floyd-Rosney -was saying, as he came forging back through the rooms on the right. Then -once more among the ladies he moderated his diction. “Destroying the -hearths, searching for the hidden treasure of Duciehurst--idiotic -folly! River pirates, shanty-boaters, tramps, gipsies, and such like -vagrants, I suppose.” - -Paula, seated on one of the steps of the stair, cast a furtive glance at -Adrian Ducie, who had followed Floyd-Rosney from the inner apartments. -His face was grave, absorbed, pondering. Doubtless he was thinking of -the persistence of this tradition to endure, unaided, unfostered for -forty years. It must have had certainly some foundation in fact. - -“Perhaps the vagrants discovered it and carried it off,” suggested the -up-to-date man. - -“Not in the chimney-places,” fretted Floyd-Rosney, “which makes it all -the more aggravating. The solid stone hearths are laid on solid masonry, -each is constructed in the same way, and you couldn’t hide a hair-pin in -one of them. Why did they tear them _all_ up?” - -But fires were finally started in two of the rooms on the ground floor -where the hearths were found intact. They were comparatively dry, -barring an occasional dash of the rain through the broken glass of one -of the windows, the ceilings being protected from leakage by the floor -of the upper story. Floyd-Rosney began to feel that this was sufficient -accommodation for the party under the peculiar difficulties that beset -them. The scarcity of wood rendered the impairment of the fire-places -elsewhere of less moment. The sojourners were fain to follow the example -of the lawless intruders hitherto, who tore up the flooring of the rear -verandas, the sills of the windows, the Venetian blinds for fuel. This -vandalism, however, in the present instance, was limited, for its -exercise required muscle, and this was not superabundant. True, the -Captain’s forethought had furnished them with an axe, and also a cook, -in the person of one of the table waiters, understood to be gifted in -both walks of life. There was present, too, the Major’s negro servant, -who, although sixty years of age, was still stalwart, active and of -unusual size. But neither of these worthies had hired out to cut wood. - -The crisis was acute. Floyd-Rosney offered handsome financial -inducements in vain and then sought such urgency as lay in miscellaneous -swearing. His language was as lurid as any flames that had ever flared -up the great chimney, but ineffective. The group stood in a large -apartment in the rear, apparently a kitchen, of which nearly half the -floor was already gone, exhaled in smoke up this massive chimney. It -occupied nearly one side of the room, and still a crane hung within its -recesses and hooks for pots. There was also a brick oven, very quaint, -and other ancient appurtenances of the culinary art, hardly understood -by either of the modern claimants of ownership, but of special interest -to the up-to-date man who had followed them out to admire the things of -yore, so fashionable anew. - -“Naw, sir,” said the Major’s retainer. “I can’t cut wood. I ain’t done -no work since me an’ de Major fought de war, ’cept jes’ tend on him. -Naw, sir, I ain’t cut no wood since I built de Major’s las’ bivouac -fire.” He was perfectly respectful, but calm, and firm, and impenetrable -to argument. - -The other darkey, a languid person with an evident inclination to high -fashion, perceived in the demand an effort at imposition. With his -spruce white jacket and apron, he lounged in the doorway leaning -against its frame in a most negative attitude. His voice in objection -took on the plaint of a high falsetto. “The Cap’n nuver mentioned nare -word to me ’bout cuttin’ wood. I’ll sure cook, if I have got a fire to -cook with.” - -“You black rascal, do you expect me to build your fire?” sputtered -Floyd-Rosney. - -“The Cap’n nuver treated me right,” the provisional cook evaded the -direct appeal. “He nuver tole me that I was gwine to be axed to cut -wood.” - -“How were you going to cook without a fire?” demanded Ducie. - -“I ’spected you gemmen had a fire somewhere.” - -“In my coat-pocket?” asked Floyd-Rosney. - -The waiter would not essay the retort direct. He, too, was perfectly -polite. “I ain’t gwine to cut wood,” he murmured plaintively. - -“I wish we had kept one of those roustabouts to cut wood instead of -letting them all go with the yawl back to the _Cherokee Rose_,” said -Floyd-Rosney, in great annoyance. “They are worth a hundred of these -saloon darkies.” - -“Don’t name _me_ ’mongst dat triflin’ gang, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” the -Major’s retainer said, in dignified remonstrance. “But I jes’ come along -to wait on de Major, an’ cuttin’ wood is a business I ain’t in no wise -used to. Naw, sir.” - -“I never was expectin’ to cut wood,” plained the high falsetto of the -saloon darkey. - -“Pshaw!” exclaimed Ducie. “If this keeps up I’ll split some fool’s head -open.” - -He threw off his coat, seized the axe, heaved it up and struck a blow -that splintered a plank in the middle. Floyd-Rosney, his coat also on -the floor, inserted the blade of a hatchet edgewise beneath it and -pried it up, then began to chop vigorously while Ducie prepared to rive -another plank. - -The two negroes looked on with sulky indifference. - -Suddenly the Major’s servant grinned genially, without rhyme or reason. -“You two gemmen git out of yere. Make yerselfs skeerce. You think I’m -gwine to stand yere an’ let you chop wood. I know de quality. I have -always worked for de quality. I’m gwine to l’arn dis yere little coon, -dat dunno nuthin’ but runnin’ de river, how to behave hisself before de -quality. Take up dat hatchet, boy, an’ mind yer manners.” - -Floyd-Rosney surrendered the implement readily and with all the grace of -good-will, but Ducie continued to deal the stanch old floor some -tremendous blows and at last laid the axe down as if he did not half -care. - -“We had best run as few fires as possible,” Ducie commented as they left -the room, “change of heart might not last.” - -Thus it was that only two of the many spacious apartments were put into -commission. One, the walls of which betokened in the scheme of their -decoration its former uses as a music-room, was filled with the effects -of the ladies of the party, while the gentlemen were glad to pull off -their shoes and exchange for dry hose and slippers before the fire of an -old-time smoking-room, that must have been a cozy den in its day. The -house had long ago been stripped of all portables in decoration as well -as furnishing. A few mirrors still hung on the walls, too heavy or too -fragile to be safely removed, wantonly shattered by the vandal hands of -its occasional and itinerant inmates. Several of these had been a -portion of the original construction, built into the walls, and in lieu -of frames were surrounded by heavy mouldings of stucco-work, and this, -too, had given opportunity to the propensity of destruction rife -throughout the piteous wreck of a palace. In the smoking-room, the haunt -of good-fellowship and joviality, Bacchus seemed doubly drunk, riding a -goat of three legs and one horn, at the summit of the mirror, and -really, but that the figure in half relief was too high to be -conveniently reached all semblance of the design might have been -shattered. Only here and there was it possible to follow the rest of the -rout of satyrs and fauns, the tracery of bowls and beakers and gourds, -and bunches of grapes, the redundant festoons of tobacco leaves and -replicas of many varieties of pipes, all environed with the fantastic -wreathing of smoke, and the ingenious symbolism in which the interior -decorator had expended a wealth of sub-suggestion. - -There was only a “shake-down” on the floor for the men, and two or three -were already disposed upon it at length, since this was a restful -position and there were no chairs available. Floyd-Rosney stood with his -back to the fire, his hands behind him, his head a trifle bent, his eyes -dull and ruminative. He had much of which to think. Adrian Ducie sat -sidewise on the sill of a window and looked out through the grimy panes -at the ceaseless fall of the rain amidst the glossy leaves of the -magnolias which his grandmother,--or was it his great-grandmother?--had -planted here in the years agone. Was that the site of her -flower-garden, he wondered, seeing at a distance the flaunting of a -yellow chrysanthemum. How odd it was that he should sit here in his -great-grandfather’s den, smoking a cigar, practically a stranger, a -guest, an intruder in the home of his ancestors. He and his brother, the -lawful heirs of all this shattered magnificence, these baronial tracts -of fertile lands, were constrained to work sedulously for a bare living. -He, himself, was an exile, doomed to wander the earth over, with never a -home of his own, never a perch for his world-weary wings. His brother’s -fate was to juggle with all those vicissitudes that curse the man who -strives to wrest a subsistence from the soil, to pay a price of purchase -for the rich products of the land which his forbears had owned since the -extinction of the tribal titles of the Indians. A yellow -chrysanthemum,--a chrysanthemum swaying in the wind! - -There had begun to be strong hopes of dinner astir in this masculine -coterie, and when the door opened every head was turned toward it. But -melancholy reigned on the face of the cook, and it was a dispirited -cadence of his falsetto voice that made known his lack. - -“Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” he plained, “I can’t dress canned lobster salad -without tarragon vinegar. This yere cruet has got nuthin’ in it in dis -world but apple vinegar. The Cap’n nuver done me right.” - -“God A’mighty, man, ‘_lobster_!’ I could eat the can,” cried one of the -recumbents, springing up with such alacrity that his bounce awakened -Colonel Kenwynton, who had been able to forget his fatigue and hunger in -a doze. - -“Get that dinner on the table, or I’ll be the death of you,” cried -Floyd-Rosney. “We are hungry. It is nearly five o’clock and we have had -nothing since breakfast.” - -The door closed slowly on the disaffected cook, who was evidently a -devotee to art for art’s sake, for he presently reappeared in his -capacity of table servant, as if he had been rebuked in an altogether -different identity as cook. He drooped languidly between the door and -the frame and once more in his high falsetto plaint he upbraided the -Captain. - -“The Cap’n nuver done me right. He oughter have let _me_ pack that box, -instead of the steward. There ain’t no fruit napkins, Mr. Floyd-Rosney. -Jes’ white doilies,” he was not far from tears, “white _doilies_ to -serve with o’anges!” - -The mere mention was an appetizer. - -“Let me get at ’em, whether they are served with doilies or -bath-towels!” cried the recumbent figure, recumbent no longer. “Call the -ladies. Ho, for the festive board. If you don’t want scraps only, you -had better not let me get there first. Notify the ladies. Does this vast -mansion possess nothing that is like a dinner-bell, or a gong, or a -whistle, that may make a cheerful sound of summons. Ha, ha, ha!” - -“It compromises on something like the crackling of thorns under a pot,” -said Floyd-Rosney, sourly. Then with gracious urbanity, “Major, let me -give you my arm, perhaps our presence at the festive board may hasten -matters.” - -The ladies had already surged out into the great, bare, echoing hall, -Hildegarde Dean, freshly arrayed in an Empire gown, as blue as her eyes, -protesting that she was as hungry as a hunter. Ducie offered his arm -ceremoniously to her mother, and Floyd-Rosney, who had intended his -attention to the old blind Major as a bid for his wife’s notice and -approval, was not pleased to see the procession, stately and suggestive, -by reason of the lordly expansiveness of the place, headed by the heir -of the old owners in the guise of host. It was an idea that never -entered Ducie’s mind, not even when whetting the carving knife on the -steel in anticipation of dispensing shares of the saddle of mutton from -his end of the table. At this table, in truth, his grandfather had sat, -and his great-grandfather also, and dispensed its bounty. So heavy it -was, so burdensome for removal, that in the various disasters that had -ravaged the old house, war and financial ruin, marauders and tramps, -wind and rain, lightning and overflow, it had endured throughout. -Mahogany was not earlier the rage as now, and the enthusiasm of the -up-to-date man could scarcely be restrained. There were no chairs; -planks from the flooring elsewhere had been hastily stretched benchwise -on the boxes that had held the provisions and bedding, but even this -grotesque make-shift did not detract from his keen discernment of the -admirable in the entourage. The size and shape of the room, the -old-fashioned bow-window, the ornate mantel-piece, the cabinets built -into the walls for the silver and choice show of old china, now without -even a shelf or a diamond-shaped pane of glass, the design of the paper, -the stucco ornaments about the chandelier, or rather the rod which had -once supported it, for the pendants had been dismembered in wanton -spoliation and now lay in fragments on the lawn without, the pantry, the -china-closet, the storeroom contiguous all came in for his -commendation, and much he bewailed the grinning laths looking down from -the gaps in the fallen plaster, the smoke-grimed walls, the destroyed -hearth, half torn out from the chimney-place. The stream of his talk was -only stemmed by the reappearance of the cook, now with his white jacket -and apron in the rôle of waiter. Every eye was turned apprehensively -toward him lest he was moved to say that the Cap’n had ordered no dinner -to be put into the box. He dolorously drooped over Ducie’s shoulder in -the place of host, and at once disclosed the melancholy worst. “Dere -ain’t no soup, sir. While I was speakin’ to you gemmen in de--de--in de -library, sir, de soup scorched. I had set dat ole superannuated mule of -de Major’s ter watch de pot an’ he didn’t know enough to set it off de -fire when it took to smokin’. Hit was ’p’tage Bec’mul, sir.” - -Ducie laughed and called for the roast, and the company, as soon as the -functionary had disappeared, addressed their wits to the translation of -the waiter’s French to discover what manner of soup they had lost. - -Paula was not sorry to see Adrian Ducie in his hereditary place; somehow -it would have revolted her that she and hers should sit in the seat of -the usurper. Accident had willed it thus, and it was better so. She had -noted the quick glance of gauging the effect which her husband had cast -at her as he made much ado of settling the old Major at the table. Even -without this self-betrayal she would have recognized the demonstration -as one of special design. How should she now be so discerning, she asked -herself. She knew him, she discriminated his motives, she read his -thoughts as though they were set forth on the page of an open book. And -of this he was so unconscious, so assured, so confident of her attitude -as hitherto toward him, that she had the heart to pity while she -despised him, while she revolted at the thought of him. - -She wished to risk not even a word aside with him. She was eager to get -away from the table, although the dinner that the Captain had ordered to -be packed made ample amends for the delay. It had its defects, -doubtless, as one might easily discern from the disconsolate and -well-nigh inconsolable port of the waiter at intervals, but these were -scarcely apparent to the palates of the company. It was, of course, -inferior to the menus of the far-famed dinners of the steamboats of the -olden times, but there is no likelihood of famishing on the Mississippi -even at the present day, and the hospitable Captain Disnett had no mind -that these voluntary cast-a-ways should suffer for their precipitancy. -It was still a cheerful group about that storied board as Paula slipped -from the end of the bench and quietly through the door. If her -withdrawal were noted it would doubtless be ascribed to her anxiety -concerning little Ned, and thus her absence would leave no field for -speculation. She did not, however, return to the room devoted to the use -of the feminine passengers of the _Cherokee Rose_, where the child now -lay asleep. She walked slowly up and down the great hall, absorbed in -thought. She was continually surprised at herself, analyzing her own -unwonted mental processes. She could not understand her calmness, in -this signal significant discovery in her life, that she did not love her -husband. She would not rehearse his faults, retrace in her recollection -a thousand incidents confirmatory of the revelation of his character -that had been elicited on this unhappy voyage. How long, she wondered, -would the illusion have continued otherwise,--to her life’s end? Somehow -she could not look forward, and she felt a sort of stupefaction in this, -although she realized that her faculties were roused by her perception -of the truth. The spirit-breaking process, of which she had been -sub-acutely aware, was ended. She could not be so subjugated save by -love, the sedulous wish to please, the tender fear of disapproval, the -ardent hope of placating. Suddenly she was aware that she was laughing, -the fool, to have felt all this for a man who could strike her, cruelly, -painfully, artfully, on the sly that none might know. But even while she -laughed her eyes were full of tears, so did she compassionate the self -she ridiculed with scorn as if it were some other woman whom she pitied. - -She felt as if she must be alone. All the day since that crisis the -presence of people had intruded clamorously upon her consciousness. She -would fain take counsel within herself, her own soul. Above all, she -wished to avoid the sight of her husband, the thought of him. Whenever -the sound of voices in the dining-room broke on her absorption as she -neared the door in her pacing back and forth, she paused, looking over -her shoulder, tense, poised, as if for flight. And at last, as the -clamor of quitting the table heralded the approach of the company, with -scarcely a realized intention, the instinct of escape took possession of -her, and she sped lightly up the great staircase, as elusive, as -unperceived as the essence of the echoes which she had fancied might -thence descend. - -She hesitated, gasping and out of breath, at the head of the flight, -looking about aghast at the gaunt aspect of the wrecked mansion. The -hall was a replica of the one below, save that there were three great -windows opening on a balcony instead of the front door. The glass was -broken out, the Venetian blinds were torn away, and from where she stood -she could see the massive Corinthian columns of the portico rising to -the floor of the story still above. A number of large apartments opened -on this hall, their proportions and ornate mantel-pieces all visible, -for the doors, either swung ajar or wrenched from their hinges, lay upon -the floors. Paula did not note, or perhaps she forgot, that the wreck -expressed forty years of neglect, of license and rapine and was the -wicked work of generations of marauders. She felt that the destruction -was actuated by a sort of fiendish malice. It had required both time and -strength, as well as wanton enmity, a class hatred, one might suppose, -bitter and unreasoning, the wrath of the poor against the rich, even -though unmindful and indifferent to the injury. It seemed so strange to -her that the house should be left thus by its owners, despite its -inutilities in the changed conditions of the world. It had a dignity, as -of the ruin of princes, in its vestiges of beauty and splendor, and the -savor of old days that were now historic and should hold a sort of -sanctity. Even the insensate walls, in the rifts of their shattered -plaster, their besmirched spoliation, expressed a subtle reproach, such -as one might behold in some old human face buffeted and reviled without -a cause. - -She had a swift illumination how it would have rejoiced the Ducies to -have set up here their staff of rest in the home hallowed as the harbor -of their ancestors. They were receptive to all the finer illusions of -life. They cherished their personal pride; they revered their ancient -name; they honored this spot as the cradle of their forefathers, and -although they were poor in the world’s opinion, they held in their own -consciousness that treasure of a love of lineage, that obligation to -conform to a high standard which imposed a rule of conduct and elevated -them in their own esteem. Their standpoint was all drearily out of -fashion, funny and forlorn, but she could have wept for them. And why, -since the place had no prosaic value, had not Fate left it to those whom -it would have so subtly enriched. Here in seemly guise, in well-ordered -decorum, in seclusion from the sordid world, the brothers who so dearly -loved each other would have dwelt in peace together, would have taken -unto themselves wives; children of the name and blood of the old -heritage would have been reared here as in an eagle’s nest, with all the -high traditions that have been long disregarded and forgotten. It seemed -so ignoble, so painful, so unjust, that the place should be thus -neglected, despised, cast aside, and yet withheld from its rightful -owners. She caught herself suddenly at the word. Her husband, her son, -were the rightful owners now, and it was their predecessor who did not -care. - -As she stood gazing blankly forward the three windows of the upper hall -suddenly flamed with a saffron glow, for they faced a great expanse of -the southwestern sky, which, for one brief moment, was full of glory. -The waters of the Mississippi were a rippling flood of molten gold; the -dun-tinted, leafless forests on either bank accentuated in somber -contrast this splendid apotheosis of the waning day. The magnolia trees -about the house shone with every glossy leaf, an emerald for richness of -hue, and all at once, far beyond, Paula beheld the solution of the -mystery that had baffled her, the answer to her question, the Duciehurst -cotton fields, as white as snow, as level as a floor, as visibly -wealth-laden as if the rich yield of the soil were already coined into -gold. Here was the interest of the sordid proprietors; the home was no -home of theirs; they had been absentees from the first of their tenure. -The glimmering marble cross, the lofty granite shaft that showed when -the wind shifted among the gloomy boughs of the weeping willows in the -family graveyard, marked the resting place of none of their kindred. -Their bones were none of these bones, their flesh sprung from none of -these dead ashes. The Duciehurst lands made cotton, and cotton made -money, and the old house, built under other conditions, was suited to no -needs that they could create in the exigencies of a new day. Therefore, -it was left to shelter the owl, the gopher, the river-pirate, the -shanty-boater, the moon in its revolutions, and when the nights were -wild the wind seemed to issue thence as from a lair of mysteries. - -Paula suddenly turned from the revelation, and gathering the lustrous -white skirt of her crêpe dress, freshly donned, in one jewelled hand -with a care unconsciously dainty, as was her habit, she noiselessly -slipped up the great dusty spiral of the stair leading to the third -story, lest curiosity induced some exploring intrusive foot thus far, -ere she had thought out her perplexity to its final satisfaction. She -was aware that the day dulled and darkened suddenly; she heard the wind -burst into gusty sobs; the clouds had fallen to weeping anew, and the -night was close at hand. She was curiously incongruous with the place as -she stood looking upward, the light upon her face, at a great rift in -the roof. The rain-drops dripped monotonously from smaller crevices down -upon the floor with a sort of emphasis, as if the number were registered -and it kept a tally. There were doubtless divisions and partitions -further to the rear, but this apartment was spacious above the square -portion of the mansion, and the ceiling had a high pitch. She thought -for a moment that they might have danced here in the old times, so fine -were the proportions of the place. Then she remembered that third-story -ball-rooms were not formerly in vogue, and that she had heard that the -one at Duciehurst was situated in the west wing on the ground floor. -This commodious apartment must have been a place of bestowal. The walls -betokened the remnants of presses, and she could almost fancy that she -could see the array of trunks, of chests, of discarded furniture, more -old-fashioned than that below, the bags of simples, of hyacinth bulbs -which were uprooted every second year to be planted anew. There was an -intensification of the spirit of spoil manifested elsewhere as if the -search for the hidden treasure here had been more desperate and radical. -The chimneys seemed to have been special subjects of suspicion, for -several showed that the solid masonry had been gouged out, leaving great -hollows. As she stood amidst the gray shadows in her lustrous white -crêpe gown with the shimmer of satin from its garniture, she was a -poetic presentment, even while engrossed in making the prosaic deduction -that here was the reason these chimneys smoked when fires were kindled -below. - -The solitude was intense, the silence an awesome stillness, her -thoughts, recurring to her own sorry fate, were strenuous and troublous, -and thus even her strong, elastic young physique was beginning to feel -very definitely the stress of fatigue, and excitement, and fear, that -had filled the day as well as the effects of the emotional crisis which -she had endured. She found that she could scarcely stand; indeed, she -tottered with a sense of feebleness, of faintness, as she looked about -for some support, something on which she might lean, or better still, -something that might serve as a seat. Suddenly she started forward -toward the window near the outer corner of the room. The low sill was -broad and massive in conformity with the general design of the house, -and she sank down here in comfort, resting her head against the heavy -moulding of the frame. Her eyes turned without, and she noted with a -certain interest the great foliated ornaments, the carved acanthus -leaves of the capitals of the Corinthian columns, one of which was so -close at hand that she might almost have touched it, for the roof of the -portico here, which had been nearly on a level with the window, was now -in great part torn away, giving a full view of the stone floor below. -This column was the pilaster, half the bulk of the others, being -buttressed against the wall. The size of the columns was far greater -than she had supposed, looking at them from below, the capitals were -finished with a fine attention to detail. The portico was indeed an -admirable example of this sort of adapted architecture which is usually -distinguished rather by its license than its success. But she had scant -heart to mark its values or effect. Her reflections were introspective. -She looked out drearily on the wan wastes of the skies, and the somber -night closing in, and bethought herself of the woeful change in the -atmosphere of her soul since the skies last darkened. She said to -herself that illusions were made for women, who were not fitted to cope -with facts, and that it was better to be a loving fool, gulled into the -fancy that she, too, is beloved, than to see clearly, and judge justly, -and harbor an empty aching heart. For there was no recourse for her. It -was not in her power to frame her future. Her husband had, and he knew -he had, the most complete impunity, and doubtless this gave him an -assurance in domineering that he would not otherwise have dared to -exert. He was cognizant of her delicate pride, the odium in which she -would hold the idea of publicity in conjugal dissension. She would never -have permitted, save under some extreme stress like that of the single -instance of the morning, others to look in upon a difference between -them, yet there had been from the first much to bear from his -self-absorbed and imperious temper, and she had borne it to the extent -of self-immolation, of self-extinction. In fact, she was not, she had -not been for years, herself. She could not say, indeed, when her old -identity had asserted itself before to-day. It was the aspect of the -Ducie face, the associations of the past that had recalled her real self -to life, that had relumed the spark of pride which had once been her -dominant trait, that had given her courage to revolt at rebuke in -Adrian’s presence, to hold up her head, to speak from her own -individuality, to be an influence to be reckoned with. But of what -avail? Life must go on as heretofore, the old semblance of submission, -of adulation, the adjustment of every word, every idea, every desire, to -the mould of her husband’s thought, his preference. She wondered how she -would be enabled to maintain the farce of her love, that had hitherto -seemed capable of infinite endurance, of limitless pardoning power, and -the coercive admiration for him that she had felt throughout all these -five years. He was aware, and this fact was so certain that she was sure -he had never given the matter even a casual, careless thought, that for -the sake of their son, his precious presence, his comfort and care, his -future standing before the world, no recourse was possible for her, no -separation, no divorce. Floyd-Rosney might beat her with a stick if he -would, instead of that deft, crafty little blow he had dealt on her -wrist with his knuckles, and she would hide the wales for her child’s -sweet sake. No law was ever framed comprehensive enough to shield her. -She was beyond the pale and the protection of the law. And as she -realized this she held down her head and began to shed some miserable -tears. - -Perhaps it was this relaxation that overpowered her nerves, this -cessation of resistance and repining. When she opened her eyes after an -interval of unconsciousness her first thought was of the detail of the -Scriptures touching the young man who slept in a high window through the -apostle’s preaching and “fell down from the third loft.” She had never -imagined that she should do so reckless, so wild a thing. Her methods -were all precautionary, her mental attitude quiet and composed. She -still sat in the window, looking out for a little space longer, for she -was indisposed to exertion; her muscles were stiff, and her very bones -seemed to ache with fatigue. The sky had cleared while she slept; only a -few white, fleecy lines, near the horizon, betokened the passing of the -clouds. It had that delicate ethereal blue peculiar to a night of lunar -light, for the stars were faint, barring the luster of one splendid -planet, the moon being near the full and high in the sky. The beams fell -in broad skeins diagonally through the front windows, while the one at -the side gave upon the dark summits of the great magnolias, where the -radiance lingered, enriching the gloss of their sempervirent foliage. -The weeping willows in their leafless state were all a fibrous glister -like silver fountains, and in their midst she could see glimpses in the -moonlight of the white gleam of the marble cross, the draped funereal -urn, the granite shaft where those who had once rested secure beneath -this kindly roof of home now slept more securely still within the shadow -of its ruin. A broken roof it now was, and through the rift overhead the -moonlight poured in a suffusive flood, illuminating all the space -beneath. She heard the plaintive drip, drip, drip, from some pool among -the shingles where the rain had found a lodgment. The river flashed in -myriad ripples, as steadily, ceaselessly it swept on its surging way to -the Gulf. She was familiar with its absolute silence, concomitant with -its great depth, save, of course, in the cataclysmal crisis of a -crevasse, and as she heard the unmistakable sound of a dash of water, -she bent a startled intentness of gaze on the surface to perceive a -rowboat steadily, but slowly, pulling up the current. She wondered at -her own surprise, yet so secluded was the solitude here that any sight -or sound of man seemed abnormal, an intrusion. She knew that a boat was -as accustomed an incident of a riverside locality as a carriage or a -motor in a street. It betokened some planter, perhaps, returning late, -because of the storm, from a neighboring store or a friend’s house. Any -waterside errand might duplicate the traffic of the highway. - -How late was it, she wondered, for her interest in the boat had dwindled -as it passed out of sight beneath the high bank. The idea that perhaps -she alone was waking in this great, ruinous house gave her a vague chill -of fear. She began to question how she could nerve herself, with this -overwhelming sense of solitude, to attempt the exit through the -labyrinth of sinister shadows and solemn, silent, moonlit spaces among -the unfamiliar passages and rooms to the ground floor. She remembered -that the railing of the spiral staircase had shaken, here and there, -beneath her hand as she had ascended, the wood of the supporting -balusters having rotted in the rain that had fallen for years through -the shattered skylight. Her progress had been made in the daylight, and -she had now only the glimmer of the moon, from distant windows and the -rift in the roof. She began to think of calling for assistance; this -great empty space would echo like a drum, she knew, but unfamiliar with -the plan of the house she could not determine the location of the rooms -occupied by the party from the _Cherokee Rose_. If the hour were late, -as she felt it must be, and their inmates all asleep, she might fail to -make herself heard. And then she felt she would die of solitary terror. - -Paula could not sufficiently rebuke her own folly that she should have -lingered so long apart from the party, that she should have carried so -far her explorations,--nay, it was an instinct of flight that had led -her feet. She dreaded her husband’s indignant and scornful surprise and -his trenchant rebuke. She realized why she had not been already missed -by him as well as by the others. Doubtless the ladies who were to occupy -the music-room as a dormitory had retired early, spent with fatigue and -excitement. Perhaps Hildegarde Dean might have sat for a time in the -bow-window of the dining-room and talked to Adrian Ducie, and Colonel -Kenwynton, and Major Lacey, as they ranged themselves on one of the -benches by the dining-table and smoked in the light of a kerosene lamp -which the Captain had furnished forth, and watched the moon rise over -the magnolias, and the melancholy weeping willows, and the marble -memorials glimmering in the slanting light. But even Hildegarde could -not flirt all day and all night, too. Paula could imagine that when she -came into the music-room, silent and on tip-toe, she stepped out of her -blue toggery with all commendable dispatch, only lighted by the moon, -gave her dense black hair but a toss and piled it on her head and -slipped into bed without disturbing the lightest sleeper, unconscious -that the cot where little Ned should slumber in his mother’s bosom was -empty, but for his own chubby form. The men, too, as they lay in a row -on the shake-down in the smoking-room with their feet to the fire, might -have chatted for a little while, but doubtless they soon succumbed to -drowsiness, and slumbered heavily in the effects of their drenchings and -exhaustion, and it would require vigorous poundings on their door to -rouse them in the morning. - -Obviously there was no recourse. Paula perceived that she must compass -her own retreat unaided. She rose with the determination to attempt the -descent of the stairs. Then, trembling from head to foot, she sank down -on the broad sill of the window. A sudden raucous voice broke upon the -spectral silence, the still midnight. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Paula looked down through the broken roof of the portico supported by -the massive Corinthian columns. A group of men stood on the stone floor -below, men of slouching, ill-favored aspect. She could not for one -moment confuse them with the inmates of the house, now silent and -asleep, although her first hopeful thought was that some nocturnal alarm -had brought forth the refugees of the _Cherokee Rose_. - -The newcomers made no effort at repression or secrecy. They could have -had no idea that the house was occupied. Evidently they felt as alone, -as secluded, as secure from observation, as if in a desert. They were -not even in haste to exploit their design. A great brawny, workman-like -man was taking to task a fellow in top-boots and riding-breeches. - -“Why did you go off an’ leave Cap’n Treherne?” he asked severely. - -The ex-jockey seemed somewhat under the influence of liquor, not now -absolutely drunk, although hiccoughing occasionally--in that dolorous -stage known as “sobering up.” - -“If you expected me to stay here all that time, with no feed at all, you -were clear out of the running,” he protested. “I lit out before the blow -came, an’ after the storm was over I knowed you fellers couldn’t row -back here against the current with the water goin’ that gait. So I took -my time as you took yourn.” - -The next speaker was of a curiously soaked aspect, as if overlaid with -the ooze, and slime, and decay of the riverside, like some rotting log -or a lurking snag, worthless in itself, without a use on either land or -water, neither afloat nor ashore, its only mission of submerged malice -to drive its tooth into the hull of some stanch steamer and drag it -down, with its living freight, and its wealth of cargo, and its -destroyed machinery, to a grave among the lifeless roots. His voice -seemed water-logged, too, and came up in a sort of gurgle, so defective -was his articulation. - -“You-all run off an’ lef’ me las’ night, but Jessy Jane put me wise this -mornin’, an’ I was away before the wind had riz. I stopped by here to -see if you was about, but I declar’ if I had knowed that you had lef’ -Cap’n Treherne in thar tied up like a chicken, I’m durned if I wouldn’t -hey set him loose, to pay you back for the trick you played me. But I -met up with Colty,” nodding at the jockey, “an’ we come back just now -together.” - -Binnhart’s brow darkened balefully as he listened to this ineffective -threat while old Berridge chuckled. - -Another man with a sailor-like roll in his walk was leaning on an axe. -Suddenly he cast his eyes up at the pilaster. Paula on the shadowy side -of the window sat quite still, not daring to move, hoping for -invisibility, although her heart beat so loud that she thought they -might hear its pulsations even at the distance. - -“Durned if I got much sense out of that fool builder’s talk to you, -Jasper,” he said. “I think you paid out too much line,--never held him -to the p’int. You let him talk sixteen ter the dozen ’bout things we -warn’t consarned with, pediments, an’ plinths, an’ architraves, an’ -entablatures, an’, shucks, I dunno now what half of ’em mean.” - -“I had to do that to keep him from suspicionin’ what we were after,” -Binnhart justified his policy. “All I wanted to know was just what a -‘pilaster’ might be.” - -“An’ this half column ag’in the wall is the ‘pilaster’ the Crazy talked -about?” And once more the shanty-boater cast up a speculative eye. “But -I ain’t sensed yit what he meant by his mention of a capital.” - -“Why, Jackson, capital of Miss’ippi, ye fool you, fines’ city in the -Union,” exclaimed a younger replica of the old water-rat, coming up from -the shrubbery with a lot of tools in a smith’s shoeing-box, from which, -as he still held it, Binnhart began with a careful hand to select the -implements that were needed for the work. - -“How do you know the plunder is in the ‘pilaster’?” asked Connover, the -dejected phase of the “after effects” clouding his optimism. - -“Why, he talked about it in his sleep. He may be crazy when he is awake, -but he talks as straight as a string in his sleep. Fust chance, as I -gathered, that he has ever had to be sane enough to make a try for the -swag,” explained Berridge. “But I dunno why you pick out this partic’lar -pilaster,” and he, too, gazed up at its lofty height. - -“By the way he looked at it when we was fetchin’ him in from the skiff, -that’s why, you shrimp,” exclaimed the shanty-boater. - -“I don’t call _that_ a straight tip,” said Connover, discontentedly. - -“Why, man, this Treherne was with Archie Ducie when they hid the -plunder. This is the column he says in his sleep they put it in, an’, by -God, I’ll bring the whole thing to the ground but what I s’arches it, -from top to bottom. I’ll bust it wide open.” - -With the words the shanty-boater heaved up the axe and smote the column -so strong a blow that Paula felt the vibrations through the wall to the -window where she sat. - -“What are ye goin’ to do with Crazy?” demanded old Berridge with a -malicious leer. - -“Better bring Cap’n Crazy out right now an’ make him tell, willy nilly, -exactly where the stuff _is_ hid,” urged the disaffected Connover. - -“Oh, he’ll tell, fas’ enough,” rejoined old Berridge. He began to dwell -gleefully on the coercive effects of burning the ends of the fingers and -the soles of the feet with lighted matches. - -“Lime is better,” declared his son, entering heartily into the scheme. -“Put lime in his eyes, ef he refuses to talk, an’ he won’t hold out. -Lime is the ticket. Plenty lime here handy in the plaster.” - -“Slaked, you fool, you!” commented Binnhart. Then, “I ain’t expectin’ to -git the secret out’n Cap’n Treherne now, I b’lieve he’d die fust!” - -“He would,” said the shanty-boater, with conviction. “I know the cut of -the jib.” - -“We had to keep him here handy, though, or he might tell it to somebody -else. But, Jorrocks, can’t you see with half an eye that there has -never been an entrance made in that pillar. Them soldier fellows were -not practiced in the use of tools. The most they could have done was to -rip off the washboard of the room, flush with the pilaster. They must -have sot the box on the top of the stone base inside the column. This -base is solid.” - -He was measuring with a foot-rule the distance from the pilaster to the -nearest window. It opened down to the floor of the portico and was -without either sash or glass. As the group of clumsy, lurching figures -disappeared within, Paula, with a sudden wild illumination and a -breathless gasp of excitement, sprang to her feet. The capital, said -they? The pilaster! She fell upon the significance of these words. The -treasure, long sought, was here, under her very hand. She caught up a -heavy iron rod that she had noticed among the rubbish of broken plaster -and fallen laths on the floor. It had been a portion of a chandelier, -and it might serve both as lever and wedge. The rats had gnawed the -washboard in the corner, she trembled for the integrity of the storied -knapsack, but the gaping cavity gave entrance to the rod. As she began -to prize against the board with all her might she remembered with a -sinking heart that they builded well in the old days, but it was -creaking--it was giving way. It had been thrust from the wall ere this. -She, too, took heed of the fact that it was the clumsy work of soldier -boys which had replaced the solid walnut, no mechanic’s trained hands, -and the thought gave her hope. She thrust her dainty foot within the -aperture, and kept it open with the heel of her Oxford tie, as more and -more the washboard yielded to the pressure of the iron rod, which, like -a lever, she worked to and fro with both arms. - -In the silence of the benighted place through the floor she heard now -and then a dull thud, but as yet no sound of riving wood. The washboard -there--or was it wainscot?--had never been removed, and the task of the -marauders was more difficult than hers. She was devoured by a turbulent -accession of haste. They would make their water-haul presently, and then -would repair hither to essay the capital of the pilaster. Was that a -step on the stair? - -In a wild frenzy of exertion she put forth an effort of which she would -not have believed herself capable. The board gave way so abruptly that -she almost fell upon the floor. The next moment she was on the verge of -fainting. Before her was naught but the brickwork of the wall. Yet, -stay, here the bricks had been removed for a little space and relaid -without mortar. She gouged them out again after the fashion of the -marauder, and behind them saw into the interior of the pilaster. The -cavity was flush with the floor. She thrust in her hand, nothing! Still -further with like result. She flung herself down upon the floor and ran -her arm in to its extreme length. She touched a fluffy, disintegrated -mass, sere leaves it might have been, feathers or fur. Her dainty -fingers tingled with repulsion as they closed upon it. She steadily -pulled it forward, and, oh, joy, she felt a weight, a heavy weight. She -thrust in both arms and drew toward her slowly, carefully--a footfall on -the stair, was it? Still slowly, carefully, the tattered remnants of an -old knapsack, and a box, around which it had been wrapped. A metal box -it was, of the style formerly used, inclosed in leather as jewel-cases, -locked, bound with steel bands, studded with brass rivets, intact and -weighty. - -Paula sprang up with a bound. For one moment she paused with the burden -in her arms, doubting whether she should conceal the chest anew or dare -the stairs. The next, as silent as a moonbeam, as fleet as the gust that -tossed her skirts, she sped around the twists of the spiral turns and -reached the second story. She looked over the balustrade, no light, save -the moonbeams falling through the great doorless portal, no sign of -life; no sound. But hark, the gnawing of a patient chisel, and presently -the fibrous rasping of riving wood came from the empty apartments on the -left. Still at work were the marauders, and still she was safe. She -continued her descent, silently and successfully gaining the entresol, -but as she turned to essay the flight to the lower hall she lost the -self-control so long maintained, so strained. Still at full speed she -came, silent no longer, screaming like a banshee. Her voice filled the -weird old house with shrill horror, resounding, echoing, waking every -creature that slept to a frenzied panic, and bringing into the hall all -the men of the steamboat’s party, half dressed, as behooves a -“shake-down.” The women, less presentable, held their door fast and -clamored out alternate inquiry and terror. - -“I have found it! I have found it!” she managed to articulate, -wild-eyed, laughing and screaming together, and rushing with the box to -the astonished Ducie, she placed it in his hands. “And, oh, the house is -full of robbers!” - -The disheveled group stood as if petrified for a moment, the moonbeams -falling through the open doorway, giving the only illumination. But the -light, although pale and silvery, was distinct; it revealed the intent -half-dressed figures, the starting eyes, the alert attitudes, and -elicited a steely glimmer from more than one tense grasp, for this is -preëminently the land of the pistol-pocket. The fact was of great -deterrent effect in this instance, for if the vistas of shadow and sheen -within the empty suites of apartments gave upon this picture of the -coterie, wrought in gray and purple tones and pearly gleams, it was of -so sinister a suggestion as to rouse prudential motives. There were ten -stalwart men of the steamboat’s passengers here, and the marauders -numbered but five. - -A sudden scream from the ladies’ dormitory broke the momentary pause. A -man, nay, three or four men, had rushed past the windows on the portico. - -“I hear them now!” cried Hildegarde Dean; “they are crashing through the -shrubbery.” - -“Nonsense,” Floyd-Rosney brusquely exclaimed. “There are no robbers -here.” Then to his wife, “Is this hysteria, Paula, or are you spoiling -for a sensation?” - -She did not answer. She did not heed. She still stood in the attitude of -putting the heavy box into Adrian Ducie’s grasp and while he -mechanically held it she looked at him, her eyes wild and dilated, -shining full of moonlight, still exclaiming half in sobs, half in -screams, “I have found it! I have found it!--the Duciehurst treasure.” - -Floyd-Rosney cast upon the casket one glance of undisciplined curiosity. -Then his proclivity for the first place, the title rôle, asserted -itself. He did not understand his wife. He did not believe that she had -found aught of value, or, indeed, that there was aught of value to find. -Beyond and above his revolt of credulity was his amazement at his wife’s -insurgent spirit, so signally, so unprecedentedly manifested on this -trip. He connected it with the presence of Adrian Ducie, which in point -of facial association was the presence of his twin brother, her former -lover. The mere surmise filled him with absolute rage. His tyrannous -impulse burned at a white heat. A wiser man, not to say a better man, -would have realized the transient character of the incident, her natural -instinct to assert herself, to be solicitous of the judgment of the -Ducies on her position, to seem no subservient parasite of the rich man, -but to hold herself high. Thus she had resented too late the absolute -dominion her husband had taken over her, and she felt none the lack of -the manner of consideration, even though fictitious, which was her due -as his wife. - -He took her arm that was as tense as steel in every muscle. “You are -overwrought, Paula,--and this disturbance is highly unseemly.” Then, -lowering his voice and with his frequent trick of speaking from between -his set teeth, “you should be with the other ladies, instead of the only -one among this gang of men.” - -“Why not?” she flared out at full voice, “we don’t live in Turkey.” - -“By your leave I will ask Mrs. Floyd-Rosney to witness the opening of -this box, which she has discovered,” said Ducie gravely, “and you also -in view of your position in regard to the title of the property.” - -“Certainly I will,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, defiantly forestalling her -husband’s reply, “by his leave, or without it. I am no bond-slave.” Her -eyes were flashing, her bosom heaved, she was on the brink of tears. - -“Beg pardon,” stammered Ducie. “It was a mere phrase.” - -“Foolish fellow! He thought you had promised to love, honor and _obey_!” -said Floyd-Rosney, ill-advised and out of countenance. - -“Foolish fellow!” she echoed. “He thought you had promised to love, -honor and cherish.” - -But she was dominated by the excitement of the discovery. She ran to the -door of the ladies’ dormitory. “No danger! No danger!” she cried, as it -was cautiously set ajar on her summons. “The robbers are gone. We have -more than twice as many men here, and the Duciehurst treasure is found. -Come out, Hildegarde, and give me that lamp. They are going to open the -box. Oh, oh, oh!” She was shrilling aloud in mingled delight and -agitation as she came running down the hall in the midst of the silvery -moonlight and the dusky shadows, the wind tossing her white skirt, the -lamp in her hand glowing yellow, and flaring redly out of the chimney in -her speed, to its imminent danger of fracture, sending a long coil of -smoke floating after it and a suffocating odor of petroleum. - -Paula placed the lamp on the table in the dining-room, where the box -already stood. Around it the men were grouped on the boards which had -hitherto served as benches. Several were shivering in shirt-sleeves, -the suspenders of their trousers swinging in festoons on either side, or -hanging sash-wise to their heels. Others, more provident, with the -conviction that the sensation was not so ephemeral as to preclude some -attention to comfort, left the scene long enough to secure their coats, -and came back with distorted necks and craned chins, buttoning on -collars. Hildegarde obviously had no vague intention of matching her -conduct to the standards of Turkey, for she joined the party -precipitately, her blue eyes shining, her cheeks flushed with recent -sleep, her hair still piled high on her head and her light blue crêpe -dress hastily donned. The elderly ladies, mindful of the jeopardy of -neuralgia in the draughty spaces without, had betaken themselves again -to bed. The Duciehurst treasure had no possibilities for their -betterment and they did not even affect the general altruistic interest. - -There was ample time for the assembling of the party for no key among -them would fit or turn the rusted lock. The box on the table held its -secret as securely within arm’s length as when hidden for more than -forty years in the capital of the pilaster. Hildegarde suggested a -button-hook, which, intended seriously, was passed as an ill-timed jest. -Mr. Floyd-Rosney had a strong clasp-knife, with a file, but the lock -resisted and the lid was of such a shape that the implement could not be -brought to bear. - -“The robbers were working with a lot of tools,” said Paula, suddenly. -“Perhaps they left their tools.” - -The gentleman who was testing his craft with the lock looked up at her -with a significant, doubtful inquiry. “The robbers?” he drawled, -slightingly. - -They possibly number thousands in this wicked world. Their deeds have -filled many court records, and their reluctant carcasses many a prison. -But the man does not live who credits their proximity on the faith of a -woman’s statement. “The robbers?” he drew in his lower lip humorously. -“Where do you think they were working?” - -“Come, I can show you exactly.” Paula sprang up with alacrity. - -He rose without hesitation, but he took his revolver from the table and -thrust it into his pistol-pocket. While he did not believe her, perhaps -he thought that stranger things have happened. They did not carry the -lamp. The moon’s radiance poured through all the shattered windows of -the great ruin with a splendor that seemed a mockery of the imposing -proportions, the despoiled decorations, the lavish designs of the -fresco, the poor travesties of chandeliers, making shift here and there -to return a crystal reflection where once light had glowed refulgent. - -Floyd-Rosney had sat silent for a moment, as if dumfounded. Then he -slowly and uncertainly threw his legs athwart the bench and rose as if -to follow. But the two had returned before he could leave the room, the -“doubting Thomas” of an explorer with his hands full of tools and an -expression of blank amazement on his face. - -“Somebody _has_ been working at that wall,” he announced, as if he could -scarcely constrain his own acceptance of the fact. “The wainscot has -been freshly ripped out, but there is nothing at all in the hollow of -the pilaster. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney examined it herself.” - -“You were looking for another find, eh?--like a cat watching a hole -where she has just caught a mouse,” said Floyd-Rosney to his wife with -his misfit jocularity. - -No one sought to reply. Every eye was on Adrian Ducie, who had found a -cold chisel among the tools and was working now at the hinges and now at -the lock, wherever there seemed best promise of entrance. The hinges -were forced apart finally, the lock was broken, and once more the box -was opened here where it was packed forty-odd years ago. A covering of -chamois lay over the top, and as Adrian Ducie put it aside with -trembling fingers the lamplight gloated down on a responsive glitter of -gold and silver, with a glint here and there, as of a precious stone. -There was obviously insufficient room in the box for the vanished table -service of the family silver, but several odd pieces of such usage were -crowded in, of special antiquity of aspect, probably heirlooms, and thus -saved at all hazards. The method of packing had utilized the space -within to the fraction of an inch. Adrian drew out a massive gold goblet -filled with a medley of smaller articles, a rare cameo bracelet, an -emerald ring, an old seal quaintly mounted, a child’s sleeve-bracelets, -a simple ornament set with turquoise, and a diamond necklace, fit for a -princess. None of these were in cases, even the protection of a wrapping -would have required more space than could be spared. - -“You know that face?” Ducie demanded, holding a miniature out to -Floyd-Rosney, catching the lamplight upon it. - -“Can’t say I do,” Floyd-Rosney responded, cavalierly and with apparent -indifference. - -“Perhaps Colonel Kenwynton will recognize it,” said Ducie, with -composure. - -“Eh, what? Why certainly--a likeness of your grandfather, George Blewitt -Ducie,--an excellent likeness! And this,” reaching for a small oval -portrait set with pearls, “is his wife--what a beauty she was! Here, -too,” handling a gold frame of more antiquated aspect, “is your great -grandfather--yes, yes!--in his prime. I never saw him except as an old -man, but he held his own--he held his own!” - -The miniatures thus identified and his right to the contents of the box -established, Ducie continued to lift out the jammed and wedged treasures -as fast as they could be disengaged from their artful arrangement. An -old silver porringer contained incongruities of value, a silver mug of -christening suggestions, a lady’s watch and chain with a bunch of -jeweled jangling “charms,” a filagree pouncet-box, a gold thimble, a -string of fine and perfect pearls with a ruby clasp, a gold snuff-box -with an enameled lid. The up-to-date man thrust his monocle in his eye -to better observe, with a sort of æsthetic rapture, the shepherds -dancing in the dainty workmanship. There was an array of spoons of many -sorts and uses, soup ladles, salt ladles, cream ladles, and several gold -and silver platters. These had kept in place one of the old-fashioned -silver coasters, which held contents of value that the least æsthetic -could appreciate. It was nearly half full of gold coin, worth many times -its face value in the days when thus hidden away from the guerrilla and -the bushwhacker. Every man’s eyes glittered at the sight except only -those of Ducie. He was intent upon the search for the papers, the -release of the mortgage that he had believed all his life was stowed -away here. - -To every man the knowledge that he has been befooled, whether by foible -or fate, is of vital importance. In many ways he has been influenced to -his hurt by the obsession. His actions have been rooted in his mistaken -persuasions. His mental processes issue from false premises. He is not -the man he would otherwise have been. - -All his life Adrian Ducie had raged against the injustice that had -involved in absolute oblivion the release of the mortgage, that had -wrested from his father both the full satisfaction of the debt and the -pledged estate as well. Otherwise he would have inherited wealth, -opportunity, the means of advancement, luxury, pleasure. He was asking -himself now had he made less of himself, the actual good the gods had -doled out, because he had bemoaned fictitious values in case there had -never been a release and the lands had gone the facile ways of -foreclosure, the imminent, obvious, almost invariable sequence of -mortgage. Ah, at last a paper!--carefully folded, indorsed. His -grandfather’s will, regularly executed, but worthless now, by reason of -the lapse of time. An administrator had distributed the estate as that -of an intestate, and defended the action of foreclosure. The incident -was closed, and the sere and yellow paper had not more possibility of -revivification than the sere and yellow leaves that now and again came -with sibilant edge against the windowpane, or winged their way on an -errant gust within the room through a rift in the shattered glass. - -As Ducie flung the paper aside he chanced to dislodge one of the gold -pieces, a sovereign, the money being all of English coinage. It rolled -swiftly along the table, slipped off its beveled edge, and was heard -spinning somewhere in the shadows of the great dusky room. More than one -of the gentlemen rose to recover it, and Paula, with unbecoming -officiousness, her husband thought, joined in the search. It was she who -secured it, and as she restored the coin she laid a glittering trifle -before the box, as if it, too, had fallen from the table. “Here is one -of the Ducie jewels,” she said. - -“Why, it is a key, how cute,” cried Hildegarde. - -Ducie had paused, the papers motionless in his hand. He was looking at -Paula, sternly, rebukingly. Perhaps his expression disconcerted her in -her moment of triumph, for her voice was a little shrill, her smile both -feigned and false, her manner nervous and abashed, yet determined. - -“Oh, it is a thing of mystic powers,” she declared. “It commands the -doors of promotion and pleasure, it can open the heart and lock it, too; -it is the keynote of happiness.” She laughed without relish at the pun -while the up-to-date man thrust his monocle in his eye and reached out -for the bauble. There was a moment of silence as it was subjected to his -searching scrutiny. - -“A thing of legend, is it?” he commented. “Well, I must say that it does -not justify its reputation--it has a most flimsy and modern aspect, -nothing whatever in conformity with those exquisite examples of old -bijouterie.” He waved his hand toward the Ducie jewels blazing in -rainbow hues, now laid together in a heap on the table. “Its value, why -I should say it could not be much, though this is a good white diamond, -and the rubies are fair, but quite small; it is not worth more than two -hundred dollars or two hundred and fifty at the utmost.” - -Adrian Ducie had finally remitted his steady and upbraiding gaze, but -Paula was made aware that he still resented unalterably and deeply her -conduct to his brother. It was Randal’s option to forgive, if he -would,--Adrian Ducie held himself aloof; he would not interfere. His -hands were occupied in opening a paper as the up-to-date man tendered -him the jeweled key, and this gave him the opportunity to decline to -receive it without exciting curiosity. His words were significant only -to Paula when he said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, perhaps, will -kindly take charge of this article.” - -With unabated composure, with extreme deliberation, he opened this, the -last paper in the box, which held an enclosure. The yellow glow of the -lamp at one end of the table was a rayonnant focus of light amidst the -gloom of the great, lofty apartment, and showed the variant expressions -of the faces grouped about it. Floyd-Rosney, seated with one side toward -the table, resting an elbow on its surface, had an air of tolerant -ennui, his handsome face, fair, florid, and impressive, was imposed with -its wonted fine effect against the dun, dull shadows which the lamplight -could not dissipate, so definite that they seemed an opaque haze, a -dense veil of smoke. The countenances of the others, less conscious, -less adjusted to observation, wore different degrees of intelligent -interest. Hildegarde’s disheveled beauty shone like a star from the -dark background of the big bow-window where she sat--through the -shattered glass came now and then a glittering shimmer when the magnolia -leaves, dripping and lustrous in the moonlight, tossed in some vagrant -gust. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s aspect was of a conventional contrast, as -point-device as if she sat at table at some ordinary function. The sheen -of her golden hair, the gleam of her white dress, her carmine cheeks, -her elated and brilliant eyes, her attentive observation of the events -as they deployed, were all noted in turn by her domestic tyrant, with a -view to future reference. “I’ll have it out with Paula when we get away -from here, if ever,” he said grimly within his own consciousness. - -The next moment he had incentive for other thoughts. Ducie scanned the -caption of the paper in his hand, turned the page to observe its -signature, then lifted his head. His voice, although clear, trembled. - -“Here is the release of the mortgage, duly executed and with the -original deed of trust inclosed.” - -There was a moment of tense silence. Then ensued a hearty clapping of -hands about the table. - -Floyd-Rosney satirically inclined his head to this outburst of -involuntary congratulation. “Thank you, very much,” he said with an -ironical smile. - -The group seemed somewhat disconcerted, and several attempted -justification. - -“Always gratifying that the lost should be found,” said one. “Nothing -personal to you, however.” - -“I am sure you, too, would wish the right to prevail,” said a priggish -gentleman, who looked as if he might be a Sunday-school superintendent. - -“Well, I hate to see an old family kept out of its own on a legal -quibble,” said one fat gentleman uncompromisingly; he knew better how to -order a dinner acceptably than his discourse. - -“It will be difficult to prove an ouster after forty years of adverse -possession,” said Floyd-Rosney, “even if the release or quit-claim, or -whatever the paper is, shall prove to be entirely regular.” - -“You surely will not plead the prescription in bar of the right,” the -broker seemed to remonstrate. - -“Of the remedy, you mean,” Floyd-Rosney corrected with his suave, -unsmiling smile. “I should, like any other man of affairs, act under the -advice of counsel.” - -“Why, yes, of course,” assented the broker, accessible to this kind of -commercial logic. However, the situation was so contrary to the general -run of business that it seemed iniquitous somehow that the discovery of -the papers restoring the title of this great estate to its rightful -owners, after forty years of deprivation of its values, should be at -last nullified and set at naught by a decree of a court on the -application of the doctrine of the statute of limitations. There was a -pervasive apprehension of baffled justice even before the paper was -examined. - -Ducie was disposed to incur no further Floyd-Rosney’s supercilious -speculations as to the contents of the paper. Instead, he spread it -before Colonel Kenwynton. - -“Read it, Colonel,” he said, moving the lamp to the old gentleman’s -elbow. - -It seemed that Colonel Kenwynton in his excitement could never get his -pince-nez adjusted, and when this was fairly accomplished that he would -be balked at last by an inopportune frog in his throat. But finally the -reading was under way, and each of the listeners lent ear not only with -the effort to discriminate and assimilate the intendment of the -instrument, but to appraise its effect on a possible court of equity. -For it particularized in very elaborate and comprehensive phrase the -reasons for the manner, time, and place of its execution. It recited the -facts that the promissory notes secured by the mortgage were in bank -deposit in the city of Nashville, State of Tennessee, that the said city -and State were in the occupation of the Federal army, that since the -said notes could not be forwarded within the Confederate lines, by -reason of the lack of mail facilities or other means of communication, -the said promissory notes were herein particularly described, released -and surrendered, the several sums for which they were made having been -paid in full by George Blewitt Ducie in gold, the receipt of the full -amount being hereby acknowledged, together with a quit-claim to the -property on which they had been secured. For the same reason of the -existence of a state of war, and the suspension of all courts of justice -in the county in which the mortgage was recorded, and the absence of -their officials, this release could not at that time be duly registered -nor the original paper marked satisfied. Therefore the party of the -first part hereunto appeared before a local notary-public and -acknowledged the execution of this paper for the purposes therein -contained, the reasons for its non-registration, and the lack of the -return of the promissory notes. - -Colonel Kenwynton took careful heed of the notarial seal affixed, and -the names of five witnesses who subscribed for added security. - -“Every man of them dead these forty-odd years and both the principals,” -he commented, lugubriously. - -“Great period for mortality, the late unpleasantness,” jeered -Floyd-Rosney. With a debonair manner he was lighting a cigar, and he -held it up with an inquiring smile at the tousled Hildegarde on the sill -of the bow-window, her dilated blue eyes absorbed and expressive as she -listened. She gave him a hasty and transient glance of permission to -smoke in her presence and once more lapsed into deep gravity and -brooding attention. - -The incident was an apt example of the power of Fate. With the best -mutual faith, with one mind and intention on the part of both principals -in the procedure, with every precaution that the circumstances would -admit, with the return of the original deed of trust, with a -multiplicity of witnesses to the execution of the quit-claim and -release, which would seem to preclude the possibility of misadventure, -the whole was nullified by the perverse sequence of events. The papers -were lost, and not one human being participating in the transaction -remained to tell the tale. The solemn farce of the processes of the -courts was enacted, as if the debt was still unsatisfied, and the -rightful owner was ejected from the lands of his ancestors. - -“But for the casual recollection of your father, Julian Ducie, who was a -child at the time his mother quitted Duciehurst, and this box of -valuables was hidden here to await her return, there would not have been -so much as a tradition of the satisfaction of this mortgage,” Colonel -Kenwynton remarked in a sort of dismay. - -“I have often heard my father describe the events of that night, the -examination of my grandfather’s desk by my Uncle Archie and Captain -Treherne, and their discussion of the relative importance of the papers -and valuables they selected and packed in this box; one of the papers -they declared was in effect the title to the whole property. He was a -little fellow at the time, and watched and listened with all a child’s -curiosity. But he did not know where they hid the box at last, although -he was aware of their purpose of concealment, and, indeed, he was not -certain that it was not carried off with the party finally to Arkansas, -his uncle, Archie, and Captain Hugh Treherne rowing the skiff in which -he and his mother crossed to the other side.” - -“Ah-h, _Captain Hugh Treherne_”--Colonel Kenwynton echoed the name with -a bated voice and a strange emphasis. He had a fleeting vision of that -wild night on the sand-bar, all a confused effect of mighty motion, the -rush of the wind, the rout of the stormy clouds, the race of the surging -river, and overhead a swift skulking moon, a fugitive, furtive thing, -behind the shattered cumulose densities of the sky. He started to speak, -then desisted. It was strange to be conjured so earnestly to right this -wrong, to find this treasure, to visit this spot, and within forty-eight -hours in the jugglery of chance to be transported hither and the -discovery accomplished through no agency of his, no revelation of the -secret he had promised to keep. - -“Yes, Captain Hugh Treherne,” assented Ducie. “He was known to have been -severely wounded toward the end of the war, and as he could never -afterward be located it is supposed he died of his injuries. Every -effort to find him was made to secure his testimony in the action for -the foreclosure of the mortgage.” - -“But he was not dead,” said Paula, unexpectedly. “‘Captain Treherne,’ -that’s the very name.” - -“Why, Paula,” exclaimed Floyd-Rosney, astounded. “What do you mean? You -know absolutely nothing of the matter.” - -“The robbers spoke of him,” she said, confusedly. “I overheard them.” -Then with more assurance: “They derived their information from him as to -the hiding-place. That’s how I found it out. Not that he disclosed it -intentionally. They spoke as if--as if he were not altogether sane. They -said that he could not remember. But in his sleep he talked ‘as straight -as a string.’” - -“Oh, stuff and nonsense! You heard no such thing!” exclaimed -Floyd-Rosney. “You are as crazy as he can possibly be.” - -The ridicule stimulated self-justification, even while it abashed her, -for every eye was fixed upon her. Colonel Kenwynton looked at once -eager, anxious, yet wincing, as one who shrinks from a knife. - -“They did not understand the meaning of his sleeping words,” Paula -persisted. “He spoke of pillar and base and pilaster and capital----” - -“Oh, oh,” exclaimed Floyd-Rosney, in derision. - -Paula had the concentrated look of seeking to shake off this -embarrassment of her mental progress and to keep straight upon a -definite trend. “They spoke, indeed, as if they had Captain Treherne in -reach somewhere,--I wish I had remembered to mention this earlier,--as -if he were to be forced to further disclosures if they should fail to -find the treasure.” - -“Oh, this is too preposterous,” cried Floyd-Rosney, rising. He threw -away the stump of his cigar into the old and broken fireplace. “I must -beg of you, Paula, for my credit if not your own, to desist from making -a spectacle of yourself.” - -Colonel Kenwynton lifted a wrinkled and trembling hand in protest. “I -ask your pardon; Mrs. Floyd-Rosney will do no one discredit. I must hear -what she has to say of this. The gentleman is my dear, dear friend. I -had lost sight of him for years.” Then turning toward Paula: “Did I -understand you to say, madam, that they spoke as if he were in their -power?” - -The old man was gasping and his agitation frightened Paula. Her face had -grown ghastly pale. Her eyes were wide and startled. “I wonder that I -did not think of it earlier,” she said, contritely. “But it did not -impress me as real, as the actual fact, I was so excited and alarmed. I -remember now that they said they had gagged him,--I don’t know where he -was, but they spoke as if he were near and they could produce him and -force him to point out the spot. They had ‘brought him down,’--that was -their expression,--for this purpose. Did they mean,--do you suppose,--he -could have been near, in this house?” - -Colonel Kenwynton rose, the picture of despair. - -“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands and wringing them hard. -“That man saved my life at the risk of his own. And if, by blindness -and folly, I have failed him at his utmost need, may God do as much to -me and more when I call from out of the deep. The lamp! The lamp! Bring -the lamp! Search the house--the grounds!” - -Captain Treherne had endured many hours of duress, of the torture of -bonds and constraint, of dread, of cold, of hunger, but the terror of -ultimate doom filled his heart when he heard the approach of roving -footsteps, the sound of voices unnaturally loud and resonant, echoing -through the bare rooms, when he saw a flickering glimmer of yellow light -wavering on the ceiling but lost presently in gloom as the party -wandered hither and thither through the vacant place. The miscreants who -had overpowered and bound him were returning, he thought. In the -impaired mental condition from which he had so long suffered, one of his -great sorrows lay in his incapacity at times to differentiate the fact -from hallucination. He could not be sure that the whole scene of ghastly -violence through which he had passed was not one of the pitiable -illusions of his mania, and he lay here bound and gagged and famished as -treatment designed to mend his mental health. He sought to recall the -aspect of the men who, as perhaps he fancied had brought him here,--his -flesh crept with repulsion at the thought of them. One had the rolling -walk of a sailor. Another was garbed like a jockey,--some brain-cell had -perchance retained this image from the old half-forgotten associations -of the race course. So much of the jargon of pathology he had picked up -in his melancholy immurement in the sanatorium. But these impressions -were so definite, so lifelike that if they should prove illusory and -this experience another seizure of his malady it was worse than those -that had beset him hitherto, when he had often had a lurking doubt of -their reality, even while he had acted as if they were demonstrable -fact. It was a terrible thing to harbor such strange discordant fancies. -He remembered that during the day, he could not be sure of the time, he -awoke from a sleep or swoon to find himself here (or, perchance, he had -dreamed), bound and gagged, and the great rough figure of a gigantic -negro standing in the doorway of the room gazing upon him with an -expression of stupid dismay, and then of horrified fright. The negro -disappeared suddenly,--many of the images present to the diseased brain -of Captain Treherne were subject to these abrupt withdrawals. Afterward -he saw, or, as he stipulated within himself, he thought he saw, through -an open door, this swart apparition again, chasing and beating with a -boat-hook a large white owl. Now and then, throughout the afternoon, he -imagined he heard sounds, faint, distant; footsteps, voices and again -silence. Deep into the weary night the hapless prisoner watched the -moonlight trace the outline of the leafless vines outside upon the -ceiling and wall. This was the only impression of which he was certain. -He could not be sure what this seeming approach might mean; whether a -fact, direful and dangerous, to which the helpless must needs submit; or -whether a fantasy of merely seeming menace. - -Suddenly a voice--resonant, yet with a falling cadence; hearty and -whole-souled, yet quavering with trouble. “Hugh Treherne! Hugh -Treherne!” it was calling, and a thousand echoes in the bare and -ruinous building duplicated the sound. - -A rush of confidence sent the blood surging through the veins of Captain -Treherne, almost congested with the pressure of the cords. He gave a -start that might have dislocated every bone in his body, yet the bonds -held fast. He could not stir. He could not reply. He had recognized the -voice of Colonel Kenwynton, his old commander,--he felt that he could -take his oath to the reality of this fact. There were other -voices,--many foot-falls; it was a searching party with lights, with -arms,--he heard the familiar metallic click as one of the men cocked a -revolver. But what was this? They were taking the wrong turn in the maze -of empty apartments; the steps of their progress had begun to recede, -sounding farther and farther away; their voices died in the distance; -the light had faded from the wall. - -He thought afterward that in the intensity of his emotions he must have -fainted. There was a long gap in his consciousness. Then he saw a -well-remembered face bending over him, but oh, so changed, so venerable. -He knew every tone of the voice calling his name, amidst sobs, “Oh, -Hugh, my dear, dear boy!” He felt the eager hands of younger, strong men -deftly loosening the bonds, and the sound of their voices in muttered -imprecations, not loud but deep, filled him with a surging sense of -sweet sympathy. It was swearing, doubtless, but the sentiment that -prompted it was pious. It is not of record that the good Samaritan swore -at the thieves, but it is submitted that, in the fervor of altruism, he -might have done so with great propriety. Treherne felt the taste of -brandy within his aching jaws. These profane wights were lifting him -with a tenderness that might have befitted the tendance of a sick -infant. He could not restrain the tears that were coursing down his -cheeks, although he had no grief,--he was glad,--glad! for now and again -Colonel Kenwynton caught his hand in his cordial grasp and pressed it to -his breast. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Day was breaking. The luster of the moon had failed. Gaunt and grisly -the old ruin began to increase in visibility. The full, gray, prosaic -light emphasized details, whether of workmanship or wreck, which the -silver beams had been inadequate to show. It was difficult to say if the -fine points of ornamentation had the more melancholy suggestion in the -wanton spoliation where they were within easy reach, or in those heights -and sequestered nooks where distance had saved them from the hand of the -vandal. The lapse of time itself had wrought but scant deterioration. -The tints of the fresco of ceilings and borders were of pristine -delicacy and freshness in those rooms where the destroyed hearths had -prevented fires and precluded smoke, save that here and there a cobweb -had veiled a corner, or a space had gathered mildew from exposure to a -shattered window, or a trickling leak had delineated the trace of the -falling drops down the decorated wall. - -All exemplified the taste of an earlier period, and where paper had been -used in great pictorial designs it fared more hardly than had the -painting. The vicissitudes of the voyage of Telemachus, portrayed in the -hall, were supplemented by unwritten disaster. His bark tossed upon seas -riven in gaps and hanging in tatters. The pleasant land where he and -his instructive companion met the Island goddess and her train of -nymphs, laden with flowers and fruit for their delectation, was -cataclysmal with torrential rains and broken abysses. The filial -adventurer was flung from the storied cliffs into a Nirvana of blank -plaster. - -It had required some muscular force and some mental energy to destroy -the marble mantel-pieces. Here and there bits of the carving still lay -about the floor, the design thus grossly disfigured, showing with -abashed effect above the gaping cavity of the torn-out hearth. - -The up-to-date man with his glass in his eye, one hand always ready to -readjust it, the fingers lightly slipped into the pocket of his -trousers, his attitude a trifle canted forward after the manner of the -critical connoisseur, was going about, exploring, discriminating and -bemoaning. Now and again he was joined by one of his fellow-passengers, -who stood with his hat on the back of his head, and gazed with blank, -unresponsive eyes, and listened in uncomprehending silence. The interior -decoration of the old house represented several periods. The salient -fact of wreck and ruin was apparent, however, to the most limited -discernment, and the knots of refugees from the _Cherokee Rose_ -discussed its woeful condition as they wandered restlessly about. They -expressed a doubt whether repair would not cost more than the house was -worth, argued on the legal effect of the belated discovery of the -quit-claim papers, and contemned the spirit of the men in possession in -the last forty years to allow so fine a thing in itself to fall into -such a desperate condition, while the lands appurtenant were worked to -the extremest capacity of money-making. There was a disposition to -deduce from the fact a suspicion on the part of the holders that their -title was vulnerable, and a sordid desire to make the most possible out -of the property while it was still in possession. It was always -Floyd-Rosney’s fate to be in a measure justified of circumstances, yet -to seem at fault. The question of mesne profits in case of the recovery -of property did not suggest itself for some time, and when it did arise -it was submitted that mesne profits were mighty hard to get and often -could not be made from the interloper. - -“They can make the money out of Floyd-Rosney, though,--he has got money -to burn. For one, I don’t care if he does lose. It would be outrageous -for him to defend the suit for recovery and plead the statute of -limitations,” said the fat man, who did not mince his opinions. - -“But he may win out,” said the broker. “Possession is nine-tenths of the -law,--and for forty years under a decree of the Chancery court.” - -“Forty thousand years would do him no good in the face of that release,” -protested another. “It was wrongful possession from the beginning. -Floyd-Rosney is a trespasser here and nothing more.” - -“But can you call a man a ‘trespasser’ who holds under color of title? -His is an adverse possession,” argued the broker. - -And the wrangle began anew with revived spirit. It was well, perhaps, -that the refugees had a subject of discussion so charged with immediate -and general interest, since they had no resource but to roam the old -place until breakfast should be announced. After this meal they would -resume their fitful wanderings till a boat should be sighted. They had -turned out of their comfortable quarters when Captain Treherne had been -brought to the restricted inhabited space of the old building, -relinquishing the shake-down and the fire to him and his special -ministrants. - -Now and again a speculation concerning breakfast agitated the group of -men, and one venturesome spirit made a journey down the quaking old rear -verandah to the kitchen, stepping over gaps where the flooring had been -torn up for fuel and walking the rotting sills when the hiatus was too -wide to be leaped. His errand to expedite breakfast was, apparently, -without result. - -“Yes, sah,” said the waiter-cook, into whose gloomy soul morning had yet -cast no illuminating ray. “I gwine ter dish up when de breakfast is -cooked,--nuver knowed you wanted it raw. Cap’n nuver treated me -right,--no range, no cook-fixin’s,--nuthin’--an’ breakfast expected to -be smokin’ on de table ’fore de fog is off de river. Naw, Sah,--ef you -kin cook it any quicker, why cook it yourself, Sah. I ain’t got no -dijections to your cookin’ it.” - -Upon his return from his tour of discovery, being earnestly interrogated -as to the prospects by his fellow-refugees, the gentleman gave this sage -advice: “If you don’t want to have to knock an impudent nigger down you -will stay here and eat breakfast when he has a mind to serve it.” - -The fog clung to the face of the river. It stood blank and white at the -great portal of the house, and sifted through the shattered windows, and -silence dominated it. One felt infinitely removed from all the affairs -of life. The world was not even a neighbor. Time seemed annihilated. It -could not be that yesterday, at this hour, they stood on the stanch deck -of the _Cherokee Rose_, or that only the week before they trod the -streets of Memphis, or Vicksburg, or Helena. That white pall seemed to -shut off all the possibilities of life, and there was a sort of shock, -as of a revulsion of nature, when there came through this flocculent -density the sound of a horse’s hoofs on the graveled drive, and then, on -the portico, the ponderous measured tread of a man of weight and bulk. - -He was in the hall before the group was aware of his entrance. Hale and -strong, although of advanced years, well dressed in a sober fashion, -grave, circumspect, reticent of manner, he had turned toward the second -door before a word of his intent could be asked. A gesture had answered -his inquiry for Captain Hugh Treherne. He entered, without knocking, and -the door closed on silence. The group in the hall stared at one another, -aware, in some subtle way, of a crisis which the simple facts did not -explain. - -Suddenly a wild cry of defiance rose from within,--a quivering, aged -voice full of rancor and of rage. - -“I will resist to the death,--begone, begone, sir, before I do you a -mischief.” - -It was the voice of Colonel Kenwynton, furious, fierce, beyond -placation, beyond argument, beyond self-control. - -A murmur of remonstrance rose for a moment. Then the group outside -followed the example of the stranger and, without ceremony, burst in at -the door. - -The stranger stood in quiet composure with his back to the fire while -the old Colonel, his bushy white eyebrows bent above eyes that flashed -all the lightnings of his youth, waved his hand toward the door, -exclaiming with an intonation of contempt that must have scathed the -most indurated sensibilities, “Begone, sir,--out of the door, if you -like, or I will throw you out of the window.” He stamped his foot as if -to intimidate a cur. “Begone! Rid us of your intolerable presence.” - -Captain Treherne, who had lain all the early morning hours on the rugs -and blankets on the floor, seeking to recuperate from his terrible -experience of constraint, had arisen with an alertness scarcely to be -expected. He laid a restraining hand on the old man’s arm. Colonel -Kenwynton placed his own trembling hand over it. - -“Captain Treherne is among his friends who will revenge it dearly if you -attempt the least injury. Insane! He is most obviously, most absolutely -sane, and on that fact I will stake my soul’s salvation. Any attempt at -his incarceration,--you despicable trickster, I have no doubt you turn -your penny out of this burial alive,--before God, sir, I’ll make you rue -it. I will publish you throughout the length and the breadth of the -land, and I will beat you with this stick within an inch of your life.” - -He brandished his heavy cane, and, despite his age and his depleted -strength, he was a most formidable figure as he advanced. Once more -Treherne caught at his arm. So tense were its muscles that he could not -pull it down, but he hung upon it with all his weight. - -The stranger eyed Colonel Kenwynton with the utmost calm, a placidity -devoid alike of fear and of the perception of offense. He spoke in a -quiet, level tone, with an undercurrent of gentle urgency. - -“Sane or insane, Hugh Treherne never intentionally deceived a friend,” -he remarked composedly. “Tell him the facts, Captain Treherne,--he -deserves to know them.” - -He met at the moment Treherne’s eye. A long look passed between them,--a -terrible look, fraught with some deep mystery, of ghastly intendment, -overwhelming, significant, common to both, which neither would ever -reveal. There was in it something so nerve-thrilling, so daunting, that -Colonel Kenwynton’s bold, bluff spirit revolted. - -“None of your hypnotism here!” he cried, again brandishing his stick. “I -will not stand by and see you seek to subjugate this man’s mind with -your subtle arts. So much as cast your evil eye upon him again and I -will make you swallow a pistol-ball and call it piety. (Where is that -damned revolver of mine?)” He clapped his hand vainly to his -pistol-pocket. - -“Hugh,” the stranger’s tone was even more gently coercive than before. -“Tell him, Hugh. He is not a man to delude.” - -“Colonel,” cried Treherne, still hanging on the old man’s arm, “this -gentleman means me nothing but kindness. He would not,--he could -not,--why, don’t you know he was a surgeon in the Stones’ River -campaign? For old sake’s sake he would do me no harm.” - -Colonel Kenwynton himself looked far from the normal, his white hair -blowsing about his face, fiery red, his blue eyes blazing with a bluer -flame, his muscles knotted and standing out as he clutched his stick -and brandished it. - -“I don’t care if he was commander-in-chief, he shall not mesmerize you, -if that is what he calls his damnable tricks. Hugh,--forty years! Oh, my -dear boy, that I should have lost sight of you for forty years, what -with my debts, and my worries, and my shifts to keep a whole roof over -my head, and a whole coat on my back. Forty years,--I thought you were -dead. I had been told you were dead,--that is your Cousin Thomas’s -work,--I’ll haul _him_ over the coals. And you as sane as I am all the -time! Begone, sir!” and once more he waved his stick at the stranger. “I -will see to it that every process known to the law is exhausted on you! -The vials of wrath shall be emptied! Oh, it is too late for apology, for -repentance, for sniveling!” - -For still the stranger’s manner was mild and gravely conciliatory. “Oh, -Hugh,” he said reproachfully, “why don’t you tell him?” - -Once more their glances met. - -“Colonel,” said Treherne falteringly, “I am not sane. I admit it.” - -“I know better,” Colonel Kenwynton vociferated, facing around upon him. -“You are as sane as I am, as any man. This is hypnotism. I saw how that -fellow looked at you. I marked him well. Why, sanity is in your every -intonation.” - -Treherne took heart of grace. “But, Colonel, this is a lucid interval. -Sometimes I am not myself,--in fact, for many years I was _absent_.” He -used the euphemism with a downcast air, as if he could not brook a -plainer phrase. Then, visibly bracing himself, “It was the effects of -the old wound,--the sabre cut on the skull. It injured the brain. I -have persuasions--obsessions.” His words faltered. His eyes dilated. -There was a world of unexpressed meaning in his tone, as he lowered his -voice, scarcely moving his lips. “Sometimes I am possessed by the -Devil.” - -“We will not speak of that to-day,” said the stranger suavely. - -“It is impossible!” exclaimed the Colonel dogmatically. “Look at the -facts,--you come to me out on that sand-bar to induce me to aid you in -the search for the Ducie treasure and title papers, their recovery is -due to your effort and, in all probability, the restoration of this -great estate to its rightful owners.” - -“Ah,” exclaimed the stranger with intense interest. He look elated, -inordinately elated. - -“And because you had forgotten in the lapse of time--forty years,--the -exact spot where you and Archie Ducie hid the box away, and the wind was -blowing, and the rain imminent, I put it off--like a fool--and these -fiends of river pirates, or gipsies, or what not, got the information -from you when you were asleep,--talking in your sleep.” - -“Subconscious cerebration,” murmured the alienist. - -“And because they did not exactly understand the terms of architecture -you used they brought you down here to force you to point out the spot, -and bound and gagged you,--oh,--Hugh, my heart bleeds for you!” - -“But can’t you think for him a little, Colonel--can’t you advise him? -Forty years of seclusion does not fit a man to cope with the world -without some preparation for the encounter,--he was in danger of his -life, in falling among these thieves. He incurred a jeopardy which I -know he esteems even greater. He is on the verge of a most extraordinary -cure,--in all my experience I have never known its parallel. Any -disastrous chance might yet prevent its completion. Now that he has -accomplished all that he so desired to do, can’t you advise him to go -back with me to treatment, regimen, safety.” - -“Not unless I know what ails him,” said the Colonel stoutly. - -Once more the eyes of Treherne and the stranger met, with that dark and -dreadful secret between them. Colonel Kenwynton appraised the glance and -its subtle significance, and fell to trembling violently. - -“It is something that we cannot mention this day,--this day is clear,” -said the alienist firmly. - -“I cannot go back,--I cannot go back,--and meet it there,” cried -Treherne wildly. “It is waiting for me,--where I have known it so long. -I shall pass the vestibule, perhaps,--but there in the hall”--he paused, -shivering. - -“You see that, as yet, you cannot protect yourself in the world, even -now, when you are as sane as the Colonel. But, for the accident that -brought these people here, you might have been murdered by those -miscreants for the secret hiding-place that had slipped your memory. You -might have been heedlessly left on the floor bound and gagged to die. It -was the merest chance that I happened to think you might be at -Duciehurst.” - -Treherne was trembling in every fiber. Cold drops of moisture had -started on his brow. His eyes were dilated and quickly glancing, as he -contemplated this obsession to which neither dared to refer openly, lest -the slight bonds that held the mania within bounds, the exhaustion of -the spasm of insanity, called the lucid interval, be overstrained and -snap at once. - -“I believe I would not meet it here, in the world,--away from where it -has been so long,” he said doggedly. - -“What would you do if you should? You might hurt yourself,--and Hugh, -and this you would deplore more, you might injure some one else,” said -the doctor. - -Treherne suddenly turned, throwing his arms about Colonel Kenwynton in a -paroxysm of energy. - -“Colonel, lead the way. Go with me, for I would follow you to hell if -you led the charge. God knows I have done that often enough. Lead the -charge, Colonel!” - -“Yes, come with us, Colonel,” said the alienist cordially,--it could but -seem a sinister sort of hospitality. “We should be delighted to -entertain you for a few days, or, indeed, as long as you will stay. It -is not a public institution, but we have a beautiful place,--haven’t we, -Hugh?--something very extra in the way of conservatories. Hugh has begun -to take much interest in our orchids. It is a good distance, but Mr. -Ducie drove me down here from Caxton with his fast horse in less time -than I could have imagined.” - -“Mr. Ducie?” said Adrian Ducie, with a start. “Where is he? Has he -gone?” - -The doctor stared as if he himself had taken leave of his senses. “You -remember,” he said confusedly, blending the reminder with an air of -explanation to the group generally, “that when we had that game of -billiards at your hotel in Caxton last evening I asked you a question or -two about the Duciehurst estate; I didn’t like to say much, but your -replies gave me the clew as to where Captain Treherne had gone after his -escape from the Glenrose sanatorium. He had inquired about Duciehurst as -soon as he began to recover his memory, and seemed to recur to the -subject and to brood upon it. The idea stayed with me all night, for I -was very anxious, and about daybreak I took the liberty of rousing you -by telephone to ask if the roads here from Caxton were practicable for a -motor-car. You remember, don’t you?” - -He paused, looking in some surprise at Adrian. - -“You told me,” he continued, “that the roads would be impracticable -after these rains, and as I disclosed the emergency, in my great -perturbation for Captain Treherne’s safety, you offered to drive me -down, as you had an exceptionally speedy horse which you kept for your -easy access from Caxton to the several plantations that you lease in -this vicinity.” - -Captain Treherne, the possession of his faculties as complete at the -moment as if he had never known the aberrations of a mania, listened -with an averse interest and a lowering brow to these details of the -preparations made for his capture and reincarceration. The alienist did -not seem to observe his manner but went on, apparently at haphazard. “I -regretted to put you to so great an inconvenience at this hour, but you -relieved my mind by saying that you knew that Captain Treherne had been -a valued friend of your uncle’s, and that you not only felt it -incumbent on you to be of any service possible to him, but esteemed it a -privilege.” - -“But where,--where is Randal Ducie now?” asked Adrian, turning hastily -to the door. - -The doctor’s face was a picture of uncomprehending perplexity. “Why, -isn’t this you?” he asked. - -“Oh, no. It is my brother,” exclaimed Adrian, amidst a burst of laughter -that relieved the tension of the situation. Several followed from the -room to witness, at a distance not very discreet, the meeting of the -facsimile brothers. - -Randal Ducie had hitched the horse and the four-seated phaeton which -they had had the precaution to provide to the old rack, and, awaiting -the return of the physician, had strolled aimlessly up the pavement -through the rolling fog to the steps of the portico. There he was -suddenly confronted by the image of himself. He looked startled for a -moment; then, with a rising flush and a brightening eye, ascended the -flight with an eager step. - -“Hello,” said one brother cavalierly. - -“Hello yourself,” responded the other. - -“Let me show you how the fellows kiss the cheek in old France,” said -Adrian. - -“Let me show you how the fellows punch the head in old Mississippi,” -said Randal. - -There was a momentary scuffle, and then, arm in arm and both near to -tears, they strolled together down the long portico of their ancestral -home with much to say to each other, after their separation, and much to -hear. - -The group of men at the door, looking laughingly after them, might -readily have discriminated the moment of the disclosure of the discovery -of the Duciehurst treasure with the release of the mortgage foreclosed -so long ago. Randal paused abruptly, facing round upon his brother and -apparently listening in stunned amaze. They were too distant for words -to be distinguished, but his voice came on the air, loud and excited, in -eager questioning. He was, evidently, about to turn within the house, -possibly to have the evidence of his eyes to the intendment and validity -of this paper, when Adrian, by a gesture, checked him. The fog was -beginning to lift, and the figures of the two men were imposed on a -vista of green, where the sunlight in a delicate clarity after the -rains, in a refined glister of matutinal gold, was beginning to send -long glinting beams among the glossy foliage of the magnolias, and to -light with reverent tapering shafts the solemn aisles of the weeping -willows where the tombstones reared unchanged their mortuary memorials, -unmindful of sheen or shadow, of fair weather or foul, even of time, as -the years came and went, a monition only of death and a prophecy of -eternity. - -“There is one thing I must tell you, Ran,” Adrian said, laying both -hands on his brother’s shoulders. - -Randal threw up his head, excited, expectant, apprehensive. - -“_She_ is here,--one of the passengers of the _Cherokee Rose_.” - -“She?” exclaimed Randal in blank mystification. “Who?” - -Adrian was embarrassed. It seemed as if even an old love could hardly be -of so sluggish a divination,--as if Randal must have probed his -meaning. He reflected that it might be some keenly sensitive -consciousness that could not yet bear the open recognition of the facts. -Between them the subject of the sudden jilting had never been mentioned, -save in Randal’s one letter apprising his brother that the engagement -was off, by reason of the lady’s change of mind, which came, indeed, -later than the item in the Paris journals, chronicling news of interest -to Americans sojourning abroad, and giving details of a new betrothal in -a circle of great wealth and position. He himself had never known such -frenzy of emotion, of rage, and humiliation, and compassion, and pride. -The event had racked him with vicarious woe. It had dealt him a wound -that would not heal, but now and again burst into new and undreamed of -phases of anguish. Even yet he shrank from taking her name on his -lips--and to Randal himself, of all people. Yet Randal must be told,--he -must not meet her unaware. The pause of indecision continued so long as -they stood thus, Adrian’s hands on his brother’s shoulders, that -Randal’s eyes dilated with a surprise obviously unaffected. He lifted -his own hands to his brother’s elbows, and thus facing each other he -said: “What of it? I am in a hurry,--I want to see that release. Who is -this ‘she’?” - -“Why, Randal,--it is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,--Paula Majoribanks, that was, -and her husband and child.” - -There was still a pause, blank of significance. - -“Well,” said Randal, meditatively, at length, “they won’t like that -quit-claim paper one little bit of a bit.” There was a laugh in his -brilliant hazel eyes, and it touched the finely cut corners of his -lips. His fresh face was as joyous, as candid, as full of the tender -affection of this reunion as if no word of a troubled past had been -spoken to jar it. - -Oh, that she should come between them on this day when they were so -close to each other, Adrian reflected, when absence had made each so -dear, when there was so much to say and to do, when separation impended, -and time was so short. He felt that he could hardly endure to have their -mutual pleasure marred, that he could not brook to see Randal abashed in -her presence, and conscious, disconcerted and at a disadvantage before -her husband. Above all, and before all, he winced for Randal’s pain in -the reopening of these poignant old wounds to bleed and ache anew. - -His arms tightened and slipped up from his brother’s shoulders and -around his neck. “Oh, Randal, will it hurt you much?” - -Randal looked grave. “A lawsuit is always a troublesome, long-drawn-out -bother; I shrink from the suspense and the expense. But I am mighty glad -to have the chance to be hurt that way.” - -“Oh, I meant will it give you pain to meet Paula again as Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney?” - -“_What?_” Randal’s hearty young voice rang out with a note of amazement. -“Not a bit. What do you take me for?” - -“I was afraid--you would feel,” faltered Adrian. - -“Is that what’s the matter with you? You look awfully muffish.” - -“Well,--as you loved her once,--I thought----” - -“That was a case of mistaken identity,” said Randal. “Can’t you realize -that it is just because she _could_ prefer another man; that she could -think a thought of change; that her plighted faith could be broken; that -her love,--or what we called love,--could take unto itself wings and fly -away; that she was only an illusion, a delusion, a snare. I never loved -the woman she is.” - -“She is very beautiful,” hesitated Adrian. - -“When I thought her mind and heart matched her face she seemed beautiful -to me, too,” said Randal. - -“You will think so still.” - -“Kid, you know nothing about love. A man truly in love may have been -attracted by beauty, but it is not that which holds him. It is a unity -of soul; he finds a complement of mind; he has a sense of sympathy and, -through thick and thin, a partisan, constant faith in a reciprocal -heart. He gets used to the prettiest face and it makes little impression -on him,--just as he wouldn’t notice, after a time, a fine costume. She -is nothing that I imagined. She is not now, and she never was the ideal -I loved. I don’t regret her. Don’t grieve for me, little boy. And now -will you be so kind as to take those paws off my neck,--you are half -strangling me with your fraternal anxiety. Behold, I will smite you -under the fifth rib.” - -There was once more a brief, boyish scuffle. Then the two turned and -came walking decorously back to the group on the portico. The exterior -aspect of the old ruin had an added majesty by daylight, despite the -more obvious injuries of wreckage. Its fine proportions, the blended -elegance and stateliness of its design, the richness even in the -restraint of its ornamentation, all showed with telling effect, apart -from the wild work within of the marauders. These details the rude -usage it had received could not affect. It might have stood as an -imposing architectural example of a princely residence of the date of -its erection, and it was impossible to gaze upon it with a sense of -possessing it, and feel no glow of gratulation. - -“Why, the item of glass alone would be a corker,” a practical man was -saying, walking backward down the stone pavement and surveying the great -black gaps of the shattered windows. - -The two brothers cast a meaning glance at each other, the discussion, of -which this was obviously a fragment, evidently looked to a -rehabilitation of the mansion under a change of owners, for, certainly, -it would seem that Floyd-Rosney had neither the interest nor the -associations to induce him to set up his staff of rest here. It was only -a straw, but it showed how the wind of opinion set, and the brothers -were in the frame of mind to discern propitious omens. The sun was -bright on the over-grown spaces of the lawn. The Cherokee rose hedge -that divided it from the family graveyard, and continued much further, -had spread with its myriad unpruned sprangles beyond the space designed -for a boundary, growing many feet wide. Beneath the great arch it -described stretched a long tunnel-like arbor, throughout its whole -extent, dark, mystic, in the shadow of its evergreen leaves. By reason -of some natural attraction which quaint nooks have for children, -Marjorie and little Ned had discovered this strange passageway, and were -running in and out of the darksome space, with their shrilly sweet cries -of pretended fright and real excitement, each time venturing a little -farther than before. The mists had lifted from the river, which spread -a broad, rippling surface of burnished copper in the sunshine under an -azure sky. There was no sign of approaching craft, no curl of smoke -above the woods beyond the point to herald deliverance by a steamboat. -One of the old ladies had established herself on her suitcase on the -topmost step of the flight from the portico, and it would, indeed, have -been a swift steamer that could have escaped her vigilance and passed -without being signaled. - -Adrian paused good-naturedly. “You need give yourself no uneasiness, -madam,--it will require half an hour’s time at least for a steamboat to -pass this place from the moment that she is sighted,” he said, in polite -commiseration. - -But the old lady sat tight. “They tell me there is a crazy man in -there,” she declared lugubriously. She would leave by the first -opportunity. - -“He is going presently in a phaeton across the country,” Adrian -explained. “There is no possible danger from him, however,--he has only -occasional attacks. He is perfectly at himself to-day. But he will not -be going on the boat.” This remark was unlucky, as it increased her -anxiety to embark. - -Randal had lifted his hat after a moment’s pause, and passed on without -his brother. He hesitated, looked back, then entered the vestibule, and -came suddenly face to face with Paula. - -It had been five years since they had met and then it was as lovers. She -had not dreamed of seeing him here. She thought him ten miles away at -Caxton. She had never been more brilliantly, more delicately beautiful. -Her burnished redundant hair that was wont to resemble gold, and to seem -so elaborately tended, had now a luminous fibrous effect at the verges -of the smooth pompadour roll that had been hastily tossed up from her -forehead. She even appeared taller, more slender than usual, since she -wore a clinging gown of princess effect, in one piece, and, obviously, -of matutinal usage, in more conventional surroundings. The flowing -sleeve showed her bare arm from the elbow, exquisitely white and soft. -The V-shaped neck gave to view her delicate snowy throat rising from a -mist of lace. The strange large flower-pattern cast over a ground of -thick sheeny white was an orchid with a gilded verge, and in the mauve -and pearl tones she, too, looked like some rare and radiant bloom. Her -eyes were sweet and expectant--her step swift. She was on her way to -call back the child. She paused suddenly, dumfounded, disconcerted, -confronted with the past. - -She recognized Randal in one instant, despite his resemblance to his -brother, and for her life she could not command her countenance. It was -alternately red and white in the same moment. She felt that his -confusion would heighten hers, yet she could not forgive his composure, -his well-bred, graceful, gracious manner, his clear, vibrant, assured -voice when he exclaimed, holding out his hand: “Mrs. Floyd-Rosney--this -is an unexpected pleasure. I have this moment heard that you are here. -Is that your husband?” For Floyd-Rosney had just issued from the -dining-room and was advancing down the hall toward her with an -unmistakable, connubial frown. “Will you kindly present me?” - -It seemed for a moment as if Floyd-Rosney had never heard of the simple -ceremony of an introduction. Paula could not secure and hold his -attention. He passed Randal over with a casual, unnoting glance, and -began to take her to task in no measured terms. - -“Why do you allow the child to chase back and forth in that dark tunnel -under the Cherokee rose hedge? He will be scratched to pieces by the -briars, the first thing you know. Why is he with that madcap tom-boy, -Marjorie Ashley? Where is his nurse, anyhow?” - -“Why, she is completely knocked out by the fatigue and excitements,--she -is quite old, you remember,” said Paula meekly, seeking to stem his tide -of words. “I was just coming out to play nurse myself. But stop a -minute. I want to----” - -“I won’t stop a minute,--I don’t care what you want,”--her aspect -suddenly seemed to strike his attention. “And why do you trick yourself -out in such duds at such a time?” - -“Because this is so easy to put on,--and I had to dress the baby,” Paula -was near to tears. “But I want to----” she mended the phrase,--“This is -Mr. Ducie; he wishes to meet you.” - -Floyd-Rosney turned his imperious gaze on Ducie with a most unperceiving -effect. “Why, of course, I know it is Mr. Ducie,--have you taken leave -of your senses, Paula? Mr. Ducie and I have seen enough of each other on -this trip to last us the rest of our natural existence. I can’t talk to -you now, Mr. Ducie,--if you have anything to say to me you can -communicate it to my lawyers; I will give you their address.” - -“It is not business. It is an introduction,” explained Paula, in the -extremity of confusion, while Randal, placid and impassive, looked on -inscrutably. “Mr. Ducie wishes to make your acquaintance.” - -“Well, he has got it,--if that is any boon,” Floyd-Rosney stared at her, -stupefied. - -“But this is the brother,--Mr. Randal Ducie,--the one you have never -met.” In Paula’s haste to elude her husband’s impatient interruption she -could scarcely speak. Her mouth was full of words, but they tripped and -fell over each other in her agitation with slips and grotesque -mispronunciations. - -“Hoh!” said Floyd-Rosney, permitting himself to be enlightened at last. -“Why this thing of twin brothers is no end of a farce.” He shook hands -with Randal with some show of conventionality. He, too, was mindful of -the past. But so impatient was his temperament with aught that did not -suit his play that he was disposed to cavil on the probabilities. “Are -you sure,”--then he paused. - -“That I am myself,--reasonably sure,” said Randal, laughing. And now -that Adrian was coming in at the door Floyd-Rosney surveyed them both as -they stood together with a sort of disaffected but covert arrogance. - -“Well--I can see no sort of difference,” he declared. - -“Oh, the difference is very obvious,” said Paula, struggling to assert -her individuality. - -“I should thank no man for taking the liberty of looking so much like -me,” said Floyd-Rosney, seeking to compass a casual remark. Indeed, but -for the pressure of old associations, the necessity of taking into -consideration the impression made upon the by-standers, all conversant, -doubtless, with the former relations of the parties, for several -passersby had paused, attracted by the opportunity for the comparison -of the twins side by side, Floyd-Rosney would have dismissed the Messrs. -Ducie and their duplicate countenance with a mere word. - -“I didn’t expect we should keep up the resemblance,” remarked Adrian. -“While I was abroad I did not know what Randal was getting to look like, -and, therefore, I didn’t know which way to look myself. But now that we -are together we each have the advantage of a model.” - -The broker seemed to gravely ponder this strange statement, the others -laughed, and Paula saw her opportunity to terminate the _contretemps_. -“I’ll call the baby in,” she said, and slipped deftly past and out into -the sunshine. - -Paula’s instinct was to remove the cause of her husband’s irritation, -not because she valued Floyd-Rosney’s peace of mind or hoped to -reinstate his pose of dignity. But she could not adjust herself to her -habitual humility with him in Randal Ducie’s presence,--to listen to his -instruction, to accept his rebukes, to obey his commands, to laugh at -his vague and infrequent jests, to play the abased jackal to his lion. -She would efface herself; she would be null; she would do naught to -bring down wrath on her devoted head,--but beyond this her strength was -inadequate. So she hustled the two children into the house and up the -stairs, and out of the great front windows of the hall where she told -them to stand on the balcony above the heads of the group below and -watch for the appearance of a boat. - -Now and then their sweet, reedy tones floated down as they conversed -with each other at the extreme limit of their vocal pitch, breaking, -occasionally, into peals of laughter. Their steps sounded like the -tread of half a dozen pairs of feet, so rapidly and erratically they ran -back and forth. At intervals they paused and stood at the iron -balustrade, surveying the scene from every point of view, up the river -and down the river, and again across, in the zealous discharge of their -delegated duty to watch for a boat. Below reigned that luxurious sense -of quiet which ensues on the cessation of a turbulent commotion. Groups -strolled to and fro on the portico, or found seats on the broad stone -sills of the windows that opened upon it. Paula, in her white and lilac -floriated house-dress, walked a little apart, pausing occasionally and -glancing up to caution the two children on the balcony to be wary how -they leaned their weight on the grillwork of the iron balustrade, as -some rivet might be rusted and weakened. - -Hildegarde had found her rough gray suit impracticable because of the -drenching rains of yesterday and was freshly arrayed in a very chic -street costume of royal blue broadcloth, trimmed with bands of -chinchilla fur, with a muff and hat to match. She was standing near a -window, on the sill of which the Major, wrapped in a rug and his -overcoat, was ensconced, having been brought forth for a breath of air. -He had a whimsical look of discovery on his pallid and wrinkled face. -She was recalling to him a world which he had forgotten so long ago that -it had all the flavor of a new existence. - -“I can’t give you any idea of the scenery _en route_, Major,”--she was -describing a trip to the far west,--“in fact I slept the whole way. You -see, my social duties were very onerous last spring. Our club had -determined to give twelve dinner dances during the season, and the -weather became hot unusually early, and so many people were leaving town -that as we were pledged to twelve we were compelled to give four of the -dinner dances during the last week and my head was in a whirl. There was -the Adelantado ball, too, and several very elaborate luncheons, and two -or three teas every afternoon, and what between the indigestion and the -two-step lumbago I was in a state of collapse on the journey west.” - -“That was a novel campaign,” remarked the old soldier. - -“It was a forced march,” declared Hildegarde. “I didn’t revive until I -heard dance music again in the Golden City. Let me prop your head up -against the window frame on my muff, Major. Oh, yes, it is very -pretty,--all soft gray and white.” She made a point of describing -everything in detail for his sightless vision. “You might get a nap in -this fresh air,--for it is a ‘pillow muff.’ Yes, indeed,” watching his -trembling fingers explore its soft densities, “it is very fine, but I -won’t mention the awful sum it cost my daddy lest such a conscienceless -pillow give you the nightmare.” - -The air had all that bland luxurious quality so characteristic of the -southern autumn. A sense was rife in the sunlit spaces of a suspension -of effort. The growths of the year were complete; the inception of the -new was not yet in progress. No root stirred; there was never a drop of -sap distilled; not a twig felt the impetus of bourgeonning anew. Naught -was apposite to the season save some languorous dream, too delicate, too -elusive even for memory. It touched the lissome grace of the -willow-wands, bare and silvery and flickering in the imperceptible -zephyrs. It lay, swooning with sweetness, in the heart of a late rose -which found the changing world yet so kind that not a petal wilted in -fear of frost. It silvered the mists and held them shimmering and -spellbound here and there above the shining pearl-tinted water. It was -not summer, to be sure, but the apotheosis of the departing season. -Those far gates of the skies were opening to receive the winged past, -and, surely, some bright reflection of a supernal day had fallen most -graciously on all the land. - -“For my part, since that deal is over and done with by this time, I -don’t care how long I have to wait for a boat,--it can neither mar nor -make so far as I am concerned,” said the broker, as he puffed his cigar -and walked with long, meditative strides up and down the stone pavement. - -Floyd-Rosney did not concur in this view. He had expected all the early -hours that some of the neighboring negroes would come to the house, -attracted by the rumors of the commotions enacted there during the -night. Thus he could hire a messenger to take a note or a telephone -message to the nearest livery establishment and secure a conveyance for -himself and family to the railroad station some ten miles distant. He -feared that hours, nay a day or so, might elapse before one of the -regular packets plying the river might be expected to pass. Those -already in transit had, doubtless, “tied up” during the storm, and now -waited till the current should compass the clearance of the débris of -the hurricane floating down the river. The steamers advertised to leave -on their regular dates had not cast off, in all probability, but lay -supine in their allotted berths till the effects of the storm should be -past, and thus would not be due here for twelve or twenty-four hours, -according to the distance of their point of departure. - -As, however, time went on and the old house stood all solitary in the -gay morning light as it had in the sad moon-tide, Floyd-Rosney reflected -that no one had gone forth from the place except the robbers and the -roustabouts who had rowed the party down from the _Cherokee Rose_, -returning thither immediately. It was, therefore, improbable that any -rumor was rife of the temporary occupation of the Duciehurst mansion. -Hence the absence of curiosity seekers. Moreover, even were the -circumstances known, every human creature in the vicinity with the -capacity to stand on its feet and open and close its fingers was in the -cotton fields this day, for the sun’s rays had already sufficiently -dried off the plant, and the industry of cotton-picking, even more than -time and tide, waits for nobody. For “cotton is money,--maybe more, -maybe less, but cotton is money _every time_,” according to the old -saying. These snowy level fields were rich with coin of the republic. -The growing staple was visible wealth, scarcely needing the transmuting -touch of trade. No! of all the wights whom he might least expect to see -it was any cotton-picker, old or young, of the region. - -There being, evidently, no chance of a messenger, he had half a mind, as -his impatience of the detention increased, to go himself in search of -means of telephonic communication. But, apart from his spirit of leisure -and his habit of ease, his prejudices were dainty, and he looked upon -the miry richness of the Mississippi soil as if it were insurmountable. -To be sure, now and again he affected a day of sylvan sport, when, with -dog and gun, he cared as little as might be for mud, or rain, or sleet, -or snow; but then, he was caparisoned as a Nimrod, and burrs and briers, -stains and adhesive mire, were all the necessary accessories, and of no -consideration. In his metropolitan attire to step out knee deep in a -soil made up of river detritus, the depth and blackness of which are the -boast and glory of the cotton belt, was scarcely to be contemplated if -an alternative was possible. - -Suddenly a cry smote the air with electrical effect. “A boat! A boat!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -The auspicious announcement came first from the balcony. Then the cry “A -boat! A boat!” was taken up by the group on the portico, and echoed by -those within, pouring out in eager expectation through the vestibule or -the windows that opened to the floor. Floyd-Rosney experienced a moment -of self-gratulation on his prudential hesitation. He might have -otherwise been half a mile off, plunging through slough and switch-cane, -or the sharp serrated blades of the growths of saw-grass that edged the -lake, before he could gain the smooth ways of the turn-rows of the -cotton fields. All knew that considerable time must needs elapse from -the moment the boat was sighted, far up the river, before it could pass -this point. But shawls were strapped, gloves, wraps, hats, gathered -together, toilet articles tumbled hastily into Gladstone bags, trunks -and suitcases. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with incomparable quickness, had -shifted into a gown of taupe cloth, with a coat to match, and with a -large hat, trimmed with ostrich plumes of the same shade, on her golden -hair, in lieu of the rain-drenched traveling attire of yesterday. - -After a few moments of this pandemonium of preparation all eyes were -turned toward the river. Vacant it was, sunlit, a certain play of the -swift current betokening the added impetus of the recent heavy rainfall -and the influx of its swollen tributaries from the region to the -northward. Not even a coil of smoke showed above the forest where the -river curved. - -“The packet must be rounding the point,” said Floyd-Rosney hopefully. - -“Did you see the smoke above the trees, darling?” Paula called out to -the eager little man, now racing joyfully about the balcony, now pausing -to point at an object in the offing with his tiny forefinger. - -“No, mamma; the boat; the boat!” - -Marjorie, leaning on the iron rail, was gazing with eager eyes in vain -search. - -“It seems to me that we ought to be able to see the boat from the -portico as soon as he can from the balcony,” said the broker. - -An adequate reason was presently presented for the advantage of the -balcony as an outlook, lifted so high above the portico. - -The boat lay very flat on the surface,--a shanty-boat! - -“Why, Eddie,” cried Marjorie, with an inflection of poignant -disappointment,--she, too, had been looking for the towering chimneys, -the coil of black smoke, backward blown in the smooth progress of a -packet, the white guards, the natty little pilot-house, and only -casually she had chanced to descry the tiny flat object drifting with -the current that carried it far in toward the point. “That is a -shanty-boat,--we don’t travel on that kind of boat.” - -The child’s pink and white face was crestfallen in a moment. Language -seemed to fail him as he gazed disconsolate. Then he sought -reassurance. “Him _is_ a boat,” he declared with his pointing -forefinger, so small in contrast with the vast spaces he sought to -index. “Him _is_ a boat, _ain’t him_, mamma?” - -“Him is, indeed, a boat,” cried out Paula. “Never mind,” for little -Ned’s head was drooping, “we shall get a bigger boat presently. And it -was you that saw the first one!” - -“Get him down from there, Paula,” said Floyd-Rosney, greatly -discomposed. “Set him at some other mischief, for God’s sake,--anything -but this.” - -“He is coming now,” she answered, glimpsing the rueful little face -through the balusters of the stairs within, and, presently, the whole -diminutive figure came into view as he descended, always the right foot -first, and only one step at a time, so high were the intervals for his -fat baby legs. - -“The poor child,” Paula suddenly exclaimed, the tears springing. “There -just seems to be no place for him.” - -Floyd-Rosney obviously felt the rebuke. He winced for a moment. Then he -justified himself. - -“To have twenty people on the _qui vive_ for a boat and then disappoint -them with that silly prank,--it is out of the question.” - -“It was no prank,--he meant no harm,” said Paula in abashed -discomfiture. “I had told him to watch for a boat merely to keep him out -of the way. I didn’t think to explain that it was to be a steamboat for -us to board.” - -“Then you ought to have more consideration for other people,” -Floyd-Rosney fumed. - -His strong point was scarcely altruism, but he probably felt the -misadventure even more sensibly than any of the others, for he was -accustomed to lording it in a fine style and in a fine sphere. There was -no lack of indicia of displeasure among the thwarted travelers as they -strolled in baffled irritation up and down the stone floor of the -portico, and gazed along the glittering river at the slow approach of -the shanty-boat, now drifting as noiselessly and apparently as aimlessly -on the lustrous surface as a sere leaf on a gust of wind, and now, with -its great sweeps, working to keep the current from carrying it in and -grounding it on the bank. The old lady who had entertained fears of the -insane man was both peevishly outspoken and addicted to covert innuendo. - -“I declare it has given me a turn,--I am subject to palpitation.” She -put her hand with a gingerly gesture to the decorous passamenterie on -her chest that outlined her embroidered lawn guimpe. “Shocks are very -bad for any cardiacal affection. Oh, of course,” a wan and wintry smile -at once of acceptance and protest as Paula expressed her vicarious -contrition, “the child didn’t intend any harm, but it only shows the -truth of the old saw that children should be seen and not heard.” She -could not be placated, and she sighed plaintively as she once more sat -down on her suitcase on the steps of the portico. - -The men had less to say, but were of an aspect little less morose. Even -the broker, whose heart had warmed to the sunshine, felt it a hardship -that he should not have the boon at least of knowing how the deal had -gone. A grim laugh, here and there, betokened no merriment and was of -sarcastic intimations that touched the verge of rudeness. The business -interests of more than one were liable to suffer by prolonged absence, -and the ruefulness of disappointment showed in several countenances -erstwhile resolutely cheerful. - -Paula, to escape further disaffected comment, had turned within, -perceiving, at a distance, Hildegarde coming down the hall, gazing -intently on a little forked stick, carried stiffly before her in both -hands, the eyes of a group hard by fixed smilingly upon her mysterious -progress. Randal Ducie suddenly entered from one of the rooms on the -left, where he and his brother had been examining the rescued papers. - -Was it because Paula was so accustomed to the vicarious preëminence -which her husband’s wealth and prominence had conferred upon her that -she should experience a sentiment of revolt upon discerning the surprise -and accession of interest in Randal Ducie’s face as his eyes passed from -her and fixed themselves on Hildegarde--or was it because she still -arrogated instinctively her quondam hold upon his heart? Had she never -consciously loosed it?--or, while he had escaped its coercions, were -they still potential with her? Why should she wince and redden as, with -his hat in his hand, he advanced instantly to meet Miss Dean, who seemed -not to see him and to cavalierly ignore his presence. - -“Why, won’t you speak to me?” he demanded, smiling. - -Her casual glance seemed to pass him over. She was intent upon the -little forked stick. “What do you want me to say to you?” she asked, not -lifting her radiant blue eyes, half glimpsed beneath her lowered black -lashes. - -“Good morning, at least,” replied Randal. - -“How many greetings do you require? Upon my word, the man has forgotten -that he has seen me earlier to-day. I wished you a ‘good morning’ at -that very delectable breakfast table.” - -“Oh, that must have been my brother,” said Randal, enlightened. “This is -I, myself, Randal Ducie.” - -“You had better beware how you try your fakes on me. You don’t know what -magic power I have in this little divining-rod. I will tell you -presently to go and look into your strong box and find all your jewels -and gold turned to pebbles, and your title-deeds cinders and blank -paper.” - -“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Floyd-Rosney unpleasantly. “The blind goddess will -undertake that little transformation.” His imperious temper could -scarcely brook the perception that the coterie regarded the Ducies as -restored to the ownership of their ancient estates, even while he stood -in the hall of the house he held by the decree of the courts. - -But Hildegarde did not hear or heed. Bent on her frivolous fun, she -brushed past Ducie, holding her divining-rod stiffly in her dainty -fingers. Her eyes were alight with laughter as she exclaimed in a voice -agitated with affected excitement, “Oh, it’s turning! It’s turning! I -shall find silver in one more moment. Oh, Major, Major,” she brought the -twig up against the old soldier’s breast. “Here it is--silver--in the -Major’s waistcoat pocket!” - -She fell back against the great newel of the staircase, laughing -ecstatically, while all the idle group looked on with amused sympathy, -save only the two Floyd-Rosneys. The wife’s face was disconcerted, -almost wry, with the affected smile she sought to maintain, as she -watched Ducie’s glowing expression of admiration, and the husband’s -gravity was of baleful significance as he watched her. - -“I have found silver! I have found silver! Now, Major, stand and -deliver.” As the trembling fingers of the veteran obediently explored -the pocket and produced several bits of money, they were hailed with -acclamations by the discoverer, till she suddenly espied a coin with a -hole in it. “Oh, Major,” she cried, in genuine enthusiasm. “Give me this -dime!” - -“Oh, Hildegarde,”--Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s face assumed an expression of -reprehension, but Mrs. Dean only laughed at the childish freak. - -“I will have it,--it won’t make or break the Major--I want it--to wear -as a bangle, to remind me of this lovely trip, and all that the Major -and I have plotted, and contrived, and conspired together. Eh, Major? -Oh,--thanks,--thanks,--muchly. You may have the rest, Major.” And she -tucked the remaining coins back into his pocket, smiling brightly the -while up into his sightless eyes. - -Randal Ducie, with an air of sudden decision, turned about, seized his -brother by the arm and together they stood before the joyous young -beauty, who was obviously beginning to canvass mentally the next -possibility of amusement under these unpropitious circumstances. - -“Now, Miss Dean, be pleased to cast your eyes over us. I am not going to -allow this fellow to deprive me of your valuable acquaintance.” - -“Oh, pick me out, Miss Dean,” cried Adrian plaintively. “I am all mixed -up. I don’t know if I am myself or my brother.” - -Miss Dean stared from one to the other, her brilliant eyes wide with -wonder. - -“How perfectly amazing!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, how did -you distinguish and recognize one of them Thursday afternoon?” - -Paula’s mind was so engrossed that, quick as she was always to discern -the fluctuations of favor in her husband’s disposition toward her, she -had not observed his peculiar notice of the fact of her retentive memory -and keen perception in distinguishing the veiled identity of the man who -had once been dear to her,--once? - -“Oh, I saw the difference instantly,” she declared, with what her -husband considered an undignified glibness, and an interest especially -unbecoming in a matter so personal, which should be barred to her by the -circumstances. “This is Randal, and this is Mr. Adrian Ducie.” - -Indeed, they all noticed, with varying sentiments, the familiar use of -the Christian name, but only Adrian spoke in his debonair fashion. - -“Right-o! I begin to breathe once more. I was afraid I was going to have -to be Randal.” - -Miss Dean was still studying the aspect of the two brothers. “I believe -you are correct, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” she said slowly. “For this one, Mr. -Adrian Ducie, is just from France, and he has on Paris-made shoes,--I -know the last. It is the _dernier cri_.” - -There was a general laugh. - -“Blessed Saint Crispin! I’ll make a votive offering!” cried Adrian. -“Now, Randal, you stay away from me,” with a vigorous push of his -brother at arm’s length, “so that this mix-up can’t happen again.” - -“I’ll borrow his shoes when he is asleep and he will never know himself -any more!” said Randal vindictively. - -There was a sudden cheerful acclaim from the portico without. A boat had -been sighted, slowly rounding the point, a packet of the line this time, -and all was bustle preparatory to embarkation. Even now the whistle, -husky, loud, widely blaring, filled the air, signaling the approaching -landing, the Captain having received information when passing the -_Cherokee Rose_ of the plight of the refugees. The next moment they were -sheepishly laughing, for the steamer, the _Nixie_, was sending forth a -second blast, a prolonged whining shriek, the signal known on the river -as a “begging whistle” by which boats solicit patronage in passengers or -freight, and which is usually sounded only when there is a doubt whether -a stoppage is desired. - -Humoring the joke at their expense, the refugees made a vigorous reply, -waving handkerchiefs, raising hats on umbrellas and canes, hallooing -lustily, as they wended their way down the pavement, over the ruined -embankment of the old levee, along the grass-grown road and to the brink -of the bank, seeming high and precipitous at this stage of the river. -They were well in advance of the stoppage of the steamer, although, as -she came sweeping down the current, the constantly quickening beat of -her paddles on the water could be heard at a considerable distance in -that acceleration of speed always preliminary to landing. They watched -all her motions with an eagerness to be off as if some chance could yet -snatch the opportunity from their reach,--the approach, the backing, the -turning, the renewed approach, all responsive to the pilot-bells -jangling keenly on the air. Then ensued the gradual cessation of the -pant of the engines, the almost imperceptible gliding to actual -stoppage, as the _Nixie_ lay in the deep trough of the channel of the -river, the slow swinging of the staging from the pulleys suspended above -the lower deck. The end of the frame had no sooner been laid on the -verge of the high bank than the refugees were trooping eagerly down its -steep, cleated incline to the lower deck as if the steamer would touch -but a moment and then forge away again. - -The _Nixie_ was sheering off, thus little delayed, to resume her -downward journey and the passengers had begun to gather on the promenade -deck when Miss Dean encountered Adrian Ducie. She stopped short at the -sight of him. “Why, where is the other one of you?” she exclaimed. - -“He remained at Duciehurst. I have pressing business in Vicksburg,--my -stoppage, as you know, was involuntary. I shall return later.” - -“Oh, I don’t like to see you apart.” - -“If you would take a little something now,” he said alluringly, “you -might see double. Then the freak brothers would be all right again.” - -“But the parting must be very painful after such a long separation,” she -speculated. - -“We shed a couple of tears,” and Adrian wagged his head in melancholy -wise. - -“Oh, you turn everything into ridicule,--even your fraternal affection,” -she said reproachfully. - -“Would you have me fall to weeping in sad earnest? Besides, the parting -is only for a day or so. I shall take the train at Vicksburg and rejoin -him.” - -“And where is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?” she asked, looking about. - -“She, too, remained at Duciehurst,” said one of the sour old ladies. - -Adrian rose precipitately. The boat, headed downstream, was now in the -middle of the channel, and he gazed at the rippling, shimmering expanse -as if he had it in mind to attempt its transit. Here, at all events, was -something which he did not turn into ridicule. The great house beyond -its ruinous levee rose majestically into the noontide sunlight, all its -disasters and indignities effaced by the distance. The imposing, -pillared portico, the massive main building with its heavy cornice, the -broad wings, the stone-coped terraces, all were distinct and -differentiated, amidst the glossy magnolias that, sempervirent, aided -its aspect of reviviscence, with a fain autumnal haze softening its -lines, and the brilliant corrugated surface of the river in the -foreground. - -He stood gazing vainly upon it, as it seemed to recede into the -distance, till, presently, the boat rounded a point and it vanished like -an unsubstantial mirage, like a tenuous mist of the morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -It was through no will of her own that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had remained at -Duciehurst. She had been eager and instant in the preparations for -departure as soon as the approach of the boat was heralded. She had -aided the old nurse with convulsive haste by hustling the baby’s effects -into his suitcase, jamming his cap down on his head and shaking him into -his coat with little ceremony. She had seen from the broken windows of -the deserted music-room the Ducie brothers, the last of all the -procession of travelers, wending down toward the great white shell in -the river slowly approaching, throwing off the foam in wreaths on each -side. The two men walked shoulder to shoulder; now and again they paused -to confer; then going on; and there was something so affectionate in -their look and attitude, almost leaning on one another, so endearing in -the way in which one would lay his hand on the other’s arm that tears -sprang to her eyes, and, for the moment, she felt that nothing was worth -having in the world but the enduring affection of a simple heart, which -asks naught but love in return. - -The momentary weakness was gone as it had come. She could feel only -elation--to be going, to get out of the house of Randal Ducie, which she -had entered with reluctance, even when she had doubted his claim, and -now that it had been proved valid in fact, if not in law, she could -scarcely wait to be quit of it. - -In the hall, as she flustered forth--as Floyd-Rosney would have -described her agitated movements--she was astonished to come upon her -husband, placidly pacing up and down, his deliberate cigar between his -lips, his hands clasped behind him. - -“Why, dear,”--she used the connubial address from force of habit, for -her voice was crisp and keenly pitched--“aren’t you ready?” - -“Seems not,” he said, looking at her enigmatically. - -“But we shall be left!” she exclaimed. - -“Exactly.” He took his cigar from his mouth and emitted a puff of -fragrant nicotian. - -He was wont to consult his own whims, but hitherto her supine -acquiescence had been actuated less by a realization of helplessness -than endorsement of his right of mastery, his superior and prevailing -will. She thought of her submissiveness at the moment. - -How she had loved money! His money, of which she had enjoyed such share -as he saw fit to dole forth. All the stiffness, the induration of long -custom was at war with her Impulse as she cried: - -“But I want to go! What do you mean by staying here?” - -“But I want to stay,” he said imperiously, “and that is what I mean, and -all I mean.” - -This was hardly comprehensive. He could scarcely control the rage that -from the first of this ill-omened detention had possessed him upon the -discovery of her lingering interest in the face of her old lover--a -simple matter and explicable; without latent significance it would have -been in the mind of any other man. Had it involved no sequence of -subsequent events even he, perhaps, would have brought himself to let it -pass unconsidered. He could not expect her to forget the fashion of -Randal Ducie’s features, and the presence of the twin brother conjured -up his face anew--his face which she had subtly distinguished from its -counterpart. That revolted his pride. His wife must have no thought, no -care, no memory, even, for aught save him! But her protest as to his -ownership of Duciehurst, her revolt against owing any phase of her -prosperity to the misfortunes of the Ducies, argued latent -sensitiveness, an unprobed wound that he had not suspected, thoughts -that he could not divine, memories that he did not share. Never, in all -his experience of her, had her individuality, or even a question of his -authority, been asserted save since that remembered face reappeared, -affecting their matrimonial accord--he, imperious to command, from his -plenitude of wealth and power, she eager to fawn and obey. - -“You don’t consider me at all. You don’t consult my wishes.” - -“I do better, my love. I consult our mutual interests.” - -“You treat me like a child, an idiot! You let me know nothing of our -plans. Why should we not leave this battered old ruin with the rest of -the passengers? How and when are we to leave? If, for nothing but to -make a decent response to Aunt Dorothy’s questions, I ought to be told -something. I hardly know how to face her.” - -“Well _I_ am not posing for that old darkey’s benefit,” he said, -satirically smiling. - -There was a pause full of expectancy. - -“This battered old ruin!” he exclaimed. “It will be the finest mansion -in Mississippi by the time I am through with it.” - -He cast his imperative eyes in approval over the great spaces of its -open apartments. “And you, my dear, will be proud to be its chatelaine, -and dispense its hospitalities.” - -“Never,” she cried impetuously--“an abasement of pride for me!” - -He changed color for a moment, and then held his ground. - -“The ante-bellum glories will be revived in a style that has not been -attempted in this country.” - -“The ante-bellum glories--that were the Ducies’,” she said, with a -flushed face and a flashing eye. - -He was of so imperious a personality that he seldom encountered rebuke -or contradiction. He was of such potential endowments that effort was -unknown and failure was annihilated in his undertakings. He scarcely -understood how he should deal with this unprecedented insolence, this -revolt on the part of the being who had seemed to him most devoted, most -adoring. The incense of worship had been dear to him,--and now the -worshiper had lapsed to revilings and sacrilege! - -“Paula, you are a fool absolute,” he said roughly. - -“Ah, no--not I--not I!” she cried significantly. She lifted her head -with a quick motion. The boat at the landing was getting up steam. She -heard the exhaust of the engines, then the sonorous beat of the paddles -on the water, and the swishing tumult of the waves as the wheels -revolved. - -“They are going,” she cried, “and we are left!” - -She turned to him in agitation. He stood, splendid in his arrogant -assurance, in his unrelenting dominance, his fine presence befitting the -great hall which he would so amply grace in its restored magnificence. -It was well for him that he was so handsome. Such a man, less graciously -endowed, would have been intolerable in his arrogance, his selfishness, -his brutality. - -He showed no interest in the departure at the landing; he knew, by the -sound, that the steamboat was now well out in midstream, and he secretly -congratulated himself upon the termination of this ill-starred revival -of old associations with the Ducies. Never again should they cross his -wife’s path. Never again should he submit to the humiliation imposed -upon him by the revival of old memories which had incited in her this -strange restiveness to his supreme control. She had been wont to hug her -chains--not that he thus phrased the gentle constraints he had imposed, -rather wifely duty, conjugal love, admiration, trust. - -The steamboat was gone at length, and his wife, standing in the hall and -looking through the wide doorless portal, had seen the last of the -passengers. Looking with a strange expression on her strained face which -he could not understand,--what series of mysteries had her demeanor set -him to interpret during these few hours, she who used to be so -pellucidly transparent! Looking with frowning brow and questioning -intent eyes, then with a suddenly clearing expression and a vindictive -glance like triumph, she turned away with an air of bridling dignity, -as if the steamer and its passengers had no concern for her, and, the -next moment, Randal Ducie ascended the steps and entered the hall. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Edward Floyd-Rosney in some sort habitually confused cause and effect. -In his normal entourage he mistook the swift potencies of his wealth, -waiting on his will, like a conjurer’s magic, for an individual -endowment of ability. He had great faith in his management. In every -group of business men with whom his affairs brought him in contact his -financial weight gave him a predominance and an influence which -flattered his vanity, and which he interpreted as personal tribute, and -yet he did not disassociate in his mind his identity from his income. -His wealth was an integral part of him, one of the many great values -attached to his personality--he felt that he was wise and witty, capable -and coercive. He addressed himself to the manipulation of a difficult -situation with a certainty of success that gave a momentum to the force -with which his money carried all before him. So rarely had he been -placed on a level with other men, in a position in which wealth and -influence were inoperative, that he had had scant opportunities to -appraise his own mental processes--his judgment, his initiative, his -powers of ratiocination. - -He did not feel like a fool when Randal Ducie walked deliberately into -the hall of his fathers, staring in responsive surprise to see the -Floyd-Rosneys still lingering there. That admission was impossible to -Floyd-Rosney’s temperament. He felt as if contemplating some revulsion -of nature. He had seen this man among the crowd, boarding the steamer, -and lo, here he was again, on dry land and the boat now miles distant. - -He stood stultified, all his plans for the avoidance of Ducie strangely -dislocated and set at naught by the unexpected falling out of events. - -He was not calculated to bear tamely any crossing of his will, and the -blood began to throb heavily in his temples with the realization that -his wife had understood his clumsy maneuver, of which she was the -subject, and witnessed its ludicrous discomfiture. His pride would not -suffer him to glance toward her, where she sat perched up on the grand -staircase, in the attitude of a coquettish girl. He curtly addressed -Ducie: - -“Thought you were gone!” - -“No,” said Ducie, almost interrogatively, as to why this conclusion. - -Floyd-Rosney responded to the intonation. - -“I saw you going down to the landing.” - -“To see my brother off.” - -“Oh,--ah----” - -What more obvious--what more natural? The one resumed his interrupted -journey, and the other was to take up his usual course of life. That is, -thought Floyd-Rosney, if this one is Randal Ducie. But, for some reason, -they might have reversed the program, and this is the other one. - -Floyd-Rosney struggled almost visibly for his wonted dominance, but -Ducie had naught at stake on his favor, naught to give or to lose, and -his manner was singularly composed and inexpressive--too well bred to -even permit the fear of counter questions as to why they lingered here -and let the steamer leave without them. Perhaps, he felt such inquiries -intrusive, for, after a moment, he turned away, and Floyd-Rosney still -confronted him with eyes round and astonished and his face a flushed and -uneasy mask of discomfiture. - -Momentarily at a loss how to dispose of himself, Ducie looked about the -apartment, devoid of chairs or any furniture, and, finally, resorted to -the staircase, taking up a position on one of the lower steps. Perhaps, -had he known that the Floyd-Rosneys were within he would have lingered -outside. But dignity forbade a retreat, although his disinclination for -their society was commensurate with Floyd-Rosney’s aversion to him and -his brother. For his life Floyd-Rosney, still staring, could not decide -which of the twain he had here, and Paula, with a perverse relish of his -quandary, perceived and enjoyed his dilemma. Although he was aware she -could discern the difference her manner afforded him no clew, as she sat -silent and intentionally looking very pretty, to her husband’s -indignation, as he noted the grace of her studied attitude, her face -held to inexpressive serenity, little in accord with the tumult of -vexation the detention had occasioned her. - -Floyd-Rosney could not restrain his questions. Perhaps they might pass -with Ducie as idle curiosity, although with Paula he had now no -disguise. - -“You are waiting----?” - -“For my horse,” returned Ducie, with the accent of surprise. “There was -no room in the phaeton for me, as Colonel Kenwynton and Major Lacey -concluded to accompany the doctor and his patient to the sanatorium.” - -So this was Randal Ducie, and the brother had resumed his journey down -the river. - -“The doctor promised to send the horse back for me----” he paused a -moment. “I hope he will send the phaeton, too, for if you have made no -other arrangements----” Once more he paused blankly--it seemed so -strange that Floyd-Rosney should allow himself to be marooned here in -this wise. “If you have made no other arrangements it will give me -pleasure to drive you to the station near Glenrose.” - -“We are due at the sanatorium for the insane, I think,” cried Paula, -with her little fleering laugh, her chin thrust up in her satirical -wont. - -Floyd-Rosney, sore bestead and amazed by her manner, made a desperate -effort to recover his composure. - -“Oh, I sent a telegram by one of the passengers to be transmitted when -the boat touches at the landing at Volney, and this will bring an -automobile here for my family.” - -“If the passenger does not forget to send it, or if, when the boat -touches he is not asleep, after his vigils here, or if he is not taking -a walk, or eating his lunch, or, like Baal of old, otherwise engaged, -when we, too, may cry Baal, Baal, unavailingly. For my part, I accept -your offer, Mr. Ducie, if your vehicle comes first; if not I hope you -will take a seat in the automobile with us.” - -“That is a compact,” said Ducie graciously. - -Floyd-Rosney felt assured that this was Randal. He was more suave than -his brother--or was it that old associations still had power to gentle -his temper? He could not understand his wife’s revolt. Now and again he -looked at her with an unconscious inquiry in his eyes. So little was he -accustomed to subject his own actions to criticism that it did not occur -to him that he had gone too far. The worm had turned, seeming unaware -how lowly and helpless was its estate. He had all the sentiment of -grinding it under his heel, as he said loftily: - -“We shall have no need to impose upon you, Mr. Ducie. Our own conveyance -will be here in ample time,”--then, like a jaw-breaker--“Thanks.” - -“I march with the first detachment,” declared Paula hardily. “I shall -accept your offer of transportation, Mr. Ducie, if the auto does not -come first.” - -Floyd-Rosney thought this must surely be Adrian Ducie, and not his -brother. For some reason of their own they _must_ have exchanged their -missions, and Randal had gone down the river, leaving his brother here. -For she--a stickler on small points of the appropriate--could never say -this if it were her old lover. Her sense of decorum, her respect for her -husband, her habitual exercise of good taste would alike forbid the -suggestion. Doubtless, it was Adrian Ducie. - -“I don’t think an automobile will come,” remarked Ducie. “The roads are -very rough between here and Volney.” - -Paula’s next words seemed to mend the matter a trifle in Floyd-Rosney’s -estimation. - -“I think we have all had enough of Duciehurst for one time! I would not -risk remaining here, as evening closes in, for any consideration. All -the riverside harpies will be flocking here when this story of treasure -trove is bruited abroad. The old place will be fairly torn stone from -stone, and there will be horrible orgies of strife and bloodshed. There -ought to be a guard set, though there is nothing now to guard.” - -“Do you suppose Captain Treherne’s story of the river pirates was all -fact or was partly the effect of his hallucination?” Ducie asked. - -“The cords he was bound with were pretty circumstantial evidence,” said -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, not waiting, as usual, for her husband’s word, but -taking the lead in the conversation with aplomb and vivacity--he -remembered scornfully that before her marriage she had been accounted in -social circles intellectual, a _bel esprit_ among the frivols. - -“The gag failed of its function of silence,” she continued, “it told the -whole story. You would have known that it was stern truth if you had -seen it.” - -Floyd-Rosney vacillated once more. - -“This _must_ be Randal Ducie,” he thought, “for Adrian was present at -the liberation of Captain Treherne--indeed, he was with the group -searching among the series of ruined vacant apartments when the prisoner -was discovered.” - -“The finding of the box was very singular,” speculated Ducie, “the -closest imaginable shave. It was just as possible to one of the parties -on the verge of discovery as the other.” - -He was in that uneasy, disconcerted state of mind usual with a stranger -present at a family discord which he feels, yet must not obviously -perceive and cannot altogether ignore. - -“It seems the hand of fate,” said Paula. - -“I went up to the third story this morning and looked at the place,” -remarked Randal. “I really don’t see how, without tools, you contrived -to wrench the heavy washboard away, and get at the bricks and the -interior of the capital of the pilaster.” - -“It seems a feat more in keeping with Miss Dean,” suggested -Floyd-Rosney, “she has such a splendid physique.” - -“Hilda is as strong as a boy,” declared Paula. “She does ‘the -athletic’--affects very boyish manners, don’t you think?” she added, -addressing Ducie directly. - -There were few propositions which either of the Floyd-Rosneys could put -forth with which Randal Ducie would not have agreed, so eager was he to -close the incident without awkward friction. To let the malapropos -encounter pass without result was the instinct of his good breeding. -But, upon this direct challenge, he felt that he could not annul his -individuality, his convictions. - -“Why, not at all boyish,” he said. “On the contrary, I think her manners -are most feminine in their fascination. Did you notice that the old -blind Major was having the time of his life?” - -Floyd-Rosney, without the possibility of seating himself unless he, too, -resorted to the stair, was pacing slowly back and forth, his head bent -low, his hands lightly clasped behind him. Now and again he sent forth a -keenly observant glance at the two disposed on the stair, like a couple -of young people sitting out a dance at a crowded evening function. - -“Hildegarde will flirt with anything or anybody when good material -cannot be had,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with a manner of vague -discomfiture. - -“Well, that is scarcely fair to my brother,” said Randal. He would not -let this pass. - -“Oh, I should judge his flirting days are over,” cried Paula, wilfully -flippant. “He is as crusty as a bear with a sore head.” - -“Or a sore heart,” said Randal, thinking of Adrian’s long exile, and his -hard fate, ousted from his home and fortune; then he could have bitten -his tongue out, realizing the sentimental significance of the words. -Still one cannot play with fire without burning one’s fingers, and there -are always embers among the ashes of an old flame. - -For her life Paula could but look conscious with the eyes of both men on -her face. - -“He doesn’t seem an exponent of a sore heart.” She stumbled inexcusably -in her clumsy embarrassment. There was an awkward silence. The -implication that Adrian might be representative passed as untenable, and -the subject of hearts was eschewed thereafter. - -“Miss Dean has been quite famous as a beauty and belle in her brief -career,” Mr. Floyd-Rosney deigned to contribute to the conversation. - -“She is wonderfully attractive--so original and interesting,” said Ducie -warmly. - -“It seems to me Hilda carries her principal assets in her face,” said -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. “They say she wouldn’t learn a thing at the -convent--and what is worse, she feels no lack.” - -“What does any woman learn?” demanded Floyd-Rosney iconoclastically, -“and what does any woman’s education signify? A mosaic of worthless -smattering, expensive to acquire, and impossible to apply. Miss Dean -lacks nothing in lacking this equipment.” - -Paula sat affronted and indignant. In her husband’s sweeping assertion -he had not had the courtesy to except her, and it was hardly admissible -for Ducie to repair the omission. He could only carry the proposition -further and make it general, and his tact seized the opportunity. - -“I think that might be said of the youth of both sexes. The fakir, with -his learning made-easy, is the foible of the age and its prototype -extends to business methods--the get-rich-quick opportunities match the -education-while-you-wait, and the art, reduced to a smudge with a thumb, -and the ballads of a country--the voice of the heart of the people, -superseded by ragtime.” - -But Paula would not be appeased. - -“If women are constitutionally idiots and cannot be taught,” she cried, -“they ought not to be responsible for folly. That is a charter wide as -the winds.” - -“Not at all--not at all,” said her husband dogmatically. But how he -would have reconciled the variant dicta of incapacity and accountability -must remain a matter of conjecture, for there came suddenly on the air -the iterative sound of the swift beat of hoofs and, through the open -door in another moment, was visible a double phaëton drawn by a glossy, -spirited blood bay, brought with difficulty to a pause and lifting -alternately his small forefeet with the ardor of motion, even when the -pressure on the bit in his mouth constrained his eager activity and -brought him to a halt. - -“I have won out,” said Ducie genially. Since it had awkwardly fallen to -his lot to offer civilities to these people he did it with a very -pretty grace. “I shall be glad to see you and your family to the -station, Mr. Floyd-Rosney.” - -Floyd-Rosney’s eyes were on the space beyond the portico. - -“That’s a good horse you have,” he remarked seriously. - -“Yes--before I bought him he was on the turf,--winner in several -events.” - -“You don’t often see such an animal in private use,” said Floyd-Rosney, -unbending a trifle. He, too, loved a good horse for its own sake. - -“True, but I am located at a considerable distance from the plantations -I lease, and going to and fro he is of special use to me. I can’t stand -a slow way of getting through the world, and the roads won’t admit of an -auto.” - -The two men were quite unconstrained for the moment in the natural -interest of a subject foreign to their difficult mutual relations. -Randal Ducie’s head was thrown up, his eyes glowed; he was looking at -the horse with a sort of glad admiration--an expression which Paula well -remembered. Floyd-Rosney’s eyes narrowed as they scanned successively -the points of the fine animal, his own face calm, patronizing, -approving. Neither of them, for the moment, was thinking of her. She had -followed them out upon the wide stone portico and stood in the sun, her -head tilted a trifle that her broad hat of taupe velvet might shade her -eyes. She brought herself potently into the foreground, seizing the fact -that Randal was unincumbered with baggage of any sort. - -“Where is the treasure trove?” she cried. “Surely you are not going to -leave it in the ruins of this old mansion!” - -Her husband flashed at her a glance of reproof which would once have -silenced her, abashed to the ground. Now she repeated her words, -wondering to feel so composed, so possessed of all her faculties. -Without a conscious effort of observation the details of the scene were -registered in her mind unbefogged by her wonted bewilderment in her -husband’s disapproval. She even noticed the groom who had driven the -vehicle back from the livery stable--no colored servant, but a -carrot-headed youth, with jockey boots, riding breeches, a long freckled -face, and small red-lidded eyes, very close together, gazing at Ducie -with a keen intentness as she asked the question. The fame of the -discovery must have been bruited abroad already, and she vaguely -wondered at this, for, as yet, no one on land knew the facts, except the -alienist and his party, safely housed at the sanatorium. - -“The chest of valuables found here last night?” replied Ducie. “Why, I -haven’t it. My brother took it on the boat in his suitcase, and, before -nightfall, it will be in one of the banks in Vicksburg.” - -Floyd-Rosney, thrown out of all his reckonings by the unaccountable -behavior of his wife, spoke at random, more to obviate its effects than -with any valid intendment. - -“I saw the box opened,” he said; “only family jewels and a lot of gold -coin and papers, but I should think, from the pretensions of this place, -there must have been elaborate table services of silver, perhaps of gold -plate. Were any such appurtenances hidden, do you know, and recovered?” - -Ducie shook his head. “I know nothing of such ware. It may be, or it may -not be here. The absence of the papers brought out the story of the -hiding of the family diamonds, else the box would have remained in the -capital of the pilaster, where my uncle left it, till the crack of -doom.” - -Paula never understood the impulse that possessed her. Boldly, in the -presence of her husband, she took from her dainty mesh bag a small key -set with rubies and one large diamond. - -“Your brother carelessly left one of the Ducie jewels on the table and I -picked it up. I am so glad I remembered to restore it to you. It should -have been in your possession long ago.” - -Floyd-Rosney was watching her like a hawk, and she began to quail before -his eyes. Oh, why had she not remembered that he was a connoisseur in -bijouterie and bric-à-brac of many sorts and would detect instantly, at -a glance, the modern fashion and comparatively slight value of the -trinket. More than all, why had she not reckoned on the fact that Randal -Ducie was no actor. Who could fail to interpret the surprised -recognition in his eyes, his gentle upbraiding look before the -associations thus ruthlessly summoned? It was as if some magic had -materialized all the tender poignancy of first love, all his winged -hopes, all the heartbreak of a cruel disappointment crystallized in this -scintillating bauble in his hand. He glanced from it to her, then back -at the flashing stones, red as his heart’s blood. He looked so wounded, -so passive, as if content to succumb to a blow which he was too -generous, too magnanimous to return in kind. - -And he said never a word. - -She felt that her face was flaring scarlet; the hot tears were smitten -into her eyes. She could not speak, and, for a long moment neither of -the two men moved, although the horse, restive and eager to be off, -plunged now and again, almost lifting from his feet the groom at his -head, still swinging at the bit, but staring, as if resolved into eyes, -at the group on the piazza. - -“It is the key to something of value”--she found her voice suddenly--“or -it would never have been so charmingly decorated. I hope it will unlock -all the doors shut against you,” she concluded with a little bow. - -“Thank you,” he said formally. And he said no more. - -“And now shall we go?” asked Floyd-Rosney curtly. - -There being only four places, the gentlemen occupying the front seats, -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, the nurse and the baby the others, there was no room -for the groom, and Ducie, gathering up the reins preparatory to driving, -directed him to return to the livery stable on one of the cotton wagons -which would be starting in an hour or so. The ill-looking fellow touched -his cap, loosed the bit and the horse sprang away with an action so -fine, so well sustained, that Floyd-Rosney’s brow cleared. The pleasure -of the moment was something. - -“What will you take for him?” he asked, quite human for the nonce. - -“Not for sale. Couldn’t spare him,” Ducie responded, the reins wound -about his forearms, all his strength requisite to hold the abounding -vitality and eagerness of the animal to the trot, the hoofs falling -with the precision of machinery, mile after mile. - -Only once did the pace falter. Suddenly the animal plunged. A man dashed -out from the Cherokee rose hedge that bordered the high-way and clutched -the bit. With the momentum of his pace the horse swung him off his feet, -and frightened and swerving from the road, reared high. As the forefeet -crashed to the ground once more with a sharp impact the man was thrown -sprawling to the roadside, and the horse was a mile away before the -occupants of the vehicle knew exactly what had happened. - -“Oh,--oh----” cried Paula, “was the man hurt? What did he want?” - -“No good,” said her husband grimly. - -“Oh, oughtn’t we go back and see what we have done?” She could scarcely -speak with the wind of their transit blowing the words down her throat. -“Oh, I know Mr. Floyd-Rosney won’t, but, Randal, don’t you think we -ought?” - -“Hardly,” said Randal. - -Floyd-Rosney’s head slowly turned, and his slumberous eyes, with a bated -fury smoldering in their depths, looked their sneering triumph at his -wife. - -“That crack,--was it----?” he asked of Randal. - -“A pistol ball, I think. I saw--I thought I saw a puff of smoke from the -Cherokee hedge. My head feels hot yet. For simple curiosity look at my -hat.” - -Floyd-Rosney removed the hat from the head of the man by him. He turned -it in his hand and his eyes glittered. Then he held it out for Ducie’s -observation. - -There was a small orifice on one side, and a corresponding rift, -higher, on the other. Evidently, the ball had passed through. - -“Thirty caliber, I should judge,” Floyd-Rosney ventured. - -“Looks so?” Randal assented. - -“But why--_why_----” exclaimed Paula, “should Randal be shot at--he -might have been killed--oh, any of us might have been killed!” - -“The story of the treasure trove--out already, I suppose,” suggested -Floyd-Rosney. - -“And it is believed that I have it now in my possession, carrying it to -a place of safety,” said Ducie. - -“Just as well for you to get to town as speedily as possible,” remarked -Floyd-Rosney. - -To have escaped an attempt at highway robbery is not an agreeable -sensation, however futile and ill advised the enterprise. This -possibility had not occurred to Floyd-Rosney, yet he perceived its -logic. It was obvious that the rich find of gold and jewels must be -removed from Duciehurst, and by whom more probably than their owner? -Doubtless, the miscreants had expected Ducie to be accompanied only by -the groom, perhaps a party to the conspiracy, and albeit this -supposition had gone awry, there was only one unarmed man beside himself -to contend against a possible second attack. Floyd-Rosney would be glad -to be rid of Ducie on every account. No such awkward association had -ever befallen him, significant at every turn. But, when actual physical -danger to himself and his family was involved in sitting beside him, he -felt all other objections frivolous indeed, and it was in the nature of -a rescue when the fast horse drew up beside the platform of the little -station near Glenrose, where the train was already standing. - -The _congé_ was of the briefest, although Randal omitted no observance -which a courteous voluntary host might have affected. He left the horse -in charge of an idler about the station, assisted Mrs. Floyd-Rosney into -the coach, where, to her husband’s satisfaction, the stateroom was -vacant and they might thus be spared the presence of the vulgar horde of -travelers. He shook hands with both husband and wife, only leaving the -train as it glided off. Paula, looking from her window, had her last -glimpse of him, standing on the platform, courteously lifting his hat in -farewell. She had a wild, unreasoning protest against the parting, her -eyes looked a mute appeal, and she felt as if delivered to her fate. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -The ex-jockey, left standing alone on the drive in front of the old -mansion, had watched, with glowing eyes, the departure of the phaëton -from Duciehurst. - -“Ai-yi, Ran Ducie,” he jeered, “ridin’ for a fall you are, if you did -but know it!” - -The vehicle was out of sight in a moment. He thrust his cap on the back -of his head, sunk his hands deep in his pockets and strode up the flight -of steps to the broad stone-floored portico. He stood for a moment, -watching the great shining, rippling expanse of the silent river, vacant -save for a small steamer of the government fleet, whisking along in -haste on the opposite side, with a heavy coil of smoke and a fluttering -flag. Then he strolled into the house, looking about keenly and -furtively as he went. The place was obviously familiar to him, doubtless -from many secret explorations, and, without hesitation, he took his way -up two flights of stairs, threading the vacant apartments, coming, at -last, to the third story which gave access to the interior of the -capital of the pilaster where the treasure had been found. - -He stood, his hands still in his pockets, gazing into the cavity, the -washboard left where it had been prized away from the wall. He stooped -down presently and sought to explore the interior of the pillar, -pulling out first the rotten fragments of the ancient knapsack. He gazed -at these remnants with great scorn of their obsolete fashioning, then -set to work to ransacking them, deftly manipulating the flaps lest -something hidden there should escape his scrutiny. The search resulted -in naught, save a handful of crumbs of desiccated leather. He even -paused to examine the quality of the fabric and the stitching of the -construction. - -“Sewed by hand, by jinks!” he muttered. But the article had evidently -been used merely as protection, or concealment, perhaps, for the box it -had contained. He made a long-armed lunge into the depths of the cavity -in hopes of further booty, realizing that he was the first intruder into -the place after the departure of the refugees from the _Cherokee Rose_, -and might make prize of whatever they had possibly overlooked. His heart -quickened its beats as his fingers touched straw, but when he dragged -forth a bundle holding persistently together he discovered that it was -but one of the well-woven, enormous nests of the tiny sparrow, creeping -in through a crevice without, and, like some human builders, having a -disproportionate idea of suitable housing for its station. He spat a -flood of tobacco juice upon the cunning work of the vanished architects, -and, with a curse as grotesque as profane, made a circuit of the -interior of the cavity in the pillar with his bare palms. Nothing--quite -empty. The treasure had lain here for forty years, the fact bruited -throughout the traditions of the country. Hundreds, of whom he was one, -had made vain search--“and Randal Ducie had found it first go! Some -people have _all_ the luck!” He had ventured to the window of the great -dining-room last night, after his confederates had fled, and had gazed -with gloating eyes on the pile of gold and jewels on the table before -Adrian Ducie, whom he mistook for the man familiar to the neighborhood. -The sight had maddened him. He had urgently sought to stimulate his -confederates to an attack on the place while the money lay undefended, -openly on the table. He thought that in the tumult of surprise a rich -capture might be effected. - -“To snatch jes’ a handful would have done me a heap o’ good,” he -meditated. - -But no! Binnhart had declared they were too far outnumbered, that the -enterprise was impracticable. And Binnhart had seemed slow and dazed, -and himself the victim of surprise. Colty’s loose lips curled with -bitter scorn as he recalled how owlishly wise Binnhart had looked when -he had declared that he would try first the inside and then the outside -of this pilaster from the ground floor, instead of at once essaying the -capital,--but he did not know what a “capital” was,--nor, indeed, did -the jovial “Colty” until he heard the word from Randal Ducie a few -minutes ago. In fact, Binnhart did not know the difference between a -“pillar” and a “pilaster,” except as the builder in Caxton had expounded -the terms. Indeed, Binnhart, assuming to be a leader of men, should be -better informed. Leader! He would lead them all to the penitentiary if -they followed him much farther. It was an ill-omened association of -ideas. Colty Connover began to wonder if any of the refugees from the -_Cherokee Rose_ had acquired any knowledge of the search for the -treasure prosecuted from without. He remembered how suddenly the sound -of a woman’s screams had frightened the marauders from their occupation -in what they had deemed the deepest solitude. If some woman had been -sitting at this window she could easily have heard their unsuspecting -talk. He looked down speculatively. Through the broken roof of the -portico he could discern some of their abandoned tools still beside the -base of the column. “Pilaster,” he sneered. The word had for him the -tang of an opprobrious epithet. She could have heard everything. Had -she, indeed, heard aught? Could she remember the names? She could -doubtless recall “Colty.” That was within the scope of the meanest -intelligence. He began to quail with the realization of disastrous -possibilities. What woman was it, he wondered. The one in the phaëton? -He hoped Binnhart might shoot her in the hold-up planned on the road. A -pistol ball would tie her tongue if--if she had not already told all she -knew! Yet what would his name signify? Only that he was one of the -seekers who from time immemorial had ransacked the house for its -treasure. Robbery, perhaps, in a way, yet what was so definitely -abandoned to the will of the marauder could scarcely be esteemed in the -pale of ownership. If only the gang had not left their insane victim -bound and gagged, as evidence of their brutality. “Colonel Kenwynton -will never rest till he ferrets out who done that job.” He winced and -lifted one foot high, and let it down with a stamp. “I’d hate for the -old Colonel to git on my track, sure,” he muttered. - -He reflected that this was what had queered the whole run, through -Binnhart’s self-sufficiency, though that fellow, Treherne, did tell, in -his sleep, where the money was hid. If they had known--if they had only -known--what constituted the capital of a pillar. It had been -mismanaged--mismanaged from the beginning, and once more he declared -that it was Captain Hugh Treherne who had queered the whole run. - -He walked slowly down the stairs into the broad hall, and then, -threading the vacant apartments with the definite intention of -familiarity, he came into the room where poor Hugh Treherne had lain for -hours bound and gagged, not knowing whether his sufferings were actual -or the distraught illusions of his mental malady. - -Connover stood looking at the many footprints in the dust on the floor, -clustered about the clear space where the man had lain. In the corners -of the apartment the dust was thick and gray and evidently had not been -disturbed in years. Here it was that the refugees of the _Cherokee Rose_ -had found Captain Treherne. But _he_ could not have informed his -rescuers where the swag was hidden. He himself did not know,--he could -not say when he was awake. By reason of his distorted mental processes -only in dreams did his memory rouse itself; only his somnolent words -could reveal the story of the hiding of the treasure in the capital of -the pilaster. As, in his ignorant fashion, Connover sought to realize -the situation he groped for the clew of its discovery. How had they -chanced to find it? Could the woman have overheard the talk of the gang -from the window of the attic, and, knowing the signification of the -terms “pilaster” and “capital,” could she have fallen like a hawk upon -her prey? Oh, Binnhart was distanced by the whole field,--a fool and a -fake. And if he should botch this hold-up that he had planned for Randal -Ducie---- Suddenly a nervous thrill agitated Connover. He was conscious -that an eye was upon him, a fixed, furtive scrutiny. He gazed wildly -about the desolate, empty room. Almost he could see a vague figure at -the door withdrawing abruptly as he glanced toward it, but when he ran -into the hall there was naught for sixty feet along which any spy upon -him must have passed. Still, as he returned, reassured, he felt again -that covert gaze. Nothing was visible at the window on one side of the -apartment. On the other side the room was lighted by a glass door -opening on a veranda, in which the panes had recently been shattered, -and broken glass lay about. When he pulled it ajar loose bits fell from -the frame and crashed upon the floor, setting astir keen shrill echoes -through the empty desolation that put every quivering nerve to the -torture. Outside he heard a vague, silly laugh even before he perceived -Mrs. Berridge standing close against the wall in her effort to escape -observation, her head, with its towsled copper hair, all bare, but an -apron pinned shawl-wise around her shoulders in lieu of a wrap. - -“I’m cotched,” she exclaimed deprecatingly. “I thought I’d peek in and -find out what’s going on, though I reckon I ain’t wanted.” - -“Not much you ain’t,” he declared, recovering his composure with -difficulty. “How’d you come?” - -“In the dug-out,” she explained. “I tied Possum in his bunk, and locked -him up, and took out. He’s safe enough.” - -“Oh, that’s all right. He’ll spend most of his days locked up, ennyhow,” -Colty roughly joked. - -“He won’t nuther.” She struck at him with an affectation of retaliation. -But her face was not jocose, and a tallowy pallor accented the freckles. - -“Colty,” she lowered her voice mysteriously, “I have heard shootin’.” - -“Naw!” he cried remonstrantly, as if the reluctance to entertain the -fact could annul it. - -“Whenst on the ruver I heard shootin’,” she declared again. - -“Oh, shucks, gal,” he exclaimed. “You couldn’t hear it so fur off.” - -“On the water!” she cried, lifting her eyebrows. “The water fetches the -sound.” - -“He _said_ he wouldn’t shoot,” cried Colty Connover, his lip pendulously -drooping. “He said on no account.” - -“You b’lieve his gab? Well, you _are_ a softy!” she flung at him. Then, -with one end of the apron string in her mouth, she ejaculated -murmurously: “I heard shootin’,” looking doubtfully and vaguely over her -shoulder. - -“Then he’ll swing for it ef he’s killed Ran Ducie. There ain’t a more -pop’lar man in the county, nor a better judge of horseflesh.” - -“I ain’t carin’ fur Binnhart arter the way he made me trick that crazy -loon out’n his secrets an’ then declared he’d gimme nuthin’ thout he -found the truck.” - -“Pulled the horse an’ lost yer pay, too,” grinned Colty. - -“But all the rest will be tarred with the same stick----” - -“Not me nor you,” interrupted Colty Connover,--“’cause he said he -wouldn’t shoot. He swore he wouldn’t.” - -Suddenly she pushed back her tousled red hair as she stood near the -glass door, and looked up with a startled apprehension on her face. - -“Listen, Colty, listen----! What is that sound--what is that sound?” - -Then a strange thing happened. The sun, low in its circuit, was already -westering on the October day. Even now its radiance fell through the -great windows and open doors all aslant, and lay in deep orange tints -athwart the bare, dusty floors. Many a skein-like effulgence was -suspended from the panes, and on these fine and fiery lines illuminated -motes were scattered like the notation of music on an immaterial cleff. -There was no wind, no rustle of the magnolia trees glimpsed without. The -river was silent as always. The stillness was intense, indescribable, -and, suddenly, with a long drawn sigh, a creaking dissonance, the old -house gave forth one loud moan, voicing its sorrows, its humiliation, -its inanimate woe. - -The two looked at each other with aghast, white faces. Then, with a -common impulse, they fled from--they knew not what. The woman sprang out -of the shattered glass door and sped through the shrubbery, across the -ruined levee to her dug-out, swinging at the old landing. The groom -dashed down the hall, the echoes of his steps hard on his heels like -swift pursuers, out into the road, and thence, scarcely relaxing his -pace, ran along the rugged ground till he was in the turn-row, where his -speed was aided by the smooth hard-beaten earth. The cotton was breast -high, and glittering in the afternoon sun--a famous crop. He could -scarcely see the pickers, although he noted here and there their big -cylindrical baskets, filled as the bags, suspended from their necks, -overflowed from time to time. A great wagon was drawing up at one side -where the road struck the turn-row, and this notified him that the -weigher, with his steelyards, had arrived to pay off the laborers -according to the weight of the contents of their baskets, and to convey -the product to Ran Ducie’s gin. He welcomed the sight of another white -man, for he desired more credible testimony, in case it should be -needed, than the haphazard observation of the darkey cotton pickers that -he was miles distant from the scene of Binnhart’s hold-up at the time of -the shooting. Hence he attached himself to the society of the weigher, -and made himself unpleasantly conspicuous, and was officious and -obstructive during the weighing process, as much from latent intention -as maladroit folly. When, at last, the wagons were heaped and he and the -weigher took their seats behind two of the big mules, the pickers, -trailing on foot contentedly in the rear, his companion observed: “I’m -goin’ to tell Mr. Ducie that the nex’ time he treats you to a ride he -may pervide a coach and four, for durned if I’ll have you monkeying in -the cotton fields along of me another time.” Colty Connover had made the -desired impression and on this score he was content. Nevertheless, again -and again during the afternoon, throughout the process of the weighing, -and on the road to the town, and in the midst of his duties at the -livery stable there recurred to him a stupefied, stunned realization of -some uncomprehended crisis, and again and again he asked himself -helplessly: “What was that strange sound in the old house? What was it?” - -And on the river bank, in the little amphibious cabin upon its grotesque -high-water stilts, through all the afternoon and deep into the night, -the woman with a vague thrill of terror futilely wondered, “What was -that strange, strange sound in the old house? What was it?” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -Certainly no institution of its type ever had such cheerful inmates as -the Glenrose Sanatorium could boast so long as Colonel Kenwynton and the -blind Major sojourned within its gates, the guests of the alienist and -Captain Hugh Treherne. The patient experienced no recurrence of his -malady during the visit. Indeed, the beneficial influence, with the -incident change of thought, conversation, and occupation, was so obvious -that the physician acceded to Colonel Kenwynton’s earnest urgency to -allow the Captain to go home with him and spend a few weeks at his -plantation, in a neighboring county. They made a solemn compact for the -conservation of his safety and the promotion of his mental health. - -“Captain,” said the Colonel the first evening that they spent together -over the wood fire in the old plantation house, “I don’t know what is -the particular devil that you say possesses you at times, and I don’t -want to know. He is an indignity to you and an affront to me. Never -mention the nature of the obsession to me for I won’t hear it. Never let -me have so much as a glimpse of his horn or his hoof. But if you, -unhappily, ever feel again the clutch of his claw fastening on you, just -report to me, and we’ll both strike out in a dog-trot for that insane -asylum, and let the doctor exorcise him a bit. And I swear to you before -God on our sacred bonds as comrades in the Lost Cause I will stay there -with you till you are ready to come home with me. Shake hands on it, -dear old fellow--shake hands on it.” - -Perhaps because the topic was interdicted in conversation it was the -less intrusive in thought. Hugh Treherne maintained an observance of the -Colonel’s mandate as strict and as soldierly as if it had been read in -general orders at the head of the regiment. He found an interest in the -Colonel’s affairs in the ramshackle old place, which was but a meager -remnant of his former princely domain. Colonel Kenwynton had brought -down from the larger methods of the old times a constitutional disregard -of minutæ. Hence men, “indifferent honest,” otherwise would overreach -him in negotiation. Servants filched ruthlessly his minor possessions. -His pastures, fields, barns, orchards, were plundered with scarcely a -realization of the significance of robbery, the facile phrase, “The old -Cunnel won’t care,” or “The old Cunnel won’t ever know the difference,” -sufficient to numb any faint prick of conscience. - -And thus it was that his home had fallen to decay; his barns and fences -rotted; his gin was broken and patched and deteriorated in common with -all his farm machinery; his hedges of Cherokee rose, widened, unpruned -and untended, becoming veritable land grabbers, rather than boundaries, -and yearly more and more of his acres must needs be rented for lack of -funds to pay a force of laborers. Colonel Kenwynton lived on in his -mortgaged home and “scuffled up the money,” as he phrased the process, -to meet the interest year by year, and kept but sorry cheer by a bleak -and lonely fireside. Nevertheless, he twirled up the ends of his white -mustachios jauntily and faced the world with a bold front. - -From his own account it seemed wonderful that he had any income at all, -and as if much business tact must be requisite to hold his mortgages -together in such shape that they should assume all the enlightened -functions of a fortune. The age of some of these obligations was a -source of special pride with him, although sometimes with an air of -important dismay he would compute the amount of interest he had paid in -the course of years on their several renewals aggregating more than the -property would sell for in the present collapsed condition of such real -estate values. When he came to speak of the interest he had promised to -pay, he would pause with an imperative shake of the head, as if to abash -the futurity which was fast bringing about the maturity of these notes. - -“Why, Colonel, this is not good business,--you have practically bought -your own property twice over,” Treherne attempted to argue with him one -day when his mood waxed confidential. “You should have given up the -fight long ago and let them foreclose.” - -“Foreclose on my home place, sir,--the remnant of my father’s -plantation?” he replied in amaze. “Why, what would the snail do without -the shell he was born with? I shall need a narrower one before that day -comes, I humbly trust in Providence.” - -Colonel Kenwynton could scarcely imagine existence without a mortgage. A -deed of trust seemed as natural and essential an incident of a holding -in fee simple as the title papers. - -Treherne discovered as time went on opportunities for betterment in the -Colonel’s affairs, small it is true, pitiful in comparison with the -ideals of the old gentleman, who lifted his brows in compassionate -surprise when the subject was broached, and, but that he could not -contravene the common sense of the proposition, he might have thought it -an insane impulse, manifesting itself in schemes of domestic economy on -a minute scale. - -“Colonel, this place ought to make its own meat. There is plenty of corn -in that rearward barn. I put a padlock on its door to-day. Those young -shoats will be as fine a lot of meat as ever stepped by hog-killing -time. I had them turned into the oak woods to-day,--to give them a -chance at the mast,--makes the meat streaked lean and fat, you know.” - -“You surprise me,” said the Colonel, looking blankly over his -spectacles. “I didn’t know there was any corn left. And a few hogs -didn’t seem worth wasting time about. I don’t go into such matters, dear -boy,--cotton is my strong suit. Cotton is the only play.” - -“You spent your time in the war mostly on the firing line, Colonel. -Somebody ought to be mighty thankful you were not in the quartermaster’s -office. That ham we cut to-day came from the store, and the cook tells -me so does every pound of lard that goes into your frying pan, and all -the bacon you furnish to your force of hands. And yet you have here an -ample lot of bacon on the hoof and abundance of good feed to fatten it.” - -The Colonel appraised the logic and sat humiliated and silent. - -“I had the shoats all marked and sent the mark to the county court to be -registered. And now you’ll eat your own meat after January or go -without,” said Treherne sternly, in command of the situation. - -By some accident, searching in the Colonel’s desk for an envelope or -some such matter, Treherne chanced to discover a receipt for a bill -which the old gentleman had carelessly paid twice. - -“I took his word, of course,” said the Colonel in vicarious abasement, -“as the word of a gentleman and an old soldier.” - -“An old soldier on the back track generally. I remember him well,” said -Treherne uncompromisingly. “He shall refund as sure as my name is -Treherne.” - -And he did refund, protesting that the matter was an accident, an -oversight, which excuses the Colonel accepted in good faith and brought -back to the skeptical Hugh Treherne. - -“So queer those mistakes never happen to your advantage, Colonel,” he -snarled, and although his contention was obviously logical, the Colonel -listened dubiously. - -In truth, Colonel Kenwynton was of a different animus, of a dead day, of -a species as extinct as the Plesiosaurus. He could not even adapt -himself to the conditions of his survival. He could neither hear nor -speak through the telephone, although all his faculties were unimpaired. -He held himself immune from diseases of modern diagnosis; for him there -was no microbe, no appendicitis, no neurasthenia. His credulity revolted -against the practicability of wireless telegraphy and aviation. He clove -to his old books, and, except for the newspapers, he read nothing that -had been printed within the last fifty years. His ideas of amusement -were those of previous generations. He was a skilled sportsman, a dead -shot, indeed; his play at billiards held the record at his club; he was -versed in many games of chance and had the nerve to back his hand or his -opinion to the limit of his power. - -He was a shrewd judge of horseflesh, and, as he often remarked since he -could no longer own and race a string, he took pleasure in seeing the -fine animals of other men achieve credit on the turf. Despite his early -gambling and racing proclivities he had always been esteemed a man of -immaculate honor and held a high social position. This ascendancy was -supplemented by certain associations of special piety incongruously -enough. As long as his wife had lived he accompanied her to church every -Sunday morning; he drew the line, it is true, at the evening service. He -carried a large prayerbook, and his notable personality rendered his -presence marked. He read the responses with a devotional air and a -solemn voice and listened to the sermon with an appearance of unflagging -interest and absorption; as he seemed to take it for granted that he -could go to heaven on the footing of an honorary member, his persuasion -was in a manner accepted, and it might have been a source of surprise to -his friends to realize that, after all, he was not a professedly -religious man. - -For some weeks the two incongruous companions lived on in great peace -and amity in the seclusion of the old plantation house, a rambling frame -structure far too large for the shrunken number of its inmates. The -broad verandas surrounding it on three sides scarcely knew a footfall; -the upper story was unoccupied save for the Colonel’s bedroom, for -Treherne had selected a chamber among the vacant apartments on the -ground floor that, through a glass door opening on the veranda, -permitted his egress betimes to take up his self-arrogated supervisory -duties on the place hours before his host, always a late riser, was -astir. - -One night,--a memorable night,--a dreadful thing happened. The Colonel -lay asleep in his big mahogany four-poster; the placidity of venerable -age on his face was scarcely less appealing than the innocence of -childhood; his snowy hair on the pillow gave back a silvery gleam to the -red suffusions from the hearth. If he dreamed, it was of some gentle -phase of yore, for his breathing was soft and regular, his consciousness -far away adown the misty realms of the past, irrevocable save in these -soft and sleeping illusions. The old house was still and silent. At long -intervals an errant gust stole around a corner and tried a window. Then -it skulked away and, for a time, a mute peace reigned. - -Suddenly a sound,--not of the elements, not from without. A sound that -in the deep peace of dreams smote no fiber of consciousness. It came -again and again. It was the sound of a step ascending the stair. A -slender shaft of light preceded it--the dim radiance showed first in a -line under the door. Then the door slowly swung ajar, and Hugh Treherne -entered, his candle in his hand--not the officer that the old Colonel -had known and trusted in the years that tried men’s souls, who never -broke faith or failed in a duty; not the piteous wreck whom he had met -on the tow-head where the _Cherokee Rose_ lay aground, who wept on his -neck and besought his aid; not the earnest altruist, who planned and -contrived his escape from durance, through suffering and dread, to -retrieve the injustice done to an old comrade’s heirs, and with his -first recall of memory to reveal hidden treasure to enrich other men. -This was Hugh Treherne, of the obsession, a man who believed himself -possessed of the devil. - -Colonel Kenwynton, gazing wincingly up with eyes heavy with sleep, and -dazed by the glare of the candle held close to his face, hardly -recognized the lineaments bent above him--wild, distorted, with a -sinister smile, a queer furtive doubt, as if some wicked maniacal -impulse debated with the vanishing instinct of reason in his brain. - -The Colonel feared no man. The instinct of fear, if ever it had existed -in him, was annulled, atrophied. But in this lonely house, in the -presence of this strange and inexplicable possession, in all that this -change, so curiously wrought, so radical, so sinister, intimated, his -blood ran cold. - -“He has come, Colonel,” hissed the strange man, for the Colonel could -hardly make shift to recognize him, “the Devil has come!” - -There was an aghast pause. Then Colonel Kenwynton understood the -significance of the catastrophe. He plunged up in the bed, throwing off -the cover, and gazed wildly around the room. - -“The Devil has come?--Then skirmish to the front, Hugh! Hold him in -check, while I get on my clothes, and I’ll flank him. By George, I’ve -led a forlorn hope in my time, and I’m not to be intimidated by any -little medical fiend like this!” - -It was not long, however, that they sojourned at the sanatorium, but the -doctor, who had heard of the suddenness of the seizure, warned Colonel -Kenwynton that he had always best have help at hand in case of a -relapse as sudden. - -“You might be in danger of violence from him,” the doctor explained, -seeing that Colonel Kenwynton stared in blank amaze. - -“In danger of violence, sir, _from my own officer_,” he exclaimed, -flouting the obvious absurdity, as if the Confederate army were in -complete organization, the loyal submission to a superior in rank at -once the dearest behest and the instinct of second nature with the -soldier. - -And, indeed, Hugh Treherne justified the trust. He wrought Colonel -Kenwynton nothing but good. His mental health was so far restored to its -normal strength that when they had returned together to the old home he -took the lead in all those practical little affairs of life which bored -the Colonel, and which he at once misunderstood and despised. He shrank -from society, in which, indeed, he was more feared than welcomed, and -the Colonel, in compassion for his infirmity and loneliness, had given -up most of his cronies. The Colonel suffered from this deprivation more -than Treherne, who took an intense and almost pathetic interest in -trifling improvements; the fences were mended; the farm buildings were -repaired; various small peculations ceased, for the servants and the -hands whose interests brought them about the place were afraid of the -“crazy man,” and were alert and capable in obeying his orders,--the -anger that flashed in his wild dark eyes was not reassuring. He pottered -in placid content about these industrial pursuits till chance led to a -greater utility. - -He displayed unexpected judgment in advice which saved the Colonel from -taking a financial step that would, indeed, have bereft the simple snail -of his rickety old shell in his defenseless years, and certain -financiers of a dubious sort, baffled in the expectation of gain at the -old man’s loss, looked askance at Hugh Treherne and his influence with -his former commander which promised in time to remove him altogether -from their clutches. They made great talk of having considered his -interest rather than their own, and in set phrase withdrew the sun of -their favor to shine on his shattered affairs no more. But his affairs -were on the mend. Through Treherne’s urgency he devoted the returns from -the bulk of his cotton crop, unusually large this year, to the lifting -of a mortgage on a pretty tract of land nearer the county town than his -plantation, almost in the suburbs, in truth, and which was thus left -unencumbered. In this matter he was difficult of persuasion, and yielded -only at last to be rid of importunacy. - -“Lord, Hugh, how lonesome I do feel without that money,” he said -drearily, lighting his candle one night. - -“But you have got the land free of all encumbrance, Colonel,--dead to -rights,--within two miles of the town, right out there in the night.” - -“It is a cold night and dark,” said the Colonel, toying with the -snuffers. “It seems cruel to leave it there, bare and bleak, with no -sort of a little old mortgage to cover it.” - -But then he laughed and took himself upstairs to his rest. - -A similar application of funds betided his later shipments of bales, the -receipts from which were formerly wont to vanish in driblets he hardly -knew how. - -“Hugh, this way of paying debts that I thought would last through my -time and be discharged by my executors almost takes my breath away,” he -said half jocosely, half upbraiding. “You scarcely leave me a dollar for -myself,--to buy me a little ‘baccy.’” And then they both laughed. - -In the forty years of Hugh Treherne’s incarceration such independent -means as he had possessed had barely sufficed for his maintenance at the -sanatorium, constantly dwindling until now becoming inadequate for that -purpose. His relatives greatly disapproved of the course that events had -taken and were also solicitous for his safety while at large and the -possibility of injury to others at his hands. One of them, a man of -ample fortune, by way of coercing acquiescence in their views, notified -Colonel Kenwynton that they would not be responsible for any expenses -which Captain Treherne might incur during his absence from the asylum, -where he had been placed with the sanction of his kindred, and where the -writer of this communication was prepared to defray all the costs of his -sojourn and treatment. Colonel Kenwynton, in a letter as formal and -courteous as a cartel and as smoothly fierce, expressed his ignorance -that any moneys had been asked of Captain Treherne’s relatives, and -begged to know when and by whom such requests had been made. Then a -significant silence settled on the subject. - -The old Colonel felt that he had routed the enemy, but Hugh Treherne, to -whom he detailed the circumstances, for he treated his friend in every -respect as a sane man and kept nothing from him, did not share his -host’s elation. A deep gloom descended upon his spirits and a furtive -apprehension looked out of his eyes. He cautiously scanned the personnel -of every approach to the house before he ventured to appear and greet -the newcomers, and in his small interests about the place he kept within -close reach of refuge. The negroes began to notice that he discontinued -his supervisory errands to the fields where the picking of cotton was -still in progress and where he had shown himself exceedingly suspicious -of the accounts of the weigher and the bulk of the cotton delivered as -compared with the distribution of the money furnished by Colonel -Kenwynton for paying the cotton pickers. “The ole Cunnel’s crap will -sho’ly turn out fur all hit is worf’ dis time,” the grinning darkeys -were in the habit of commenting. - -The old gentleman was constitutionally and by training incapable of -detecting this deviation from the established routine, but affection -whetted his wits and he observed the change in Hugh Treherne’s -appearance when it began to be so marked as scarcely to be imputed to -fluctuations in his malady. - -“Why are you looking so down-in-the-mouth, Hugh?” he demanded one -morning after breakfast as he sprawled comfortably with his pipe before -the crackling fire, agreeable in the chill of the early December day -despite the bland golden sunshine of the southern winter. Treherne cast -at him a glance helplessly terrified, like a child in the face of -danger, and said not a word. “You are losing your relish for country -life, I am afraid,” the Colonel went on. “Why, you haven’t put your foot -in stirrup for a week. Why don’t you take your horse out for a canter?” - -The hearty genial tones opened the floodgates of confidence. It was -impossible for Treherne to resist the look of affectionate solicitude, -of kindly sympathy in those transparently candid eyes. - -“Colonel,--I’m--I’m--afraid.” - -“Zounds, sir. Afraid of what?” - -“Capture,” the hunted creature replied succinctly. - -“Why, look here, man,” the Colonel rallied him, “I really think you have -been captured before this time. How long were you in prison at Camp -Chase?” - -“But, Colonel, this is different. I think my friends--my unfriends,--are -bent on restoring me to seclusion.” - -“Doctor Vailer won’t receive you,--professional pride much lacerated by -the criticism of his course expressed by your precious relative, Tom -Treherne,--excuse me if I pause here to particularly curse him--and you -know when you touch a really learned technician of any sort on his -professional pride, you have got hold of his keenest susceptibility, -where he feels most acutely and most high-mindedly, the very nerves of -his soul, so to speak, his spiritual essence. Doctor Vailer won’t have -you.” - -“But there are other alienists, other asylums in Mississippi.” - -“And under your favor there is _me_ in Mississippi,--and there is the -law of the land. I tell you, Hugh, that Tom Treherne might as well try -to bottle up the Mississippi River as to incarcerate you again without -Doctor Vailer’s sanction, of course, so long as I am out of the -ground.” - -Hugh Treherne stirred uneasily and crossed and uncrossed his legs as he -sat opposite the Colonel in a big mahogany chair before the frowsy -hearth where the ashes of nearly all the fires since fall set in were -banked behind the big tarnished brass dogs--the Colonel was no dainty -housekeeper, and deserved the frequent declaration that “de Cunnel don’t -know de diffunce.” - -“People generally, Colonel, will approve the course of my relations,” -Treherne argued. “It will seem the proper thing as long as I -am--am--occasionally--absent.” - -“Well, you are all here, now, in one piece,” declared the old man, -wagging his head with vehement emphasis. - -“It will seem very generous of Tom Treherne to offer, to desire to -maintain me at his own expense at a high-priced private sanatorium, -since I have no means of my own.” - -He paused, a bitter look of repulsion on his face. All these -years--these long years, the men of his own age, the compeers of his -youth, had been at work restoring their shattered fortunes, after the -terrible cataclysm of war that had wrecked the financial interests as -well as the face of the southern country, achieving eminence and -distinction in their varied lines of effort, life signifying somewhat of -attainment even to those of meanest ability, while he was gone to waste, -destroyed by his own gallant exploit; the blow of the sabre, the jeering -accolade of Fate, when he had triumphantly led his troop to the capture -of a strong battery, had consigned him to forty years of idleness, -helplessness, imprisonment, in effect. “Be brave, loyal, and -fortunate,” quotha. - -He was silently revolving these reflections so long that Colonel -Kenwynton, puffing his pipe with gusto, declared: - -“I’ll make Tom Treherne’s liberality look like thirty cents before I am -done with him. He can’t choke you off and hide you out because he is -afraid you might be troublesome to _him_ in the future,--dispose of you -for good and all,--not while I am alive. Why, damme, man, you commanded -a troop in my regiment.” - -“If he should once more lay hands on me I could never get away from him -and his precautions and anxieties, and considerations for the safety of -the public and open-handed generosity. And, Colonel, you might not know -where he had stowed me away next time.” - -“Hoh,” snorted the Colonel, “I never lose sight of you longer than -between breakfast and dinner. I’d be on his track with every detective -in the State before dark. Why, Hugh, I’m a moneyed man. I’d take -advantage of your absence to mortgage that little tract of land out -yonder bare of all encumbrance, and I’d spend the last nickel of it -making publicity for Tom Treherne. _He_ isn’t going to spend any money -except for his own objects. Now, boots and saddles! Time for you to be -on the march!” - -In two hours Treherne was back again, with a flush on his face and a -light in his eyes, bearing the mail, for which he had ridden to the -nearest town, and this contained matters of interest both for him and -the Colonel. It was, indeed, a rare occurrence when he received a -letter--in forty years he could count the missives on the fingers of -one hand. To-day the post brought him one addressed directly to him by -Adrian Ducie, although the counsel for the two brothers wrote instead to -Colonel Kenwynton. In common with all people of advancing years, -Treherne was continually impressed with the superiority of the methods -of the past in comparison with those of to-day. He noted the courtesy, -the consideration of the tone of the letter, and at once likened it to -the manner of the writer’s boy uncle, who had been his chum and comrade -in the ancient days. His heart warmed to the perception of tact which -had induced this one of the brothers to write who had been present at -the finding of the box and the valuable papers, that it was hoped would -return to the Ducie heirs the estate which had been so long wrested from -them. Adrian and Randal had both taken care on that occasion to express -their deep appreciation of the efforts of Archie Ducie’s friend to -restore to them their rights, although they had been the victims of his -disqualified memory. But now Adrian repeated their realization of the -extreme and friendly interest which had caused this object to so -persistently cling to the mind and intention of Captain Treherne, and -asked if he would object to giving testimony in a sort which the counsel -recommended, immediately after the filing of the bill for the recovery -of the property, a proceeding _de bene esse_, to be used in case of -death or a recurrence of a malady which would prevent the taking of his -deposition in the regular proceedings in the cause. - -It was a difficult letter to write, a delicate proposition to make, and -it was done with a simple directness, a lack of circumlocution which -might imply that Adrian Ducie thought it a usual matter that gentlemen -could be seized with a recurrence of acute mania, obstructing the course -of business, and tending to impede justice. Treherne declared that it -was exactly the sort of letter that Archibald Ducie would have written, -and he was eager to comply with the request. - -“Only,” he began, and paused abruptly. - -“Only what?” asked the Colonel, looking up with grizzled eyebrows drawn. - -“You don’t know how--how baffling it is to talk, to speak, when you are -aware that everybody is all the time disparaging every word as insanity. -Even you could scarcely hold your own under such circumstances.” - -“I could,” declared the Colonel hardily. “I’d know that nine out of -every ten men are crazy anyhow, with no lucid intervals,--natural fools, -born fools--fools for the lack of sense,--only,” with a crafty leer, -“the rest of the fellows are so looney themselves that nobody has found -it out.” - -Treherne laughed, and the Colonel went on with his prelection. - -“Never stop to consider what people will think, Hugh. They will think -what they damn please. It is the root of most of the troubles that beset -this world,--trying to square our preferences and duty to what people -will think.” - -Thus the testimony _de bene esse_ was taken, Captain Treherne’s story -from the beginning;--his part in the concealment of the treasure at -Duciehurst, assisting his friend and comrade Archibald Ducie; his -knowledge of the nature of the papers among the jewels; the early death -of his friend; his own wound and his consequent mental disability; his -incarceration for forty years in an insane asylum; his recent recovery -of memory, and his resolve to right this wrong which impelled him to -make his escape from Glenrose; his meeting with Colonel Kenwynton; the -strange attack he sustained from unknown miscreants after quitting the -sand-bar; the transit, bound and gagged, to Duciehurst, supplemented by -the circumstances of his liberation by Colonel Kenwynton and Adrian -Ducie. The affidavit of the alienist as to his lucid condition at the -time and his present mental reliability completed the proceedings. - -This was merely a precautionary measure, designed to guard against a -relapse of Captain Treherne into his malady. The Ducie heirs had already -made formal demand for the restoration of their ancestral estate, -alleging the full satisfaction of the indebtedness, recording the -release of the mortgage and the quit-claim deed, and bringing suit -against all in interest. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Floyd-Rosney could scarcely restrain his fury when the papers were -served upon him. The whole subject had grown doubly distasteful because -of its singular connection with his domestic concerns. He could not fall -to so poor spirited a plane as to imagine that his wife preferred -another man--he was too ascendant in his own estimation to harbor the -thought. Logic, simple, plain common sense, forbade the conclusion. She -had thrown this man over for him years ago at the first summons. He did -not esteem his wealth as the lure; it was only an incident of his other -superlative advantages. She had not seen the discarded lover since, yet -from the moment of the appearance of the facsimile brother was -inaugurated a change in her manner, her conversation, the very look in -her eyes, which he could not explain, except as the result of old -associations which he did not share, antagonistic to his interest and -his domestic peace. - -She had very blandly explained on the first opportunity, volunteering -the communication, indeed, the mystery of the return of the key--an old -_gage d’amour_, a trifle--the slightness of which he mentally conceded, -for he had large ideas in _bijouterie_. She did not wish to keep it, nor -to send it back without explanation; in fact, she was not willing to -return it at all except in her husband’s presence. - -“Dear me, you need not have been so particular,” he declared -cavalierly. “A matter of no importance.” - -She had magnified it in her fear of him till it loomed great and -menacing. She felt cheapened and crestfallen by his manner of receiving -the disclosure. Yet he had marked the occurrence, she was sure; he had -resented it--though he now flouted it as a trifle. This added to her -respect for him, and it riveted the fetters in which he held her. - -The inauguration of the suit to rip up and annul the ancient -foreclosure, the many irritating questions as to whether the lapse of -time could be pleaded in bar of the remedy, whether disabilities could -be brought forward to affect the operation of the statute of -limitations, what line of attack would be pursued by the Ducie brothers, -all wrought him almost to a frenzy. He could scarcely endure even -canvassing with his lawyers the points of his adversary’s position. Any -intimation of the development of possible strength on their part -affected him like the discovery of disloyalty in his counsel. More than -once the senior of these gentlemen saw fit to explain that this effort -to probe the possibilities, to foresee and provide against the maneuvers -of the enemy, to weigh the values in their favor, was not the result of -conviction, but merely to ascertain the facts in the case. - -The counsel, in closer conference still, closeted together, canvassed in -surprise and disaffection the difficulty of handling their client, and -the best method of avoiding rousing from his lair the slumbering lion of -his temper. It was a case involving so much opportunity of distinction, -of professional display, as well as heavy fees, that they were loath to -risk public discomfiture because Mr. Floyd-Rosney was prone to gnash his -teeth at a mere inquiry which bore upon one of the many sensitive points -with which the case seemed to bristle. He was as prickly as a porcupine, -and to stroke him gently required the deftness of a conjurer. At the -most unexpected junctures this proclivity of sudden rage, of -unaccountable discomfiture broke forth, amazing and harassing the -counsel, who, with all their perspicacity, could not perceive, lurking -in the background of Floyd-Rosney’s consciousness, the mirage of his -wife’s ancient romance, more especially as he himself could not justify -its formulation on the horizon. - -As Floyd-Rosney was accustomed to handle large business interests and -was ordinarily open to any proposition of a practical nature, -conservative in his views, and close and accurate in his calculation of -chances, his attitude in this matter mystified his co-adjutors, who had -had experience hitherto in his affairs and were versed in his peculiar -characteristics. The legal firm had come to avoid speaking of any point -that might redound to the advantage of the opponent, unless, indeed, -there was some bit of information necessary to secure from Floyd-Rosney. -Thus matters had been going more smoothly, save that he was wont to come -to the conferences with his counsel bearing always a lowering brow and a -smoldering fire in his surly, brown eyes. It flared into open flame when -one day Mr. Stacey, the senior counsel, observed: - -“They will, doubtless, call Mrs. Floyd-Rosney.” - -The client went pale for a moment, then his face turned a deep purplish -red. Twice he sought to speak before he could enunciate a word. - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he sputtered at length. “As their witness? It is -monstrous! I will not suffer it! It is monstrous!” - -“Oh, no; not at all.” - -Mr. Stacey had a colorless, clear-cut face of the thin, hatchet-like -type. His straight hair, originally of some blonde hue, had worn sparse, -and neither showed the tint of youth nor demanded the respect due to the -bleach of age. It seemed wasted out. He was immaculately groomed and was -very spare; he looked, somehow, as if in due process of law he had been -ground very sharp, and had lost all extraneous particles. There seemed -nothing of Mr. Stacey but a legal machine, very cleverly invented, and, -as he sat in his swivel chair, his thin legs crossed, he turned a bit -from his desk, intently regarding Mr. Floyd-Rosney, who was thrown back -in a cushioned armchair beside him, flanked by the great waste-paper -basket, containing the off-scourings of the lawyer’s desk. Mr. Stacey’s -light gray eyes narrowed as he gazed,--he was beginning to see into the -dark purlieus of his client’s reasonless conduct. - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney is perfectly competent to testify in the case.” Mr. -Stacey wore a specially glittering set of false teeth which made no -pretense to nature, but gave effect to his clear-clipped enunciation. -“Her deposition will certainly be taken by them.” - -“As against her husband?” foamed Floyd-Rosney in vehement argument. “She -can be introduced _by_ her husband to testify in his behalf, but not -_against_ him, except in her own interest, as you know right well.” - -“That incompetency is limited to the Mississippi law as regards third -persons, in the case of husband and wife. But in the proceedings in -reference to the Tennessee property the local statutes will obtain,--she -can testify against her husband’s interest and, in my opinion, will be -constrained to do this.” After this succinct, dispassionate statement -Mr. Stacey paused for a moment; then, in response to Floyd-Rosney’s -stultified bovine stare, as in speechless amazement, he went on with a -tang of impatience in his tone. “Why, you know, of course, there is a -bit of Tennessee property involved,--that small business house in South -Memphis,--I forget, for the moment, the name of the street. You are -aware that in the foreclosure proceedings nearly forty years ago the -plantation and mansion house of Duciehurst were bid in for the estate of -the mortgagee, but as the amount of the highest bid at the sale did not -equal the indebtedness in the shrunken condition of real estate values -at that time, the executors pursued and subjected other property of the -mortgagor for the balance due, this Tennessee holding being a part of -it, and the Ducies now contend that the debt having been previously -fully satisfied and paid in full, this whole proceeding was null and -void from the beginning. They bring suit for all in sight. Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney can testify in their interest under the Tennessee -statutes.” - -Floyd-Rosney sprang up and strode across the room, coming flush against -the waste-paper basket as he threw himself once more into his chair, -overturning the papers and scattering them about the floor. He took no -notice of them, but the tidy Stacey glanced down at the litter, though -with an inscrutable eye. - -“Oh, I’ll get her out of the country. They shall not have her testimony. -They shall not call her as their witness. She has been wanting a trip to -the Orient--she shall go--at once--at once!” - -Mr. Stacey very closely and critically examined a paper knife that had -been lying on the table. Then, putting it down, he rejoined, without -looking at Floyd-Rosney, who was scarcely in case to be seen, the veins -of his forehead swollen and stiff, his face apoplectically red, his eyes -hot and angry: “They can have her deposition taken in a foreign -country.” - -“If they can find her,” said Floyd-Rosney in prophetic triumph. “But -they would not take the time for that.” - -“Why, you don’t reflect,” said the lawyer very coolly, “the cause may -not come to trial for two or three years. In view of the usual delays, -continuances and the like, you could not expatriate her for that length -of time.” - -Floyd-Rosney’s face was a mask of stubborn conviction as he replied: - -“The Ducies will want to race the matter through. They claim that they -and their predecessors have been wrongfully kept out of their own for -forty years. They will think that is long enough. _I_ won’t make delays. -The question is a legal one, and can be decided on the jump--yes or no. -The case can come to trial at the April term of the court, and by that -time Mrs. Floyd-Rosney will be in Jerusalem or Jericho.” - -“This will damage your position in the case, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” urged -the lawyer. “I think, myself, that it is a particularly valuable point -for you that it should be your wife, who, at considerable risk and in a -very dramatic manner, discovered and secured these family jewels and -papers, knowing what they were and that they threatened the title of her -husband, and restored them to the complainants. It proves your good -faith in your title--the foreclosure of the mortgage in ignorance of the -outstanding release. Your wife as their witness is a valuable witness -for us, and the motives of your contention being thus justified there -remains nothing but the question of title to come before the court.” - -“All that rigamarole can be proved by other witnesses,” said -Floyd-Rosney doggedly. “There were twenty people who saw her come -bouncing down the stairs with the box and give it to Adrian Ducie.” - -There is a species of anger expressed in unbecoming phraseology. Mr. -Stacey made no sign, but the words “rigamarole,” applied to his own -lucid prelection, and “bouncing” to the gait of the very elegant Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, did not pass unnoted. - -“I am sure the case on neither side can be ready for the April -term,--the docket is crowded and there is always the possibility of -continuances.” - -“There are to be no continuances on our side,” declared Floyd-Rosney, -both glum and stubborn; “I don’t choose that my wife shall testify in -their interest. She goes to the Orient, and stays there till the -testimony is all in and the case closed.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -The season had opened in a whirl of social absorption for Paula, once -more established in their city house for the winter. She had never known -her husband so interested in these functions nor so solicitous that her -entertainments should be characterized by a species of magnificence that -would once have dazzled and delighted her, but that now seemed only to -illustrate his wealth and predominance. He was critical and fretful -because of small, very small, deficiencies, as--some flower being -unattainable that one less costly should be used in decoration, or a -shade of an electrolier being broken that another, dissimilar to the -rest in design, should be temporarily substituted. Her own toilets were -submitted to his scrutiny and preference, and when she revolted, saying -that she knew far more of such matters than he did, he lapsed into surly -dissatisfaction. Once he spoke of a costume of delicate, chaste elegance -as “common”--“nothing on it.” Then he added significantly, “You ought to -have married a poor man, Paula, if that is your taste.” - -She held the gown up when she was disrobing afterward and examined its -points. She saw that the effect could have been duplicated in simple -materials costing a trifle; thus beautifully and gracefully could she -have gowned herself if she _had_ married a poor man as once she had -thought to do. - -Of her own initiative she could not have given the series of dinners of -which the lavish richness astonished, as was intended, the guests, and -of which, strangely enough, she was tired before they began. More than -once, as she took up her position beside her husband in the glittering -drawing-room, hearing the approach of the first of the guests, he said -to her in a low voice, the tone like a pinch: “Don’t seem so dull, -Paula--you have gone off awfully in your looks lately, and that gown is -no good. For Heaven’s sake be more animated, and not so much like a rag -doll.” It was poor preparation to meet the coterie of men and women -keyed to a high pitch of effort toward charm and brilliancy, as doing -honor to the occasion, their hosts, and themselves. A large ball was -also among the functions he planned, to be given in compliment to -Hildegarde Dean, whose beauty he affected to admire extravagantly. He -had remembered his wife’s obvious jealousy of her attractions when -Randal Ducie had seemed interested and delighted, and it did not soothe -his unquiet spirit to note that now she had no grudging, but joined -ardently in making the festivity a great success and an elaborate -tribute to the reigning belle and beauty. She was required to invite the -wives of certain men whom he desired to compliment,--yet who were not of -his list of dinner guests,--to luncheons, and teas, and afternoon -receptions, till she was tired out with the meaningless routine and sick -at heart. Yet this was what she had craved--all her dream come true, -pressed down and running over. Why had it no longer an interest for her? -Was it sheer satiety, or was it that naught is of value when love has -flown. And it had gone--even such poor semblance as had worn its name -had vanished. She could not delude herself, though she might make shift -to masquerade in such wise that he should not know. She hoped for this, -for she had begun to fear him. He was so arrogant, so self-sufficient, -so dominant, so coercive. She feared his frown, his surly slumbrous -eyes, his hasty outbursts of gusty temper. - -One evening in this arid existence, this feast of dead-sea fruit, there -was on hand no social duty--the pretty phrase for the empty -frivolity--and she was glad of it. It was a gala night at the opera, for -a star of distinction was to sing in a Wagnerian rôle, and the -Floyd-Rosneys would occupy their box, according to their habit when -aught worth while was billed. She was dressed for the occasion and -awaiting him in the library, but he had not yet come in. She was more -placid than her wont of late, for she realized that it would rest her -nerves to be still and listen, a respite, however brief, from the -tiresome round; and she had just come from the nursery where the baby -was being put to bed--very playful, and freakish, and comical. She had -been laughing with him, and at him, and the glow of this simple -happiness was still warm in her heart when the door opened and her -husband entered. He was not yet dressed for the evening, and, as she -looked her surprise, he responded directly: - -“No,--we are not going.” - -He often changed his plans thus, regardless of her preferences, and she -had grown so plastic to his will that she was able to readjust her -evening or her day without regard to her previous expectations. - -The spacious room might have seemed the ideal expression of a home of -culture and affluence. The walls were lined with books from floor to -ceiling, unbroken save where a painting of value and distinction was -inserted, special favorites of their owner, and placed here where his -eyes might constantly rest upon them, rather than consigned to the -gallery of his art treasures. The furniture was all of a fashion -illustrating the extremity of luxury,--such soft cushions, such elastic -springs, such deep pile into which the feet sunk treading the Oriental -rugs. Not a sound from the street nor from any portion of the house -could penetrate this choice seclusion, and over the fireplace, where the -hickory logs flared genially, the legend “Fair Quiet, have I found thee -here?” was especially accented by a finely sculptured statue of Silence, -her finger on her lip, which stood on its pedestal at a little distance -from the deep bay of a window. - -The beautiful woman, in the blended radiance of the electric light and -the home-like blaze, seemed as one of the favored of the earth. She had -dressed with great care, and her gown of lavender gauze over satin of -the same shade, with a string of fine pearls about her throat and -another in her fair hair, could scarcely have incurred his unfavorable -criticism. Her gloves of the same tint lay ready on the table and an -evening cloak of white brocaded satin hung over a chair. Great pains and -some time such a toilette cost; but she had learned never to count -trouble if peace might ensue. - -She was prepared to be left in ignorance of his reason for a change of -plans, but he seemed, this evening, disposed to explain. He came and -stood opposite to her, one hand lifted on the shelf of the massive -mantel-piece, while he held his hat with the other. He was still in his -overcoat, its collar and lining of fur bringing out in strong relief -the admirable points of his handsome face, its red and white tints, the -brilliancy of his full lordly eyes, the fine shade of his chestnut hair. -He was notably splendid this evening, vitally alert, powerful of aspect, -yet graceful, all the traits of his manly beauty finished with such -minutely delicate detail. She noticed the embellishment of his aspect, -as if the evident quickening of his interest in some matter had enhanced -it, and she remembered a day--long ago, it seemed, foolish and transient -when she had had a proud possessory sentiment toward this fair outer -semblance of the identity within, so little known to her then, so -overwhelming all other attributes of his personality. - -She did not ask a question--she was too well trained by experience. He -would tell her if he would; if not, it was futile to speculate as to his -intentions. - -“Well, the Oriental tour is _un fait accompli_,” he said, smiling. “You -sail within the week.” - -She started in surprise. She had definitely been denied this desire, -which she had once harbored, on the score of all others most seemingly -untenable--expense. But it was her husband’s habit to make everything -inordinately costly. He would not appear in public except _en prince_, -nor travel abroad save with a most elaborate and extensive itinerary and -a suite of attendants. - -“This week--why--I don’t know----” she hesitated. “I suppose--I can get -ready.” - -“Oh, you will scarcely need any preparation,” he said cavalierly. “Any -old things will answer.” - -This was so out of character with his wonted solicitude in small -matters that she was surprised and vaguely agitated. She saw a quiver in -the tip of her dainty lavender slipper, extended on a hassock before her -in the relaxed attitude she had occupied, and she withdrew it that the -disquietude of her nerves might not be noticed. She raised herself to an -upright posture in her chair before she replied in a matter-of-fact -tone. - -“I wasn’t alluding to dress. What I am wearing here will answer, of -course--but I was thinking of the arrangements for the nurse. Will we -take his old colored nurse, or do you suppose she would not be equal to -the requirements of the trip? Had Elise better go in her place?” - -“Oh, that cuts no ice. For the baby won’t go at all,” he replied, as -simply as if this were an obvious conclusion. - -She sat petrified for one moment. Then she found her voice--loud and -strong and definite. - -“The baby won’t go!” she exclaimed. “Then I won’t go--not one foot! What -do you take me for?” - -“For a sensible woman,” he retorted. - -He looked angry, as always, when opposed, but not surprised. He had -evidently anticipated her objection, and he controlled himself with care -unusual to his ungoverned temper. “Who wants to go dragging a child -three years old all around Europe and the Holy Land! You won’t be gone -more than a year!” - -“A year! Why, Edward--are you crazy? To think I would leave the baby for -a year! No--nor a month! No--nor a day! He has scarcely been out of my -sight for two hours together since he was born.” - -“How many women leave their children to take a trip abroad,” he argued, -and she began to feel vaguely that he would much prefer that she should -agree peaceably--he was even willing to exert such self-control as was -necessary to persuade her. - -“Never--never would I,” she declared, “and he would be miserable without -me.” - -“Not with me here,” her husband urged. “He is pleased to regard me with -considerable favor.” And he bent upon her his rare, intimate, -confidential smile. - -For, unknown to him, she had been at great pains to build up a sort of -idolatry of his father in the breast of the little boy, such as children -usually feel without prompting. He was taught to disregard -Floyd-Rosney’s averse, selfish inattention, to rejoice and bask in the -sun of his favor, to run to greet him with pretty little graces, to -admire him extravagantly as the finest man in all the world, to regulate -his infantile conduct by the paternal prepossessions, being stealthily -rewarded by his mother whenever his wiles attained the meed of praise. - -Paula looked dazed, bewildered. - -“You know, dearest, I am held here by the pressure of that villainous -lawsuit, and as it will absorb all my leisure I thought that now is your -chance for your Oriental tour--for I really don’t care to go again, and -you may never have another opportunity.” - -He paused, somewhat at a loss. She was leaning forward, gazing at him -searchingly. - -“What _can_ possess you to imagine for one moment that I would go -without the boy! What is the Orient to me--or my silly fad for Eastern -travel! I wish my tongue had been withered before I ever spoke the -word!” - -“Why, you talk as if I were proposing something amazing--abnormally -brutal. Don’t other women leave their children?” - -“But with their mothers, or some one who stands in that tender, -solicitous relation,--and I have no mother!” Her words ended in a wail. - -“But he will be with me--and surely I care for him as much as you do,” -he argued, vehemently. - -“But why can’t I take him with me,” she sought to adjust the difficulty, -“even though the pleasure of the trip is lost if you don’t go?” - -“Because--because,” he hesitated. “Because I cannot bear the separation -from him,” he declared bluntly. “I am afraid something--I don’t know -what--might happen to him. I know I am a fool. I couldn’t bear it.” - -His folly went to her heart in his behalf as nothing else could have -done. This evidence of his love for the child, his son and hers, atoned -for a thousand slights and tyrannies which she forgave on the spot. Her -brow cleared, her face relaxed, her cheek flushed. - -“Aha!” she cried jubilantly, “you know how it feels, too!” She gleefully -shook her fan at him. “We will let the trip to the Orient drop, now and -forever. I can’t go without little Edward, and you”--she gave him a -radiant, rallying smile--“can’t spare him, so we will just stay at home -and see as much of each other as the old lawsuit will let you. And what -I want to know,” she added, with a touch of indignation, “is, why do -those lawyers of yours allow the matter to harass you? It is their -business to take the care of it off your shoulders.” - -He stood silent throughout this speech, changing expressions flitting -across his face, but it hardened upon the allusion to the lawsuit and -his vacillation solidified into resolve. - -“Come, Paula, this talk is idle; the matter is arranged. The Hardingtons -start for New York to-morrow, and sail as soon as they strike the town. -Mrs. Hardington says she will be enchanted to have you of her party, and -I have telegraphed and received an answer engaging your stateroom on the -ship. Your section in the Pullman is also reserved,--couldn’t get the -stateroom on the train--already taken, hang it.” - -She had risen to her feet and was gazing at him with a sort of averse -amazement, once more pale and agitated, and with a strange difficulty of -articulation. “Why, Edward, what do you mean? Why should you want to get -me out of the country? There’s something behind all this, evidently.” -She noted that he winced by so slight a token as the flicker of an -eyelash. “You know that I would not consent to go without my child for -any earthly consideration.” - -“I know no such thing, as I have told you,” he retorted hotly. “The -arrangements are all made. Your passage is taken. I have ready your -letter of credit. I do think you are the most ungrateful wretch alive,” -he exclaimed, his eyes aglow with anger. “A beautiful and costly trip, -that you have longed for, planned out for you in every detail, and -you----” he broke off with a gesture of repudiation. - -“I wouldn’t be separated from my child for one night for all the -jauntings about the globe that could be devised,” she declared. - -Floyd-Rosney suddenly lost all self-control. “Well, you certainly will -be separated from him for one night--for many nights,--for he is gone!” - -“Gone?” She sprang forward with a shriek and started toward the door. -Then with a desperate effort to compose herself she paused even in the -attitude of flight. “For God’s sake, Edward, where has he gone? What do -you mean?” - -“He has been sent to the place where I propose to have him cared for in -your absence. Knowing that your time is short I tried to smooth the -way.” - -“But where?--where?” - -“Where you shall not know,--you shall not follow. You may as well make -up your mind to take the trip.” - -She seemed taller, to tower, as she drew herself up in her wrath, -standing on the threshold in the ghastly incongruity of her festival -evening gown and her tragic face. “Oh, you brute!” she shrilled at him. -“You fiend!” - -Then she turned and fled through the great square hall and up the -massive staircase to the nursery that she had quitted so lately, that -had been so full of cheer and cosy comfort and infantile laughter and -caresses. - -The room was empty now. The fire was low in the grate, seen through the -bars of the high fender that kept the little fellow from danger of -contact with the flames. The dull, spiritless, red glow of the embers -enabled her to discern the switch to turn on the electric light, and -instantly the apartment sprang into keen visibility. The bed was -vacant, the coverlets disarranged where the child had been taken thence, -doubtless after he had fallen asleep. The drawers of the bureau, the -doors of the wardrobe stood ajar, the receptacles ransacked of all his -little garments, his hats and shoes. Evidently a trunk had been packed -in view of a prolonged absence while she had sat downstairs in the -library, all unconscious of the machinations in progress against her in -her own home. She was numb with the realization of the tremendous import -of the situation. She could not understand the motive--she only -perceived the fact. It was her husband’s scheme to get her out of the -country, and he had fancied that he could force her to go without her -child. She took no account of her grief, her fears, the surging anguish -of separation. She was saying to herself as she turned into her own room -adjoining that she must be strong in this crisis for the child’s sake, -as well as her own. She must discern clearly, and reason accurately, and -act promptly and without vacillation. If she should remain here she -might be seized and on some pretext coerced into leaving the country on -that lovely trip which he had planned for her. She burst into a sudden -bitter laugh, and the sound startled her into silence again. When had -her husband ever planned aught for her save to serve some purpose of his -own? She would not go--she would not, she said over and over to herself. -Her determination, her instinct were to ascertain where the child had -been hidden, and if possible to capture him; if not to be near, on the -chance of seeing him sometimes, to watch over him, to guard him from -danger. In her self-pity at this poor hope the tears welled up and she -shook with sobs. But on this momentary collapse ensued renewed strength. -It might be, she thought, she could appeal to the law. She knew that her -husband’s was the superior claim to the child, but in view of his tender -years, his delicate health in certain respects, might not a court grant -his custody to his mother? At all events his restoration to her care was -henceforward her one object, and if she allowed herself to be forced out -of the country, to serve this unknown, unimagined whim of her cruel -husband’s, she might never see the child again. - -A knock at the door startled her nerves like a clap of thunder. A maid -had come to say that dinner had been served--indeed the butler had -announced it an hour ago--and should it still wait? - -“Have it taken down,” Paula said with stiff lips. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney will -not dine at home.” - -For Paula had heard the street door bang as she fled up the stairs, and -she knew that he was not in the house. The girl gazed at her with a -sharp point of curiosity in her little black eyes as she obsequiously -withdrew. Despite the humility of the manner of her domestics Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney had not the ascendency in her household due a chatelaine so -magnificently placed. It was his wealth--she was an appendage. It was -his will that ruled, not hers. As the servants loved to remark to each -other, “She has got no more say-so here than me,” and the insecurity of -her authority and the veneer of her position affected unfavorably the -estimation in which she was held. The girl perceived readily enough that -a clash had supervened between the couple and sagely opined that the -master would have the best of it. Below stairs they ascribed to it the -strange removal of the child at this hour of the night and the change -in their employer’s plans for the evening. Their unrestrained voices -came up through doors carelessly left ajar, along with the clatter of -the dishes of the superfluous dinner, and Paula, with some unoccupied -faculty, albeit all seemed burdened to the point of breaking with her -heavy thoughts, realized that this breach of domestic etiquette could -never have chanced had the master of the house been within its walls. - -As she hastily divested herself of her dainty evening attire, with -trembling fingers her spirits fell, her courage waned. No one would heed -her, she said to herself. What value would a court attach to her -representations as against the word and the will of a man of her -husband’s wealth and prominence? And how could she expect aught of aid -from any quarter? She had literally no individual position in the world. -She had no influence on her husband, no real hold on his heart. She -could command not one moment’s attention, save as his wife. Bereft of -his favor and countenance she would be more of a nullity than a woman, -poor but independent, working for a weekly wage. Truly Floyd-Rosney -could ship her out of the country as if she were a mare or a cow. -Decorum would forbid open resistance, for indeed if she clamored and -protested she could be sent with a trained nurse as the victim of -hysteria or monomania. She must get away. Her liberty was threatened. -Her will had long been annulled, but now she was to be bodily bound and -in effect carried whither she would not. Her liberty, her free agency -were at stake--not her life. Never, she thought, would he do a deed -that would react upon himself. She must be gone--and swiftly. - -Perhaps Paula never realized the extent of her subjection until when -dressed in her dark coat suit with hat and gloves, her suitcase packed -with a few indispensable articles, she stood at her dressing table and -opened her gold mesh-bag with a sudden clutch at her heart to ascertain -what money she might have. Her white face, so scornful of herself, -looked back from the mirror, duplicating her bitter smile. She had not -five dollars in the world. Floyd-Rosney never gave money to his wife in -the raw, so to speak. All her extravagant appointments came as it were -from his hand. She could buy as she would on his accounts; she could -subscribe liberally to charities and public enterprises which he -countenanced, and he made her signature as good as his, but she could -never have undertaken the slightest plan of her own initiative. She had -no command of money. She could not go--she could not get away from under -his hand. She was as definitely a prisoner as if she were behind the -bars. Still looking scornfully, pityingly, distressfully at her pallid -image in the mirror, a strange thought occurred to her. She wondered if -she were Ran Ducie’s wife could she have been as poor as this. But she -must go--and quickly. For one wild moment she contemplated borrowing -from the servants the sum she needed. As she revolted at the degradation -she realized its futility. Their place in his favor was more secure than -hers--her necessity attested the tenuity of her position. They would not -lend money to her in order to thwart him. She looked at the strings of -pearls, the gold mesh-bag, and remembered the pawnbroker. Once more she -shivered back from her own thought. They were not hers, for her own. -They were for her to wear, to illustrate his taste, his liberality to -his wife, his wealth. She knew little of law, of life. This might be an -actual theft. But she must go--and go at once. - -With her suitcase in her hand she stole down the stairs and softly let -herself out of the massive front door, closing it noiselessly behind -her, never for a moment looking up at the broad, tall façade of the -building that had been her home. She crossed the street almost -immediately, lest she encounter her husband returning with his plans -more definitely concluded and with a more complete readiness to execute -them. - -The night was not cold, but bland and fresh, and she felt the vague stir -of the breeze like a caress on her cheek. The stars--they were strangers -to her now, so long it had been since she had paused to look upon -them--showed in a dark, moonless heaven high above the deep canyon of -the street. She walked rapidly, despite the weight of the suitcase, but -so long had it been since she had traversed the thoroughfares on foot -that she had forgotten the turnings--now the affair of the -chauffeur--and once she was obliged to retrace her way for a block. She -deprecated the loss of time and the drain upon her strength, but she was -still alert and active when she paused in the ladies’ entrance of a -hotel and stood waiting and looking about with her card in her hand. Oh, -how strange for her, accustomed to be so considered, so attended, so -heralded! She did not for the moment regret the coercion her splendors -were wont to exert. She only wondered how best to secure her object, if -she could not win the attention of the supercilious and reluctant -functionaries dully regarding her in the distance. - -The lobby of the ladies’ entrance opened upon the larger space of the -office of the hotel, and here in a delicate haze of cigar smoke a number -of men were standing in groups about the tessellated marble floor, or -seated in the big armchairs placed at the base of the tall pillars. As -fixing her eyes on the clerk behind the desk she placed her suitcase on -the floor and started forward, he jangled a sharp summons on a hand -bell, and a bell-boy detached himself from the coterie that had been -nonchalantly regarding her, and loungingly advanced. - -“Will you take that card to Mr. Randal Ducie?” she said, controlling her -voice with difficulty. - -“Ain’t hyar,” airily returned the darkey. He was about to turn away from -this plainly dressed woman, who had no claim on any eagerness of service -when his eyes chanced to fall on a token of quality above her seeming -station. He suddenly noted the jeweled card case as she returned the -card to it, and the gold mesh bag, and he vouchsafed pleasantly: - -“I noticed myse’f the announcement in the evenin’ paper, but it is his -brudder stoppin’ hyar.” - -That moment her eyes fell upon Adrian Ducie standing in one of the -groups of men smoking in the office. Her impulse was like that of a -drowning creature clutching at a straw. Without an instant of -hesitation, without even a vague intention of appropriately employing -the intermediary services of the limp bell-boy, with a wild, hysteric -fear that a moment’s waiting would lose her the opportunity, she dashed -into the midst of the office, and, speechless, and pallid, and -trembling, she seized Adrian by the arm. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Adrian Ducie looked in startled amazement down into her white, drawn -face with its hollow, appealing eyes, and quivering lips that could not -enunciate a word. He did not recognize her for one moment. Then his -expression hardened, and his gaze grew steady. With dextrous fingers he -took his hat from his head and his cigar from his lips with one hand, -for she held the other arm with a grip as of steel. The moony luster of -the electric lights shone down upon a scene as silent and as motionless -as if, Gorgon-like, her entrance had stricken it into stone; the groups -of men who had been smoking standing about the floor, the loungers in -the armchairs, the clerks behind the counter were for the moment as if -petrified, blankly staring. - -“What can I do for you?” Adrian asked courteously, and the calm, clear -tones of his voice pervaded the silence like the tones of a bell. - -In her keen sensitiveness she noted the absence of any form of greeting -or salutation. He would not call her name for the enlightenment of these -gazing strangers in this public place, in the scene she had made. Oh, -how could she have so demeaned herself, she wondered, as to need such -protection, such observance on his part of the delicacy she had -disregarded. She despised herself to have incurred the necessity, yet -with both her little gloved hands she clung to his arm with a convulsive -strength of grasp which he could not have shaken off without a struggle -that would have much edified the gazing crowd, all making their own -inferences as to the unknown significance of the scene. Such good -breeding as it individually possessed had begun to assert itself against -the shock and numbing effects of surprise, and there was the sound of -movement and the murmur of resumed conversation which induced Adrian -Ducie to hope that the one word she suddenly gasped had not been -overheard. - -“Randal,” she began in a broken voice, and the look in his eyes struck -her dumb. They held a spark of actual fire that scorched every delicate -sensibility within her. But it was like the ignition of a fuse--it set -the whole train of gunpowder into potentiality. With sudden intention he -looked over his shoulder and signaled to a gentleman at a little -distance, staring, too, but not in the least recognizing Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney. - -“We will go into the reception room and talk the matter over,” he said -decisively. “Colonel Kenwynton will give us the benefit of his advice.” - -Colonel Kenwynton had been trained in the school of maneuvers and -strategy. Off came his hat from his old white head, and with a resonant -“Certainly! Certainly!” he advanced on the other side of Paula, who -noticed that he followed Ducie’s example and did not speak her name. -“Good evening, good evening, madam, I trust I see you well!” was surely -salutation enough to satisfy the most exacting requirements of -etiquette. - -Scarcely able to move, yet never for one instant relaxing her hold on -Ducie’s arm, she suffered herself to be led, half supported, to the -reception room, where she sank into an armchair while Ducie stood -looking down at her. - -“Oh, Mr. Ducie,” she cried plangently, “I had hoped to find Randal -here--his arrival was in the paper. I am in such terrible trouble, and I -know my old friend would feel for me. Oh, he loved me once! I know he -would help me now!” - -“I will do whatever Randal could,” said Ducie. His voice was suave and -kind, but his face was stern, and doubtful, and inquiring. - -“Oh, you look so like him--you might have a heart like his. But you are -not like him. Oh, I have not another friend in the world!” - -Adrian thought she had not deserved to account Randal Ducie her friend. -But this was no occasion to make nice and formal distinctions. He only -said: - -“Randal is not in town. But if you will give me the opportunity to be of -use to you, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, I will do anything I can.” - -Both her auditors thought for a moment that she was insane when she -replied: - -“I want you to lend me ten dollars.” - -The two men exchanged a glance. Then Ducie heartily declared: - -“Why, that is very easily done. But may I ask, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, what -use you wish to make of it?” - -He was thinking the trifling sum was yet sufficient to work mischief if -she were under some temporary aberration. - -“I want to go to my aunt’s place in the uplands of Mississippi--my old -home! Oh, how I wish I had never left it!” - -She threw herself back in the chair and pressed her handkerchief to her -streaming eyes. “Mr. Ducie, I have fled from my husband’s house. He has -taken my child from me--spirited him away--and I don’t know where he is, -nor how he will be cared for. He is only three years old--oh, just a -little thing!” - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, you must control your voice,” said Ducie, -embarrassed and reluctant. “I hate to say it--but you will bring the -whole house about us.” - -Once launched on a recital of her woes she had acquired a capacity to -arrange her ideas, and was keenly noting the effect of her words. There -was no alacrity to produce the money she had requested as a loan, -corresponding to the prompt acquiescence of Adrian Ducie a moment or so -ago. She marveled in humble anxiety, not knowing that the two men -doubted her mental responsibility, and feared to trust her with money. - -Her griefs, once released, strained for expression, and she went on in a -meek, muffled tone that brought the tears to the old Colonel’s pitying -eyes--his heart had grown very soft with advancing years--but Adrian -Ducie held himself well in hand and regarded her with critical -dispassionateness. - -“My husband desires, for some reason which he does not explain, but -which I suspect, to get me out of the country.” - -Once more Colonel Kenwynton and Ducie exchanged a covert glance of -comment. - -“He has arranged an extensive European and Oriental tour for me--without -my child--leaving my child for a year at least. Why, Colonel Kenwynton, -tell me what would all the glories of foreign capitals and all the -associations of Palestine count for with me when the one little face -that I care to see is far away, and the one little voice I cannot hear!” - -“Oh, my dear madam”--the Colonel had a frog in his throat--“surely Mr. -Floyd-Rosney would not insist. You must be mistaken!” - -“Oh, it is all arranged--my passage taken; my letter of credit ready; my -party--such a gay party--made up and prepared to start to-morrow, the -Hardingtons----” - -The Colonel’s face bore a sudden look of conviction. - -“I recollect now--it had slipped my memory--Mr. Charles Hardington was -telling me this evening of the tour his family have in contemplation, -and he mentioned that they were to have the great pleasure of your -company, starting to-morrow.” - -“Oh, but I will not go! I will not!” cried Paula, springing from her -chair and frantically clasping her hands. “I will not go without my -child! If you will not help me I will hide in the streets--but he could -find me and--as I have not one friend--he could lock me up as insane!” -She turned her wild eyes from one to the other. Then she broke into a -jeering laugh. “It would be very easy in this day to prove a woman -insane who does not prefer the tawdry follies and frivolities of gadding -and staring through Europe with a party of fashionable empty-pates to -the care and companionship of her only child. But I will not! I will not -be shipped out of the country!” - -Adrian Ducie’s face had changed. He believed that Floyd-Rosney was -capable of any domestic tyranny, but however he moved the -responsibility involved in her appeal was great. He could not consign -her to whatever fate might menace her. Still, he dared not trust her -with money. She might buy poison, she might buy a pistol. - -“Colonel, we must do something,” he declared. Then he turned to her. -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he said, “will you permit us, instead of handing -you the small amount you mentioned, to buy your ticket for your aunt’s -home and see you aboard the train?” - -In one moment her face was radiant. - -“Oh, if you only would! If you only would! I should bless and thank you -to the end of my days!” - -Adrian Ducie, with a clearing brow, crossed the room and touched the -bell. The summons was answered so immediately as to suggest the -prompting of a lurking curiosity. - -“Time-table,” said Ducie, and when it was brought he rid himself of the -officious bell-boy by commanding: “Taxi, at the ladies’ entrance.” - -“We must be starting at once,” he said to Paula. “We have barely time to -catch the train. Bring the lady’s suitcase,” to the returning servant; -and to the veteran: “Come, Colonel, you will kindly accompany us.” - -Then they took their way out into the night. - -Paula felt as if she trod on air. It had been so long since she had done -aught of her own initiative, so little liberty had she possessed, even -in trifles, that it gave her a sense of power to be able to carry any -plan of her own device into successful execution. She was suddenly -hopeful, calm, confident of her judgment, and restored to her normal -aspect and manner. As they stood for a moment on the sidewalk, while -the cab came chugging to the curb, she looked as with the eyes of a -restored vitality upon the familiar surroundings--the electric street -lights, the brilliant, equidistant points far down the perspective, the -fantastic illuminated advertisements, the tall canyon of the buildings, -the obstructive passing of a clanging, whirring street car, and then she -was handed into the vehicle by Adrian Ducie. The next moment the door -banged, and she was shut in with the two who she felt were so -judiciously befriending her. The taxicab backed out into the street and -was off for Union Station at a speed as rapid as a liberal construction -of the law would allow. - -There was no word said, and for that she was grateful. Her eyes stung as -if blistered by the bitter tears she had shed, but not for one moment -would she let the restful lids fall, lest the face of the man before her -vanish in the awakening from this dream of rescue. She watched the -fluctuations of light on Ducie’s countenance as the arc lamp at every -street intersection illuminated it, for she found a source of -refreshment in its singular likeness to the one friend, she told -herself, she had in the world. Adrian would not have lent himself as he -had done to her aid, she felt sure, were he not Randal’s brother. She -had been vaguely sensible of a reluctance that was to her inexplicable, -of a reserve in both the men before her, that seemed to her inimical to -her interest. She would venture no word to jar the accord they had -attained. - -When the taxicab drew up at the Union Station the glare of lights, the -stir of the place enthused her. She was here at last, on her way, -success almost attained. She did not share Ducie’s sudden fever of -anxiety in noting the great outpouring of smoke from the shed where the -train stood almost ready to start, the resonance of its bell and the -clamors of the exhaust steam of the engine already beginning to jar the -air. He ran swiftly up the stair to the ticket office, leaving her with -Colonel Kenwynton, and was back almost immediately, taking her -protectively by the arm as he urged her along into the great shed. At -the gate she was surprised to see that he presented three tickets, but -he voluntarily explained, not treating her as an unreasoning child, as -was Floyd-Rosney’s habit, that he thought it best that he and the -Colonel should accompany her to the first station, to see her fairly -clear of the city. He was saying this as they walked swiftly down -between the many rows of rails in the great shed where a number of cars -were standing, and the train which she was to take was beginning to move -slowly forward. - -Her heart sank as she marked its progress, but Ducie lifted his arm and -signed eagerly to the conductor just mounting the front step of the -Pullman. The train slowed down a bit; the stool was placed by the alert -porter, but the step passed before she could put her foot upon it. Ducie -caught her up and swung her to the next platform as it glided by, and -the two men clambered aboard as the cars went on. - -They were laughing and elated as they conveyed her into its shelter. -Then a deep shade settled on the face of the Colonel. - -“Why, my dear madam, you have no luncheon!” He regarded the suitcase -with reprobation, as affording no opportunities of refreshment, save of -the toilette. - -“But, Colonel, I don’t lunch throughout the night,” she returned, with a -smile. “I shall be glad to sleep,” she added plaintively. - -The Colonel looked disconsolate for a moment. Then he took a handsome -little flask from his pocket. “With my best compliments,” he said. - -“But I don’t drink brandy, either,” she declared, strangely flattered, -“and I have no pistol pocket.” - -“Tuck it in your suitcase,” he insisted seriously. “Something might -happen. You might--might--see fit to faint, you know.” - -“Oh, no, I never faint,” she protested. “If I haven’t fainted so far I -shall hold my own the rest of the way.” - -As they sat in the section which Ducie had reserved for her the Colonel -eyed him enigmatically, as if referring something for his approval. Then -he said bluffly: - -“I am sorry I haven’t the ten dollars which you did us the honor to wish -to borrow. I have nothing less than a twenty, that you can get changed -by the conductor and return to me at your good pleasure. I’m getting -rich, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he laughed gaily, at the incongruity of the -jest. “And I never carry anything but large bills.” - -He took the little empty mesh bag from her hand and slipped the money in -it, despite her protest that she had now no need of it. - -“It is never prudent to travel without an emergency fund,” he opined -sagaciously. “My affairs are managed by Hugh Treherne now, for a share -of the proceeds. He did not want any compensation at all, but I -insisted on it. Wonderful head for detail he has, Ducie. I’d go to the -asylum and stay there a term or two if it would educate me to make every -edge cut as he can.” - -When they had alighted on the platform of the first station and stood -lifting their hats, as her pale face looked out of the window while the -train glided on, Colonel Kenwynton spoke his mind. - -“She is as sane as I am, and a fine, well-bred woman. She has married a -brute of a husband, and if I were not such an excellent Christian, -Ducie, I don’t know what I wouldn’t wish might happen to him.” - -Ducie said nothing. Floyd-Rosney was a distasteful subject that he was -averse to discuss. They took their places in the electric street car -which would whisk them back to town speedily, and, as the train slowly -backed on the switch, she saw them through the window, as yet the sole -occupants on the return run. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -If Floyd-Rosney’s temper were less imperious, if he had had less -confidence in the dictates of his will, which he misconstrued as his -matured judgment, he could not have so signally disregarded the feelings -of others; if only in obedience to the dictates of policy, he could not -have been so oblivious of the possibility of adverse action, -successfully exploited. - -Maddened by his wife’s revolt against his plans, futile though he deemed -it, he would not await her return from the nursery whither she had -hurried to verify his words. He burned with rage under the lash of her -fiery denunciation--“Brute!--Fiend!” How dared she! He wondered that he -had not beaten her with his clenched fists! He had some fear of being -betrayed into violence, some doubt of his own self-restraint that -induced him to rush forth into the street and evade her frenzied -jeremiad when she found the child was indeed gone. - -What a fool of a woman was this, he was arguing before the banging of -the front door behind him had ceased to resound along the street. What -other one would turn down such a beautiful opportunity! As to leaving -the child--why, it would have been to any except the perverse vixen he -had married one of the special advantages of the outing--to be free for -a time of domestic cares, of maternal duties. Had he not over and over -heard women of her station congratulate themselves on a “vacation”--the -children loaded off on somebody, Heaven knows whom, or where, a matter -of minor importance. It was absolutely fantastic, the idea of dragging a -child of Edward’s age around Europe and the Orient for a year’s travel. -The very care of him, the necessary solicitude involved at every move, -would destroy all possibility of pleasure. The mere item of infantile -disorders was enough in itself to nullify the prospect. And he might die -of some of these maladies in a foreign country, deprived of his father’s -supervision and experience in the ways of the world. - -Floyd-Rosney’s contention in the matter seemed to him eminently right -and rational. It was desirable that she should not testify in the suit, -he could not leave at this crisis, and she could not well take the child -with her. He would not risk his son and heir to the emergencies, the -vicissitudes of a year of foreign travel under the guidance merely of an -inexperienced and careless woman. Paula herself was like a child. He had -kept her so. Everything had been done for her. In any unforeseen, -disastrous chance she would be utterly helpless to take judicious action -and to protect the child from injury. - -Floyd-Rosney was not more willing to be separated from the boy than the -mother herself. He had, indeed, no unselfish love for the child, but his -son’s beauty and promise flattered his vanity; the boy would be a credit -to his name. His prospects were so brilliant that in twenty years there -would be no young man in the Mississippi Valley who could vie with him -in fortune and position. Floyd-Rosney had gloated on the future of his -son. He was glad, he often said, that he was himself a young man, for he -would be but in the prime of life when Edward would come to his -majority. No dependent station would be his--to eat from his father’s -hand like a fawning pet. With an altruistic consideration, -uncharacteristic of him, the father had made already certain investments -in his son’s name, and these, though limited in character, by a lucky -stroke had doubled again and again, till he was wont to say proudly that -his son was the only capitalist he knew who had an absolutely safe -investment paying twenty per cent. He had a sort of respect for the boy, -as representing much money and many inchoate values. His infancy must be -carefully tended, his education liberal and sedulously supervised, and -when he should go into the world, representing his father’s name and -fortune, he should be worthy of both. Turn him over to Paula, in his -tender callowness, to be dragged about from post to pillar for her -behoof--he would not endure the idea. - -As the cool air chilled his temper and the swift walk and change of -scene gave the current of his thoughts a new trend he began to be more -tolerant of her attitude in the matter. The truth was, he said to -himself, they each loved the child too dearly, were too solicitous for -his well being, to be willing to be separated from him, and, but for the -peculiar circumstances of this lawsuit, he would never have proposed it. -It was, however, necessary, absolutely necessary, and he would take -measures to induce Paula to depart on this delightful journey without -making public her disinclination. He had taken her, perhaps, too -abruptly by surprise. She was overcome with frenzy to discover that the -child was actually gone!--he should overlook her hasty words--though to -his temperament this was impossible, and he knew it; they were burned -indelibly into his consciousness. Never before, in all his pompous, -prosperous life had he been so addressed. But he would make an -effort--one more effort to persuade her; with a resolute fling he turned -to retrace his way, coming into the broad and splendid avenue on which -his palatial home fronted, he walked up the street as she was walking -down the opposite side. - -He let himself in with his latch-key, closing the door softly behind -him. The great hall and the lighted rooms with their rich furnishings, -glimpsed through the open doors, looked strangely desolate. For one -moment silence--absolute, intense. Then a grotesque, unbecoming -intrusion on the ornate elegance--a burst of distant, uncultured -laughter from below stairs, and a clatter of dishes. Floyd-Rosney was -something of an epicure, and it was a good dinner that went down -untouched. The master of the house frowned heavily. He lifted his head, -minded to ring a bell and administer reproof. Then he reflected that it -well accorded with his interests that he should be supposed to be out of -the house while the interview with his wife was in progress. She had a -way of late of raising her voice in a keen protest that advertised -domestic discordances to all within earshot. “Let the servants carouse -and gorge their dinner; I’ll settle them afterward!” he said to himself -grimly, as he noiselessly ascended the stairs. - -Once more silence--he could not hear even his own footfall. He had a -vague sense of solitude, of uninhabited purlieus. With a sudden rush of -haste he pushed open the door of the nursery, flaring with lights, but -vacant, and strode through to his wife’s room, to find it vacant, too. -He stood for a moment, mystified, anger in his eyes, but dismay, fear, -doubt clutching at his heart. What did this mean? He went hastily from -one to another of the suite of luxurious rooms devoted to her especial -use, but in none save one was any token of her recent presence. He stood -staring at the disarray. There was the gown of lavender gauze that she -had donned for the opera, lying on a chair, while the silk slip that it -had covered lay huddled on the floor. The slippers, hastily thrust off, -tripped his unwary step as he advanced into the room. On the dressing -table, glittering with a hundred articles of toilet luxury, lay the two -strings of costly pearls “where anyone might have stolen them”; he -mechanically reproved her lack of precaution. He strove to reassure -himself, to contend against a surging sense of calamity. What did this -signify? Only that the festivity of the evening relinquished she had -laid aside her gala attire. Her absence--it was early--she might have -gone out with some visitor; she might have cared to make some special -call, so seldom did they have an evening unoccupied. Despite the -incongruity of the idea with the recollection of her pale, drawn, -agonized face, the frenzy of her grief and rage, he took down the -receiver of the telephone and called up Hildegarde Dean. The moment the -connection was completed he regretted his folly. Over the wire came the -vibrations of a string-orchestra, and he recalled having noticed in the -society columns of the papers that Miss Dean was entertaining with a -dinner dance to compliment a former schoolmate. He had lost his poise -sufficiently, nevertheless, to make the query, “Is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney -there?” and had the satisfaction to be answered by the butler, in the -pomp and pride of the occasion: “No, sah. Dis entertainment is -exclusively for unmarried people.” - -“The devil it is!” Floyd-Rosney exclaimed, after, however, cautiously -releasing the receiver. - -His fuming humor was heightened by this _contretemps_, although a great -and growing dismay was vaguely shadowed in his eyes, like a thought in -the back of the mind, so to speak, too unaccustomed, too preposterous, -to find ready expression. He endeavored to calm himself, although he -lost no time in prosecuting his investigations. With a hasty hand he -touched the electric bell for his wife’s maid and impatiently awaited -the response. To his surprise it was not prompt. He stood amidst his -incongruous surroundings of gowns, and jewels, and slippers, and laces, -and revolving panels of mirrors, frowning heavily. How did it chance -that her service should be so dilatory? He placed his forefinger on the -button and held it there, and the jangling was still resounding below -stairs when the door slowly opened and the maid, with an air of -affronted inquiry, presented herself. Her face changed abruptly as she -perceived the master of the house, albeit it was like pulling a cloak of -bland superserviceableness over her lineaments of impudent protest. - -“What do you mean by being so slow to answer this bell?” he thundered, -his angry eyes contemptuously regarding her. - -“I came as soon as I heard it, sir. I think there must be something -wrong with the annunciator.” - -“What do you mean by leaving your mistress’s gowns lying around, and her -room in this disorder?” - -The girl’s beady eyes traveled in bewilderment from one article to -another of the turmoil of toilet accessories scattered about the -apartment. She had looked for a moment as if she would fire up at the -phrase “your mistress,” and she said with a slight emphasis on the -title: - -“I didn’t know that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had changed.” - -“Where has she gone?” - -Once more a dull and genuine bewilderment on the maid’s face. - -“I am sure, sir, I don’t know--she didn’t ring for me.” - -“I reckon you didn’t answer the bell,” Floyd-Rosney sneered. “She -couldn’t wait forever. She hasn’t my patience.” - -The girl glowered at his back, but, mindful of the mirrors, forbore the -grimace so grateful in moments of disaffection to her type. - -Floyd-Rosney was speaking through the house telephone. - -“Have the limousine at the door--yes--immediately.” - -The ready response of the chauffeur came over the wire. - -“Now see what gown she wore, so that I can guess where to send for her. -A nice business this is--that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney can’t get hold of her -maid to change her dress and leave a message. I don’t doubt there is a -note somewhere, if I could find it.” - -He affected to toss over the _mélange_ on the dressing-table. He even -looked at the evening paper lying on the foot-rest, which she had read -while her hair was being dressed for the opera. - -As he did so an item of personal mention caught his attention. Mr. -Randal Ducie was in the city, doubtless in connection with the gathering -of planters to consult with the Levee Commission in regard to river -protection. A meeting would be held this evening at the Adelantado -Hotel. - -This was the most natural thing in the world. Half the planters in the -river bottom were in active coöperation seeking to influence the Levee -Commission, or the State Legislature, or the Federal Government to take -some adequate measures to prevent the inundation of their cotton lands -by a general overflow of the great Mississippi River, according to the -several prepossessions relative to the proper plans, and means, and -agency to that end. - -But as he read the haphazard words of the paragraph the blood flared -fiercely in Floyd-Rosney’s face; a fire glowed in his eyes, hot and -furious; his hand was trembling; his breath came quick. And he was well -nigh helpless even to conjecture if his wife’s absence had aught of -connection with this ill-starred appearance of the lover of her -girlhood. He--Edward Floyd-Rosney, baffled, hoodwinked, set at naught! -Could this thing be! - -For one moment, for one brief moment, he upbraided himself. But for his -tyranny in sending off the child without her consent, without even -consulting her, but for his determination that, willing or no, she -should expatriate herself for a year, and, with neither husband nor -child, tour a foreign country in company of his selection they might -already be seated in their box at the opera, rapt by the concord of -sweet sounds in the midst of the most elegant and refined presentment of -their world, at peace with each other and in no danger of damaging and -humiliating revelations of domestic discord. - -He heard the puffing of the limousine at the curb below the windows, and -he turned to the maid. - -“I can find no scrape of a pen--no note here. Do you know what gown she -wore?” - -The girl had made a terrifying discovery. As she fingered the skirts -hanging in the wardrobe, for she had thought first of the demi-toilette -of usual evening wear, she was reflecting on the gossip below stairs, -where it was believed that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had not known of the -departure of her little son till he was out of the house, and where it -was surmised she would be all “tore up” when she should discover his -absence--so much she made of the boy. Aunt Dorothy had been given -permission to spend the night with her granddaughter who lived on the -opposite side of the river, a favorite excursion with the ancient -colored retainer. She was not popular with the coterie below stairs, -and, being prone to report what went amiss, would certainly have -notified her young mistress if any attempt had been made to spirit away -the child while in her charge. The maid had found naught missing from -among the dresses most likely to be worn on any ordinary occasion in the -evening, and she was turning away reluctantly to examine the boxes in -the closet where were stored those gowns of grander pretension, -designed for functions of special note. She had a discontented frown on -her face, for they were enveloped, piece by piece, in many layers of -tissue paper; she could not ascertain what was there and what was gone, -from the wrappers, save by actual investigation; among them were sachets -of delicate perfumes that must not be mixed; they had trains and -draperies difficult to fold, and berthas and sashes that must be laid in -the same creases as before--a job requiring hours of work, and useless, -for no gown of this sort could have been worn without assistance in -dressing, and for an occasion long heralded. As she closed the wardrobe -with a pettish jerk it started open the other door, and she paused with -an aghast look on her face. She was afraid of Mr. Floyd-Rosney when he -was angry. - -“She has worn her coat-suit of taupe broadcloth,” she said in a bated -voice, and with a wincing, deprecatory glance at him, “and the hat to -match.” - -Floyd-Rosney received this information in silence. Then--“Why do you -look like that, you fool?” he thundered. - -“’C--c--cause,” stuttered the girl, “she has taken her suit-case--it was -always kept on the shelf here, packed with fresh lingerie, so she might -be ready for them quick little auto trips you like to go on so often, -and her walking boots is gone”--holding up a pair of boot-trees,--“and,” -opening a glove box, “the suède taupe gloves is gone.” Her courage -asserted itself; her temper flared up. “And it seems to me, Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, that if there’s any fool here, ’taint me!” - -“You will be paid your wages to-morrow,” foamed Floyd-Rosney, dashing -from the room. “Clear out of the house.” - -“Just as well,” the girl said to the gaping servants downstairs, who -remonstrated with her for her sharp tongue, reproaching her with -throwing away a good place, liberal wages and liberal fare. “Just as -well. If there’s to be no lady there’s no use for a lady’s maid.” - -“To the Union Station,” Floyd-Rosney hissed forth as he flung himself -into the limousine. In the transit thither he took counsel within -himself. Where could Paula be going?--Only on some fantastic quest for -her child. He ran over, in his mind, any hint that he might have let -drop as to the locality where he had bestowed him, and she, putting two -and two together, had fancied she had discovered the place. If, by any -coincidence, she had hit upon the boy’s domicile, he told himself, he -would make no protest; he would let her have her way; he would give the -world for all to be between them as it was this afternoon. As to the -lawsuit--let come what might! If only he could intercept her in this mad -enterprise; if he could reach her before she took the train! He called -through the speaking tube to the chauffeur to go faster. - -“Never mind the speed limit--do all you know how!” - -Presently the great vehicle slowed up, panting and sizzling as if winded -in the race. He sprang out before it had ceased to move and rushed up -the stairs, patrolling the various apartments, the ladies’ waiting room, -the refreshment room--he remembered that she could have had no -dinner--the general ante-room, with its crowd of the traveling public. -He was a notable figure, with his splendid appearance, his fur-lined -overcoat, his frowning, intent brow, his long, swift stride. - -All in vain--she was not there. The clamor of the train that was making -ready for departure struck his absorbed attention. The place was full of -the odor of the bituminous smoke from the locomotive; he heard the -panting of the steam exhaust. - -Floyd-Rosney rushed down the stairs and into the great shed which -seemed, with its high vaulted roof, clouded with smoke dull and dim, -despite the glare here and there of electric lights. He was stopped in -the crowd at the gate. He had no ticket--money could not buy it here. He -explained hastily that he wished to see a friend off. The regulations -were stringent, the functionary obdurate; the crowd streaming through -the gate disposed to stare, and a burly policeman, lounging about, -regarded the insistent swell with an inimical glare. For there are those -dressed like swells that are far from that puffed-up estate. - -The suggestion calmed Floyd-Rosney for the nonce. It needed but this, he -felt, to complete his folly--to involve himself in a futile fracas with -a gateman and a cop. Moreover, he had no justification in fancying that -Paula was likely to take a train--in fact, and he smiled grimly, she -would not have the cash to buy a ticket. The whole theory that she might -quit the city was a baseless fabrication of his fears, of the disorder -of his ideas induced by the vexatious and unexpected _contretemps_. -Doubtless, by this time she had returned from the stroll or the call, or -whatever device she had adopted to quiet her spirit and divert her mind, -he argued--he himself had found refreshment in a brisk walk in the -night air--and was now sitting before the fire at home, awaiting his -coming, possibly willing to discuss the matter in a more amicable frame -of mind. - -He was about to turn aside when suddenly down the line of rails within -the shed and between the train standing still and the one beginning to -move, the metallic clangor of its bell insistently jarring the air, he -saw the figure of Paula, visible in the glare of the headlight of the -locomotive beside her. Every detail was as distinct, as illuminated as -in the portrayal of a magic lantern--her taupe gown, her hat with a -plume of the same shade, her face flushed, laughing and eager. A man was -assisting her to mount the platform of the coach and in him Floyd-Rosney -was sure he recognized Randal Ducie, whose arrival in the city he had -noted in the evening paper. The whole maneuver of boarding the -train,--the placing of the stool by the porter, Paula’s failure to reach -from it to the step of the car, the swift muscular effort by which Ducie -seized her, swung her to the platform, and then sprang upon it -himself,--was all as plain to the frenzied man watching the vanishing -train from between the palings of the gate as if the scene had been -enacted within ten feet of him. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Paula reached her destination early the next morning. She had not slept -during the night and as soon as the light began to dawn she raised the -blind at her window and lay in her berth looking out drearily at the -face of the country, growing constantly more familiar, but yet dimly -descried and colorless as a scene in sepia, with the lagging night still -clinging to the earth. Belts of white vapor lay in every depression; the -forests along the horizon made a dark circumference for the whole; the -stars were wan and sad of aspect and faded from the sky, one by one, as -the eye dwelt upon them. The characteristic features of the swamp region -had vanished. In many places the land was deeply gullied, showing as the -day waxed a richly tinted red clay that made the somber landscape glow. -Everywhere were the hedges of the evergreen Cherokee rose, defining the -borders of fields, often untrimmed and encroaching in a great green -billow on spaces unmeet for a mere boundary mark. The trees were huge; -gigantic oaks and the spreading black-gum; and she was ready, her hat -on, her wrap and furs adjusted, looking out eagerly at these dense bosky -growths when the red wintry sun began to cast long shafts of quiet dull -sheen adown their aisles, showing the white rime on the rough bark of -the boughs, or among the russet leaves, still persistently clinging. -More than once the conductor came in to consult her as to the precise -point of stoppage, and, when a long warning whistle set the echoes astir -in the quiet matutinal atmosphere and the train began to slow down, she -was alertly on her feet. - -“You are sure of the place, ma’am?” said the conductor, helping her -descend the step; he was new to the road, and there seemed to him -nothing here but woods. - -She reassured him as she lightly ran down the steep incline, and then -she stood for a moment, mechanically watching the train, epitome of the -world, sweeping away and leaving her here, the dense forest before her, -the smoke flaunting backward, the sun emblazoning its convolutions, the -wondering faces of the passengers at the windows. - -She remembered the time when this wonder would have nettled her. She had -wanted a station platform built here, but her uncle had utilitarian -theories, and, somehow, “never got round to it,” as he was wont to -phrase it. So seldom, indeed, they boarded the train, so seldom it -brought a visitor, that it seemed to him the least and last needed -appurtenance of the plantation. She wondered if the stoppage had been -not noted at the house. The woods were silent, as with mystery, as she -took her way through “the grove.” The frost lay white on the grass, and -there was even a glint of ice in the water lurking in the ruts of a -wagon wheel in the road. She walked on these frozen edges after a -fashion learned long ago to keep her feet dainty when not so expensively -shod as now. Suddenly she heard the deep baying of a hound. - -“Oh, old Hero!” she exclaimed pettishly. “He will tell them all I have -come!” - -For she had wished to slip in unobserved. The humiliation of her return -in this wise seemed less when the kindly old roof should be above her -head. But the dog met her, fierce and furious, at the fence of the door -yard--how she had hated that fence; she had wanted the grove and yard -thrown together like some fine park. As the old retainer recognized her -the complication of his barks which he could not forego, in view of her -capacity as stranger, with his wheezes and whines of ecstasy, as -greeting to an old friend, while he leaped and gamboled about her, -brought her uncle and aunt, every chick and child, the servants from the -outhouses, and all the dogs on the place to make cheerful acclaim of -welcome. - -So long had it been since she had heard this hearty, genuine note of -disinterested affection that it came like balm to her lacerated heart, -and suddenly there seemed no more need for pride, for dissimulation, for -self-restraint. She broke down and burst into a flood of tears, the -group lachrymose in sympathy and wiping their eyes. - -She had planned throughout the night how best and when to tell her -story, but it was disclosed without preface or method, before she had -been in the house ten minutes, her aunt cautiously closing the door of -the sitting-room the instant Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s name was mentioned and -her uncle looking very grave. - -“You were quite right in coming at once to us, my dear,” he said kindly. -“Be sure you shall not be shipped out of the country.” - -He was a tall, heavy man, somewhat spare and angular, and his large -well-formed features expressed both shrewdness and kindness. He had -abundant grizzled hair and his keen gray eyes were deeply set under -thick dark eyebrows. He was a fair-minded man one could see at a glance, -a thoroughly reliable man in every relation of life, a gentleman of the -old school. - -“Some arrangement will surely be made about the baby; I shall love to -see the little fellow again. Set your heart at rest. I will communicate -at once with Mr. Floyd-Rosney, as your nearest relative, standing in -_loco parentis_.” - -“And give me some breakfast,” said Paula, lapsing into the old childish -whine of a spoiled household pet. “I have had nothing to eat since -yesterday at lunch.” - -The husband and wife exchanged a glance over her head. - -“And before I forget it----” she raised herself to an upright position -and took from her bag the twenty dollar bill. “Please write and return -this to old Colonel Kenwynton. I should be ashamed to sign my name to -such a letter. He _would_ lend it to me--though I didn’t need it after -he and Adrian Ducie--Randal Ducie’s brother--had lent me the money to -buy my ticket.” - -Mrs. Majoribanks was a stern-faced woman with rigid ideas of the -acceptable in conduct. Her dark hair, definitely streaked with gray, -banded smoothly along her high forehead, her serious, compelling, gray -eyes, the extreme neatness and accuracy of adjustment of her dress, her -precise method of enunciation, intimated an uncompromising personality, -possessing high ideals religiously followed,--somewhat narrow of view, -perhaps, and severe of judgment, but unfalteringly, immovably upright. - -“But, Paula, why didn’t you buy your own ticket with your own money? To -allow another to buy it was inappropriate.” - -“I had no money,” Paula explained humbly. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney lets me buy -anything I want on account, but he never gives me any money to spend as -I like.” Once more the husband and wife looked significantly at each -other. All that they possessed was his, but the privileges of ownership -were exercised in common, the expenditures a matter of mutual confidence -and agreement, and it may be doubted if he ever took a step in business -affairs without consultation with her. - -The spare, sober decorum of the aspect of the house appealed to Paula in -her present state of mind, her taste for magnificence glutted, and she -remembered, with a sort of wonder, her intolerance of the stiff old -furniture of the sitting-room covered with hair-cloth; the crimson -brocade, well frayed, of the parlor glimpsed through the open door, with -the old-fashioned lambrequins at the windows and carefully mended lace -curtains, and the family portraits in oil on the walls; the linoleum on -the floor of the hall that had been there seeming indestructible since -she could remember; the barometer hanging over the long sofa; the -grandfather’s clock in the corner, still allotting the hours, however -lives might wax or wane; the dining-room, with the burly sideboard and -the peacock fly-brush, and the white-jacketed waiter, and the brisk -little darkey that ran in and out with the relays of hot buttered -waffles. It all seemed so sane, so simple, so safe. Here and there, -conspicuously placed, were gifts which she and Mr. Floyd-Rosney had -made, ostentatiously handsome. She thought them curiously out of accord -with the tone of the place, and, oddly enough, she felt ashamed of them. - -She asked herself how and why had such an obsession as had possessed her -ever come to her--the hankering for the empty life of show, and fashion, -and wealth. Had she not had every reasonable wish gratified, enjoyed -every advantage of a solid and careful education, had every social -opportunity in a circle, limited, certainly, but characterized by -refinement, and dignity, and seemliness, that was the gentility of long -traditions of gentlefolks--not pretty manners, picked up the day before -yesterday. She had come back to it now--her wings clipped, her feathers -drooping. - -She could not enter into the old home life as of yore--it seemed -strangely alien, though so familiar. She would look vaguely at her young -cousins, each altered and much more mature in the five years that had -passed since she was an inmate of the household--well grown, handsome, -intelligent boys they were, instead of the romping children she had -left. They spent the mornings with a tutor who came from the neighboring -town to read with them, and the eldest was much given to argument with -his father, insisting vivaciously on his theories of government, of -religion, of politics, of the proper method of construing certain Latin -verses; the two younger were absorbed in their dogs, their rabbits, -their games--the multitudinous little interests of people of their age, -so momentous to them. Always their world was home--she wondered what -the real world would seem to them when they should emerge into it, what -the theories of government, the phrasing of Latin verses, the home -absorptions would prove as preparation for life as she knew it. -Certainly they did not formulate it. She said to herself that a more -secluded existence could hardly be matched outside a monastery. She did -not believe any of the three had ever seen a game of football or -baseball; the life of cities, of travel, of association with their -fellows was as a sealed book to them. In their minds Ingleside was a -realm; their father was their comrade; their mother was the court of -last resort. - -But Paula’s absorbed thoughts refused all but the slightest speculation -upon the subject of their future and she could urge herself to only the -shadow of interest in her aunt’s pursuits and absorptions. Even the room -of her girlhood--she could not enter there, she could not sleep there, -for dreams--dreams--dreams! They might have there faculties of -visualization or unseen they could stab her unaware. Never again should -her spirit encounter these immaterial essences. She asked her aunt to -give her her grandmother’s room. It was small comfort in laying her head -on that pillow which had never known a selfish thought, an unsanctified -desire, to feel the difference, the distance. But here all good -influences abode, and she was consoled in a sort for the unappreciated -affliction of that saintly death, to whisper into the downy depth--“I -have come back--scourged--scourged!” - -How she remembered that that good grandmother had so grievously -deprecated the course toward Randal Ducie; that she had declared the -greatest of all disasters is a marriage without love, and that a promise -is a promise; many times she shook her head, and shed some shy, shy -tears over Randal’s dismissal, though Paula wrote the letter in a frenzy -of careless energy, without erasing a word or troubling to take a copy. - -She would note with a sort of apologetic affection the details of this -familiar room that she had early learned to stigmatize as old-fashioned, -and in her schoolgirl phrase “tacky”--the chintz curtains with their big -flowers; the hair-cloth covered rocking chairs; the four-poster mahogany -bedstead with its heavily corniced tester, the red cloth goffered to the -center to focus in a big gilt star; the mahogany bureau, so tall that -the mirror made good headway to the ceiling; the floriated Brussels -carpet so antique of pattern that she used to say she believed it was -manufactured before the flood and so staunch of web that it was destined -to last till doomsday; the little work-table, with its drawers still -filled with spools, and buttons, and reels of embroidery silk, and balls -of wool for knitting and crochet--doubtless some piece of her -grandmother’s beautiful handiwork still lay where her busy fingers had -placed it, with the needle yet in the stitch. - -The rose curtained window gave on no smiling scene--it was one of the -few outlooks from the house that was not of bosky presentment. But the -grove had ceased ere these precincts were reached and the view was of a -dull bit of pasture and beyond a dreary stretch of cornfields, in which -the stalks still stood, stripped of the ears, pallid with frost and -writhen into fantastic postures by wind and weather. It was but a -dreary landscape, trembling under slanting lines of rain, and later of -sleet, for the halcyon weather had vanished at last, and winter had come -in earnest. A mist hung much of the time between the earth and a leaden -sky, and the woods that lay along the low horizon were barely glimpsed -as a dull, indistinct smudge. - -Nothing, she said to herself, could ever rehabilitate the universe for -her. This crisis was so comprehensive, so significant. She clenched her -hands when she reviewed the past few years with a nervous fury so -intense that the nails marked the palms. Her memories and her -self-reproach seared her consciousness like hot iron. Whelmed in the -luxury of wealth, proud of her preëminence of station, sharing as far as -might be her husband’s domineering assumptions toward others, cravenly -submitting when his humor required her, too, to crook the knee, she had -subverted her every opinion, her inmost convictions, to theories of life -she would once have despised, to estimate as of paramount value the -things she had been taught to hold as dross. She had cast aside all her -standards of intrinsic worth. Sometimes she would spring from sleep and -walk the floor, the red glow of the embers on the wall, the shadows -glooming about her, the events of those tumultuous years, in the fierce -white light of actuality rather than the glimpses of memories, deploying -before her. Resist his influence----? She had flattered, she had -surrounded him with an atmosphere of adulation. She had loved so much -his possessions and her realized ambitions that she had imbibed the -theory that she had loved him. True, she had admired him--his impressive -presence, his domineering habit of mind, his expensive culture, his -discrimination in matters of art and music, the cringing attitude toward -him of his employees, his humble friends, and now and then a man on his -own plane, unable to sustain his individuality before that coercive -influence. Bring tribute--bring tribute! In every relation of life that -fiat went forth. And she had permitted herself to believe that her -craven acquiescence in this demand was--love! And, doubtless, the -tyrant, unabashed by the glaring improbability, had believed it too. - -The phases of fashionable life are never so minimized as in the presence -of some great and grave actuality of human experience--she looked back -upon them now with a disgusted wonder and an averse contempt. The world -for which she had longed in her quiet rural home, which had opened its -doors so unexpectedly, so beatifically, to her trembling entrance, -seemed to her now full of dull and commonplace people, all eagerly -pursuing some sordid scheme of advancement, regardful of their fellows -only to envy values which they do not share, to cringe before -consequence and station which only belittle them, to pull down, if -occasion permit, those who are on the up-grade, to alternately court and -decry their superiors, and to revile and baffle the humble. And for a -share in this world, this outlook, this atmosphere, she had bartered her -happiness, had destroyed her identity, as nearly as she might, had -achieved the lot of a lifelong victim to intolerable tyranny. - -In all her beclouded spiritual sky there had glowed the radiance of one -single star, one pure and genuine emotion, her maternal love, bought by -no price, asking naught, giving in an ecstasy of self-abnegation that -made sacrifice a luxury and suffering a joy. - -And now this light of her life was obscured by dense clouds, and who -could say how and when it would emerge. - -The change of place, the sense of escape acted in some sort as a -respite, but there was possible no surcease of anguished solicitude. Her -uncle began almost immediately the concoction of a letter to Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, which should be a triumph of epistolary art to accomplish -its ends. He desired to remonstrate against the enforced expatriation of -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, to insist on the propriety of restoring her son to -her care, and to condemn the cruelty of the separation, all expressed in -such soft choice locutions as to give no offense to the gusty temper of -her husband and to make no reflections on the justice of his conduct. He -wished to take a tone of authority and seniority as being the nearest -and eldest relative of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and thus entitled to offer his -views and advice in her behalf, yet to avoid seeming intrusive and -guilty of interference between husband and wife. - -As he wrote at his desk in the sitting-room, his intent grizzled head -bent over the repeated drafts of this effort, Paula, passing in the hall -without, catching a glimpse of his occupation, had space in her -multifarious anguish for a sense of deep humiliation that this should be -going forward in her interest. How she had flaunted the achievement of -her great marriage in this her simple home, in the teeth of their -misgivings, their covert reservations, their deprecation of her -treatment of Randal Ducie. She had piqued herself on the fact that not -many girls so placed, so far from the madding crowd, could have made -such a ten-strike in the matrimonial game. Her standards were not -theirs; her life was regulated on a plane which did not conform to their -ideals, but as time went on they had ventured to hope for the best, and -when Geoffrey Majoribanks had been asked occasionally if his niece had -not made a very rich marriage he would add “and a very happy one.” This -he had believed, although in view of Floyd-Rosney’s imperious -temperament and the process of his wife’s evident subjugation, it must -seem that the wish had constrained his credulity. Now the illusion was -dispelled, the bubble had burst, and it devolved upon him to patch up -from its immaterial constituent elements some semblance of conjugal -reconciliation and the possibility of a degree of happiness in the -future. - -He was a ready scribe, as were most men of his day, and had a neat gift -of expression. But he called for help continually in this instance, now -from his wife, and throwing ceremony to the winds, in view of the -importance of the missive, once his hearty, resonant voice summoned the -party most in interest, Paula herself. - -“Our object is to get the child restored to your care and to compass a -cessation of this insistence that you shall go abroad,--not to win in an -argument. Now do you think this phrasing could offend Mr. Floyd-Rosney, -or wound his feelings?” - -Paula, standing tall, pale, listless, beside the desk, leaning on one -hand among the litter of discarded papers of the voluminous epistle, -looked down into his anxious, upturned face, beneath his tousled, -grizzled hair, pitying the limitations of his perceptions. - -“Any phrasing will offend Mr. Floyd-Rosney if he wishes to be offended,” -she replied languidly, “and he has no feelings to wound.” - -She went slowly out of the room, leaving him meditatively biting the -handle of his pen. - -The letter bade fair to become a permanent occupation. He worked at it -late at night and all the forenoon of the next day, and when, at the two -o’clock dinner, his wife suggested that he should take Paula out for a -drive about the country,--she would be interested in seeing how little -it had changed since she was a resident here--he shook his head doggedly -over the big turkey that he was deftly carving. - -“No,--no,” he said, “I must get back to that--that document. You and one -of the boys can take her to drive.” - -The “document” was duly finished at last and duly mailed. Then -expectation held the household to fever heat. The return mail brought -nothing; the next post was not more significant; nor the next; nor the -next. A breathless suspense supervened. - -One Monday morning Major Majoribanks came into the sitting-room with a -sheaf of newspapers in his trembling hand, a ghastly white face and eyes -of living fire. He could not speak; he could scarcely control his -muscles sufficiently to open a journal and point with a shaking finger -to a column with great headlines. He placed the newspaper in the hands -of his wife, who was alone in the room, then he went softly to the door, -closed it, and sank down in an armchair, gasping for breath. His wife, -too, turned pale as she read, but her hand was steady. - -Mr. Edward Floyd-Rosney, the paper recited, to the great amazement of -the city, had brought suit against his wife for divorce. The allegations -of the bill set forth that she had fled from her home with Randal Ducie, -who was named as co-respondent, and the husband made oath that in -seeking to intercept and reclaim her, following her to the station as -soon as he discovered her absence, he had witnessed her departure in -company with Randal Ducie just as the train moved out of the shed. - -Major Majoribanks presently hirpled, for he could scarcely walk, across -the room, and laid his finger on another column in a different portion -of the paper, and treating of milder sensations. - -“I didn’t need this to prove that--that--a base lie----” his stiff lips -enunciated with difficulty. - -This paragraph treated of the current cotton interests, giving extracts -from an address made by Randal Ducie in New Orleans at a banquet of an -association interested in levee protection, on the evening and also at -the hour when he was represented in Floyd-Rosney’s bill as fleeing with -his neighbor’s wife in a city five hundred miles distant. He had made -himself conspicuous as an advocate of certain methods of levee -protection, and his views were both ardently upheld and rancorously -contested even at the festive board. The occasion was thus less -harmonious than such meetings should be, and the local papers had much -“write-up” besides the menu and the toasts, in the views of various -planters and several engineer officers, guests of the occasion, lending -themselves to a spirited discussion of Randal Ducie’s recommendations. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Colonel Kenwynton, now at his home on his plantation on the bayou, also -gazed with starting eyes and dumfounded amazement at the excerpt from -the legal proceedings, within his own knowledge so palpably false. He -read it aloud under the kerosene lamp to Hugh Treherne on the other side -of the old-fashioned marble-topped center table. - -“What do you think of that, sir?” and the Colonel gave the newspaper a -resounding blow. - -Treherne smiled significantly. - -“I am impressed all the time, Colonel, with the insanity of the people -outside the asylum in comparison with the patients under treatment.” - -“Good God, sir,” cried the Colonel in great excitement, “this is a -shotgun business, and Floyd-Rosney is the man of all others to brazen it -out on a plea of the ‘unwritten law.’ He will shoot one or the other of -the Ducies on sight, and they are as much alike as two black-eyed -peas,--they really ought to wear wigs,--he is as likely to pot one as -the other. And the poor lady! My heart bleeds for her. I must clear this -matter up,” concluded the all-powerful. “I will send a communication to -the newspapers.” - -Now Colonel Kenwynton had, in his own opinion, the pen of a ready -writer. It was not his habit to mince phrases or to revise. He wrote a -swift, legible hand, for he was a relic of an age when gentlemen prided -themselves on an elegant penmanship, in the days when the typewriter was -not. He had no sort of fear of offending Floyd-Rosney, nor care for -wounding his feelings. He recited in great detail the facts of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney’s entrance into the Adelantado Hotel, her disclosure of her -husband’s desire that she should tour the Orient with the Hardingtons, -who had already acquainted the writer that she was to be of their party, -and her grief because of her separation from her child, who had been -secretly removed from her home as a preparation for her departure. Now -and then the Colonel cast his eyes upward for inspiration and waved his -pen at arm’s length. - -“Not too much hot shot, Colonel,” remonstrated Hugh Treherne, a little -uneasy at these demonstrations. - -“Attend to your own guns, sir,” retorted the Colonel. - -With no regard for the awkwardness of the incident, he stated that the -poor lady, although the wife of a millionaire, had not command of ten -dollars in the world with which to defray the expenses of her journey to -the home of her youth, and to her uncle who stood in the relation of a -father to her, for his advice and protection against being shipped out -of the country. - -“It is my firm belief,” and the Colonel liked the words so well he read -them aloud to his comrade, “that we do not live in Turkey, that the -honored wives of our Southland do not occupy the position of inmates of -a harem, and I could not regard Mrs. Floyd-Rosney as the favorite of a -sultan. Therefore it afforded Mr. Adrian Ducie and me great pleasure to -advance the money for her tickets to the home of her uncle, Major -Majoribanks, and to see her on the train.” He explained, at great -length, that the departure of the train was so imminent and immediate -that Adrian Ducie bought tickets to the first station for himself and -Colonel Kenwynton, in order that they might not be detained by any -question at the gate, and, at the moment of boarding the cars, Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, “hunting down the persecuted fugitive,” had mistaken -Adrian Ducie for his brother, Randal Ducie, who at this moment was in -New Orleans, making an address to the Mississippi River Association, -giving them the benefit of his very enlightened views, which the whole -country would do well to study and adopt, thereby saving many thousands -of dollars to the cotton planters of the jeopardized delta. - -Restraining himself with difficulty from pursuing this attractive -subject, Colonel Kenwynton explained that while Randal Ducie was an old -acquaintance of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s, Adrian Ducie was a stranger to her, -and had met her only on one previous occasion. The undersigned and -Adrian Ducie had accompanied the poor lady so far as the first station, -and taking farewell of her they had returned to town in the interurban -electric. He furthermore informed the public that in view of some -possible unforeseen emergency he had taken the liberty of pressing upon -this poor lady, absolutely unprovided with money for her necessities, a -twenty dollar bill, to be returned at her pleasure, and had since -received a letter from her uncle, inclosing that sum, and thanking him -for his consideration. At the home of this uncle--the home of her -girlhood--she was now domiciled with him and her aunt, who was formerly -the charming Miss Azalia Thornton, whom many elder members of society -would well remember. - -The Colonel was enjoying himself famously, and now and again Hugh -Treherne looked anxiously over the top of the newspaper at him as he -tossed the multiplying pages across his left hand, and took a fresh -sheet. - -The Colonel, with keen gusto, then entered on the subject of -Floyd-Rosney, whom he handled without gloves. There ought to be some -adequate criminal procedure, he argued, for a man who had offered such -an indignity to the wife of his bosom as this. If an equivalent insult -could have been tendered to a man Mr. Floyd-Rosney would have been shot -down in his tracks--or, at the least, have been made to pay roundly for -his brutality. But the wife, whom he has sworn to love, honor, and -cherish, is defenseless against his hasty, groundless conclusions. She -can only meekly prove her innocence of a guilt that it is like the -torments of hell-fire to name in connection with her. Colonel Kenwynton -solemnly commended to our lawmakers the consideration of this subject of -a penalty of unfounded marital charges. The converse of the proposition -never occurred to him. In his philosophy the women were welcome to say -what they liked about the men. - -If, he maintained, the gentleman accompanying Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had been -Randal Ducie instead of his brother, the circumstance would have -signified naught with a lady of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s character, which the -good people of this city would uphold against her husband even backed -by all his filthy lucre. But Randal Ducie was in New Orleans making an -address on levee conditions, on which subject his brother Adrian was -peculiarly uninformed, and it did seem to Colonel Kenwynton that almost -any man would have learned more from sheer observation, even though he -had been absent from the country for the past six years. He was now in -Memphis, where, being singularly like his twin brother, he was mistaken -for Randal Ducie, well known here, and his arrival thus chronicled in -the papers. Adrian Ducie was not widely acquainted in Memphis, having -spent the last six years in the south of France, where he was interested -in silk manufacture. - -If Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s course, declared the Colonel, pursuing the -subject, in forcing a ghastly round of pleasure on his wife, sighing for -her absent child, was typical of his domestic methods, his wife was a -martyr. When she would insist on having her child restored to her arms -one could imagine his saying--“Go to, woman, where is your pug!” Colonel -Kenwynton ardently hoped that the pressure of public opinion would force -Mr. Floyd-Rosney to disregard no longer the holy claims of motherhood, -and give back this child to the aching arms of his wife. The heart of -every man that ever had a mother was fired in revolt against him, -despite his wealth, that cannot buy sycophancy, and abject acquiescence -and pusillanimous silence from us. - -The Colonel admired the rolling periods of his production so much that -he read aloud with relish the whole effort from the beginning. - -“What do you think of it, Hugh?” he demanded. - -“I think the paper won’t publish it,” said Hugh Treherne. - -The paper, however, did publish it. The position of Floyd-Rosney in the -affair, as the incontestable facts began to be elicited, took on so -sorry an aspect that he was hardly in case to bring an action for libel, -and the Colonel’s letter was good for the sale of a double edition. -People read it with raised eyebrows and deprecation, and several said -the Colonel was a dangerous man and ought to have his hands tied behind -him. But the plain truth, so plainly set forth, the old traditions which -he had invoked, which they had all imbibed more or less, went far to -reinstating Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s position, and to exhibit her husband’s -character in a most damaged and disastrous disparagement. He was advised -by his counsel, who were disconcerted in the last extreme by being -connected in so disreputable a proceeding, that the only course open to -policy and prudence and the prospect of conserving any place in public -esteem, was to retract absolutely and immediately, frankly confessing a -mistake of identity, and to restore the child to the custody of his -mother. - -“Even that won’t mend the matter,” said Mr. Stacey--his face corrugated -with lines unknown to his placid sharpness when he and his firm had no -personal concern. He had nerves for his own interest, though not an -altruistic quiver for his client. - -“All the world thinks,” he continued, “that you are as jealous as a -Turk, and that will add a sensational interest to the Duciehurst suit, -of a kind that I despise”--he actually looked pained--“when it is -developed that your wife found and restored the Ducie papers. I wish -you had taken my advice; I wish you had taken my advice.” - -And Floyd-Rosney said never a word. - -He had come to be more plastic to counsel than of yore, and in a few -days thereafter the train made its infrequent stoppage at Ingleside, and -deposited Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s favorite old colored servant and her -little charge, who sturdily trudged through the grove of great -trees--vast, indeed, to his eyes--and suddenly appeared in the hall -before his mother, with a tale of wonder relating to the bears, which he -believed might be skulking about among the giant oaks. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -Floyd-Rosney had expected that the restoration of the child to the -mother would effect an immediate reconciliation with his wife. -Therefore, he attained a serenity, a renewal of self-confidence which he -had not enjoyed since the humiliating _contretemps_ at Union Station. In -the dismissal of his bill for divorce--the _retraxit_ craftily worded -and expressing with a dignity that might have seemed impossible under -the circumstances his contrition for the hasty and offensive assumptions -of his mistake, a sweeping recantation of all his charges and a complete -endorsement of his wife’s actions in every relation of life,--he -considered he had offered her an ample apology for his conduct and had -held out a very alluring olive branch. He had a relish, too, of the -surprise he had planned, partly to avoid a more personal method to court -her forgiveness, in sending the child in charge of her favorite servant, -old Aunt Dorothy, to alight unheralded from the train at Ingleside. He -imagined her delight and gratitude and awaited, in smiling anticipation, -altogether devoid of anxiety, her ebullient letter, brimming with thanks -and endearments, and taking the blame, as she was wont to do in their -differences, in that she had so misunderstood him and precipitated this -series of perverse happenings that had exposed him to such cruel public -misconstruction. - -But this letter did not come. - -He began to frown when the mail was brought in, and to sort the missives -with a hasty touch for something that he did not find. The servants, -always on the alert to observe, and agog about the successive phases of -the scandal which they had witnessed at such close quarters, collogued -over the fact that he laid the rest of the mail aside unopened for -hours, while he sat with a clouded brow and a reflective, unnoting eye -in glum silence, unsolaced even by a cigar. It was not good to speak to -him at these crises, and the house was as still as a tomb. - -Floyd-Rosney’s ascendency in life had been so great, so fostered by his -many worldly advantages, that he could make no compact with denial, -defeat. He had not yet reached the point where he could write to his -wife and beg her forgiveness, or even reproach her with her agency in -the disasters that had whelmed their domestic life in this unseemly -publicity. He developed an ingenuity in devising reasons for her -silence. She was too proud; he had let her have her head too long. She -would not write--she would not verbally admit that she condoned his -odious charges, which he often declared he had a right to make, if he -were to believe the testimony of his eyes, witnessing her flight with -her old lover, Randal Ducie, as he was convinced, boarding the train -together. She would simply return unheralded, unexplained,--and that was -best! He had himself inaugurated this method in restoring the child -without a word. It was a subject that could not be discussed between -them, with all its sensitive nerves, with its open wounds quivering with -anguished tremors. No! She would come to her home, her hearthstone, her -husband, as she had every right to do, even paying all tribute to her -pride, to her sense of insulted delicacy. He saw to it that the papers -containing the text of his full retraction and explanation of the -circumstances were mailed to her, and then adjusted himself anew to -waiting and anticipation. - -He had been spared in the details of his life all the torments of -suspense which harass men less fortunately placed. It may be doubted if -ever before he had had cause to anticipate and await an event, and hope, -and be deferred and denied. He could scarcely brook the delay. He began -to fear that he should be obliged to write and summon her home. Once he -even thought of going in person to escort her back, and but that he -shrank from meeting her eye, all unprepared as she would be, he would -have followed little Ned to Ingleside. Something might be said on the -impulse of the moment to widen the breach. He could not depend upon -her--he could not depend upon himself. She knew the state of his mind, -he argued. Those papers, most astutely, more delicately than any words -of his might compass, had depicted his whole mental status. Doubtless, -after a seemly diplomatic interval she would return. The sooner the -better, he felt in eager impatience. He had hardly known how dearly he -loved her, he declared to himself, interpreting his restiveness under -the suffocations of suspense and anxiety as symptoms of his revived -affection. He became so sure of this happy solution of the whole cruel -imbroglio that he acted upon it as if he had credible assurance of the -fact. He caused certain minor changes, which she had desired, to be made -in the house--changes to which he had no objection, but he had never -taken thought to gratify her preference. He ordered the suite of rooms -that she had occupied to be thoroughly overhauled in such a fever of -haste that the domestic force expected to see the lady of the mansion -installed in her realm before a readjustment was possible. At last -everything was complete and exquisite, and Floyd-Rosney, patrolling the -apartments with a keen and critical eye, could find no fault to -challenge his minute and censorious observation. A new lady’s maid was -engaged, of more skill and pretensions than the functionary he had -driven from his service, and had already entered upon her duties in the -rearrangement of her mistress’s wardrobe, and the chauffeur took heedful -thought of the railroad timetables, that he might not be out of the way -when the limousine should be ordered to meet Mrs. Floyd-Rosney at Union -Station. - -Under these circumstances the filing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill for -divorce and alimony fell like a bombshell upon the defenseless head of -her husband. It was a genuine and fierce demonstration, evidently -calculated to take advantage of every point that might contribute to the -eventuation of a decree. The allegations of cruelty and tyranny, of -which there were many instances that Floyd-Rosney, in his marital -autocracy had long ago forgotten, including the crafty blow which he had -given her under the cloak of the child in her arms, were supplemented -and illustrated by the secret removal of her child from her care, and -the determination to ship her out of the country against her will. Thus -she had been constrained in defense of her personal liberty to flee to -the home of her uncle, her nearest relative, although she was obliged to -borrow the money for the railroad fare from a mere stranger whom she had -met only once before. Notwithstanding the fact that her husband was -several times a millionaire, he permitted her no command of money, her -fine clothes and jewels and equipages being accorded merely to decorate -the appurtenances of his wealth and ostentation. She recounted the -indignity she had causelessly suffered in the allegations of his bill -for divorce, all baseless and unproved as was evidenced by their -complete retraction under oath in the precipitate dismissal of the bill. -Her petition concluded by praying for an absolute divorce with alimony -and the custody of the child. - -This document was not filed without many misgivings on the part of Major -Majoribanks and of horrified protest from his wife. Ingleside was remote -from modern progress and improvements, and such advantages as might -accrue from successfully prosecuting a suit for divorce won but scant -consideration there. The worthy couple were firm in their own conviction -that marriage should not be considered a temporary connection. It was, -to their minds, a lifelong and holy joining together, and should not be -put asunder. Mrs. Majoribanks made some remarks so very old-fashioned as -almost to excite Paula’s laughter, despite the seriousness of the -subject. It was a wife’s duty to put up with her husband’s foibles, to -overlook little unkindnesses; the two should learn to bear and forbear -in their mutual imperfections. Had she ever remonstrated gently, with -wifely lovingness, with Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s harshness? - -“I didn’t dare,” said Paula. And the mere phrase was an instance in -point. - -A woman’s craft in reading hearts is a subtle endowment. Mrs. -Majoribanks had not kept step with the onward march of the world, but -she struck a note that vibrated more in accord with Paula’s temperament -when she said: - -“It is often a hardship in point of worldly estimation to be a divorced -woman.” - -She looked cautiously at Paula over her spectacles, for in the old days -no one had been more a respecter of the opinions of smart people than -her husband’s niece. - -“Oh, that isn’t the case any more,” said Paula lightly, with a little -fleering laugh, “it is quite fashionable now to have a divorce decree.” - -“You may depend upon it,” Mrs. Majoribanks said in private to her -husband, “Paula is reckoning on winning back Randal Ducie! And, to my -mind, that is the worst feature of the whole horrible affair.” - -Major Majoribanks did not altogether concur in his wife’s views of the -possible efficacy of gentle suasion on Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s -irascibilities. Perhaps he knew more of the indurated heart of that type -of man. The Major had been greatly impressed by the attempt upon his -niece’s personal liberty, as he interpreted the insistence on the -Oriental tour and, although he welcomed little Ned with an enthusiasm -that might have befitted a grandfather, he was apprehensive concerning -the child’s return as an overture of reconciliation. He felt his -responsibility in the situation very acutely. He did not favor the plan -of seeking merely a legal separation and maintenance, which his wife -advocated, because it was not conclusive; it would be regarded by -Floyd-Rosney as temporary and would render Paula liable to pressure to -recur to their previous status. He did not consider his niece safe with -her arrogant and arbitrary husband, as the attempt to enforce a tour -alone with casual acquaintances to the Orient amply proved. The extreme -measure of secretly removing the child from her companionship and care -as means of subjugation might be repeated when circumstances of public -opinion did not coerce his restoration. Mrs. Majoribanks had not a more -squeamish distaste for divorce than her husband, nor did she entertain a -deeper reverence for the sacredness of the bonds of matrimony. But he -reflected with a sigh of relief that it was not his duty to seek to -impose his own views on his niece. Paula was permitted by law to judge -and act for herself, and she had had much experience which had aided in -determining her course. He could not bring himself to urge her to -condone the insupportable allegations in the bill of divorce which -Floyd-Rosney had filed and allowed to be made public, and to trust -herself and the child once more in his clutches. She had now the wind of -public favor in her sails. Her husband had committed himself so openly -and so irretrievably that it was probable that the custody of the child -would be awarded to her in view of his tender years. Later, when time -should have somewhat repaired the tatters of Floyd-Rosney’s status in -the estimation of the world, when the inevitable influence and -importance of so rich a man should begin to make themselves felt anew, -it might be more difficult for her to contend against him. If ever she -could hope to free herself from him and his tyrannies, and his -unimaginable machinations in the future, now was the opportunity and -this the cause of complaint. He might not again give her so palpable and -undeniable an occasion of insupportable affront. Major Majoribanks, even -in the seclusion of Ingleside, took note of the penniless estate of the -wife of the millionaire as she fled from her richly appointed home, and -gave due weight to the fact that the decree would assure her future -comfort by requiring alimony in proportion to the husband’s means. There -was no obligation on him to deprive her of her due maintenance and -protection by the urgency of his advice, although his wife goaded him -with her strict interpretations of his duty, and his brow clouded -whenever she mentioned her belief of the influence of the expectation of -winning back Randal Ducie upon Paula’s determination. - -Paula had thus the half-hearted support of her relatives in her -proceedings, and she was grateful even for this, saying to herself that -with their limitations she could hardly have expected more. She was -eager and hopeful, and, to Mrs. Majoribanks’s displeasure, not more -sensitive to the mention of the proceedings than if they had involved a -transaction concerning cotton or corn. The three Majoribanks boys were -excited on the possibility of an attempt to kidnap little Edward, since -the filing of the bill, and they kept him, in alternation, under close -and strict surveillance night and day. - -“It would be impossible to spirit him away from Ingleside,” they -bluffly contended, and to their mother’s great though unexpressed -displeasure their father did not rebuke their bluster. - -“We all talk of getting the decree,” she said in connubial privacy, “as -if it were a diploma.” - -He nodded ruefully. But he was the more progressive of the two. - -And in this feeble and sorry wise the influence of modern civilization -began to impinge on the primitive convictions and traditions of -Ingleside. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Adrian Ducie was affronted beyond measure by the unseemly notoriety -given to his part in the Floyd-Rosney incident, in the subsequent -publications emanating from various sources. The serious menace, -however, that the circumstances held for Randal moderated for a time his -indignation. He thought it not improbable that Floyd-Rosney would shoot -Randal Ducie on sight, and he greatly deprecated the fact that his -brother was chronicled by the New Orleans papers as having quitted that -city, on his way to Memphis, returning by boat. - -“Why didn’t the fellow stay where he was until matters should have -developed more acceptably?” Adrian fumed in mingled disgust and -apprehension. His anxiety was somewhat assuaged in the meantime when -Colonel Kenwynton’s letter appeared, and more especially when -Floyd-Rosney withdrew his petition for divorce--a definite confession of -his clumsy mistake. Still in Adrian’s opinion latent fires slumbered -under the volcanic crust, as this sudden eruption had proved. This city -was no place for the bone of contention between husband and wife. The -season for the preparations for cotton planting was already well -advanced. Assuredly it was seemly and desirable for Randal to repair to -his plantation and supervise the operations of his manager and his -laborers. Adrian found his own stay in the city harassing to his -exacerbated nerves. The questioning stare of men whom he passed on the -streets, who looked as if they expected salutation, in default of which -surmised that this was the twin brother, hero of the Floyd-Rosney -_esclandre_, annoyed him by its constant repetition, and gave his face a -repellant reserve which the countenance of the gentle and genial Randal -had never known. A dozen times he was more intimately assailed, “Hey, -Ran, old man, how goes it?” with perhaps a quizzical leer, or an eager -hopefulness that some discussion of the reigning sensation of the day -might not be too intrusive. When the stranger was enlightened, not -abruptly, however, for Adrian was cautious to refrain from alienating -Randal’s friends, the comments on the wonderful likeness implied an -accession of interest in the significant incident in Union Station, and, -doubtless, many a surmise as to what had betided heretofore to arouse -the lion in the husband’s breast. Obviously, both the brothers for every -reason should be removed from the public eye till the story was stale; -but, although Adrian felt this keenly, he himself could not get away in -view of the interests of his firm in an important silk deal with a large -concern desiring to treat directly with the representative of the -manufacturers. - -He had never cared so little to see his brother as one day when the door -of his bedroom in the hotel unceremoniously opened and Randal entered. -He had deprecated the effect of all this publicity on the most sensitive -emotions of that high-strung and spirited nature. He was proud, too, and -winced from the realization that all the world should be canvassing the -fact of Randal’s rejection by Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in her girlhood days. -She had treated him cruelly, and had dashed her plighted troth, his -love, his happiness to the ground with not a moment’s compunction, for a -marriage of splendor and wealth--“and,” said Adrian grimly to himself, -“for it she has got all that was coming to her.” - -He felt for Randal. His heart burned within him. - -“Why, who is this that I see here?” cried Randal gaily, as he entered. -“Not myself in a mirror surely, for I never looked half so glum in all -my life.” - -There was a hearty handclasp, and a sort of facetious fraternal hug, -after the fashion of men who humorously disguise a deeper emotion, and -they were presently seated in great amity before the glowing fire. - -“This is imported Oriental tobacco,” said Adrian, handing his brother a -cigar. - -“Imported from where--the corner drugstore?” demanded Randal, laughing, -his face illumined by the flicker of the lighted match. - -“Genuine Ladikieh,” protested Adrian. - -“It’s like carrying coals to Newcastle to pay duty on tobacco in -America.” - -“I didn’t say I paid any duty, did I?” - -“Oh, you haven’t the grit to smuggle anything through, and if you had -you would have brought enough to generously divvy up with me.” - -He sent off a fragrant puff, stretched out luxuriously in his armchair, -and turned his clear eyes upon his brother. - -There was a momentary silence. - -“I read the report of your address in the papers. It was very able and -convincing.” - -“I’d care more for your compliments if you understood the subject,” -declared Randal cavalierly. Then, roguishly, “Is that _all_ you have -read about me in the papers lately?” - -Adrian stared, dumfounded. And he had so wincingly deprecated the effect -of this limelight of publicity upon the shrinking heart of the rejected -lover. - -“I think it very hard you should be subjected to this,” he began -sympathetically. - -“Who--I? Why,--I was never so pleased in my life!” - -“Why--what do you mean, Randal? It is a very serious matter; it might -have had a life-and-death significance.” - -“Serious enough for Floyd-Rosney,” Randal laughed bluffly. “Did ever a -fellow so befool himself, and call all the world to witness! Of course, -I deprecate the publicity for the lady, but everybody understands the -situation. It does not injure her position in the least. That is the -kind of husband she wanted--and she has got him.” - -Adrian silently smoked a few moments. - -“I never was so affronted in my life,” he said. - -Once more Randal laughed. “I was simply enchanted,” he declared. - -“Honestly, Randal, I don’t understand you,” said Adrian, holding his -cigar delicately in his fingers. - -“Oh, I am very simple, quite transparent, in fact.” - -Adrian shook his head, restoring his cigar to his lips. “Don’t make you -out, old man.” - -“Because you have never been told by a lady to take foot in hand, and -toddle! Discarded--rejected--despised! Therefore”--with a strong -puff--“you can’t know what a keen joy it is to realize that you are -still important enough to be the cause of domestic discord between -husband and wife, when you haven’t seen the lady but once in five years, -and then in his presence, besides, being five hundred miles away, meekly -babbling about levee protection.” - -Adrian stared. “And you like that?” - -“Like it? It goes to the cockles of my heart.” - -“Randal, I should never have thought it of you,” said Adrian rebukingly. - -“Because, kid, I am older than you and know many things that you haven’t -learned. I got a little bit the start of you in life and I have kept -ahead of you ever since,” Randal declared whimsically. - -“I can’t comprehend how you like to be mixed up in that miserable -misunderstanding.” - -“Why, it flatters me to death. She couldn’t put me out of her heart, -although she could and did lacerate terribly my heart. Floyd-Rosney is -jealous of my very existence. But for that he would have inferred no -more from seeing me, as he thought, assisting her to board the train -than any incidental acquaintance tendering that courtesy. He is not -disturbed that _you_ boarded the train with her.” - -“You are jealous of Floyd-Rosney,” said Adrian abruptly. - -Randal thrust his cigar between his lips and spoke indistinctly with -this obstruction. “Not I,” he laughed. “Not under these circumstances.” - -Adrian was frowning anxiously. The two faces, so alike in feature, were -curiously dissimilar at the moment, the one so genially confiding, the -expression of the other, alert, expectant, with a grave prophetic -rebuke. - -“Look here, Randal,” Adrian said seriously, “you perturb me very much. -You speak actually as if you are still--still sentimentally interested -in this woman--another man’s wife--because you discover----” - -“That both she and her husband are sentimentally interested in me; ha! -ha! ha!” Randal interrupted. - -“I could never imagine such a thing,--it perturbs me,” Adrian persisted -seriously. - -“It perturbs me, too,” declared Randal quizzically, “to have you gadding -about in my likeness, escorting other men’s wives,--the gay Lothario -that you are!--and getting _me_ into the papers, the public prints. Oh, -fie, fie.” - -“And she _is_ another man’s wife,” remonstrated Adrian. - -“She won’t be long if she has a spark of spirit left,” declared Randal -boldly. “She will bring suit for divorce herself.” - -“But I doubt if she can get it,” said Adrian in dismay. - -The difference of mood made itself manifest in the tones of their -voices--Adrian’s crisp, imperative, even tinctured with sternness, -Randal’s careless, musical, drawling. - -“Oh, she can get it fast enough. I should think from what I observed of -his manner to her she could prove enough instances of cruelty and -tyranny to melt almost any trial judge.” - -Adrian reflected silently upon the episodes on the _Cherokee Rose_, but -kept his own counsel, while the smoke curled softly above the duplicate -heads. - -“When I saw them together,” observed Randal, “he impressed me as being a -veritable despot, and in a queer way, too. I can’t understand his -satisfaction in it. He arrogated the largest liberty to criticize her -views and actions, as if his dictum were the fiat of last resort. I tell -you now, kid, criticism and cavil in themselves are incompatible with -love. No man can depreciate and adore at the same time the same object. -When he thinks the feet of his idol are of clay the whole structure -might as well come down at once. He seemed to have a certain perversity, -and this is a connubial foible I have seen in better men, too; a -tendency to contradict her in small, immaterial matters for the sheer -pleasure of contrariety, I suppose,--to oppose her, to balk her, merely -because he could with impunity. I imagine he has enjoyed a long lease of -this impunity because his perversity has attained such unusual -proportions, and her plunges of opposition had the style of sudden -revolt rather than the practiced habit of contention. She has lived a -life of repression and submission with him. Her identity is pretty much -annihilated. The Paula of her earlier days is nearly all disappeared.” - -For a few moments Adrian said nothing in response to this keen analysis -of character, which corresponded so well to his longer opportunity of -observation, but sat silently eyeing the fire in serious thought. - -Suddenly he broke out with impassioned eagerness. - -“Randal, you are my own twin brother----” - -“I am obliged to admit it,” interpolated Randal flippantly. - -“--my other self. The tie that binds us seems to me closer than with -other brothers. We came into the world together; we have lived hand in -hand almost all our lives; we even look alike.” - -“And make a precious good job of it too,” declared Randal gaily. - -“We feel alike; we believe alike; we have been educated in the same -traditions; we respect the sanctities of the old fireside teachings; we -have not strayed after strange gods.” - -Randal had taken his cigar from his lips and in his half recumbent -position was gazing keenly at his brother. - -“What are you coming to, kid?” - -“Just this--you are not looking forward to this divorce in the hope--the -expectation of marrying this woman? Are you? Tell me.” - -Randal’s eyes flashed. “What do you take me for?” he said angrily -between his set teeth. “She could never again be anything to me,--not -even if Floyd-Rosney were at the bottom of the Mississippi River.” - -“Oh, how this relieves my mind,” cried Adrian. - -“You may set it at rest,--for I could never again love that woman.” - -“I know that I have no right to interfere or even to question--but you -always appreciate my motives, Randal. You are the best fellow in the -world.” - -“I always thought so,” said Randal, smoking hard. - -“I believe she will expect it,” suggested Adrian, still with some -anxiety. - -“She will be grievously disappointed, then,--and turn about is fair -play.” - -“I want you to guard against any soft surprise,” said Adrian. “She -seemed so sure of you. She said you were the only friend she had in the -world. She came to the Adelantado Hotel to find you--that you should -lend her ten dollars for the railroad fare to Ingleside!” - -“The liberal Floyd-Rosney!” - -“I want you to look out for her. She is a designing woman. She is -heartily tired of her bargain, and with reason, and she wants to pick up -the happiness she threw away five years ago----” - -“With me and poverty.” - -“She has enjoyed an artful combination of real poverty and fictitious -splendor. I want you to be frank with me, Randal, and confide in me, -and----” - -“Take that paw off my arm.” - -“--and,” continued Adrian, removing his hand, “not make an outsider of -your own, only twin brother.” - -“Heaven protect me from two twin brothers like unto this fellow,” -laughed Randal. “Make yourself easy, Adrian; when I am finally led to -the altar I shall countenance an innovation in the marriage -ceremony--the groom shall be given away by his own only twin brother.” - -“She broached the matter herself when she had an opportunity to speak -aside to me on the _Cherokee Rose_,” said Adrian, his reminiscent eyes -on the fire. - -“What? Divorce and remarriage?” - -“Oh, no--no. The course she had pursued with you.” - -Randal’s eyes glowed with sudden fire; his face flushed deeply red. - -“That was very unhandsome of her,” he said curtly, “and by your leave it -was very derogatory to both you and me for you to consent to discuss -it.” - -“Why should _I_ decline to discuss it when she introduced the -subject,--as if I felt that _you_ were humiliated in the matter or had -anything to regret?” - -“It would seem that neither of you were hampered with any delicacy of -sentiment or sensitiveness.” - -“She spoke to me of a gift of yours that she had failed to return. She -wished me to convey it to you. But I referred her to the registered mail -or the express.” - -“That was polite, at all events.” - -“I told her that the relations between my brother and myself were -peculiarly tender, and that I would not allow her to come between us. -And, with that, I bowed myself away.” - -Randal’s eyes gloomed on the fire, with many an unwelcome thought of an -old and shattered romance. But when he spoke, it was of the present. - -“Adrian, I am sorry I was so short with you. Of course I know you could -not openly avoid the topic forced upon you in that way. I am sure, too, -that you did not fail to take full cognizance of my dignity, as well as -your own. I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for a million dollars.” - -“Well, you did it,” retorted Adrian, “and nobody that I know of has -offered you so much as fifty cents. It was a gratuitous piece of -meanness on your part. And you can take that paw off me,” glancing down -with affected repugnance at Randal’s caressing hand laid on his sleeve. - -“Well,” said Randal, with a long sigh, “she closed the incident herself. -She gave me the trinket in her husband’s presence--and you can imagine -Floyd-Rosney was all eyes.” - -“She placed it on the table among the Ducie jewels the previous night,” -said Adrian; “and, as I was occupied in reading the papers, I asked her -pointedly to take charge of it. And she looked most awfully cheap as she -repossessed herself of it.” - -“Adrian, you really have a heart of stone in this connection,” smiled -Randal, “and after she had been chiefly instrumental in restoring to us -the Duciehurst papers and jewels!” - -“What else could she do--commit a felony and keep them? I certainly -entertain no fantastic magnanimity on that score.” - -Randal laughed, but the solicitous Adrian fancied this phase of the -subject might develop a menace to the future, and hastened to change the -topic. “I wish you would come with me and confer with our lawyers -to-day, Randal,” he suggested. “It is better to have both principals in -interest present at any important consultation. I have an engagement -with them at three,” drawing out his watch for a hasty glance. - -“Agreed,” said Randal, springing up alertly. “Where’s your -clothes-brush?--but no, I suppose there is not a speck of the dust of -travel on me, for, when I tipped the man on the boat, he practically -frayed all the nap off my clothes to show his gratitude. I am -presentable, eh?” - -He stood for a moment before the long mirror, then broke forth -whimsically in affected alarm. “Adrian, who is this in the mirror, you -or I? I am all mixed up. I can’t tell us apart. What are we going to do -about it?” he continued, as if in great agitation, while Adrian, with a -leisurely smile--for he had often taken part in this _gambade_, a -favorite bit of fooling since their infancy--looked about for his hat. - -“Let’s go downstairs and get somebody to pick us out,” suggested Randal, -“for, really, I don’t want to be you, Adrian. You are too solemn and -priggish; why, this must be I, for, if it were you, you would have said -‘piggish.’ You are so dearly fraternal. Don’t come near me, I don’t want -to get mixed up again. I begin to know myself. This is I.” - -But, notwithstanding this threatened peril of proximity, they walked -down the street together, arm in arm, to the office of the counsel, -followed by many a startled glance perceiving the wonderful resemblance, -and sometimes a passing stranger of an uncultured grade came to a full -halt in surprise and curiosity. - -There were many consultations with the legal advisers in the days that -ensued, which Randal Ducie found very irksome, accustomed as he was to -an active outdoor life and a less labyrinthine species of thought than -appertains to the purlieus of the law. Unexpected details continually -developed concerning the interests involved. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill -for divorce was filed in the meantime, and because it had a personal -interest paramount to its importance in the Duciehurst case it brought -up again the matter of taking her deposition in these proceedings which -had been pretermitted by reason of affairs of greater magnitude. - -The decision was reached on a day when to Randal’s relief he was able to -dub facetiously the counsel “the peripatetic philosophers” by reason of -a journey which they thought it necessary to take in the company of -their clients and which he found much more tolerable than the duress of -their offices and their long indoor prelections. The four men boarded a -packet leaving the city at five o’clock; it being deemed advisable that -the lawyers should make a personal examination of the locality and the -hiding place of the Ducie papers and other valuables, before conferring -with the Mississippi counsel retained in the case. The question of -summoning Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was discussed as they sat on the hurricane -deck in the approaching dusk between the glitter of the evening sky, all -of a clear pink and gold, and the lustrous sheen of the expanse of the -river, reflecting a delicate amber and rose. The search-light apparatus -was not illumined and looked in the uncertain half twilight as if it -might be some defensive piece of artillery of the mortar type, mounted -on the hurricane deck. The great smoke-stacks, towering high into the -air, had already swinging between them the green and red chimney lamps, -required by law, but as yet day reigned and all the brilliancy of the -evening bespoke a protest against the coming night. - -Adrian Ducie doubted the availability of summoning Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in -their interest. The proof could inferentially be made without her, by -those who saw her deliver the box and witnessed its opening and -contents. Besides, here were the papers to speak for themselves. But -Randal Ducie urged the deposition. It would seem conscious not to call -her. Why should she not give her testimony. It was disrespectful to -imply that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney would be reluctant to do this. - -“Mr. Floyd-Rosney is a mighty touchy man,” suggested the junior counsel. -This practitioner was about forty years of age, thin, wiry, eager, even -fidgetty. He had a trick of passing his hand rapidly over his -prematurely bald head, of playing with his fob chain, of twisting a -pencil, or his gloves, or his eyeglasses--these last also, perhaps, a -prematurely acquired treasure. Apparently he had burned a great deal of -midnight oil to good purpose, for he was admittedly an exceedingly able -lawyer, destined to rise very high in his profession. - -His associate in the case was in striking contrast, in many respects, to -Mr. Guinnell. He was a portly man, with a big head, and a big frame, and -a big brain. It was his foible,--one of them, perhaps,--in moments of -deep thought to close his eyes; it may have been in order to commune the -more closely and clearly with the immanent legal entity within; it may -have been more definitely to concentrate his ideas; it may have been to -shut out the sight of Mr. Guinnell’s swiftly revolving pencil or -eyeglasses; whatever his reason, the habit had a most unnerving effect -on clients in consultation, suggesting the idea that their -affairs--always of vital importance to the parties in interest--were of -slight consequence to their adviser and of soporific effect. Both -gentlemen were serious-minded, and, which is more rare in their -profession, abysmally devoid of a sense of humor. - -“The filing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill for divorce and alimony -complicates the situation,” continued Mr. Guinnell, “although I have -thought since the Union Station incident,” he hesitated slightly, -glancing toward Randal,--“you will excuse me for mentioning it in -professional confidence.” - -“Certainly; I often mention it myself as a mere layman,” said Randal, -debonairly. - -“I have thought that Mr. Floyd-Rosney will make a stiff fight on the -hard letter of the law,--_à l’outrance_, in fact,--with no contemplation -of such concessions as would otherwise present themselves to litigants, -looking to compromise, settlement of antagonistic interest by equitable -adjustment. In the present development of his domestic affairs he will -find it quite intolerable for his wife to give testimony in the interest -of Mr. Randal Ducie and his brother. Mr. Floyd-Rosney will wince from -it.” - -“It is a good thing that something can make him wince,” declared Randal -hardily. “A stout cowhide is evidently what he needs.” - -“I hope, Mr. Ducie,” said Mr. Harvey, the senior counsel in alarm and -grave rebuke, “that you will not take that tone in testifying. All the -circumstances in the case render the situation unusual and perilous, and -we want to do and say nothing that will place either you or your brother -in personal danger from Mr. Floyd-Rosney.” - -“The only cause for wonder is that your brother was not shot down at -Union Station, being mistaken for you,” Mr. Guinnell added the weight of -his opinion to his partner’s remonstrance. “If Floyd-Rosney had chanced -to wear a revolver Adrian Ducie would not be here to-day to tell the -tale.” - -“Count on me; I am yours to command,” declared Randal, lightly. “I am a -very lamb, when necessary, and you may lead me through the case with a -blue ribbon and a ring in my nose. I’ll eat out of any man’s hand!” - -The ponderous senior counsel looked at him soberly. The junior twirled -and twirled his fob-chain. - -“We wish to conduct this case to the best advantage,” said Mr. Harvey, -“and leave no stone unturned that can contribute to success. But we wish -to be conservative--we must keep that intention before us, to be -_conservative_, and give Floyd-Rosney no possible opportunity for -outbreak at our expense, either in regard to the interests of the case -or the personal safety of our clients.” - -“I will order my walk and conversation as if on eggs,” declared Randal, -with a wary look. - -“I do not apprehend any unseemly measures or conduct on the part of the -opposing counsel,” continued Mr. Harvey. “They are gentlemen of high -standing. But Mr. Floyd-Rosney has a most unruly and unreasoning temper -and he has placed himself at a deplorable public disadvantage in this -matter, which, be sure, he does not ascribe to himself. We will go -slowly and safely--coming necessarily into contention with him. But we -shall take Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s deposition by all means.” - -And thus the matter was settled. - -On the third day the boat made the Duciehurst landing, and some hours -were spent in exploring the ruins of the mansion. Later the party -separated, the lawyers repairing to the inland town of Caxton for a -conference with the local legal firm who would prosecute the interests -of the case in Mississippi, and the two Ducies making a prearranged -excursion to a plantation which Randal had leased at some distance -higher up the river. As the residence on this plantation was comfortable -and in good repair he had quitted his quarters at the hotel in Caxton -and had taken up his abode here. It had been a wrench to him to -relinquish the operations on the Ducie estate; but he was advised that -his claim to rightful possession might be jeopardized by consenting to -hold under Floyd-Rosney, which course, indeed, he had never -contemplated. As the two, mounted on the staid farm horses, rode through -the fields and speculated on their possibilities, Randal would often -pause in the turn-rows--the cotton of last year a withered stubble--in -systematic lines, with here and there a floculent “dog-tail,” as the -latest wisp of the staple is called, flaunting in the chill spring -breeze, and would descant on the superior values of the Duciehurst lands -compared to these, illustrating sometimes by the fresh furrows near at -hand, showing the humus of the soil, for the plows were already running. -Now and again he turned his eager, hopeful eyes on his brother as he -declared, “This time next year, old man, I shall have the force busy -getting ready to bed up land for cotton at Duciehurst.” Or “When the -estates of our fathers are restored to us I shall live in formality at -our ancestral mansion, and if you dare go back to France I shall revenge -myself by marrying somebody.” - -“Anybody in view?” - -“Apprehensive, again? Well, to set your mind at rest, I was thinking, -pictorially merely, how stately Hilda Dean looked walking down the -grand staircase with her head up. How beautifully it is poised on her -shoulders.” - -“She is truly beautiful,” Adrian said heartily, “and during all that -trip down the river I was impressed with her lovely character, and her -sterling qualities of mind and heart. Her beauty, great as it is, really -is belittled by the graces of her nature. Pray Heaven your visions of -Hildegarde as your chatelaine at Duciehurst may materialize.” - -“One more year,--one more year of this toilsome probation, and then,” -Randal’s face was illumined as if the word radiated light, “Duciehurst!” - -Adrian, looking over the river which was now well in view from the -fields, began to speculate on the approach of a skiff heading down -stream, and running in to the bank. “I wonder if that is the boat that -your manager was to send for me for my trip to Berridge’s?” - -For, although the terror of the fierce pursuit of the riverside harpies -inaugurated by Colonel Kenwynton had swept the others in flight from the -country, not a foothold of suspicion had been found against Berridge and -his son. It was known that Captain Treherne had spent the night at their -amphibian home, and had gone thence to his conference with Colonel -Kenwynton on the sand-bar; so much he himself had stated, but he -declared positively that neither of the Berridges was with the -miscreants who had waylaid him on his return and conveyed him bound to -Duciehurst. It was beyond his knowledge, indeed, that this choice twain -had later joined his captors at the mansion. Their strength of nerve, -however, failed them when they were notified that the Ducie counsel -desired an interview with them on this visit to the vicinity to -ascertain if their testimony would be at all pertinent in the matters -preliminary to the discovery of the documents. Even their non-appearance -this afternoon did not excite unfavorable comment. It was supposed that -in the depths of their illiteracy they had not understood the nature of -the communication, if indeed they had received it, and Adrian Ducie -promised the counsel to see old Berridge or his son personally and -explain the matter in order to have them present in Caxton the following -day when the lawyers should be in conference. - -“Oh, I will go instead,” cried Randal; “I really ought not to let you go -on this errand, for,” with a quizzical smile, “you are ‘company,’ you -know.” - -“Not very formal ‘company.’ You ought to see to the placing of that new -boiler in the gin-house,--and I have nothing to do. Yes,” continued -Adrian, still regarding the approach of the skiff, “that is your man -Job, and he can take this horse back to the stable.” - -He dismounted hastily and throwing the reins to Randal, he ran lightly -up the slope of the levee. He paused on the summit to wave his hand and -call out cheerily, “Ta, ta--see you later,” and then he threw himself in -the skiff, which was dancing on the floods close below, the boatman -holding it by the painter as he stood on the exterior slope of the -embankment. - -The river was at flood height and running with tremendous force. But for -the aid of the current Adrian’s strength plying the oars would have made -scant speed. It was only a short time before he sighted the little -riverside shanty which no longer showed its stilts, but sat on the water -as flush with the surface as a swimming duck. Adrian was able from his -seat between the rowlocks to knock on the closed door without rising. -There was no response for a few minutes, although the building was -obviously inhabited, the sluggish smoke coiling up from the stove-pipe -into this dull day of late winter or early spring, whichever season -might be credited with its surly disaffection. A child’s voice within -suddenly babbled forth, and but for this Adrian fancied a feint of -absence might have been attempted. With a slight motion of the oars he -kept the skiff in place at the entrance, and at length the door slowly -opened and the frowsy, copper-tinted hair and freckled face of Jessy -Jane was thrust forth. - -She was one of that type of woman to whom without any approach to moral -delinquency a handsome man is always an object of supreme twittering -interest, however remote of station and indifferent of temperament; -however crusty or contemptuous. That he should obviously concern himself -in no wise with her existence did not in any degree minimize the -intensity of her personal absorption in him. Her face, sullen and -lowering, took on a bland and mollifying expression, and with a fancied -recognition of the rower she broke forth with a high, ecstatic chirp: - -“Why, Mr. Ran, I never knowed ’twas you hyar!” though she had never -spoken to Randal Ducie, and knew him only by sight. - -“This is not Mr. Randal Ducie, but his brother,” said Adrian, and as -she stared silently at him, noting the wonderful resemblance, he -continued: - -“I want to speak to Joshua Berridge,” he consulted a paper in his hand. -“He lives here, doesn’t he?” - -“My dad-in-law,” she explained, suavely; “but he ain’t at home just now, -though”--with a facetious smile, “’twon’t be long ’fore he comes--most -supper time, ye know. Won’t ye kem in an’ wait?” - -Ducie declined this invitation and sat meditatively eyeing the waste of -waters, for the river was now at its full scope, barring inundation, and -stretched in great majesty to a bank scarcely visible on the farther -shore. - -“I ain’t sure, but what ye mought find him over on the old _Che’okee -Rose_,” she said, speculatively, for Ducie was very comely and she had a -special impulse to be polite to so worthy an object of courtesy. - -“Is the old steamboat there yet?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at -the murky swirls of the swift current. There was now no sign of the -sand-bar on which the ill-fated craft had stranded. The foaming waves -raced past and submerged its whole extent. None might know where it lay. -A deep-water craft, drawing many feet, might have unwittingly plied -above its expanse. Only a fraction of the superstructure of the -steamboat--the pilot-house and texas, and the upper part of the cabin, -showed above the waste of waters to distinguish the spot where the -steamer had run aground and the pitiless storm had flayed out all its -future utility. - -“The wreckers have been down time and again,” she went on with a note of -apology. “They tuk off all the vallybles before the water riz,--the -kyarpets, an’ funnicher, an’ mirrors, an’ sech--even the big chimbleys. -The water got the rest, but wunst in a while ef us pore folks wants -somethin’ that be lef’ fur lost--like some henges, or somthin’ we jest -tries to supply ourse’fs ez bes’ we kin.” - -Adrian was still silently looking at the wreck that he had such cause to -remember, with all that had since come and gone. - -“Well, I reckon Dad is over there now, hunting fur them henges,” said -the woman, speculatively. “Leastwise,” holding her palm above her eyes, -“’pears like I kin see a boat on the tother side, a-bobbin at the e-end -of a painter!” - -Adrian moved with a sudden resolution. The oars smote the water, and -with curt and formal thanks for the information, he began to row -strongly across the current that despite his best endeavors carried him -continually down and down the river, and required him to shape his -course diagonally athwart the stream to counteract its impetus. - -The woman stood for a time aimlessly watching him, as the rhythmic oars -plied, and the skiff, shadowless this dull day, kept on its way. At last -she turned within and shut the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -The effect on Floyd-Rosney of his wife’s legal proceedings was deep and -radical. His counsel constantly noted in him a sort of stunned surprise, -as if contemplating some fantastic revulsion of the natural course of -events. He had fashioned this result as definitely as if he had planned -its every detail, yet he regarded it with an affronted amazement that he -should be called upon to experience events so untoward. He had a -disposition to belittle the efficiency of the demonstration. He -perceived with a snort of rage and contempt the seriousness with which -his counsel regarded it and declared violently that she could never get -a decree. - -“You mean to defend the suit, then?” Mr. Stacey asked, very cool, and -pallid, and dispassionate. - -“What else?” thundered Floyd-Rosney, the veins in his forehead blue and -swollen, his face scarlet, his hands quivering. - -“I can’t see upon what grounds, in view of the terms of _retraxit_.” - -“_You_ dictated the terms of that precious performance,” declared -Floyd-Rosney, with vindictive pleasure in shifting the blame. - -But Mr. Stacey easily eluded the burden. - -“Under your specific instructions as to the facts to which you made -affidavit,” he said, coldly. - -It was perhaps evidence how Floyd-Rosney was beginning to acquire a -modicum of prudence under the fierce tuition of circumstance that he -avoided a breach with his lawyers. He heartily cursed them in his heart, -recollecting the many large fees they had received at his hands, -minimizing altogether the arduous work and professional learning that -had earned them. He broke off the consultation, which he postponed to a -future day, and left them with a stunned realization that these men, -whose capacity and experience he had so often tested, were of opinion -that he had no defense against the preposterous suit of his wife, that -she would receive her decree and be awarded the custody of the child and -ample alimony which it would be adjudged he should pay. - -He set his teeth, gritting them hard when he remembered how these -lawyers had sought to induce him to defer filing his bill, to mitigate -his allegations, to investigate the circumstances more closely. Their -judgment had been justified in every particular, and though showing no -triumph--Mr. Stacey was too completely a legal machine for such -manifestation--he gave attestation of his human composition by the cold -distaste, which he could not disguise, for the subsequent developments. - -“Damned if _he_ is not ashamed to be concerned with _me_,” Floyd-Rosney -said to himself, fairly staggered by the preposterous climax of the -situation. - -He began to have a great desire to get out of the country, to be quit of -all the sights and associations of his recent life, but he had pressed -the preparations for the Duciehurst suit, and his absence now as the -date of the trial approached would have the aspect of a pusillanimous -retreat, specially obnoxious to him in view of the fact that the Ducies -were his opponents. The overthrow of his plans and expectations of his -wife’s return to him and the rehabilitation of their life together was -like the demonstration of some great earthquake or cataclysmal disaster; -it had destroyed all the symmetry and purpose of his life; his outlook -was as upon a blank desert of despair, an “abomination of desolation.” -That human heart of his, despite its overlay of selfish aims and -turbulent pride, had depths seldom stirred of genuine feeling; he -yearned for sympathy; he poignantly lacked the touch of his absent -child’s hand; the adoring look in the limpid infantile eyes; he felt at -every turn the loss of the incense of adulation that his wife had been -wont to burn before him. It had made sweet the atmosphere of his life, -and until it ceased he had never known how dependent upon it his very -respiration had grown to be--it was as the breath of his life. While he -sat in his solitary library, brooding and silent, reviewing in his -enforced leisure and loneliness the successive steps by which the -destruction of his domestic happiness had been compassed, his brow -darkened and grew fierce as he fixed the date of its inception to the -meeting with Adrian Ducie on the _Cherokee Rose_, and the discovery that -his wife could subtly distinguish between these facsimile faces of the -two brothers the lineaments of her former lover. Even now his logic -strove to reassert itself. Of course, the man’s face was intimately -familiar to her; there must be tricks of expression, the lift of an -eyebrow, the curl of a lip, methods of enunciation peculiar to one and -alien to the other, distinctive enough to a keen and habituated -observer. But, alack! this was not all, offensive as were its -suggestions to his pride of monopoly. He said to himself that from the -moment of the presentation of this vivid reminder of her old lover’s -face was inaugurated the recurrence of the Ducie influence in her life. -Here began that strange, covert revolt against him and all his theories -and plans, which had grown inch by inch till it possessed her. She had -never been the same, and he--fool that he was--through his magnanimity -in withdrawing the allegations of his bill, had furnished her with the -certainty of gaining a decree in her counter suit for divorce, of -securing an ample fortune in the belittling name of alimony, and the -opportunity of marrying and endowing with this wealth, derived from him, -the penniless Randal Ducie, whose baleful influence had destroyed for -him all that made life worth living. - -Floyd-Rosney had never been an intemperate man, but in this grim -seclusion he began to drink heavily. He had piqued himself upon his -delicate taste, his acumen as a judge of fine wines, but the Chambertin -and Château Yquem remained untouched during his hasty dinners, while the -brandy decanter had taken up a permanent position on the library table, -and he had ordered up from the cellar an old and rich whisky that had -been laid down by his father before he was born, and that he had, so far -as the butler knew, never yet tasted. - -It was difficult for the lurking magnate, in his sullen seclusion, to -face the eyes of his own domestic staff; he could not bring himself to -confront the questioning, speculative gaze of the streets, the club, the -driving park. Even such _rencontres_ as chanced when he went to consult -his counsel, whom, but for very shame he would have summoned to him, he -found an ordeal. He had grown poignantly sensitive and keenly perceptive -as well, and was discriminating in minute points of facial expression -and gradations of manner. He could differentiate embarrassment, -commiseration,--and how pity stung him!--reprobation, and oftenest of -all, a sort of covert relish, an elation, that with any personal -relation would have meant triumph. “They are nearly as well pleased as -if I were broken,” he would say cynically to himself. But there was no -breach of courtesy, no abatement of the deep respect usually tendered to -a magnate and millionaire. He was keenly alive to detect the insignia of -a diminution of consideration, but his little world salaamed as -heretofore, for he was by no means broken, not even if he should have to -pay heavy alimony, and lose Duciehurst into the bargain. The experience -of these encounters, however, weighed heavily on his nerves, now all -a-quiver and jangling with the effects of his deep potations. - -His home was odious to him; his covert speculations as to the deductions -of the servants, whom ordinarily he would have disregarded as mere worms -of the earth, afflicted him. He was keenly conscious of his humiliated -position in their eyes, cognizant as he knew them to be of his -expectation of his wife’s return, and the elaborate preparations he had -made and personally supervised for her reception. He found a greater -degree of privacy and comfort on his yacht, which he ordered up from New -Orleans, where she had been lying for a month past, refitted and -revictualed, awaiting his summons. He steamed down the river to the -Gulf on one occasion, but finding himself out of touch with his counsel -in the Duciehurst case, and realizing that some final decision must be -reached as to his course in the divorce suit, he confined his wanderings -to idly cruising up and down the river, stopping at prearranged points -for mail or telegrams. - -In this resource he experienced a surcease of the harassments that -infested his life on shore. His skipper knew little and cared less of -land-lubber interests--as maritime an animal as a crab. He had, indeed, -with a brightening eye and a ready courtesy, asked, when Floyd-Rosney -came over the side of the _Aglaia_, if the madam was not going to favor -the ship’s company with her presence. Being answered shortly in the -negative he heartily protested his regret. - -“The best sailor she is of any lady I ever saw,” he declared, and added -that if they were to do some deep-sea stunts they need not consult the -barometer for weather signs. She cared no more for weather than a stormy -petrel. He always looked on the madam’s presence as a good omen, he -said; he had a bit of the blarney and a bit of poesy in his composition, -his ancestry hailing from the Emerald Isle. - -“She has brought no good luck to her husband,” Floyd-Rosney reflected, -grimly. - -It was grateful to him, however, to perceive that the man knew naught of -his recent discomfitures and humiliation; of very meager consequence -such an opinion would have been ordinarily, but the evident ignorance of -the skipper enabled him to hold his head higher. The skipper read -nothing in the newspapers but the shipping news, and but for the change -in Floyd-Rosney’s bibulous habit he might never have been the wiser. - -“He’s drinking like a fish,” he said in surprise to the second officer. -“That’s new with him.” - -“Seems to me,” responded the subordinate, meditatively, “I heard -something when we was in port in Boloxi about him and the madam havin’ -had some sort o’ row.” - -“I hate to trust him with the brand new dinky skiff,” said the skipper. -“He ain’t a practiced hand; I seen him run her nose up on a drift log -lying on the levee with a shock that might have started every seam in -her.” - -But the yacht, with all that appertained to it, was Floyd-Rosney’s -property, and the skipper could only enjoy his fears for the proper care -of its appurtenances. - -For Floyd-Rosney had contracted the habit of scouting about in the -skiff, while the yacht swung at anchor, awaiting his pleasure. The -solitude was soothing to his exacerbated nerves. He could, indeed, be -alone, for he took the oars himself, and as he was a strong, athletic -man the exercise was doubtless beneficial and tonic. The passing of the -congestion of commerce from the great river to the railroads had brought -the stream to an almost primitive loneliness. Thus he would often row -for hours, seeing not a human being, not the smoke of a riverside -habitation, not a craft of any of the multifarious species once wont to -ply the waters of this great inland sea. The descriptive epithet was -merited by its aspect at this stage of the water. Bank-full, it -stretched as far as the eye could reach. Only persons familiar with the -riparian contours could detect in a ruffled line on the horizon the -presence of a growth of cottonwood on the swampy Arkansas shore. - -One of these days, when he was thus loitering about, the sky was dull -and clouded; the river was dark, and reflected its mood. The tender -green of spring was keen almost with the effect of glitter on the bank, -and he noted how high the water stood against the levees of plantations, -here and there, menacing overflow. When a packet chanced to pass he bent -low to his oars, avoiding possible recognition from any passenger on the -guards or officer on deck, but he uncharacteristically exchanged -greetings with a shanty boat, now and again propelled down the stream -with big sweeps; none of the humble amphibians of the cabins had ever -heard, he was sure, of the great Floyd-Rosney. Sometimes he called out a -question, courteously answered, or with a response of chaff, roughly -gay. Once, being doubtful of the locality, he paused on his oars to ask -information of an ancient darkey, who was paddling in a dug-out along -the margin of the river. - -“You are going to have an overflow hereabout,” added Floyd-Rosney. - -The old darkey, nothing loath, joined in the dismal foreboding, keeping -his craft stationary while he lent himself to the joys of conversation -with so aristocratic a gentleman. - -“Dat’s so, Boss; we’se gwine under, shore, ef de ribber don’t quit dis -foolishness.” - -“Whose plantation is that beyond the point, where the water is standing -against the levee?” - -“Dat, sah, is de Mountjoy place, but hit’s leased dis year ter Mr. Ran -Ducie. I reckon mebbe you is ’quainted wid him. Mighty fine man, Mr. -Ran is, an’ nobody so well liked in the neighborhood.” - -Without another word Floyd-Rosney bent to his oars. Was there no escape -from this ill-omened association of ideas? - -The old darkey, checked in the exploitation of his old-time manners and -balked in the opportunity of polite conversation, gazed in amazed -discomfiture after Floyd-Rosney’s skiff, as it sped swiftly down the -river, then resumed his progress, gruff and lowering, ejaculating in -affront: - -“White folks is cur’ous, shore; ain’t got no manners, nor no raisin’, -nor no p’liteness, nohow.” - -Floyd-Rosney’s equipoise had been greatly shaken by the strain upon his -nerves and mental forces, this depletion of his powers of resistance -supplemented by constant and inordinate drinking, contrary to his usual -custom. Thus he had become susceptible to even the slightest strain on -his self-control. He noticed that with the renewal of the mental -turmoils that he had sought to elude--conjured up by the chance mention -of the man’s name that meant so much to him in many ways--his stroke -grew erratic and uncertain; once one of the oars was almost wrenched -from his grasp by a swirl of the current. He was well in mid-stream, in -deep water, and he realized that should he lose his capacity to handle -the little craft he would be in immediate danger of capsizing and -drowning, for his strength in swimming could never enable him to breast -that tumultuous tide at flood height. The yacht was out of sight, lying -at anchor in the bight of a bend, that cut him off from all chance of -being observed and rescued by the skipper. He summoned his presence of -mind and let the boat drift for a few moments while he took from his -pocket a brandy flask, and drank deeply from its undiluted contents. The -potent elixir rallied his forces--steadied his nerves. With its -artificial stimulus his hand was once more firm, his eye bright and -sure. But its stimulus was not lasting, as he knew, and fearing an -incapacity to handle the boat in this swirling waste of waters he -directed his course toward an island, as it seemed, thinking that thence -he would signal the _Aglaia_ and wait for her to steam up and take him -off. There he would be in full view from the yacht. - -As he neared his destination he perceived--as he had not hitherto, -because of the potency of the brandy--that the island of his beclouded -mirage was the wreck of the _Cherokee Rose_, still aground on the -sand-bar, although waters swirled around her, and fish swam through her -cabin doors and the slime and ooze of the river had befouled the -erstwhile dapper whiteness of her guards and saloon walls. He lay on his -oars for a space, regarding with meditative eyes the ruin, analogous, it -seemed to the far-reaching ruin that had its inception here and that had -trailed him so ruthlessly many a day. In his dreary idleness he was -sensible of a species of languid curiosity as to the extent of the -ravages of water and decay in comparatively so short a time. Only a few -months ago, in the past October, he had been aboard the packet, when -trim and sound, and immaculately white and fully equipped, she had run -aground on this treacherous bar, where her bones were destined to rot. -He wondered that the wreckers had left so much, unless, indeed, their -operations were frustrated by the sudden impending rise of the waters. -The craft lay listed to one side, the hull evidently smashed like an -egg-shell by the furious onslaught of the storm, but a part of the -superstructure--the texas and the pilot-house--was still above water, -though canted queerly askew. - -Floyd-Rosney rowed briskly to the stair that formerly served to ascend -to the hurricane deck, the skiff running up flush with the flight. He -sprang out--first trying the integrity of the wood with a cautious foot, -and tied the painter firmly to one of the posts that supported the -hurricane deck, leaving the boat leaping on the ripples, as if seeking -to break away from some ponderous creature of its own kind that would -fain drag it down into the hopeless devastations of a lair in the -depths. - -With a deep sigh Floyd-Rosney slowly ascended the few steps of the stair -above the current, and stood looking drearily down upon the structure -wherein were lived those scenes so momentous in his fate so short a time -ago. As he walked along the canted floor, his white cap in his hand, his -head bared to the breeze, he glanced now and again through the shattered -cabin lights down into the saloon, seeing there the water continuously -swirling in the melancholy spaces, once full of radiance and cheer and -genial company. All the doors of the staterooms had been removed, both -those opening on the guards and the inner ones, of which the panels were -decorated with mirrors and which gave upon the saloon. A vague jingle -caught his attention; a fragment of an electrolier still clung to the -ceiling and sometimes, shaken by the ripples, its glass pendants sent -forth a shrill, disconsolate vibration, like a note of funereal keening. -Suddenly from amidst that weird desolation of shifting waters a face -stared up at him. It was unmistakable. He saw it distinctly. But when he -looked again it was gone. - -Floyd-Rosney was trembling from head to foot. He had turned ghastly -pale. But for the wall of the texas against which he staggered he might -have fallen. He did not question the reality of his impression. It was -as definite as the light of day,--a face strangely familiar, yet -sinister, seen in the murky depths. He wondered wildly if it could be -the drowned face of some victim of the wreck, or if this were now -impossible, some curious explorer such as himself, meeting here more -serious mystery than any he had sought. The next moment he broke into a -harsh laugh of scorn. It was his own reflection! At the end of the -saloon, where the craft lay highest on the bar, one of the mirrored -doors, shattered doubtless in careless handling in process of removal, -had been left as useless. In this fragment he had seen his face for one -moment, and then the ripples played over the glass and the semblance was -gone, returning now again. But Floyd-Rosney had no mind to watch these -weird, illusory antics. It was horrible to him to see his face mirrored -anew, distorted in those foul depths where he had been once well and -happy and full of exuberant life and hope, with wife and child and -fortune, every desire of his heart gratified, both hands full and -running over. - -As he turned away he was surprised to note how the shock had shaken his -composure, his nerves. He was loath to quit his posture against the wall -of the texas that had supported him. His long, intent gaze into the -swirl of the waters had induced a tendency to vertigo, and he looked -about for something that might serve for a seat. The pilot-house was but -two or three steps above, and there were seats built into the wall, he -remembered. - -He made shift to clamber up the short flight. The door was still on its -hinges, but so defaced and splintered as to be not worth removing, and -so askew as to be difficult to open. With one strong effort, for -Floyd-Rosney was a powerful man, he burst it ajar, although it swung -back to its previous position, implying a like difficulty in opening it -again. - -He sat down on the farther side, on the bare bench, the upholstery -having disappeared, and waited to regain his composure. Once more he had -recourse to the brandy flask, now nearly empty. Once more the fires -streamed through nerve and fiber, revivifying his every impulse. He felt -that he was himself again, as he gazed through the blank spaces where -the glass was wont to be, at the vast expanse of the great river, now a -glittering sheen under a sudden cast of the sun. Beautiful chromatic -suggestions were mirrored back from the sky; a stretch of illuminated -lilac, an ethereal hue touched the vivid green of the opposite bank. A -play of rose and gold was in the westward ripples, and one bar, athwart -the tawny reach, of crude, intense vermillion betokened a cloud of -scarlet, harbinger of sunset in the offing. He could see the little -house on stilts to the left hand, now like a boat on the water. In the -enforced stay here, when aground on the sand-bar, he had time to -familiarize himself with even unvalued elements of the landscape. To -the right was a bayou, the current running with great force down its -broad channel, as wide as an ordinary river, and on the other side of -the bight of the bend, lay the _Aglaia_. He wondered if the _Cherokee -Rose_ was an object of the scrutiny of the skipper’s binocle. -Floyd-Rosney thought that he should be on the watch for his employer’s -return, which was doubtless the fact, as he had no other duties in hand. - -Floyd-Rosney was still eyeing the craft, meditating how best to signal -his wish to be taken back to the _Aglaia_, when a sudden sound caught -his attention--a sound of swift steps. They came rapidly along the -hurricane deck, where he himself had found footing, mounted the short -stair to the texas, and the next moment the door of the pilot-house was -burst ajar and the face and form of Adrian Ducie appeared at the -entrance. - -Floyd-Rosney staggered to his feet. - -“What does this mean, sir?” he cried, thickly, the veins of his forehead -swollen stiff and blue, his face scarlet, his eyes flashing fire. - -The newcomer seemed surprised beyond measure. He stared at Floyd-Rosney -as if doubting his senses and could not collect his thoughts or summon -words until Floyd-Rosney blustered forth: - -“Why this intrusion! Leave this place instantly!” - -“It is no intrusion, and I will go at my own good pleasure. I came here -thinking to find a man with whom I have business.” - -“Well, you have found him. A business that should have been settled -between us long ago!” He advanced a step, and he had his right hand in -his pocket. - -“I don’t know what you mean.” - -“You’ll find out, as sure as your name is Randal Ducie,” hissed -Floyd-Rosney. - -“That’s exactly what it is not. I am Adrian Ducie.” - -“You can’t play that game with me. I know your cursed face well enough. -I will mark it now, so that there will never be any more mistakes -between you.” - -Adrian had thought he had a pistol, but it was a knife--a large clasp -knife which he had opened with difficulty because of the strength of its -spring as he fumbled with it in his pocket. He thrust violently at -Ducie’s face, who only avoided the blow by suddenly springing aside; the -blade struck the door with such force as to shiver off a fragment of the -wood. - -Taken at this disadvantage it was impossible for Adrian to retreat in -the precarious footing of the wreck and useless to call for help. He -could only defend himself with his bare hands. - -“I call you to observe, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” he exclaimed, “that I am -unarmed!” - -“So much the better!” cried Floyd-Rosney, striking furiously with the -knife at the face he hated with such rancor. - -But this time Adrian caught at the other man’s arm to deflect the blow -and there ensued a fierce struggle for the possession of the knife, the -only weapon between them. While Floyd-Rosney was the heavier and the -stronger of the combatants, Adrian was the more active and the quicker -of resource. He had almost wrested the knife from Floyd-Rosney’s grasp; -in seeking to close the blade the sharp edge was brought down on -Floyd-Rosney’s hand, and the blood spurted out. The next moment he had -regained it and he rushed at his adversary’s face--the point held high. -Pushing him back with one hand against his breast Adrian once more -deflected his aim from his eyes and face, but the point struck lower -with the full force of Floyd-Rosney’s terrific lunge, piercing the -throat and severing the jugular vein. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -As his antagonist fell heavily to the floor, the force of the impact -shaking the crazy, ruinous superstructure of the boat with a sinister -menace, Floyd-Rosney’s first emotion was the stirring of the impulse of -self-preservation. Not one moment was wasted in indecision. He stepped -deftly across the prostrate body, wrenched the door open with a violent -effort and with satisfaction heard the dislocated spring slam it noisily -behind him. There the corpse would lie indefinitely, unless, indeed, the -man whom Ducie had professed to seek should come to keep an appointment; -probably he had already been here, and had gone, for the mustering -splendors of the evening sky betokened how the hours wore on to sunset. -As Floyd-Rosney took his way with a swift, sure step to the stair where -his boat still struggled at the end of the painter attached to the post, -he noted that Ducie had followed his example and secured his own skiff -in like manner. A sudden monition of precaution occurred to Floyd-Rosney -even in his precipitation, and in loosing his own craft he set the other -adrift, reflecting that to leave it here was to advertise the presence -of its owner aboard the _Cherokee Rose_; the current, sweeping as if -impelled by some tremendous artificial force as of steam or electricity, -set strongly toward the shore, and the boat, swiftly gliding on the -ripples, would ultimately ground itself on the bank, affording evidence -that Ducie had landed. As without an instant’s hesitation he busied -himself in putting his plan into execution he did not think once of the -powerful lenses of the binocle of the skipper, at watch for his return -on the bow of the beautiful _Aglaia_, lying there in the bend of the -river, not two miles away, like a swan on the water, between the radiant -evening sky, and the irradiated stream, reflecting her white breast as -she floated, a vision suspended in soft splendors. - -He had a momentary doubt of the wisdom of his course, as he took up his -oars, and the possibility of this observation occurred to him. Then he -endeavored to reassure himself. It was the only practicable procedure, -he argued. He took the chance of being unobserved, while otherwise the -boat, swinging at the stairway, would unavoidably excite curiosity and -allure investigation. Still, he would have preferred to have had that -possibility in mind, before taking incriminating action,--to have had -his course a matter of choice instead of making the best of it. - -From this moment circumstances seemed contorted and difficult of -adjustment. He had not noticed in his absorption that the cut inflicted -upon him from his own knife was bleeding profusely, and beginning to -sting and smart violently. He must have unwittingly scattered drops of -blood all along the deck and stairs as he came. It was a marvel, he -reflected, still optimistic in instinctive self-defense, that none had -fallen on his suit of white flannel. He held the wounded hand in the -water, hoping to stanch the flow, but the red drops welled forth with -an impetuous gush, as of a burst of tears. The cut was not deep, but it -was clear and clean, for the blade had been as sharp as a razor. With a -little time it would dry in the cicatrix and close the wound. His back -toward the _Aglaia_, he felt sufficiently free of espionage to tear his -linen handkerchief to shreds, using his teeth to start the rent, for -with that hand dripping not only with blood, but with bloodguiltiness, -he dared not search his pockets for his knife. He bound up the wound, -carefully, his plans forming in his mind with all minute detail as he -adjusted the bandages. He would loiter about the river, he said to -himself, till the bleeding ceased, which must be in half an hour’s time, -and the hand would then not be liable to notice. With his splendid -physical condition any wound would be swift in healing. It would be -close on nightfall, he meditated, and this was all the better, for he -would board the yacht under cover of the darkness and give orders to -drop down the river to the Gulf, thence to the open sea--his ultimate -destination being some port beyond the reach of extradition, for he had -lately tested his hold on public favor, and was resolved to risk nothing -on its uncertain tenure. He could perfect his plans when in mid-ocean. -Meantime, the present claimed all his faculties. - -With the fast plying oars and the strong sweep of the current the skiff -shot along with a speed that suggested a winning shell in a ‘varsity -race. When he approached within ear-shot of the _Aglaia_ he hailed the -skipper, who promptly responded from the deck, and still at a -considerable distance, well in mid-channel, Floyd-Rosney shouted out his -intentions to proceed in the skiff a few miles further, as he wished to -investigate the old Duciehurst mansion, and ordered the _Aglaia_ to drop -down at six o’clock and pick him up there. - -As his excitement and the fever of his fury began to subside, the flow -of blood slackened perceptibly. He noticed that the saturated portion of -the bandage was growing stiff and dry; that the blood no longer -continued to spread on the fabric. He would throw it away presently and -wash his hands clear of the traces in the river. - -He looked up at the massive walls of Duciehurst with a deep rancor as he -approached the old mansion. The braided currents, making diagonally -across the river, were carrying him toward it as if he were borne -thither by no will of his own, and indeed this was in some sort true. - -He loathed to see it again. He wished he had never seen it. Yet in the -same instant he upbraided his attitude of mind as folly. What man of -business instincts, he argued, would revolt against a great and -substantial accession to his fortune, coming to him in regular course of -law, because it was coveted by its former owners, ousted forty years -before. He felt hard hit by untoward fate. All had been against him, -from the beginning of this accursed imbroglio. He had done what he had -thought right and proper,--what any sane and just man would endorse--and -he had lost wife, child, and heavily in estate, and was possibly -destined to exile for life,--if--if that ghastly witness on the stranded -steamer should take up its testimony against him. But no! it was -silenced forever! It could not even protect the man whom Ducie had -expected to meet should that unlucky wight persist in keeping his -appointment, finding more than he bargained for, Floyd-Rosney said -grimly. - -The boat was running cleverly in to his destination. The landing was -under water already, and the skiff glided over its location with never a -sign suggesting its submergence. The old levee was indicated in barely a -long ripple, washing continually above its summit, and this, too, the -skiff skimmed, undulating merely to the tossing of the waters about the -obstruction. The relative height of the ground on which the deserted -mansion stood alone protected it from inundation, although as yet the -disaster of overflow had nowhere fallen upon the land. But evidently the -water would soon be within the fine old rooms, and Floyd-Rosney, looking -with the eye of a wealthy as well as thrifty proprietor upon the scene, -not only willing but able to protect, felt with a surly sigh of -frustration that but for the impending lawsuit he would have built a -stanch levee to reclaim the old ruin, even though there was a -serviceable embankment protecting the lands in the rear. - -The large arrogance of the massive cornice of the main building, the -wide spread of the wings on either side, appealed to his taste of a -justified magnificence. This structure was erected in the days of -princelings who had the opulence to sustain its pretensions, and of his -acquaintance he knew no man but himself who could afford the waste of -money on its restoration. There was something appealing to an esthetic -sense in the forwardness of the neglected vegetation about the glassless -goggle-eyed ruin. In the magnolias on either side of the wings he caught -sight of the white glint of blooms, so early though it was! the pink -wands of the almond blossoms waved here and there in the breeze. The -grass of the terraces was freshly springing. Vines draped the broken -pedestals that had once upheld stone vases, and on the façade of the -tall structure the sun crept up and up as suavely benign, as loath to -leave as in the days when its splendors dominated the Mississippi, the -“show place” of all the river. - -Floyd-Rosney walked slowly along the broad pavement and up the long -flight of steps to the wide doorless portal. Within shadows lurked, and -memories--how bitter! He hesitated to go in--the influence of the place -was like the thrall of a fate. He wished again he had never seen it. But -he could hear, so definitely the water transmitted the sound, the -engines of the _Aglaia_ getting up steam, and he was conscious of the -scrutiny of the skipper’s powerful lenses. - -Through all the vacant vastness swept the fresh breath of the river, so -close at hand. The light from the sinking sun, broadly aslant, fell -through the gaping windows and lay athwart the rooms in immaterial bands -of burnished gold. The illusion of motion was continuous on the grand -staircase where the motes danced in ethereal, hazy illumination. The -contrasting dun-gray shadows imparted a depth and richness to the flare -of ruddy gold, reddening dreamily as the day slowly tended to its close. -All was silence, absolute silence. As he wandered aimlessly from room to -room, his step loud in the quietude, the delicate scent of a white -jessamine, early abloom, bringing its vernal tribute of incense to the -forlorn old ruin year after year, despite half a century of neglect, -thrilled his senses and smote some chord of softer feeling. A sentiment -of self-justification rose in his breast. How was it that all had gone -with him so strangely awry! Wherein had he erred? He had but exerted his -prerogative to order the affairs of his family according to his best -judgment in its interest, as any man might and should do, and--behold, -this tumult of tortures was unloosed upon him. His wife had utilized the -opportunity as a pretext to flee to Randal Ducie, and but for this day’s -work the deserted and divorced would have been fleeced by the courts to -finance the new matrimonial venture. He had done right, he said, -thrusting his white cap back from his heated brow. He had done well. - -It had not been his intention to kill an unarmed man; the fatality of -the blow had been an accident, but it was irrevocable, and it behooved -him to look to the future. No one but the skipper of the _Aglaia_ could -have known of his entrance upon the derelict, and if he had chanced to -observe it, a word in his employee’s ear, that he had discovered the -body there--murdered probably--and did not wish to be called as witness -would be sufficient for the present; the skipper would have forgotten -the whole incident before he had entered the first day’s run at sea in -the log of the _Aglaia_. There was no reason to connect him with the -tragedy except that the two were on the river the same day. He had -retracted, and exonerated, and handsomely eaten all manner of humble -pie, and it was to be supposed that relations had been established as -friendly as could exist between rival claimants of an estate now to be -adjudicated by the courts. - -He looked down at his hand. The wound that had so perversely bled showed -only pallid lips, but no sign of red. He could not remember if he had -thoroughly wiped the gory knife and began apprehensively to search his -pockets. Not here--not there. He grew ghastly pale. His breath came -quick in suffocating gasps as he realized the truth. He had failed to -repossess himself of the knife at that supreme moment of tragedy. He had -an illuminating recollection, as if he beheld the scene anew, that the -blade had caught on some strong ligament or cartilage in the man’s -throat and as the victim swayed and fell heavily he had not sought to -secure it. - -“Fool! Fool!” the empty building rang with the sound, and a score of -frantic echoes shouted opprobrium upon him. He clasped his quivering -hands above his head and sought to command his thoughts. He had been too -drunk at the time to realize the fact, but the knife was a witness which -would indubitably fix the crime upon him. Like all his personal -accessories it was the handsomest thing of the kind that could be -bought, and on the silver plate on the handle was engraved, according to -his wont, his monogram. He started violently toward the hall. He must go -back,--but he could never row the distance, exhausted, as he was, -against the current. He would have the _Aglaia_ to steam up on some -pretext, and in company with the skipper they would discover the body, -when unperceived he could repossess himself of the knife. He was -terrified at the prospect of the attempt. He felt himself already in -toils. He tossed his hands above his head and wrung them wildly. A -hoarse cry of agony burst from his lips, suddenly dying in his throat, -for--was that an echo in the resounding vacancy? A strange sound, a -great pervasive sound was filling all the air, as if the old house -quavered, and groaned, and cried out in long endured anguish. There was -a rush upon the staircase; he saw through the open doors of the -drawing-rooms shadowy, flitting figures descending in crowds as if the -ancient ghosts that had found harbor here were fleeing their refuge. - -Nay, only coils on coils of dust. As he rushed forth into the hall he -perceived at the end of the long perspective the great Mississippi -River, as in some strange dislocation of the angle of vision, -reaching--illuminated and splendid--to the flaunting evening sky. - -And from the Mississippi River the lenses of the steam yacht _Aglaia_, -focused on the old mansion of Duciehurst, saw it at one moment still and -silent, majestic even, in its melancholy ruin, the sun lingering on its -massive cornice and columnated portico. The next it slid as softly from -vision as an immaterial mirage. The caving bank had gone down into the -unimaginable depths of the river, carrying on its floods a thousand -acres of disintegrating land and the turbulent waters of the liberated -Mississippi were flowing deep over the cotton fields of Duciehurst -plantation, two miles inland. - -In the widespread commotion of the flood it was fortunate for the -_Aglaia_, even though so far up stream--distant in the bight of the -bend--that steam was already up in the boilers. Forging up the river, -against the current, at her maximum speed, the yacht in the seething -turmoil found no safe anchorage till near the bar where the derelict -lay. Here she swung round and the officers sought to inaugurate measures -to recover if it were possible the body of Floyd-Rosney, who had -indubitably perished in the submergence of the mansion. The whole region -was aroused and aghast at the magnitude of the disaster. From the deck -of the yacht were visible hurrying groups as the population pressed -toward the ill-fated scene. The skipper’s megaphone was in constant -requisition as being an eye-witness of the calamity he alone could give -authentic information. Randal Ducie, hastening down to his levee, was -met on the summit by the information that his ancestral estate had -ceased to exist, swept from the face of the earth as completely as if it -had never been. Its restoration had long been the object nearest his -heart, its sequestration in alien possession was the hardship of his -life. But he showed scant emotion. Some subtle, inexplicable premonition -of catastrophe infinitely heart-rending annulled the sense of loss. - -“Where’s my brother?” he demanded irrelevantly, and despite the -remonstrances of the by-standers he threw himself into a skiff at the -landing and pulled out on the tossing, turbulent tide. As the rage of -the river subsided the search was joined by others, and a wild rumor of -some disaster to Adrian Ducie quickly pervaded the vicinity. The finding -of his rowboat on the Arkansas shore did not prove his landing, -according to Floyd-Rosney’s forecast, for the craft was caught in a -tangle of saw-grass in a marshy swamp where footing was impracticable. -The old negro to whom Floyd-Rosney had spoken in the afternoon was now -returning from his errand down the river, which was gray with a slowly -gathering mist, and melancholy with a cast of the silent and pallid -moon. He hove near the little fleet of rowboats that roved the shadows -and asked a question concerning the appearance of the missing man, with -whom he thought it possible he had had some conversation an hour or so -ago. - -“He looks like me,” said Randal Ducie, throwing his face into high -relief with an electric flashlight, and turning with poignant hope -toward the boatman. - -“Oh, no, sah! No, sah!” disconsolately admitted the old darkey, blinking -in the glare. “Nebber saw two folks more onsimilar. Mr. Ran Ducie, I -knowed you, Sah, from way back. Knowed yer daddy. Dis man looked like he -thunk I war de wum o’ de yearth, an’ de yearth war built fur him, though -I never p’sumed ter talk ter him. ’Twar him fust p’sumed ter talk ter -me. He war dressed beautified, too, with white flannel suit, an’ a white -cap, an’ handsome ter kill.” - -“Floyd-Rosney,” Randal muttered through his set teeth. “And where did he -go?” - -“Ter de ole _Cher’kee Rose_, sah,” the negro pointed at the derelict, -lying on the bar, visible amidst the shadows thronging the river in the -ghostly gleams of the moon that was wont to patrol the deck, and seek -out the dark recesses of the cabin where the rise and subsidence of the -water registered its fluctuations, and to look through the windows of -the pilot-house where the steersman at the wheel once took his bearings. - -It was a stupendous moment in a man’s life when Randal Ducie stood in -the shattered old pilot-house and looked down into his own dead face, as -it were, ghastly pale and silent, under the moon’s desolate light. The -tie between the brothers had been more than the love of women, and the -heart of the whole countryside bled for Randal’s grief. The -extraordinary resemblance of the two, their fraternal devotion, their -exile from the home of their fathers, and its wrongful detention in the -possession of others, the destruction of the property by the caving -bank, the greatest disaster the country had known for a half century, -when its restoration to its rightful heirs seemed imminent, all appealed -with tender commiseration to the heart of the world, albeit not easily -touched, and a flood of condolence poured in unregarded upon Randal -where he sat in his solitary home with bowed head and bated pulses, -scarcely living himself, admitting no business, seeing no friend, -opening no letter. - -The knife that Floyd-Rosney had left piercing the dead man’s throat had -fixed the crime upon him, together with the testimony at the inquest of -the old negro boatman, who had seen him take his way to the derelict, -and that of the skipper who had watched him through the binocle of the -_Aglaia_ descend the steps, unloose both the boats that swung on the -tide, secured to a post, and set one adrift while he rowed the other, -the appurtenance of the _Aglaia_. - -It was well, Randal felt, taking in these proceedings the only interest -he could scourge his mind to entertain, that he was not called upon to -prosecute on circumstantial evidence some forlorn water rat, or some -friendless negro for the millionaire’s crime, as doubtless Floyd-Rosney -had contemplated. Though the death of the gentle and genial Adrian went -unavenged, save by the heavy hand of Heaven itself, it wrought no -calamity to others, except in his incomparable loss. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -One evening, late in the summer, the melancholy recluse, who might have -forgotten, so seldom did he speak, the sound of his own voice, strolled -out to evade the intensity of the heat in the hope of a breath of air -from the river. But no, it lay like a sheet of glass, blank of -incident--no breeze, no cloud, a pallid monotony of twilight. He had -passed through the lawn and came out upon the levee which in the dead -levels of that country seems of considerable elevation. He loitered -along the summit, finding in the higher ground some amelioration of the -motionless atmosphere, for it ceased to harass him, and with his heavy -brooding thoughts for company he walked on and on, till at length he was -aroused by the perception that in his absorption he had passed the -limits of his own domain, and was trespassing on the precincts of a -neighboring plantation. This fact was brought to his notice by seeing a -bench on the levee which he had not caused to be placed there, and -behind it was a mass of Cherokee rose hedge, the growth of which he did -not approve on these protective embankments. On it were many waxy white -blooms, closing with the waning day, amidst the glossy, deeply green -foliage, and seated on the bench was a lady gowned in fleecy white. - -He scarcely gave her a glance, and with a sense of intrusion he gravely -lifted his hat as he was turning away. But she sprang up precipitately -and came toward him. - -“Oh, Randal, _Randal_,” she exclaimed in a voice of poignant sympathy, -and said no more. She had burst into a tempest of sobs and cries, and as -he came toward her and held out his hand, he felt her tears raining down -on it as she pressed it between both her soft palms. - -“Oh, I know you don’t--you _can’t_--care for my sympathy,” Hildegarde -sobbed out brokenly. “It is nothing to you or to _him_, but Randal, he -was not a man for _one_ friend, one mourner. Everybody loved him that -knew him.” - -She had collapsed in her former place on the bench, her arm over its -back, her head bent upon it, her slender figure shaken by her sobs. - -“But he would care for your sympathy, he would value your tears, shed -for his sake,” Randal said, suddenly. He walked to the bench and sat -down beside her. “Only a few hours before--before--he was speaking to me -of you. How lovely----” - -He paused in embarrassment, remembering Adrian’s protest how gladly he -would see his brother make her the chatelaine of Duciehurst,--oh, -dreams, dreams!--all shattered and gone! - -“Did he--did he, really?” - -She lifted her eyes, swimming with tears and irradiated with smiles, -that seemed to shine in the dull twilight. - -“Oh, how I treasure the words!” Then after a long pause--“I was afraid -to speak to you, Randal. I do everything wrong!” - -“You? You do everything right,” he declared. - -“I am all impulse, you know,” she explained. - -“Which is so much better than being all design,” he interpolated. - -“And so I speak without consideration, and might--might hurt people’s -feelings.” - -“Never--never in the world,” he insisted. - -“I am so glad you forgive it, if it is intrusiveness. But I am staying -down here at my aunt’s; she has been very ill. And I have so longed to -say just one word to you--to call you by telephone--or,--something. I -would see your solitary light burning across the lake, so late, so -late--you know we have been watchers here, too,--and I would think of -you, shut in with your sorrow, and no human pity can comfort you. So I -could only send my prayers for you. Did you feel my prayers?” - -They were very real to her in her simple faith, very important, -necessarily efficacious. - -“No,” he said, honestly. But as her face fell he added: “Perhaps they -will be answered.” - -“Oh, assuredly,” she cried, tremulously, and her sincerity touched him. - -“Whenever your light shines late from your east window remember that I -am praying that you may have the grace to turn your thoughts joyfully to -the blessed memories you have of your brother, and the happy hours that -were in mercy vouchsafed to you, and what he was to you, and what you -were to him, and what you will be to each other on the day of the great -Reunion. So that you may have strength to take up your duties in life -again, in usefulness and contentment--like the man you were born to be, -and the man you are. Then shall my prayers be answered, and the memory -of your brother will become a blessing, and not a blight.” - -There was some responsive chord in that manly heart of his vibrating -strongly to this appeal. Only the next day, struggling with an averse -distaste and wincing from the sights and sounds of the former routine, -he went out to supervise the weighing of the cotton in the fields, now -beginning to open with a fair promise. He felt strangely grateful for -the hearty greetings of the laborers, and an humble appeal to right some -little injustice only within his power made his hands seem strong, and -renewed his sense of a duty in the world. - -The next day, collapsing on his resolution, it was difficult to force -himself to take out his fine horse and drive as of yore to the -neighboring town, attending a meeting of the planters of the vicinity, -all agog, always, on the subject of the operations of the levee board. - -When Sunday came, with, oh, how faint a spirit, he took his downcast way -to the little neighborhood church, built in a dense grove, full of -shadows and the sentiment of holy peace, called St. John’s in the -Wilderness, and his broken and contrite heart seemed all poignantly -lacerated anew and bleeding, and found no comfort. It had all the agony -of renunciation to think of his brother--his own other self, his twin -existence--as translated to that far, spiritual sphere, which we cannot -realize, or formulate aught of its conditions. His brother, alive, well, -strong, loving and beloved, fighting his way dauntlessly through -inadequate resources and restrictions, making and building of his own -inherent values a place for himself in the world--that vital presence -quenched! That loyal, generous, gentle heart to beat never again. It was -a thought to make the senses reel. He wondered that reason did not fail -before its contemplation. He felt his eyes grow hot and burn in their -sockets, and only mechanically and from force of habit could he follow -the service. Once, as his unseeing gaze turned restlessly from the -chancel they fell upon Hildegarde, seated in her uncle’s pew. Her eyes -were downcast, her face was sweetly solemn. A sense of calm radiated -from her expression, her look of aloofness from the world. There arose -in his mind the thought of Adrian’s faith in her genuine graces of -character, which belittled even her charm and beauty, his wish that she -might share the splendor of Ran’s restoration to fortune, when it should -come full-handed to them, that she might grace the high estate of the -lady of Duciehurst--oh, poor Duciehurst! He could but look upon her with -different eyes for the thought. It was as a bond between them. - -He had regained his composure, grave and dejected--all unlike his former -self--by the time the sermon was ended, and he waited for her at the -door; together they walked silently to her uncle’s home under the deep -rich shadows of the primeval woods. - -Even trifles are of moment in the stagnation of interest in a country -neighborhood. Some vague rumor of the little incident that these two had -been thus seen publicly together penetrated beyond the purview of the -parishioners of St. John’s in the Wilderness. The association of names -came thus to the ears of Paula Floyd-Rosney, and urged her to an action -which she had been contemplating, but had relegated to a future -propitious opportunity. It forced precipitancy upon her. If she intended -to move at all time must be taken into account, and the untoward chance -of interference with her plans. She was now indeed the arbiter of her -own destiny, she told herself. Her suit for divorce had been abated by -reason of the death of Floyd-Rosney, and she was in the enjoyment of -one-half of his princely estate in Mississippi--where the right of dower -has been annulled and a child’s part substituted as the share of the -wife--and also the “widow’s third” in Tennessee, for he had died -intestate. She was young, and her spirits rebounded with the prospect of -the rehabilitation of her happiness. Her heart bore, it is true, some -sorry scars which it would carry to the judgment day. But she could not -feel, she could not even feign, grief for her husband’s fate; she knew -it was liberation for her and his child. She had donned, in deference to -the urgency of Mrs. Majoribanks, a fashionable version of widow’s weeds, -and she had intended to allow the traditional time of mourning to expire -before she made haste to gather the treasures of youth and love that she -had so recklessly thrown away. She had not even regret for the disaster -of Duciehurst. She regarded its destruction as the solution of a -problem. She would not have wished to win in the lawsuit the estate she -felt was morally and equitably the property of her former lover. It was -delightful to her to be in the position to bestow, and not to receive. -She was in case to make brave amends for her fickle desertion of Ran -Ducie at the summons of wealth and splendor. She would go back to him a -prize beyond computation--the woman he loved and had always loved, but -endowed like a princess and looking like a queen. The expectation -embellished her almost out of recognition; her closest friends and -casual guests--for she had returned to her own home, from which she had -fled--could but exclaim as her beauty expanded. “How I loved him!” she -would whisper to herself, and sometimes she wondered if those five dread -years under the yoke were not heavy payment for the fortune she was -bringing him. The consciousness of this great wealth made her the more -confident, the more plausible in the letter she wrote him. Though she -had feared supplantation, it was only because he might be in ignorance -of her attitude toward him. - -It took the form of a letter of condolence. She declared she yearned to -express her deep sympathy for him, although she had felt he might not -care to hear from her on account of her connection with the hand that -struck the blow which had so sorely afflicted him. But she conjured him, -by their love for each other, so precious in the days that were past, to -forbear thinking of her in that wise. The villain who had gone had no -hold on her heart. He had destroyed her life. She could confess to -Randal now that every day of the years and every hour of the days had -been one long penance for her faithless desertion of him, her casting -away his precious heart, worth more than all the gold of Ophir. She had -never regretted it but once, and that was always, and unceasingly. She -was possessed, she supposed,--or rather, consider that she was so young, -so unsophisticated, so blinded by the glare of wealth and dizzy with the -specious wiles of the world. Oh, to live the old days over again! But he -must not hate her--he must not associate her with the name as detestable -to her as to him. He must remember, instead, how sweet was the simple -story of their love, and date his thoughts of her from its emotions. One -thing she begged of him--let her hear from him, and soon. - -In all her formulations of the possible result of this letter she never -anticipated the event. She had been prepared for delay. Some little time -he must have to decide upon his course, his phrases, complicated as the -whole incident was with the memory of the murderous Floyd-Rosney. When -by return mail she noted the large white missive, with her name in his -well-remembered, decided, dashing chirography, her heart plunged, and -for a moment she almost thought it had ceased to beat. Her hands -trembled violently as she tore open the envelope. Within was her own -letter and on the reverse side of the last sheet were penned these -words: - -“This letter should be in your own possession. The story to which you -allude I read to the last page, and the book is closed.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -As the months wore on into winter Randal Ducie, in the pursuance of the -effort to rehabilitate his broken and maimed life, was often in Memphis. -His old associates had an eager welcome for him, for his candid and -genial nature was supplemented by a tireless energy and some special -acumen and active experience in the line in which these endowments were -now needed. The levee crisis was acute, and the planters were eager to -formulate an adequate and practical defense against the encroachments of -the river, with State or Federal aid, rather than have the Delta serve, -as they claimed, as an experiment station for the Government. Cotton was -their objective,--not science. - -Sometimes a poignant pang smote the heart of the lonely man as some -absorbed and eager acquaintance greeted him, from force of habit, with -the old look of inquiry as to his identity, one of those who used -formerly to ask inadvertently, “Is this you, or your brother?” eliciting -in those happy days the delighted response “Of course, it is my -brother.” - -Alas, how Randal wished now that it was his brother,--to be himself -lying in that quiet grave to which he was sure their ill-fated -resemblance had consigned Adrian in the flower of his youth, and that it -was he who was here among these streets of busy men with many a long -year of life before him. - -“But you should thank God that you are privileged to suffer in his -stead,” Hildegarde would argue with him. “He would have had all this -torture to endure if you had been the one called away.” - -Shortly after his arrival in Memphis he had gravitated to her father’s -house, where he often sat for hours in the library in the quiet -atmosphere of the books, her face pensive, illumined by the flash and -sparkle of the fire as she worked with dainty, deft fingers on a bit of -embroidery. Informal visits these, and often other members of the family -gathered around the hearth,--her father, talking levee-board, and the -stage of the river, the price of cotton and the dangers of -overproduction; her college-boy brother, a football expert, a famous -halfback with the latest sensations of the gridiron on Thanksgiving-day; -her mother, soft and sweet, with that frank look of Hildegarde in her -duller eyes, for which Randal loved her. He found the only comfort he -knew in this group. Once, however, the young girl’s unthinking candor -almost stunned him. - -“Such an odd thing,” she said one day when all were present; she was -evidently coming from far reaches of her reverie; she had been carefully -matching the skeins for the embroidered gentian blooming under the -benison of her touch, and he had a fleeting thought that she might have -rivaled nature had she compared them to the tint of her eyes. “I met -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney yesterday at the Jennison reception, and she asked me -such a strange question.” - -She paused, but he would not inquire, and the others, realizing the -malapropos subject, could not sufficiently command their embarrassment. -But the transparent Hildegarde needed no urgency. - -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney asked me,” she said, laying all the skeins together -in her right hand while she looked up with bright interest, “if you had -ever told me of the contents of the letter she wrote to you some months -ago.” - -“And what did you answer?” asked Randal, breaking the awkward silence. - -“Why, of course I told her that you had never mentioned the letter,” -replied Hildegarde, with a flash of surprise. “I told her the truth.” - -“You did! Why, you amaze me!” exclaimed Randal, with a touch of his old -gayety, and with the laugh that rippled around the circle the incident -passed. - -Yet this incident put him on his guard. He had long since lost every -trace of the sentiment he had once felt for this woman. From the moment -he had received his rejection, years ago, he had realized that he had -been mistaken from the first in her nature. With many men the -contemplation of the magnitude of the temptation, the splendor of the -opportunity as Floyd-Rosney’s wife, might have served to condone in a -degree her defection. Not so with Randal Ducie. He had a very honest -self-respect. He had been trained at his mother’s knee to reverence the -high ideals of life. To him, Love was a sacred thing, Marriage was the -ordinance of God, and a mercenary motive a profanation. He had been -poignantly wounded in the disappointment, humiliated, in some sort, yet -he looked upon the discovery that she was vulnerable to this specious -lure of gain as an escape, and he set all the strong will of his -stanchly endowed nature to recover from the influence she had exerted -in his life. Now, so long afterward, when he had not only reason to -condemn and resent her part in his own past, but to detest the very -sight of her, the sound of the name she bore, he could not imagine how -she could be the victim of the obsession that she was aught to him but a -hateful living lie, a presentment of avarice. He wondered at the -persuasion of a woman, perceived by him only in this instance, but often -noticed elsewhere by the observant in such matters, as to the unlimited -power of her attractions. She can never believe no ember burns amidst -the ashes of a former attachment, dulled by time perhaps, covered from -sight, but smouldering still, and with fresh fuel ready to flame forth -anew. He could not understand on what was based her conviction of the -permanence of his attachment. On her true faith to bind them together -till death?--it had been tested and found wanting. On her gifts of -intellect?--the supposition was an absurdity; she was indubitably a -bright and a cultivated woman, but Randal had been educated too -definitely in the masculine American methods to think of sitting at the -feet of any woman. On her beauty?--where was the traditional delicacy of -the feminine perceptions! Did she imagine him a Turk at heart? Her -beauty might attract--it could never hold. In the old days of his fond -affection if she had been visited by some disfiguring, defacing -affliction she would have been the same to him, equally dear, and but -that she herself had stripped off the mask and proclaimed the disguise -that had befooled him she would have been the lady of his heart, the -cherished treasure of his life to the day of his death. - -Now he could but wish that she would withhold her withering hand from -such poor values as she and hers had left him in life. He did not -understand her latest demonstration. But for Hildegarde’s pellucid -candor he might never have dreamed of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s covert -interest in a proposition made to him by the senior partner of a firm of -prominent jewelers, looking to the purchase of the diamond necklace -found among the jewels at Duciehurst, now lying in a safety deposit -vault. Ducie curtly refused to entertain an offer. Then he as curtly -asked: - -“But why should you think I would wish to sell it?” - -Mr. Dazzle was visibly embarrassed, but still rational. - -“The idea was suggested to me, as the stones are of -great--well--ahem--considerable value, and you have no ladies in your -family.” - -“Not at present,” said Randal, stiffly. - -“True--true; you might care to retain them if you should marry. But as -they are so far beyond the pretensions of present-day ornaments, -something more suitable--and--and your being extensively interested in -cotton planting where money can be used to advantage----” - -“And lost to disadvantage, too,” said Ducie, grimly. - -“True--true--but the diamonds being wholly unproductive--they are cut in -the old style, too, which tends to reduce their value----” - -“You wouldn’t have an antique necklace with diamonds cut in the present -style?” - -“No--no; I was considering them as disassociated from their setting, -which is very rare of workmanship--that is--I thought--the idea was -suggested to me”--Mr. Dazzle did not intend to imperil his soul by lying -in anybody’s interest--“the idea was suggested to me that perhaps you -might care to sell.” - -“Not at all. The necklace is reserved as a bridal gift,” said Ducie, -precipitately. - -“And a most magnificent one,” declared Mr. Dazzle, his face beaming with -the enthusiasm befitting his vocation. “I hope you will give us the -commission to clean and put the necklace in order, see to the clasp, -which should be renewed, possibly, as a precaution against loss,--all -those details. It will appear to twice the advantage that it did when I -saw it at the time you and your brother had it appraised with a view to -dividing the valuables found at Duciehurst.” - -Ducie got rid of the man without further committing himself. Then in -surprise he demanded of himself why he had said this thing, when nothing -was further from his thoughts. In fact it had been thrown off on the -spur of the moment, to be quit of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s suspected -interference in his affairs. She wear the revered Ducie heirlooms! He -would work his fingers to the bone before the jewels should go on the -market. And the offensive suggestion that something simpler, cheaper, in -the manner of the present day, might suffice for his bridal gifts when -he should be called upon to make them, in order that the difference -might go to forwarding his business, and ease the struggle for meat and -bread, was so characteristic of the Floyd-Rosney methods of considering -the affairs of other people that Randal could but ascribe it to her. But -why had his ungoverned impulse broached the idea of a bridal present? -he wondered. Her interest, her espionage in his most intimate personal -concerns seemed sinister, and he would fain be rid of the very thought -of her. - -The reaction had been great when Paula had received back her crafty -letter of condolence with the characteristic endorsement on the final -page. Her pride was humiliated to the ground, and her heart pierced. She -could not realize, she would not believe that he no longer loved her. -She could but think that were not other considerations held paramount he -would have flown to her arms. She became ingenious in constructing a -mental status to justify his course on some other theory--any other -theory--than a burned-out flame. He was in the thrall of public opinion, -she argued. He fancied it would not sustain him in his devotion to the -widow of the man who had murdered his brother. He was ready to sacrifice -himself and her also that he might stand unchallenged by the world--the -careless unnoting world, rolling on its own way, that would not know -to-morrow a phase of the whole episode. What was a gossip’s tongue -clacking here and there in comparison with their long deferred -happiness. How should a censorious frown or a raised eyebrow outweigh -all that they were, all that they had been to each other--their human, -pulsing hearts! If she could only have speech of him--yet no! She could -not say of her own initiative what had been most difficult to intimate -in writing. She must wait, and plan, and watch, and be as patient as she -might. - -Her spirits had worn low in the process. She had begun to feel the keen -griefs of a martyr. Through her love for this man, what had she not -suffered? From the moment on the _Cherokee Rose_ that she had seen his -brother’s face, so nearly a facsimile of his own, her old love for him -reasserted itself and would not be denied. Had not Adrian been of the -passengers of the packet, had not so keen and intense a reminder of the -old days risen before her, life would have gone on as heretofore. She -would have continued to adjust her moods to the exactions of her -arbitrary husband, as she had been well content to do. No jealousy would -have inflamed his causeless suspicions. He would have been still in his -lordly enjoyment of his rich opportunities and Adrian Ducie alive and -well. She had been pilloried before the public gaze; her child had been -torn from her bosom; her husband had made his name, the name she bore, -infamous with a revolting crime, and was dead in his sins; and the man -for whose sake--nay for the sake of a mere sweet memory of a boyish -worship, a tender reciprocation of a pure and ardent attachment--this -coil of events was set in motion, writes that he has read the story to -the end of the page, and the book is closed. Ah, no--Randal Ducie, there -is somewhat more, reading between the lines, for your perusal, and the -book may be reopened. Her heart was full of reproach for him, and yet -she believed that he loved her and secretly upbraided him that he did -not love her more than the frown of the world,--that world to which she -had in her fresh youth been glad to do homage on her bended knees, -sacrificing him to it, and her plighted troth. - -She was restless; she could not be still. She was out every day. More -than once in her limousine she caught sight of him on the sidewalk. She -had fancied, she had feared he might not speak, but he raised his hat -with a grave dignity and a look wholly devoid of consciousness, and she -could hang no thread of a theory on the incident. Once he chanced to be -strolling with Hildegarde Dean, and with the recollection of her fresh, -smiling, girlish face Paula went home in a rage, as if she had received -some bitter affront, as if her tenure on his affections precluded his -exchange of a word with any other woman, the tender of a casual -courtesy. Then it was that she projected the purchase of the necklace. -If he should--but oh, he could not! That girl should not wear the -gorgeous gewgaw, which she herself had rescued at such pains and risk, -and restored to his possession. He was as poor as poverty--she had -adopted her husband’s habit of scorn of small means--and she would buy -it secretly through an agent, at any price. - -When the answer came from the jeweler she was stunned. It was reserved -as a bridal gift, quotha. She had crystallized the very thought she had -sought to preclude. The mischance tamed her. She caught her breath and -took counsel with sober conservatism. She must be wary; she must make no -false move. Indeed, she told herself she must be utterly quiescent; she -must, in prudence, in self-respect, make no move at all. Then by degrees -her persistent hopefulness, her vehement determination, were reasserted. -She argued that no immediate bridal was foreshadowed, nor with whom. She -herself might wear these jewels,--which she had discovered and -restored,--on a day that would be like a first bridal, for her wedding -seemed to her now as a sacrifice to Moloch. - -Some time later she chanced, while driving, to meet Hildegarde, walking -alone. Paula joyously signaled to her and ordered the limousine to be -drawn up to the curb. “Come with me,” she said, genially, “let’s have a -long drive and a good talk. I was just thinking of you!” - -She looked most attractive as she smiled at the girl. Her ermine furs, -including the toque--for she had cast aside even the perfunctory weeds -she had worn--added an especial richness and daintiness to a wintry -toilette of black, adhering to the convention of second mourning, it -being now almost a year since Floyd-Rosney had startled the world by his -manner of quitting it. Her eyes were bright and kindly, her cheek -delicately flushed. She had an increased authority or autocracy in her -manner, which might have come about from unrestrained control of her -fortune and her actions, but which seemed to the girl in some sort -coercive. Hildegarde felt that she could scarcely have refused if she -would, yet indeed she did not wish to decline, and soon they were -skimming along the smooth curves of the speedway in the driving park, -the river, though lower than at this season last year, glimpsed in -burnished silver now and again through the trees. - -“I have a good scheme for you and me, Hildegarde,” said Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, and as the two sat together she slipped one hand into -Hildegarde’s chinchilla muff to give her little gloved fingers an -affectionate pressure. “I want you to go with me as my guest to New -Orleans for Mardi Gras,--doesn’t Lent come early this year? The yacht -is quite ready and we will make a list of just a few friends for -company. And afterward to my house on Saint Simon’s Island.” - -“Oh, ideal,” cried Hildegarde joyously. “I shall be delighted to go.” - -“I think Saint Simon’s Island is the choice location for the penitential -season,” said Paula flippantly,--“savors least of sackcloth and ashes.” - -Hildegarde’s face fell. - -“Oh, did I tell you,” the quick Paula broke off suddenly, “that as a -Lenten offering I am going to furnish a room and endow a bed in the new -Charity Hospital?” - -“Oh, how lovely,” cried Hildegarde, radiant once more. - -“But to return to our outing,” resumed Paula, “of course, under the -circumstances,” with a slanting glance at the presumably grief-stricken -ermine and velvet, “I can’t make up a party of pleasure for myself,--it -must be complimentary to my dear young friend, and its personnel must be -selected with that view.” Once more her hand crept into Hildegarde’s -muff. - -She paused reflectively for a moment, while her mood seemed to change, -and when she went on it was in a different tone and with a crestfallen -look. - -“To be quite frank with you, dear, I have a strong personal interest in -the occasion. I really want an excuse to get out of the town myself. -There’s a man here whom I want to avoid, and I’m forever meeting him.” - -“I wonder,” commented the guileless girl. - -“It is always easier to run away from a thing like that than to bring it -to a crisis, and really in this instance circumstances will not admit -of any canvassing of the matter.” - -Hildegarde’s face was eloquent of interest, but she decorously forbore -inquiry. - -“If I mention the name you won’t repeat it, though I don’t see why I -should, but Heaven knows I am so lonely I long to confide my troubles to -some sympathetic soul.” - -And now it was Hildegarde’s hand that stole into the ermine muff with an -ardent little clasp which was convulsively returned. - -“You can say anything you wish to me, dear Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and rely -on my silence.” - -She turned such pellucidly clear azure eyes on Paula. She looked so -docile and ingenuous, that for one moment the heart of the schemer -almost misgave her. And indeed in the old days, before Paula ever met -Floyd-Rosney, she would have been incapable of the duplicity which she -now contemplated. But when sordid worldly motives are permitted to enter -the soul of a woman and to dominate it they work its ultimate -disintegration, despite the presence of worthier traits which otherwise -might have proved cohesive. As, however, she spoke the name already on -her lips she detected a quiver in the little hand she held, and that -vague tremor served to renew her purpose and nerved her to go on. “It is -Randal Ducie,” she said. - -For she had deliberately planned at whatever sacrifice of truth to -implant distrust and aversion toward Randal Ducie in the mind of this -girl of high ideals; to remove her for a time from the sphere of his -influence and the opportunity of explanation; in the interval to -supplant him in her estimation with others of carefully vaunted -attributes. By the time Hildegarde Dean should return from Saint Simon’s -Island she would not tolerate his presence, and in the humiliation of -her contempt Randal Ducie might find a solace in recurring to the page -of that sweet old story, albeit he had so hardily declared the book was -closed. - -“It is Randal Ducie,” Paula repeated. “You know long ago,--is that front -window closed--these chauffeurs hear everything if one is not -careful,--well, long ago when I was with my grandmother,--we lived at -Ingleside, Ran Ducie and I were engaged. Did you know that?” - -“I have heard it,” said Hildegarde, her face tense and troubled, her -eyes unseeing and dreamily fixed. - -“You have heard, too, that I threw him over, having the opportunity to -make a wealthy match.” - -“Ye-es,” admitted Hildegarde, embarrassed, “people say anything, you -know. They gossip so awfully.” - -“Well,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, looking out pathetically at the budding -trees of the similitude of a forest as the car swung down the broad, -smooth curves, “it was the other way about. It was _he_ who changed his -mind. Then I had the opportunity of the grand match, the first time I -ever was in New Orleans--and I took it out of pique. A girl is such a -poor, silly, little fool.” - -Hildegarde was silent. There was so strong an expression of negation, of -condemnation, of doubt on her face that Paula went on precipitately. - -“Of course, I wasn’t in the least justified.” - -“And you realized that?” said Hildegarde. - -“You see, I didn’t love my husband. You don’t understand these things, -child. He was kind, in his way, and rich, and talented, and -handsome----” - -“Oh, yes, he was splendid looking,” said Hildegarde, sustaining her pose -of interest, but her lips were white. - -“But I didn’t love him--and I loved Randal. A girl, though, Hildegarde, -cannot remonstrate against inconstancy. Randal came to me and said he -had mistaken the state of his feelings, that the interest he had felt -for me was merely because we happened to be the only two young people in -the neighborhood and were thrown together so often; that he realized -this as soon as he was again in the world, and that it was foolish for -him to think of taking a wife in view of his limited resources. He asked -to be released. So there was nothing for me to say but ‘Good day, Sir,’ -with what dignity I could muster,--for, my dear girl, ‘Good day’ had -already been said by him. Oh, kind Heaven, why do women have such keen -memories? It wasn’t yesterday, surely.” - -Paula threw her face suddenly into its wonted pretty and placid and -haughty contour, and bowed and smiled to a passing car, filled with -bowing and smiling faces. - -“I couldn’t help feeling a bit triumphant that such a notable catch as -Mr. Floyd-Rosney--so cultivated, and talented, and wealthy--should -single me out as his preference as soon as he saw me.” - -“I think your feeling was very natural,” said Hildegarde, “but I don’t -see why you should leave town on Randal Ducie’s account.” - -What made her lips so dry, she wondered. They fumbled almost -unintelligibly on the words. - -“Oh, my dear, that isn’t the end of it. He is all for taking it back -now; for renewing the old romance. He has a thousand reasons for his -defection, the chief being--and it was really true--that he couldn’t -afford to marry and was pushed to the wall by some debts that he had -contrived to make. But, Hildegarde, the real fact is not the revival of -his love for me--very warm it is now, if he is to be believed--but--you -would never realize it, you are such an unworldly, uncalculating little -kitten--but, I have at my disposal a great fortune, with nobody to say -me nay. I am one of the largest taxpayers in the county, and that does -make a man’s heart so tender to his old love; the girl who adored him, -who told him all her little, foolish heart, and let him kiss her -good-by, always, and lied to her grandmother, and told the unsuspecting -old lady she never did. Oh, why are women’s memories weighted to -bursting with trifles! Now, Hildegarde, haven’t you noticed how much Ran -Ducie has been in town all last fall and this spring?” - -Hildegarde had, indeed, noticed it. She nodded assent. She was beyond -speech. - -“That’s his errand, my dear, making up for lost time. Here we are at -your home. Thank you so much for giving me the chance to go. I’ll make -it lovely for you. The yacht casts off at five to-morrow afternoon, and -the limousine will call for you at four.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Hildegarde passed a wakeful night of troubled thought. Only after the -tardy dawn of the early spring was in the room did she fall into the -dull slumber of exhaustion, from which she roused at last, unrefreshed -and languid. Before she broke her fast she dispatched a note to Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, declining on second thoughts the invitation to make the -trip to New Orleans and St. Simon’s Island, which she had welcomed so -enthusiastically when it was broached the previous day. She gave no -reason for her change of mind, but expressed her thanks very prettily -and courteously; the conventional, suave phrases exacted by decorum -incongruous with the pale, stern, set face that bent above them. Her -mother cried out in surprise and solicitude when she came into the -library, with this mask, so to speak, alien to the joyous countenance -she was wont to wear, so soft and glowing, so bland and gay, but she -petulantly put aside all inquiries, declaring that she was quite well -and only wanted to be left alone. To be quit of the family she escaped -into the solitary sun-parlor, and sat there in a wicker chair among the -palms, and watched the blooms in the window-boxes that illumined the -space with their vivid glintings. For there was no sun to-day--a hazy, -soft, gray day, and but for the gleam of her white dress in the leafy -shadows Randal Ducie might not have seen her there when he was ushered -into the library; after somewhat perfunctory greetings to her father and -mother he strode, with the freedom of an acknowledged friend of the -family, through the room into the sun-parlor and sat down beside her. - -She was wearing a house dress of white wool, sparsely trimmed with only -a band of Persian embroidery about the sleeves and belt and around the -neck, which was cut in a high square, showing her delicate throat. She -looked up embarrassed as he came in, conscious that she had on no -guimpe, and no lace on the sleeves, and murmured something about not -being fit to be seen. But in his masculine inexperience he perceived no -lack in point of the finish of her attire, though the change of her -countenance instantly struck his attention. - -“Oh, what has happened?” he cried, solicitously. “What is the matter?” - -“Nothing--nothing at all,” she replied, scarcely lifting her heavily -lidded eyes. “I wish everybody would quit asking me that.” - -“I can see that something is troubling you dreadfully,” he protested. -“Won’t you let me help you? I could brush it away with one hand.” - -“Oh, it’s nothing,” she declared, irritably. - -For a few moments there was silence between them as he sat gazing at her -pallid and listless face, with its downcast and dreary eyes, her -languid, half-reclining attitude, her idle, nerveless hands clasped in -her lap. The change in her was pathetic,--appealing. - -“See here, Miss Dean, trust me; if you have stolen a horse, I will hide -him for you.” - -An unwilling smile crept to the verge of her drooping lips, but she -ejaculated impatiently: - -“Oh, nonsense!” - -“I don’t want to intrude on your confidence, but,--but”--with deep -gravity and a lowered voice, “have you allowed yourself to become -involved in some--conspiracy against the government?” - -The unwelcome laugh had crept into her eyes as she lifted her heavy lids -and glanced at him. - -“Oh, you know I haven’t!” - -Then the contending emotions were resolved into tears, and slowly and -painfully they overflowed her sapphire eyes, coursing one by one down -her white cheeks. - -“I should not have spoken,” he said, contritely, “I only add to your -distress. Forgive me. I’d better go.” - -“No--no--don’t. But I can’t explain. I’ve promised--only this I know--I -can’t _say how_ I know, but I _know_ that my best friend has told me a -lie--a wicked, defamatory, deliberate lie--and I can’t forgive it.” - -“Why should you forgive it?” he asked. “It is the limit, the -unforgivable.” - -There was a momentary pause. The tears welled up anew in the blue eyes -and the white cheeks were all wet with them; however, she mopped them -with her handkerchief rolled into a little ball for the purpose. - -“It was such a cruel lie, deliberately planned, so circumstantial,” she -sobbed, “so plausible, apparently confirmed by facts. I do believe it -would have deceived anybody, everybody, but me. I can’t controvert -it--the circumstances are out of my scope. But I _know_--I know--I -_know_ of my own accord,--I can’t say how,--but every breath I draw, -every fiber in me is a witness of the truth--the eternal truth!” - -She burst into a tempest of sobs, and Ducie was carried beyond bounds. - -“Oh, you must not, you shall not, give yourself so much pain for this -vile liar, whoever it is. Have some mercy on me, if not on yourself. I -can’t endure to see you so distressed--it breaks my heart. I have loved -you too long, too devotedly----” - -He paused abruptly; he had not intended to broach the subject thus, to -put his fate to the touch while she was hardly herself, overwhelmed by -the agony of some poignant, covert grief which he could not share. -Surely this was not the moment to decide the course of his future life -and hers. He had had his grave misgivings as to her preference. She was -joyous and lovely, and sweet and congenial to many alike who basked in -the radiance of her charm. She was the reigning belle of the winter, and -doubtless her relatives entertained high ambitions as to her settlement -in life. Since the loss of Duciehurst from his material hopes and -prospects he had scarcely felt himself justified in asking her to share -his restrictions and limited resources. He lived on the look in her -eyes, a chance word among all the others, and he had not had hope -enough, encouragement enough of her preference to urge his suit upon -her. He felt as if he stood in an illumination of heaven and earth when -she turned her face suddenly, and asked: - -“How long?” - -He had both her little hands in his when he strove to differentiate for -her just when and how he first recognized the unfolding of this flower -of love to irradiate his life with bloom and fragrance and then to urge -upon her some word of promise to set his plunging heart at rest. - -Her face, all fluctuating with happy smiles and flushes, grew affectedly -grave as she seemed to consider. - -“I am not much like a parched flower,” she said, “but I have been -waiting some time for this dewdrop.” - -“Oh, if I had only known, how much I could have saved myself,” exclaimed -Randal, voicing the sentiment of many an accepted lover. - -“I expected this--remark--of yours,” she declared, her blue eyes archly -glancing, “at the De Lille reception--’way back, ’way back in the Middle -Ages, when you said in such an impassioned voice, ‘Will you--will you -have some more frappé?’” - -Then they both laughed out joyously, and her father in the library, -turning over the journal in his hand to get at the river news, had a -vague realization of the instability of the moods of women and -especially of girls, and was pleased that Hildegarde had recovered her -equanimity since her tiff against Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, as he interpreted -it, had induced her to forego her charming springtide outing. - -The cruise, though somewhat delayed, that the party of guests might be -selected anew and assembled, took place according to the plans of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, at once the most discriminating and lavish of hostesses; -but before the _Aglaia_ weighed anchor the news of the engagement was -sown broadcast in the town and it became the subject of conversation one -day as the yacht steamed down the Mississippi on her mission of -pleasure. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, whose experience and training had developed -great powers of self-control, hearkened with special interest to the -details of the gossip, and often commented characteristically. The -bride-elect, it was surmised, would receive splendid presents, in view -of her many wealthy relatives and friends and her great popularity, but -none could compare with the necklace of Ducie diamonds, the gift of the -groom, which it was said she would wear with her wedding dress of white -satin. - -“And how ridiculous for people of their limited means,” cried Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney. Her late husband himself could hardly have seemed more -scornful of moderate circumstances. - -“Except that the necklace is an heirloom,” said Colonel Kenwynton. - -“A man in love thinks nothing is _too_ fine,” suggested one of the -ladies. - -“Randal Ducie is not and never was in love with Hildegarde,” said Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney with an air of much discernment. “She is not of the type -that would appeal to him; but she was very instant in bringing herself -to his notice and diverting his mind, and taking him out of himself -after his bereavement and so became a sort of consolatory habit.” - -“That is a beautiful idea,” said Colonel Kenwynton warmly,--“to add to -the blessed relation of a wife the sacred mission of a ministering -angel.” - -This was not in the least what Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had intended to -intimate, as was abundantly manifest by the thinly veiled anger and -repugnance on her face, which was now beginning to have need of all the -suavity and grace she could command. It was growing perceptibly hard in -these days, and its incipient angularities were more definitely -asserted. There was a recurrent expression of bitter antagonism in her -eyes that gave added emphasis to the satiric fleer in the occasional -upward lift of her chin. People were already commenting on the strange -deterioration in her beauty of late, and although Colonel Kenwynton was -in no degree aware of the reason for her state of mind, he felt vaguely -depressed by her look and manner. - -He rose presently and strolled away from the group on the deck, smoking -his cigar and scanning the weather signs of the coming evening. The -stress of the subject of Randal Ducie’s bereavement weighed heavily on -his nerves in this vicinity. If, under all the circumstances, it could -be so easily and openly mentioned here he was not sure of his ability to -listen with discretion. The world was growing strange to him,--he felt -himself indeed a survival. He did not understand such views as seemed to -possess this woman, such standards of right, such induration of -sensibilities. Man and soldier though he was, he could look only with -glooming and averse eyes at the wreck of the _Cherokee Rose_, where a -dread deed was wrought, lying white and stark, skeleton-wise, like -bleaching bones on the sand-bar in that immaterial region between the -pallid mists of the evening and the gray sheen of the river. Very -melancholy the aspect of the forlorn craft, he thought in passing, and -he scarcely wondered at the prevalence of the riverside legend that -strange presences were wont to revisit the glimpses of the moon on this -grim, storied wreck of the Mississippi. - -He could not imagine how Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in pursuit of pleasure could -endure to pass this poignantly ghastly reminder, and still further down -the stream to approach the site of Duciehurst under its swirling -depths,--the packets now made a landing called by the name a mile to the -rearward of the spot where the old mansion had stood. But presently the -graceful yacht was steaming swiftly down this glamourous reach of the -river, and beneath its gliding shadow in inconceivable depths lay this -epitome of the past,--the demolished home altar, with its spent incense -of domestic affection, the lost hopes, with their lure of tenuous -illusions; the futile turmoils of grief; the transient elation of joy; -the final climax of death,--all the constituent elements of human -experience. Now they were naught, nullified, while the world swept on -uncaring, typified by the swift yacht, leaving astern the site of -oblivion. - - * * * * * - +-------------------------------------------------------+ - |The following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan| - | books by the same author, and new fiction. | - +-------------------------------------------------------+ - - * * * * * - - BOOKS BY - - CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK - - (MISS MARY MURFREE) - - - The Storm Center - - _Cloth, 12mo. $1.50 net._ - - In the course of its review of _The Storm Centre_, the Louisville - Courier-Journal says: “This beautiful novel by Charles Egbert - Craddock shows the brilliant and popular writer in her best vein. - None of Miss Murfree’s later books possesses more interest than - this story of love and war and life. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Story of Duciehurst; a tale of the Mississippi - -Author: Charles Egbert Craddock - -Release Date: November 25, 2017 [EBook #56046] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Bryan Ness, Chuck Greif and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt="" title="" /></a> -</div> - -<p class="cb">THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:4px outset gray; -margin:auto auto;max-width:30em;"> -<tr class="c"><td> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II"> II, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III"> III, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"> IV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V"> V, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"> VI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"> VII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"> VIII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"> IX, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_X"> X, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"> XI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"> XII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"> XIII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"> XIV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"> XV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"> XVI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"> XVII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"> XVIII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"> XIX, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"> XX, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"> XXI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"> XXII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"> XXIII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"> XXIV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"> XXV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"> XXVI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"> XXVII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"> XXVIII. </a></td></tr> -</table> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="font-size:90%;text-align:center;"> -<tr><td><img src="images/colophon.png" width="175" alt="" /></td></tr> -<tr><td>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</td></tr> -<tr><td class="sm">NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO</td></tr> -<tr><td class="sm">DALLAS · ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO</td></tr> -<tr><td>MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED</td></tr> -<tr><td class="sm">LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA</td></tr> -<tr><td class="sm">MELBOURNE</td></tr> -<tr><td>THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="sm">TORONTO</td></tr> -</table> - -<h1> -THE STORY OF<br /> -DUCIEHURST</h1> - -<p class="cb"> -<i>A Tale of the Mississippi</i><br /> -<br /> -<small>BY</small><br /> -CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK<br /> -<br /> -<small>AUTHOR OF “THE FAIR MISSISSIPPIAN,” “THE AMULET,” “THE STORM<br /> -CENTRE,” “THE STORY OF OLD FORT LOUDON,” “A SPECTRE<br /> -OF POWER,” “THE ORDEAL,” “THE PROPHET OF<br /> -THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS,” ETC.</small><br /> -<br /> -<span class="eng">New York</span><br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -1914<br /> -<br /><br /> -<br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1914<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -——<br /> -Set up and electrotyped. Published July, 1914.</small> -</p> - -<h1>THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST</h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dead</span> low water and there the steamboat lay on the sand-bar, stranded and -helpless. The surging swirls of the swift current raced impetuously on -either side. Scarcely a furlong distant on that corrugated, rippling -surface the leadsman had heaved the plummet of the sounding-line at -“deep four.” Nevertheless the craft had grounded here on a submerged -projection of a “tow-head” built of silt and detritus by the ever -shifting Mississippi, attaining dangerous proportions since the last run -of the boat. All unknown and unsuspected it lurked till “quarter less -twain” was sung out, but the next cry of the leadsman smote the air like -the sound of doom. Before the engines could be reversed the steamer was -in shoal water, ploughing into the sand with the full momentum of her -speed, the shock of the impact shattering the equilibrium of all on -board.</p> - -<p>Straight ensued the contortions of mechanical energy common to such -occasions; the steamboat repeatedly sought to back off from the sand; -failing in this she went forward on one wheel and then on the other, -finally on both, trying to force her way across the barrier to her -progress, in technical phrase “to jump the bar.”</p> - -<p>At length the Captain confessedly relinquished<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> the attempt to effect -the release of the craft under her own steam. The fires sank down in the -furnaces; the water cooled in the boilers; and the passengers of the -still and silent boat resigned themselves to await with such patience as -they could muster the rescue which might be furnished by a passing -packet, none due for twenty-four hours, or which a rise in the river -might compass, for the clouds of the dull October afternoon were heavy -and sullen and intimated the near probability of rain.</p> - -<p>A group had begun to assemble on the promenade deck, disconsolately -looking out at the rippling tawny expanse of the vast vacant river, for -the bight of the bend was as lonely a spot as could be found throughout -its course. On either side of the deep groove of the great channel the -banks rose high, seeming precipitous at this shrunken stage of the -water. In the background loomed gigantic forests with foliage sere or -green as the nature of the growths might determine.</p> - -<p>The leveling effect of the stereotyped surroundings of travel served to -bring out in distinct relief the individual characteristics of the -passengers. Mr. Floyd-Rosney received the Captain’s final admission of -defeat with the silence and surly dignity befitting an implacable -affront, and his manner could scarcely have been justified had he and -his family been wilfully abducted by orders of the owners of the packet -line. In his wonted environment at his home, encompassed by all the -insignia of wealth and station, he might have seemed a man of such -preëminent importance and fashion as to render a contretemps impertinent -and significant of a failure of respect and service, but here, on the -deck of the steamer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> his sullen impatience of the common disaster, his -frowning ungenial mien in receiving the apology of the Captain, poor -victim of the underhand wiles of the great Mississippi, betokened an -exacting ill-conditioned temperament, and suggested that his wife might -be anything but a happy woman, even before she emerged from the saloon -and he met her with a rebuke, which was the obvious vent of his general -ill-humor that could not be visited on independent strangers.</p> - -<p>“Too late,—<i>as usual</i>!” He turned and placed a chair for her with an -air of graceful and considerate courtesy. “The fun is all over,—the -Captain has given up the game.”</p> - -<p>The coercions of good society rendered it imperative that he should -somewhat veil his displeasure, but the thin veneer of his graciousness -was patently insincere and did not commend his pretense of regret for -her sake that she should have missed the spectacle of the gyrations of -the boat in seeking to free itself from the sand-bar, though, indeed, -one might travel far and never witness the like.</p> - -<p>He was singularly handsome, about thirty-five years of age, tall, well -built, admirably groomed, fair and florid, with finely chiseled -features, straight dark hair and large brown eyes, whose inherent luster -was dulled by their haughty, disparaging gaze. He rated his fellow-men -but lightly in the scale of being, and, save for the detention, he would -not have appeared on deck or exchanged a word with the rest of the -passengers in the tedious interval of making his landing.</p> - -<p>“I am glad that you have at last consented to sit here awhile,” he -continued to his wife, with flimsy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span> solicitude. “That stuffy little -state-room is enough to asphyxiate you.”</p> - -<p>His moods, indeed, were elements to be reckoned with and his wife was -eager and smiling in making her excuses. “Oh, I should have come at -once,” she protested,—“only the baby was so reluctant to take his nap. -I couldn’t get away till he was asleep.” She was nervously adjusting her -wrap, appropriate and handsome, but evidently hastily flung on.</p> - -<p>“I think he has a nurse,” her husband remarked in surly sarcasm.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, of course,—but he wanted me,—he would not let go my hand -till he was fast asleep.”</p> - -<p>She was as much as ten years her husband’s junior, of a blonde type very -usual in American life. One might have thought to have seen her often, -so familiar have become the straight, delicate somewhat angular -lineaments, the fair hair, the gray or blue eyes, the slender, yet -strong, elastic physique. The degree of beauty, of course, is dependent -on the blending of these elements and its pleasing appeal. Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney was one of the finer examples of the ordinary mold. Her -features were classic in their regularity; her delicately kept, -redundant blonde hair had a silken sheen that simulated burnished gold; -her gray eyes were of a darkly greenish luster that suggested -moss-agates, and they were shaded by long, pensive lashes almost black; -the whole effect was heightened by her dark brown cloth gown with narrow -bands of seal fur, the hat corresponding with the rich yet plain costume -that betokened a traveling garb. She had a certain covertly derisive -expression in her eyes, whenever diverted from her husband, for it must -needs be a brave wife,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span> indeed, who could banter that imposing presence. -To this look a trick of an occasional upward cant of the chin gave -special emphasis. When she seemed amused one could not be sure whether -she was laughing with her interlocutor, or at him. In fact, she had a -marked gift of irony which she sometimes carried so far as to suggest -the danger of recoil. Her old nurse, in the state-room, who had tended -her infancy, as well as now her three-year-old boy, had often warned her -in years agone, when the victim of her unhallowed mirth, “You surely -will stump your toe some day,—better mind how you skip along.” The -discerning observer might well fancy she had duly met this check in her -career in her choice of a husband, for the obvious repression in her -manner toward him suggested a spirit-breaking process already well in -hand. Her deprecatory disarming glance when their eyes met had in it an -eager plea for approval which was almost derogatory, curiously at -variance with her beauty, and position, and handsome garb, and her -assured manner in deporting herself toward others.</p> - -<p>“The best you can do for us, Captain Disnett?” she had caught the words -of the skipper’s apology as she issued. “Then all I can say is that bad -is the best!”</p> - -<p>She regarded the immense spread of the great river with disparaging -objection. “How low it is,—in every sense of the word.”</p> - -<p>Despite her assured pose a certain consciousness informed her manner -when her eyes suddenly fell upon a young man of thirty, perhaps, who was -standing near the railing of the guards, apparently ruefully revolving -the Captain’s announcement that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span> was impossible to get the <i>Cherokee -Rose</i> off the sand-bar under her own steam. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s -surprise, for she had started on perceiving him and flushed with -embarrassment, was not reciprocal. He gave her no glance of recognition, -although his eyes met hers in a casual regard as he turned from the rail -and drew forth his cigar-case with the presumable intention of making -himself as comfortable as the detention would permit. As yet the baleful -sign, “Cotton aboard. No smoking on deck,” had not been displayed, for -the boat was on its downward beat and would not take on cotton until -returning up the river. His muscles were suddenly stilled, however, and -there was a moment of intent, though covert, observation of her, when -her name was abruptly called out in blithe tones as a young girl emerged -upon the deck.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney! I did not know you were on board. How perfectly -delightful,” with a swift cordial rush, both hands outstretched. -“Captain Disnett,” she whirled upon the skipper, in buoyant parenthesis, -“I forgive you! You have merely contrived us an enchanting week-end -house party. I don’t know when or where I should have met Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney otherwise. And Mr. Floyd-Rosney, too. Is little Ned here? -Asleep?—Well, I’ll spare his nap.”</p> - -<p>The deck, the whole dull day, seemed suddenly irradiated by the presence -of the joyous young beauty. Naught but happiness surely came her way. -Eternal springtide shone lustrous, soft, mellow in the depths of her -great sapphire eyes with their long black lashes and thick white lids. -Her hair was black and straight but her complexion was transparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> -fair and an exquisitely delicate rose bloomed on her cheek. Her coral -lips were slightly parted, for she was always exclamatory and -breathless, and showed a glimpse of her even white teeth. She was tall -and slender, very erect, and moved with the deft certainty of trained -muscles, the athletic girl of the day. She wore a simple gown of rough -gray cloth, and a knowing little gray toque. She had no disposition to -await events and, after a brief comprehensive survey of the personnel of -the group, she abruptly accosted the young man at the rail, an impassive -spectator of her entrance on the scene.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Ducie,” she exclaimed in blended surprise and affront, “aren’t -you going to speak to me?”</p> - -<p>He started as if he had been shot. He had much ado to get his hat off -his head with a cigar in one hand and a blazing match in the other. But -this accomplished, through casting the match overboard, he came forward, -replying with genial grace, albeit in some embarrassment: “I think my -brother has the advantage of me. I am Mr. Ducie, all right, but my -Christian name is Adrian. I fancy it must be Mr. Randal Ducie who has -the honor of your acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,—oh,—yes,—but this——” She was leaning on the back of one of the -stiff arm-chairs and across it openly studying his lineaments. He had -distinctive features; a thin, delicate, slightly aquiline nose, a firm -well-rounded chin, bold, luminous hazel eyes, with a thick fringe of -long straight lashes, a fair complexion not altogether devoid of the -concomitant freckles here and there; fine teeth and mobile red lips; and -his hair, glowing in the light, for he still held his hat in his hand, -was of that rich<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> auburn shade that artists love and that one sees in -paintings and seldom elsewhere. “But this——” she continued, “oh,—you -are fooling us. Do you think I can forget you so soon when I waltzed ten -miles with you last winter, if it were all strung out in a row! This is -certainly Randal Ducie.”</p> - -<p>He had begun to laugh in enjoyment of her perplexity. “Randal Ducie is -not half so good a man,” he protested gaily.</p> - -<p>“<i>Les absens ont toujours tort</i>,” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney brought herself, -uninvited, into the conversation. Not altogether welcome was her -interpolation, for the laugh faded from Mr. Ducie’s face and he -remembered to resume his hat and to slip his cigar-case into his pocket, -as if in preparation to betake himself elsewhere. But if this were his -intention it was forestalled by Miss Dean.</p> - -<p>“Now, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” she turned vivaciously to that lady, since she -had of her own motion entered the discussion, “wouldn’t anybody think -this was Randal Ducie?”</p> - -<p>“They are much alike, but I saw the difference in a moment,” Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney was smiling naturally, graciously, and looking extremely -pretty, as her husband, leaning against one of the posts that supported -the superstructure of the deck and, smoking with strong long-drawn -puffs, watched her with fixed inscrutable eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you didn’t,” Miss Dean contradicted gaily. “You <i>couldn’t</i>! The -likeness is amazing! Oh, pshaw! it is no likeness. He is guying us. This -<i>is</i> Randal Ducie.”</p> - -<p>“You are the twin brother of my young friend, Randal Ducie?” Colonel -Kenwynton asked, smiling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span> an old gentleman of the old school, with a -courteous manner and a commanding presence. His tall figure still -retained the muscular slenderness of his athletic youth and his stately -martial carriage; his dense snowy hair, brushed forward to his brow and -parted on the side, and also, straight down the back, the white imperial -and long military mustachios gave him the look of a portrait of some -by-gone celebrity rather than a man of to-day, so had the thought of -this fashion perished. His age was frosty but kindly, and the young man -responded with covert humor, as if elucidating a mystery.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, we have always been twins,” he declared.</p> - -<p>“How <i>did</i> you know the difference, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?” demanded Miss -Dean.</p> - -<p>“I knew it at once,” she replied, still smiling, but the gravity in the -eyes of her husband deepened momently as he gazed, silently, -motionlessly at her. “I myself don’t know the difference at all,” said -the subject of the discussion. “When I am with Ran I feel as if I were -looking into a mirror.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how quaint,—how enchanting it must be,” cried Miss Dean -extravagantly.</p> - -<p>“And so convenient,—I have always made Ran try the new hair cuts -first.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I didn’t mean any such preposterous thing as that—but to have -another self so near, so dear, to duplicate one’s lot in life, to -understand and sympathize with every sentiment, to share one’s mind, -one’s heart——”</p> - -<p>“No,—no,—we draw the line there. I am a deep secret fellow! I could -tolerate no twin of an inner consciousness to spy out my true soul.” -Ducie was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span> letting himself go in this badinage, and he had no meaning of -a deeper intent than the surface of jest. “And I could undertake no such -contract as to sympathize with Ran’s extravagant enthusiasms and silly -sentimentalities.”</p> - -<p>The attention of the group was focused on the speaker. None of them -noticed the uprising conscious flare in the face of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney—except, indeed, her husband, who was quick, too, to -recollect the significant fact that only she had had the keen -discernment to detect the difference between this man and the twin -brother of whom he seemed the counterpart.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Ducie, how unkind!” cried Miss Dean.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” with affected obduracy, “Ran must sigh his sighs, and -hope his hopes, and shed his tears all by himself. For my own part I -don’t deal in goods of that grade. But if ever he strikes on some nice -little speculation, or discovers a gold mine, why I am his own only twin -brother and I will come in with him on the ground floor.”</p> - -<p>“And, speaking of business,” said Colonel Kenwynton, “how goes it in the -south of France? Your brother did not accompany you.”</p> - -<p>The group had taken chairs, and, with the permission of the ladies, -Ducie had lighted his cigar. “No, Ran sticks to cotton through thick and -thin. It is his creed that God never thought it worth while to create -anything but the cotton plant, and the earth was evolved to grow and -market it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was struggling with the species of discomposure which -is incompatible with reserve and silence. “You went into the wine trade -instead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span>” she made the parenthetical statement from an imperfect -memory.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ducie had that air of averse distaste which one feels in hearing -one’s own affairs misrepresented. “Beg pardon,” he said, “I quitted New -Orleans some six years ago with old Mr. Chenault; he was a wine merchant -there, a branch of a Bordeaux house,—knew my father and used to furnish -my grandfather’s cellar at Duciehurst in the long ago. He offered me an -opening in the French house at Bordeaux, but I didn’t take kindly to the -trade, and as the Chenaults had connections with the silk manufacturing -interests in Lyons they contrived to wedge me in with their relatives.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had obviously lost her poise, “I remember -now,—but I can’t recall who was speaking of you and your success the -other day,—to be a junior partner in the concern.”</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie’s consciousness of the breach of the commercial verities -turned him stiff. “Oh no! I?—a junior partner? Why, never in the -world!” he exclaimed brusquely. Then, realizing that there was no reason -for heat, since the matter had no concern for those present, he went on -more suavely. “I occupy a sort of confidential and privileged relation -to the members of the firm, owing chiefly to the value of the Chenault -interest, but I have neither the responsibility nor the profits of a -junior partner.”</p> - -<p>As he ceased to speak he had a sudden look of affront—more than aught -else it suggested the impulse of some spirited horse refusing a mandate -of urgency, and ready to bolt, to rear, to assert an insurgent and -untamed power. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> words might bear an interpretation -of an ill-judged patronage,—her facile foolish blandness in magnifying -the importance of his opportunity that at its best must seem so very -small to her. With an almost visible effort he brought himself under -control without a snort of contempt or an impatient stamp. There was an -interval of silence so awkward, in view of these forced disclosures of -commercial status and financial interest, that Ducie was disposed to -continue the personal relation as a less crude method of its conclusion -than bolting precipitately from the subject. “We have close connections, -of course, with importers in America as well as elsewhere. It is my -mission to effect a settlement of a matter in controversy with a company -having extensive dealings with us and I am glad to utilize the -opportunity to run in on Ran at his plantation in this lower country -while I am en route to New Orleans. It makes this detention all the more -unfortunate. I lose time that I might otherwise spend with him.”</p> - -<p>“You must be awfully lonesome over on the other side without your twin -brother, your other self,” said Miss Dean, sweetly commiserative.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, his face fell.</p> - -<p>“But how lovely to be in France,” sighed Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. “I envy you -your Paris.”</p> - -<p>“Paris!” he could but fleer. “I see as much of Paris as if I were in the -Mississippi swamp.” Then, recovering himself, “Paris is not France, so -far as the silk manufacturing interest is concerned.”</p> - -<p>An interruption was at hand and this seemed well. An old gentleman, -dressed in black, a Prince Albert coat, a wide soft felt hat, with a -white beard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span> and sightless eyes, seeming more aged and infirm than he -really was, by reason of his groping progress between a stout stick and -a pompous negro man-servant, was steered down the guards and toward the -group; perceiving whom, Colonel Kenwynton hastily arose and advanced.</p> - -<p>“Here we are, Major,” he exclaimed jovially, “and here we are likely to -stay. (Make yourself scarce, Tobe,” he added in parenthesis to the -servant, “I’ll look after the Major.”) And Tobe relinquished his charge -with a grateful bow, after the manner of the servitors of yore. -Doubtless, he was glad of the leisure thus vouchsafed him to spend, -after his own liking, but he showed no undue alacrity to avail himself -of it. He did not disappear until he had placed chairs both for the -Major and Colonel Kenwynton, glanced discerningly at the clouds to judge -whether a possible outburst of the setting sun might render the spot -selected undesirable, asked if he should not bring glasses of water, -notified the Major that he had placed a light overcoat on a chair hard -by, in case the veering of the wind should necessitate protection, and -only then did the Major’s faithful body-servant “make himself scarce.”</p> - -<p>It was seldom, indeed, that Major Lacey ventured so far from his home, -in view of his increasing age, with which his infirmities waxed in -proportion, except, indeed, on the various occasions of Confederate -reunions, when his years fell from him, and the scales dropped from his -eyes, and he was once more a dashing young officer with his sword in his -hand and his heart in his cause. He was now returning from one of these -symposia, and the old soldier would canvass its incidents, and discuss -its personnel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span> and repeat the toasts, and recount the old stories and -live again in the days of yore, growing ever dimmer, till the next -reunion would endow the past with reviviscence and it would glow anew -and the dull present would sink out of sight. He was barely ensconced in -his chair when Miss Dean gaily accosted him.</p> - -<p>“Yes,—here we are, indeed, Major,—you remember me?—Miss Hildegarde -Dean,—but you ought to have been on deck when we were trying to get -away. It was just like an attempt to jump over a fence by pulling on the -rosettes of your slippers,—wasn’t it, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she didn’t witness it,” said Floyd-Rosney hastily, reminded of his -displeasure because of her tardiness. “Too late,—<i>as usual</i>. She -closely resembles Athelstane the Unready. You remember the Saxon -nobleman, Major Lacey.”</p> - -<p>His bland patronage was a bit more insufferable than his obvious -disapproval, if such comparison be attempted, for the casual stranger -had done naught to incur his unwelcome benignities, whereas his wife, by -consenting to become his wife, had brought her doom upon her own head.</p> - -<p>The receptivity of the object of his grace in this instance was blunted -by misunderstanding. “Well, now,” the Major replied, knitting his brows, -“there was a foreign nobleman—a native of Saxony,—for a time on the -staff of General Lancaster while I, too, was a member of his military -family. This stranger was eager to see our artillery in action,—greatly -interested in the Gatling gun,—it was new, then, invented by a -gentleman from North Carolina. But I don’t remember that the officer’s -name was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span> Athelstane,—my memory is not so good as it once was,—his -name has escaped me. But he had been a lieutenant of the Line in his own -country,—light artillery.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton observed Floyd-Rosney’s satiric smile and resented it. -He would not suffer the matter to rest here. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney is -alluding to a character in one of the Waverley novels, Major,” he said -tactfully.</p> - -<p>“Eh? Oh, I remember, now,—I remember,—Ivanhoe,—Athelstane of -Coningsburgh,” the Major replied casually. “But I was thinking of that -foreign nobleman from Saxony,—much impressed by the Gatling gun in -action.”</p> - -<p>The war was all-in-all with the Major.</p> - -<p>Miss Hildegarde Dean suddenly rose and, with her swinging athletic gait, -walked across the deck and seated herself in a chair beside the Major. -He was conscious, of course, of an approach and a new proximity, but -whose presence it was and of what intent he could not divine. He turned -his sightless face toward his unseen neighbor, expressive of a courteous -abeyance, ready and reciprocal toward the advance were it charged with a -meaning for him, yet with a dignity of reserve in awaiting it. He, of -course, could not see Hildegarde smiling at him so brightly that one -must needs deplore afresh his affliction which debarred him from such -suffusive and gracious radiance.</p> - -<p>“Major Lacey,” she began blithely, “I have just lived for this moment. I -want you to tell me exactly how your grandmother—now that is your -great-niece Elodie Lacey’s great, great stupendously great -grandmother,—Elodie is a chum of mine and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span> a precious monkey-fied -thing.” (The Major’s eyebrows were elevated doubtfully at this -description of his young relative, but the tone was one of approval and -affection and he took the compliment on trust.) “We have such gay old -times together,” in a burst of reminiscent enthusiasm. “But now about -your grandmother’s romance. How did she happen to marry the -Revolutionary lieutenant and not the rich English baronet whom she sent -away in despair. Elodie delights in telling the story,—all about the -fox-chase and all—but she mixes things up so with a piece of the white -brocade of the wedding dress that she treasures and the carved ivory fan -and the white satin slippers and she owns the whole bertha too—it is -Honiton,—lovely lace, but out of style now,—that one can’t get at the -details for the millinery. A rational account of the whole affair would -be as sentimental and exciting as a novel. Take a turn with me up and -down the guards, Major, and justify your grandmother’s choice. I am as -steady as a rock, and this ship is not going to pitch and toss among the -breakers on this sand-bar,—eh, Captain Disnett?” with an arch smile -over her shoulder.</p> - -<p>The old man’s stick was tremulously feeling the way as he arose. Then -she passed her arm through his, and moved forward at a measured pace, -with the other hand deftly putting out of the way chairs that might have -otherwise blocked their progress. Colonel Kenwynton looked on with a -benignant smile, for, presently, their slow and wavering march up and -down, the old blind soldier, supported between the radiant young beauty -and his stout cane, was interrupted by bursts of laughter, genuine and -hearty, such as he had not enjoyed for many a day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span></p> - -<p>Then ensued deep and earnest narrative, entangled in such a whirl of -questions as would imply that Miss Hildegarde Dean had never before -heard of the great battle of Shiloh, and, indeed, save that she had once -been of an excursion party that had visited the famous site, she would -have scarcely remembered its name. But she was gifted with a keen and -enduring observation, and ever and anon she broke into his detail of -special incidents,—the fall of noted officers, the result of intrepid -charges, the location of certain troops,—to describe the monuments that -now marked the spot, their composition, their approximate measurements, -their inscriptions, and her opinion of the general effect, with such -gusto as to incite a revival of recollection and to recall an episode or -two of that momentous event which had eluded till now his comprehensive -memory.</p> - -<p>“That is a lovely, lovely girl,” said Colonel Kenwynton to Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, as he contemplated the incongruous cronies.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” she acceded with graceful alacrity, “but she should not -trifle with the affections of the venerable Major.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps the venerable Major is a bit of a flirt himself”; the flavor of -Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s pleasantry was acrid to the taste.</p> - -<p>“Why, I should not call that ‘flirting,’ on her part,” said the -matter-of-fact captain of the steamboat. “I have known her since she was -that high,”—he indicated with his right hand a minute stature,—“her -uncle has a plantation down here a bit and she and her mother have often -been passengers of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>. She was always just of that -kind, thoughtful disposition.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span></p> - -<p>For the old Major was laughing on keys of mirth so long disused that -they had fallen out of tune and accord with the dominant tones of his -voice, as if in another moment he might burst into tears.</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps not exactly ‘flirting,’—only a bit of her universal -fascination system,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with her chin in the air.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t think she pursues any sort of system,—she seems all -spontaneity. She is incapable of calculation,” said young Ducie.</p> - -<p>Once more Mrs. Floyd-Rosney flushed unaccountably, but she said, -lightly, “I perceive that you are profoundly versed in that most -difficult science, the knowledge of human nature.”</p> - -<p>“You do me too much honor,” he replied, looking not at her but at his -cigar as he flipped off the ash. “It requires a very superficial -observation to discern that she is as open and undesigning as the day.”</p> - -<p>“For my own part I think the day is particularly enigmatic,” she -retorted with her scathing little laugh, that yet was so sweetly keyed. -“I think it has something in reserve, especially obnoxious for us.”</p> - -<p>“So it seems that you, too, are a profound observer, and that -meteorological phenomena are your province,” her husband ponderously -adopted her method of persiflage. Then he added pointedly, “I beg you to -observe it was not I that initiated the personal tone of this talk.”</p> - -<p>He rose with his pervasive suggestion of a lordly ill-humor, which -enabled one to realize how grievous it was to be alone with him and -privileged to note the workings of his disaffected and censorious -moods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span> He strolled casually off, and began to talk at some little -distance to one of the several passengers about the price of cotton and -the disposition of the planters to hold it back from the market for a -rise.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Floyd-Rosney and Mr. Ducie were left seated near each other amidst -a cluster of vacant chairs. With that peculiar clarity of the twilight -air when there is no mist every detail of this limited world was visible -with special distinctness, as if there were no insufficiency of light, -but one looked through amber glasses;—the slate-tinted lowering sky, -the ceaseless silent flow of the vast murky river, the high bank so far -above the water at this low stage that the grassy levee, an elevation of -prominent emphasis in so level a country, was far withdrawn and -invisible from this point of view. There was on the bank a swamper’s hut -perched on tall grotesque supports to escape inundation in the rise of -the river, which gave some idea of the height of the flood-level in -times of high water. The red glow from the open door of the cabin pulsed -like the fluctuating fires of an opal, and thus intimated that a mist -was insidiously beginning to rise. There was no other token of life in -the riparian borders,—no token on the broad spread of the river, save -that a tiny craft, a dugout, was slowly making its way across the -tortured currents,—seemingly an insignificant object, for who could -imagine it was freighted with grim Fate? The moment was of peculiarly -lonely intimations and she spoke abruptly.</p> - -<p>“By your leave I shall make the conversation even more personal.” Then, -with an intent gaze, “Where is your brother?—and what is he doing?”</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie flushed deeply, looking both affronted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span> and indignant. Then -he replied in his wonted vein: “You do not know but that I am my -brother,—you could not distinguish one of us from the other to save -your life.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, the difference is obvious to me,” she exclaimed in agitated -tones. “Besides, Randal would have spoken,—he would have greeted me. -When you evidently did not recognize me I was sure that you were the one -I had never seen.”</p> - -<p>“Doubtless, Randal would have rejoiced to offer you the compliments of -the season.” He could not altogether maintain his self-control and his -voice had a tense note of satire.</p> - -<p>She cast upon him a quick upbraiding glance. Then, as if with an -afterthought: “I am aware that you must resent my course toward Randal.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,—not at all,—though it would scarcely be courteous to say that -I congratulate him upon your inconstancy. But when a lady plays a man -out within a fortnight of their anticipated marriage with no reason or -provocation, his relatives can hardly be expected to lament his escape. -Pardon my blunt phrase for its sincerity, since I am no artist in words, -and this discussion has taken me by surprise.”</p> - -<p>She flushed hotly, feeling arraigned for having introduced the -inappropriate subject. Yet she persisted: “Oh, you do not understand,” -she said in increasing agitation. “You haven’t the temperament, I can -see, to make subtle deductions.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if Randal has such a temperament as you seem disposed to credit -him with,—or to discredit him with, if I may appraise the endowment,—I -am happy to say, in reply to your kind inquiries, that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span> subtlety has -not affected his health or spirits. He is in fine fettle and as happy as -he deserves to be. As to the rest, he is much absorbed in business,—in -fact, he is in a fair way to make a fortune. He is of a speculative turn -and has always been peculiarly lucky. Randal is something of a gambler.”</p> - -<p>“No, never,” she interrupted hastily, “Randal was never a gambler.”</p> - -<p>He revolted at her tone of defense and arrogations of superior -knowledge. He could not restrain a smile of sarcastic rebuke as he -retorted: “Oh, of course I meant only in a commercial way. He is bold -and takes chances that would deter many men. He has great initiative.”</p> - -<p>“We have been abroad so long that I had lost sight of him altogether,” -she said in embarrassment.</p> - -<p>The subject was infinitely distasteful to him but its sensitive -avoidance would seem a disparagement of his slighted brother. His -fraternal affection nerved him to complete the response she had -elicited.</p> - -<p>“Randal has made a ‘ten strike’ several times, and has a long lease of -some fine land that this year has produced a stunning crop of cotton. He -has had a rare chance, too, to buy a standing crop, and, of course, he -took it in. The planter had shot a man,—very unpopular affair,—and had -to quit the country.”</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke he realized how meager were these scanty graces of -opportunity in comparison with Floyd-Rosney’s magnificent fortune, but -he would not seem to recognize the fact. He would not minimize his -brother’s lot in life as too small for her consideration, since, with an -avid curiosity and interest, she had sought information.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was silent for a moment. She had achieved a startling -and florid success in her brilliant marriage, a girl of very limited -means. But this temperate, conventional atmosphere, the opportunities of -people of moderate resources and high lineage, was her native element, -and somehow it exerted a recurrent fascination upon her at the moment, -it had the charm of old associations forever relinquished. The joy of -effort, of laborious acquisition, the splendor of superior capacity, of -trying conclusions with Fate could never be hers to share, but she felt -it was fine to ride at Fortune with lance in rest as in the jousts of -some great tourney. She listened wistfully to the simple annals of -agricultural ventures so familiar to her early experience, with the -sentiment of gazing through barred gates,—she, to whom all the world -was open.</p> - -<p>“I am glad to know that Randal is well and happy,” she said at length. -“You may think it strange that I should introduce this topic with -you,—and you not even an acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>She paused to give him space for a disclaimer, but he was rancorous on -this theme,—he would not make it easy for her. “No, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” -he said gravely, “nothing that you could do would seem strange to me.”</p> - -<p>She was accustomed to deference, apart from the sullen tyranny of her -husband, and this experience of conjugal life was only within the last -five years. She scarcely knew how to dispense with the phrase, the -smile, the bow, which, however little genuine, respectfully annotated -and acquiesced in her discourse. Adrian Ducie’s blunt rebuke,—it did -not affect her as discourtesy, for it was too sincere—his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span> obvious -hatred of her, not only of her course, his absolute lack of confidence -or approval, the impossibility of winning him even to a modicum of -neutrality baffled her. She was losing her composure,—the threads of -her intention. Her eyes, looking at him wistfully, large and lustrous, -despite the closing dusk, pleaded with him for help. When the sound of -the dynamo began to pulse on the stillness, the electric lights flared -out on the deck as well as in the saloon, and showed that those eyes -were full of tears. He met their glance calmly with unconcern. He had -not caused her grief. This evident attitude of mind flung her back on -her pride, her own individuality. In the supreme crisis of her life she -was arguing within herself, she had exerted her feminine prerogative of -choice, and this in the manner that best suited her. He should not sit -in judgment thus on the justice of her decisions, on her line of -conduct, and she wondered at her meekness that had permitted him to take -this position, that had made his standpoint possible. She sought to -rally her self-control, and then she said, in her clear-cut enunciation:</p> - -<p>“Thank you very much,—the idea occurred to me when I saw you this -afternoon that I had here an opportunity which I have long sought.”</p> - -<p>She glanced about among the shadows, bulkier, blacker, because of the -keenness of the electric glare, as if she feared observation or -interruption. The piano in the saloon was beginning to strum “Oh, rosy -dreams!” with a disregard of accidentals calculated to give the -nightmare to the fellow-passengers of the performer. The perfume of -cigars floated down from the hurricane deck—Ducie’s was dead in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span> -hand. A dreary cow on the lower deck seemed to have just discovered that -she was in process of shipment and was mournfully lowing for her calf a -hundred miles or more up-stream. Deep guttural voices of roustabouts -rose in jocose altercation for a moment from the depths of the boiler -deck, and then all was silent again.</p> - -<p>“I have long sought an opportunity to restore to Randal one of his -gifts, overlooked at the time that I returned the others. I found it -afterward, and was embarrassed,—shocked, in fact——” she paused -abruptly.</p> - -<p>“There was the registered mail, or the express, I suppose,” he suggested -coolly.</p> - -<p>“I wanted to explain.” She felt her face flame. “It was of intrinsic -value other than sentimental.”</p> - -<p>“——which was great,” he interpolated.</p> - -<p>“And,” she sturdily held to her purpose, “I did not wish him to -misinterpret my motive in keeping it.”</p> - -<p>“You could not write to him?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I could not write to him.”</p> - -<p>“I can easily understand that,” he fleered, full of vicarious rancor.</p> - -<p>“It is a bauble in the shape of a key—it is set with a large diamond -and a circle of rubies. It was understood between us as the key of his -heart,” she could but falter at the revelation of the forlorn little -sentimentalities, shallow of root and wilted in the sun of a sudden -blaze of prosperity. “And I kept it,” she quavered.</p> - -<p>“Randal would never think of the diamond and rubies,” he said, reaching, -indeed, the limit. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span> have too many jewels, doubtless, for your -motive to be misconstrued.”</p> - -<p>There was a moment of dead silence. “He could never have said that,” she -replied, in a voice that trembled with anger. “He is not in the least -like you. I hate you for looking like him.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for dispensing with ceremony and telling me this on so short -an acquaintance. It is more than evident that you like neither of us -over-much. May I ask what are the commands you design to lay upon me, -for if you have no more to say I should be glad to withdraw, with your -kind permission.”</p> - -<p>“Only this,—that you will take this valuable which I chance to have -with me and give it to him,—explaining that there was no sentimental -motive in my retention of it, only the accident of overlooking it at a -moment of great commotion.”</p> - -<p>He remembered that this event was the famous nuptials that filled the -countryside with <i>éclat</i>, and the metropolitan newspapers with the names -of the guests of distinction and the description of their jewels and -gowns. To him, to whom the journals had been sent in France, and to his -brother, this tawdry phase of display cheapened the marriage and lowered -it, and that it was the splendid superstructure on the ruins of the -heart of the jilted lover did not serve to further commend it.</p> - -<p>“I wonder that you remembered to return any of the little trinkets,” he -remarked. “But, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, you must forgive me for declining to -repair your negligence. I really cannot undertake your commission. The -relations between my brother and me are peculiarly tender. All my life I -can remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span> almost in every scene that other self, from the time when -we were little toddlers in our red coats and toboggan caps.”</p> - -<p>He paused, for he saw, at the moment, almost with the distinctness of -actuality, the swift little image of himself and its replica in -childhood days, scuttling about among the vacant chairs of the deserted -deck, snow-balling each other in juvenile joviality in some forgotten -winter. He caught himself and went on. “My brother is dear to me and I -to him, and I will not allow the shadow you cast to come between us.”</p> - -<p>“And you will do nothing in the matter?” Her voice was keen with its -plaint of surprise and disappointment.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you will easily find another emissary,” he said, rising and -standing with one hand on the back of his chair. “Permit me to suggest -that you give the thing to Miss Dean. She, evidently, is very well -acquainted with Randal. Tell her that it is the key to his heart, and, -perhaps, she may unlock it.”</p> - -<p>And with that he lifted his hat and left her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> all riparian estimation the grotesque plight of a craft stranded is -more or less a catastrophe. Even in this sequestered nook spectators -were not slow to mark, at a distance, the grounding of the <i>Cherokee -Rose</i> in the afternoon and to discuss the magnitude and the management -of the mishap.</p> - -<p>The earliest of these were two men summoned from the swamper’s shack -situated in the “no man’s land,” thrown out between the levee and the -high precipitous bank of the river. It was mounted on four pillars some -twelve feet in height, and was entered by means of a ladder placed at -the door. These supports not long before had been stanch cotton-wood -trees, and their roots still held fast in the ground despite its -frequent submergence. Having been sawn off at a height that lifted the -little domicile to a level with the crest of the levee beyond, they -served so far to render the hearth-stone safe from the dangers of flood. -If the river should rise above this limit, why then was the deluge, -indeed, and the swamper’s hut must needs share with the more opulent and -protected holdings the common disaster of the overflow.</p> - -<p>The two men were standing on the brink of the high bank, using -alternately a binocle of elaborate finish and great power. The swamper, -however, presently relinquished the glass altogether to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> companion, -who was evidently a stranger and of a much higher condition in life. He -seemed to develop an inexplicable agitation as he continued to gaze -through the lenses across the tawny expanse of the river at the big, -white bulk of the steamer stranded on the bar, and the groups of -passengers on the decks, easily differentiated as they loitered to and -fro. His breath was coming in quick gasps,—he was suddenly a-quiver in -every fiber. All at once he broke forth as if involuntarily: “Colonel -Kenwynton, by God!”</p> - -<p>There was a sort of frenzy of recognition in the tense bated tones, yet -incredulity too, as one might doubt the reality of a vision, though -incontestably perceived. The swamper watched in silence, patient, -curious, sinister, this manifestation of emotion. It seemed to surprise -him when the stranger spoke to him with a certain unthinking openness.</p> - -<p>“Did you notice,—could you distinguish—a gentleman there on the -hurricane deck walking to and fro,—his hair is white,—oh, how -strange!—his hair is white!”</p> - -<p>He asked the question in an eager, excited way, his dark, distended eyes -wildly agaze.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,—oh, yes, sir,—I seen him plain,” the swamper replied -casually, but he did not relax the keenness of his inquisitive -observation of the stranger beside him, nor even again glance at the -boat.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever before see him?” The question was less a gasp than a -convulsive snap,—it was articulated in such a paroxysm of excitement.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,—oh, yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know his name?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,—oh, yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>The swamper’s replies were as mechanical as the ticking of a clock.</p> - -<p>The stranger turned, lowered the binocle and glanced at him with an odd -blending of animosity and contempt. The swamper was of an aspect queerly -disheveled, water-soaked and damaged, collapsed almost out of all -semblance of humanity. He suggested some distorted bit of unclassified -and worthless flotsam of the great river, washed ashore in one of its -stupendous floods and left high and dry with other foul detritus when -the annual shrinkage regained once more low water mark. He was an -elderly man with a pallid, pasty face, large, pouch-like cheeks and a -sharp rodential nose. His small, bright eyes were so furtive of -expression that they added to his rat-like intimations and he had a long -bedraggled grizzled beard. He wore trousers of muddy corduroy, and a -ragged old gray sweater. His sodden, diluvian, pulpy aspect would -justify the illusion that he had been drowned a time or two, -resuscitated and dried out, each immersion leaving traces in slime, and -ooze, and water-stains on his garments and character. He must have -seemed incongruous, indeed, with the acquaintance he claimed, for it was -a most commanding and memorable figure focused by the lenses.</p> - -<p>“Who is he, then,—what is his name?” the stranger asked with sudden -heat, as if he fancied some deception was practiced upon him, and -evidently all unaware that he had himself, in the surprise of the first -glimpse, pronounced aloud the name he sought. His interlocutor discerned -his incredulity and replied with a flout.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<p>“Who? him?—that old blow-hard? Why ever’ body all up an’ down the ruver -knows old Cunnel Kenwynton.”</p> - -<p>“God!” exclaimed the wild-eyed stranger, with a most poignant -intonation, “to doubt my own sight,—my own memory,—my”—he became -suddenly conscious of that sinister scrutiny, so much more -discriminating and intelligent than accorded with the status of the -water-rat that it had an inimical suggestion. He broke off with an -abrupt air of explanation. “I have been under treatment for—for—an -ocular difficulty, my eyes, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Edzac’ly,” exclaimed the swamper, with a tone of bland acceptance of -the statement. “Well, now, Mister, I thought your eyes appeared queer.”</p> - -<p>“Do they?” asked the stranger with an inexplicable eagerness. “Have they -an odd expression,—to your mind?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I dunno ez I would have tooken notice of it, but my darter-in-law, -Jessy Jane, remarked it las’ night. She is mighty keen, though, Jessy -Jane is,—an’ spies out mos’ ever’ think.”</p> - -<p>The stranger was a conventional, reputable looking person, not -remarkable in any respect save for that recurrent optical dilatation. He -was neatly dressed in one of the smart hand-me-down suits to be had -anywhere in these times and he wore a dark derby hat. He was himself an -elderly man, although he had a certain fresh pallor that bespeaks an -indoor life and that gave him an unworn aspect of youth. His -clean-shaven face was notably delicate, but the years were registered in -the fine script of wrinkles about the eyes and were obvious to the -careful observer. He had dark, straight, thin hair, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> keen features, -and there was an intent look in his wild, dark eyes. He cast over his -shoulder so lowering a glance at the daughter-in-law under discussion, a -young woman who was sitting in the door of the cabin, that even at the -distance she marked the expression of disfavor, of suspicion, of -resentment that informed it. She could not divine the nature of their -communication but, justifying old Josh Berridge’s account of her powers -of discernment, she knew, in some subtle way, that she was its subject. -She tossed her head with a flirt of indifference and spat out on the -ground below her contempt for the stranger’s displeasure.</p> - -<p>Her red calico dress and her tousled mass of copper red hair made a bit -of flare amidst the dull hues of the somber scene. As she sat on the -elevated threshold at the summit of the ladder that led to the door she -was dandling a muscular though small infant in her arms, who with his -blond, downy head almost inverted twisted here and there with motions so -sudden and agile that he might have been expected presently to twist -quite out of the negligent maternal clasp and fall to the earth below. -But, suddenly, she rose and, tossing the child to her shoulder, went -within the house.</p> - -<p>So definite was the impression of something abnormal about the stranger -that she experienced a sentiment of relief when the swamper came in to -his supper alone. “Jessy Jane,” he said, pausing in the doorway and -jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the subject of his -discourse, “that man is as queer a fish as ever war cotched. Says he is -waitin’ fur a boat an’ has hired my old dugout an’ is paddling<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> out to -that air steamboat whut’s aground on the sand-bar.”</p> - -<p>She gazed dully at him, a big spoon in her hand with which she had been -lifting a mass of cat-fish from a skillet on a red-hot monkey-stove. -“Nuthin’ queer in that as I kin see,—Hesh up!” she broke off in jocose -objurgation of the baby who was beaming upon the supper table from where -he was tied in one of the bunks and who lifted his voice vociferously, -apparently in pæans of praise of the great smoking cat-fish spread at -length on a dish. “You ain’t goin’ ter have none,—fish-bone git cotched -in yer gullet, an’ whar-r would Tadpole-Wheezie be then.” Resuming the -conversation in her former serious tone, “What’s queer in waitin’ fur a -boat? Plenty folks have waited fur boats, an’ cotch ’em an’ rid on ’em -too.”</p> - -<p>“But this feller is goin’ ter cotch a boat what can’t go nowhar. He is -right now paddlin’ fur dear life out to the <i>Cher’kee Rose</i>, old -stick-in-the-mud, out thar on the sand-bar.”</p> - -<p>Josh Berridge flung himself down in a chair at the half prepared table, -and awaited there in place the completion of the “dishing up” of supper.</p> - -<p>She stood eyeing him doubtfully, the big spoon still in her hand. “I -wonder all them passengers don’t come ashore, an’ track off through the -woods, like he spoke of doin’ las’ night an’ flag the train.”</p> - -<p>“Gosh, Jessy Jane,—it’s a durned sight too fur. Ten mile, at least, ez -the crow flies, an’ thar ain’t no road nor nuthin’.”</p> - -<p>He said no more for his mouth was full, and the attention of the woman -was diverted by the entrance of her husband, with the declaration that -he was as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> hungry as a bear. He was of a bulky presence, seeming to -crowd the restricted little apartment, which was more like the cabin of -a shanty-boat than a room in a stationary dwelling. It was of a hazy -aspect, low-ceiled and soot-blackened, as shown by a lamp swinging from -the central beam, smoking portentously from an untrimmed protrusion of -charring wick. Two tiers of bunks were arranged nautically on either -side, and the windows still above were small oblong apertures, -suggestive of cabin lights or transoms; perhaps this had been their -earlier use, for several articles about the place betokened an origin -inapposite to the culture and condition of its occupants. A fine -barometer in a shining mahogany case graced the wall near a door leading -to an inner apartment. The handsome binocular glass lay on a shelf so -rough that the undressed wood offered an opportunity for splinters to -every unwary touch. Each of the pillow-cases bore a rude patch where the -name of a steamboat had been cut out, and the dirty cloth on the table -was of linen damask suited to the requirements of the somewhat exacting -traveling public. Even the bowl into which the woman was heaping a -greasy mass of potatoes and pork from the pot was of the decorated china -affected by the packet usage, and a compote filled with doughy fat -biscuits bore the title of a steamer that went to the bottom one windy -night some years ago.</p> - -<p>Now and again the ladder without would creak beneath the weight of a -sudden footfall when the woman would desist from her occupation, the big -spoon brandished in her hand, and her red hair flying fibrous in the hot -breath of the stove, to mark in eager excitement the entrance of first -one and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> then another figure that seemed evolved from the falling night, -cogeners of the gloom and the solitude, normal to the place and the -hour.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re sharp on time,—how did ye know the <i>Cher’kee Rose</i> had struck?” -she cried, as a pallid, wiry, small man with close cropped sandy hair, -wearing jockey boots and riding breeches, with a stable cap on one side -of his head, climbed into view up the ladder without.</p> - -<p>He vouchsafed her a wink of his lashless, red-lidded left eye, in full -of all accounts of greeting and reply. He stood flicking his boots with -a crop and wagged his sandy head knowingly at the group of men about the -stove.</p> - -<p>“I was at Cameron Landing, the last p’int she teched. I went aboard an’ -seen her passenger list. She’s got some swell guys aboard.”</p> - -<p>“Pity, then, she didn’t go down when she struck,” said a lowering, -square-faced man, of a half sailor aspect, the master of a shanty-boat -lying snugly under the willows in a bayou hard by. “The water on this -side the bar is full twenty fathom, even at dead low water.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my stirrups, that’s one hundred an’ twenty feet!” cried “Colty” -Connover, palpably dismayed by the loss of the opportunities of the -accident.</p> - -<p>“The wind is fixin’ ter blow,” said Daniel Berridge from the table, with -his mouth full, but glancing up through the open door at the darkening -skies. “Mought h’ist the old tub off the tow-head after all’s come an’ -gone.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” said Connover, wagging his head -expressively,—“there’d be rich pickings for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span> true in those passengers’ -baggage.” He smacked his lips wistfully.</p> - -<p>For this was a coterie of riverside harpies brought together by the -rumor of the disaster in the hope of the opportunity of spoils. They had -long infested the riparian region, not only baffling the law and justice -but even evading suspicion. Their operations were cleverly diversified, -restricted to no special locality. By the aid of the swift and -inconspicuous dug-out an emissary could drop down the river twenty miles -and abstract a bale of cotton, from a way-landing, awaiting shipment, or -roll off a couple of boxes or a barrel, under cover of the water, till -such time as the shanty-boater should find it practicable to fish them -thence some dark midnight,—while the suits for their non-delivery -dragged on in the courts between the shipper and the consignee. A bunch -of yearlings driven off from the herds that were wont to be grazed in -the “open swamp” throughout seasons of drought when these dense -low-lying woodlands are clear of water, would seem the enterprise of -professed cattle thieves, and suspicion pointed to rogues of bucolic -affiliations, but the beef had been slaughtered and salted and shipped -down the Mississippi by the small craft of the tramp or pirate -proclivities and sold in distant markets before the depletion in the -numbers of the herd was discovered by the owner.</p> - -<p>The cunning and capacity that devised these exploits tolerated no policy -of repetition. Never did the gang fit their feet into their old tracks. -Thus the thwarted authorities failed of even a clew to forward -conviction and certain tempting baits dangled unnoticed and ineffective, -while the miscreants for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span> a season went their ways with circumspection -and kept well within the law. Only once did they attempt the exploit of -a railroad hold-up, and so entirely did it succeed that at the mere -recollection the small, light gray eyes of the shanty-boater narrowed to -a mere slit as he gazed speculatively from his chair across the room and -through the open door at the great dim bulk of the stranded steamboat, -lying there on the bar in the midst of the weltering surges of deep, -swift water on every side. There was no smoke from her chimneys, no stir -now on her decks, but a series of shining yellow points had just begun -to gleam from her cabin lights, and a circlet of shifting topaz -reflections gemmed the turgid waters. Purple and gray were the clouds; -the sky was starless and blank; the great bare terraces of the bank on -either side were like a desert in extent, uninhabited, unfrequented. -Anything more expressive of helplessness than the steamer aground it -were difficult to conceive,—bereft of all power of locomotion, of -volition, of communication.</p> - -<p>“Now, just how many of those ‘swell guys’ are on that boat?” a deep bass -voice queried.</p> - -<p>The speaker was of more reputable aspect than any of the others. He was -the only man in the room with a clean-shaven jaw and wearing a coat; the -abnormal size of his right arm, visible under the sleeve, indicated the -vocation of a blacksmith. He had a round bullet head that implied a sort -of brute force, and his black hair was short and close-clipped. In view -of his mental supremacy and his worldly superiority as a respectable -mechanic the authority he arrogated was little questioned, and, as he -flung himself back in his chair, tilted on the hind legs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span> fixed his -sharp black eyes on the half tipsy jockey, Connover sought to justify -his statement by adducing proofs.</p> - -<p>“Why,” still flicking his boots and thrusting his stable-cap far back on -his sparse sandy hair, “there is Edward Floyd-Rosney and family, and he -is a millionaire. You are obliged to know that.”</p> - -<p>Jasper Binnhart nodded his head in acceptance of the statement.</p> - -<p>“And, Lord, what a string he had before he sold out when he went abroad. -He owned ‘County Guy,’ the third son of imported Paladin, dam Fortuna, -blood bay, stands sixteen hands high, such action.” He smote his meager -thigh in the abandonment of enthusiasm. “I saw him in Louisville at the -training stables—such form!”</p> - -<p>“And who else?” demanded Binnhart.</p> - -<p>“Why, a beautiful roan filly—three years old—Floyd-Rosney gave only -three thousand dollars for her, but speedy! And he owned——”</p> - -<p>“Who else is on that boat?” reiterated Binnhart raucously. “I don’t want -to hear ’bout no horses, without I’m on my shoeing stool,” he added with -a sneer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I know, of course.” The jockey felt the bit himself and -adapted his pace to the pressure of control. It seems strange to -contemplate, but even such a nature as his has its æsthetic element, its -aspirations and enthusiasms, its dreams and vicissitudes of hope. All -these just now had a string on them, as he would have phrased it, and -were dragging in the dust. He had ridden with credit in several events -elsewhere, but he was the victim of intemperance and his weak moral -endowment offered special<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> material for the fashioning of a cat’s paw. -It was said and believed that he had “pulled” more than one horse in a -race, and although this was not indisputable, the suspicion barred him -from the employ of cautious turfmen. In connection with his frequent -intoxication, it had brought him down at last to work as a groom for his -daily bread, and what was to him more essential, his daily dram, in a -livery stable in the little inland town of Caxton, some ten or twelve -miles distant, for there was scant opportunity in view of the stringent -laws against gambling to ply his vocation as a jockey in Mississippi.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are talkin’ about the passenger list. The <i>Cherokee Rose</i> has -sure got swells aboard. There are Mrs. Dean and Miss Hildegarde Dean. -You must have read a deal about <i>her</i> in the society columns of the -newspapers. She won hands down in Orleans las’ winter. Reg’lar favorite, -an’ distanced the field.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t talkin’ about the wimmen,” said the smith.</p> - -<p>“Well, mebbe old Horace Dean ain’t as rich as some, but they are dressed -as winners, sure. I seen ’em in a box at the horse-show—I was there -with Stanley’s stable—an’ the di’monds Mrs. Dean had on mos’ put out my -eyes.”</p> - -<p>“She don’t wear di’monds on a steamboat, I reckon,” put in Mrs. -Berridge. “Them I have seen on deck ginerally don’t look no better -’n—’n—me.”</p> - -<p>“But you are a good-looker, ennyways, Mrs. Berridge,” said the jockey, -and he paid her the tribute of another facetious wink.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<p>“But the woman would carry her di’monds in her trunk or hand-bag,” -suggested the shanty-boater.</p> - -<p>“Horace Dean ain’t aboard, eh? Let us have the men’s names,” said the -smith. He was turning the matter over exactly as if he had it in some -raw material on the anvil before him, striking it here and there, -testing its malleability, shaping it to utility.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, there’s one of the Ducies, the fellow that has been abroad so -long—registers from Lyons, France. Adrian Ducie.”</p> - -<p>The younger Berridge turned half around from the table, chewing hard to -clear his mouth before he spoke impressively: “One of the Ducies? Now -you are coming to the Sure-enoughs! They used to own Duciehurst. They -did for a fack. Finest place in Mississippi; in the world, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“But, used to be ain’t now, by a long shot,” said Jorrocks, the -shanty-boater, sustaining the intention of the investigation. “No Ducie -nowadays would be worth a hold-up.”</p> - -<p>“This is a young man?” Binnhart queried.</p> - -<p>“Rising thirty, I reckon,” replied the jockey.</p> - -<p>“You dunno—you ain’t seen his teeth,” said Mrs. Berridge. “That’s the -way you jockeys jedge of age.” She could be facetious, too.</p> - -<p>“Then there’s old Colonel Kenwynton?” said Connover.</p> - -<p>“He has got a deal of fight left in him yet,” observed Binnhart, -reflectively. “He would put up a nervy tussle.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” corroborated the shanty-boater, with emphasis. “The devil -himself will have a tough job when he undertakes to tow old Jack -Kenwynton in.”</p> - -<p>“There are several other men, names I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span> know—dark horses,” said -the jockey seriously, seeing at last the trend of the discussion.</p> - -<p>Binnhart was slowly, thoughtfully, shaking his head. “A good many men, I -misdoubts. Then there are the captain and the clerks and the mate, but -they would all be took by surprise, an’ mos’ likely without arms.”</p> - -<p>“An’ then there’s another man, besides,” suggested the elder Berridge. A -certain wrinkled anxiety had corrugated the bedraggled limpness of his -countenance and he was obviously relieved by the effect of the -computation of the odds.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” cried Mrs. Berridge, “that comical galoot what bided here -las’ night, an’ this evenin’ hired our dugout an’ paddled out to the -steamboat. He ain’t back yit.” She paused at the door and peered into -the gathering gloom.</p> - -<p>“Jessy Jane,” cried her husband with an accession of interest, “tell ’em -all what you heard him say las’ night. Every other word was -‘Duciehurst.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>The younger Berridge was a stalwart fellow, in attire and features -resembling his father, save that his straw-tinted beard and shock of -hair were not yet bleached by the river-damp and the damage of time to -the dull drab hue of the elder’s locks. The woman had evidently intended -to reserve such values as she had discovered for the benefit of her own, -her husband and his father. But Dan Berridge, all improvident and -undiscerning, was gobbling a second great supply of the cat-fish, and -did not even note the expanding interest that began to illumine -Binnhart’s sharp eyes as they followed her around the table while she -again set on the platter. She sought to gain time and perchance to -effect a diversion by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span> inviting him to partake of the meal, but he -replied that he had eaten his supper already, “and a better one,” he -added as he cast a disparaging glance at the cloth. The rude jeer would -have served to balk his curiosity, one might have thought,—that in -resentment she would have withheld the disclosure he coveted. But the -jeer tamed her. She realized and contemned their poverty, and despised -themselves because they were so poor. The dignity of labor, the -blessedness of content, the joy of health and strength, the relative -values of the gifts of life, the law of compensation, no homilies had -ever been preached here on these texts. She could not controvert nor -contend. It was indeed a coarse, cheap meal brought to the door by the -river, a poverty-cursed home on its fantastic stilts, where they might -live only so long as the waters willed, and she was all at once ashamed -of it, and of her own compact of rude comfort and quiescence with it. -She had a certain spirit, however, and when the other visitors chuckled -their enjoyment of her discomfiture she included them in the invitation -after this wise, “Mebbe you-all ain’t too proud to take a snack with -us.” The shanty-boater, who permitted nothing good to pass him, -compromised on a slice of pork, eaten sandwich-wise, in a split pone of -corn-bread held in his hands as he crouched over the monkey-stove at the -other end of the room. Nevertheless, she was submissive and in some sort -constrained to respond when Binnhart said with a suave intonation: “Yes, -ma’am, we would like to hear from you about that talk of Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>“I dunno what you mean,” she said, still with an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span> effort to fence: “oh, -yes, the man jus’ talks in his sleep, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“He’s got secrets,” said her husband, over his shoulder to Binnhart. He -paused suddenly with an appalled countenance to extract from his mouth a -great spiny section of fishbone, which seemed to have caught on the -words. “Tell on, Jesse Jane. I can’t. I’m eatin’.”</p> - -<p>It was obviously useless to resist. “Why,” she said, “when the baby had -the croup las’ night an’ kep’ me up an’ awake—don’t you dare to look at -me an’ laugh, you buzzard!” she broke off to speak to the infant, who -was bouncing and crowing jovially at the end of his tether where he was -tied in the bunk, “he knows I’m talkin’ about him. Why, what was I -saying? Oh, I was in the back room there, an’ the man was sleepin’ in -here. An’ he talked, an’ talked in his sleep, loud fur true every wunst -in a while. I wonder he didn’t wake up everybody in the house.”</p> - -<p>“What did he say?” asked Binnhart with a look of sharp curiosity.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t take time to listen much,” replied the woman, fencing anew. -“Old ‘Possum thar,” nodding at the baby, “looked like he’d choke every -other minute. He’ll smell of turkentine fur a month of Sundays. I fairly -soaked his gullet with that an’ coal-oil.”</p> - -<p>“A body kin make money out of other folks’ secrets ef they air the right -kind of secrets.” Binnhart threw out the suggestion placidly.</p> - -<p>The woman hesitated. She noted her father-in-law behind the stove, -almost collapsing over his pipe, so inert he might scarcely make shift -to fill it; her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span> husband, his younger image, was still at the table, -lazily chasing the last morsel of fish about his greasy plate with a bit -of cornbread. Little might they hope to metamorphose the babble of a -dreamer into discoveries of value. Jasper Binnhart, on the contrary, was -a man of force, of action, the leader, the prime mover, in every scheme -that had brought to them some measure of success and gain, and then, -too, would she not be present, to aid, to hear, invested with the -mystery and controlling its preservation.</p> - -<p>She took on the air of retrospective pondering as she sank down in a -chair on one side of the table, putting her bare elbows on the cloth and -supporting her chin in her hands. “Lemme see,” she said, “ef I kin call -any of his gabble to mind.” She glanced up to find Binnhart’s eyes, -contracted to mere points of light, fixed upon her, and once more she -bent her gaze on the pattern of the damask.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Twar mos’ly ’bout Duciehurst, all night, all night. Duciehurst was the -word.”</p> - -<p>“That sounds like something doing,” Binnhart remarked. “All my life I -have heard of hidden money at Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>Jessy Jane ceased to pose. She lifted her head suddenly with the -contempt of the uninformed, her lips thickening with a sneer. “Now, what -fool would put money in that old ruined shell, instead of a bank?”</p> - -<p>“Why, lots of folks, during the war,” explained Binnhart. “The banks -were not open then, and people hid their vallybles wherever they could. -After the peace some things, here and there, were never found again.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<p>“Why, shucks, Mrs. Berridge, the name of Duciehurst is famous for hidden -treasure, has been ever since I could remember,” the shanter-boater -said. “You see, Major Ducie and two of his sons were killed in the war, -an’ only one was left, this passenger’s father.” He jerked his thumb -toward the bar, where the boat lay so still in the night, amidst its -element of surging waters. “This son, being so young at the time, just a -child, didn’t know anything about where they had stowed the family -silver and jewels, and a power of gold money, they say.”</p> - -<p>“The family gave up the search more than forty years ago, and the place -was sold to satisfy a mortgage,” Binnhart commented.</p> - -<p>“But the river folks take up the search every wunst in a while, an’ go -thar and dig around the walls,” said the younger Berridge.</p> - -<p>“Sure!” exclaimed the shanty-boater. “I have been thar myself with a -git-rich-quick gang.” He leered humorously at the party from behind the -stove-pipe. Presently he continued reminiscently:—</p> - -<p>“Then pirates tore all the hearths up, mighty nigh, that night. They had -a stonemason along, with crowbars and chisels, an’ such like tools. He -was a tombstone worker, an’ I reckon his biz queered the job, for we -found nothing at all.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tain’t in a hearthstone,” said the woman, suddenly. “Is there anything -about a house named pillow? He kep’ a-talkin’ about a pillow—I thought -he meant the one he had his head on.”</p> - -<p>Jasper Binnhart started as with a galvanic shock. He suddenly let down -the forelegs of his chair and sat stiff and upright.</p> - -<p>“Pillar?” he said, in a curiously muffled tone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span> “Has this mansion of -Duciehurst got anything like a porch with posts? I have never seen the -river-front of the house.”</p> - -<p>“Posts!” exclaimed the younger Berridge. “The porch has got posts the -size of a big gum tree, a round dozen, too, an’ mighty nigh as high as a -gum tree.” He fell to steadily picking his teeth with a fish-bone, and -idly riding his chair to and fro.</p> - -<p>“What did he say about ‘pillars,’ Mrs. Berridge?” asked the blacksmith, -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“He talked about a base, an’ a pilaster, an’ columns, an’ a capital.”</p> - -<p>“That’s Jackson, capital o’ Miss’ippi, seat of government, second to -none in the Union,” explained her husband.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes he would call ‘Archie, Archie.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Lieutenant Archibald Ducie as sure as you are born,” said the -shanty-boater, solemnly. “He died in Vicksburg, an’ he war the one -rumored to have had charge of hidin’ the money.”</p> - -<p>“This man never said nothin’ ’bout no money. Jes’ kept on ’bout -docyments, an’ a chist,” persisted Mrs. Berridge, incredulously.</p> - -<p>“Money mought have been in the chist,” remarked her husband.</p> - -<p>“He war specially concerned ’bout a ‘pilaster’—he went back to that -ag’in an’ ag’in. He’d whisper, sly an’ secret, ‘in the pilaster.’ What -is a pilaster?”</p> - -<p>There was no information forthcoming, and she presently resumed, with a -drawling voice and a dispirited drooping head. “He seemed to say the -docyments was there, though I thought he meant something about a pillow. -I wish I had paid mo’ attention, though I had never heard ’bout a pot o’ -money<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span> bein’ hid at Duciehurst. I wish I could git the chance to hear -him talk agin in his sleep.”</p> - -<p>“But will he come back?” asked Binnhart, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Sure. He said so when he hired the dugout,” said the old water-rat; -“but I made him pay fust, as much as it is wuth—two dollars. He’s got -plenty rocks in his pocket.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I should think he’d stay the night with the steamboat, a man of -his sort,” Binnhart said. He cast a glance of gruff distaste about the -squalid and malodorous place, reeking with the greasy smell of fish, and -the sullen lamp. He thought of the contrast with the carpeted saloon, -the glittering chandeliers, the fine pure air, the propinquity of people -of high tone and good social station. Strange! Indeed, it would seem -that no man in his senses would resort instead to this den of thieves -and cut-throats.</p> - -<p>“He’ll come back fast enough,” protested the elder Berridge. “There’s -something queer about that man, though he made no secret o’ his name, -Captain Hugh Treherne.”</p> - -<p>“There’ll be something mighty queer about me if I don’t git a-holt of -some of them rocks in his pockets ye war tellin’ about,” declared the -shanty-boater.</p> - -<p>“What ailed him to take out for the steamer?” demanded Binnhart.</p> - -<p>“He seemed all struck of a heap when he seen old Cunnel Kenwynton -through the spy-glass. He claims he knows the old Cunnel,” replied the -water-rat.</p> - -<p>“And yet he is coming back here,” exclaimed Binnhart, incredulously. “I -wish I could have heard him talk.”</p> - -<p>He rose, still with that intent and baffled look, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span> went to the door -staring out into the gloomy night to descry, if he might, the course of -the little craft on the face of the waters and its progress; to canvass -the object of the man who wielded the paddle and the nature of the -business he could have with old Colonel Kenwynton; and to speculate in -futile desperation as to the knowledge he might possess of the storied -treasure of Duciehurst, and how this secret might be wrested from him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">That</span> night Colonel Kenwynton had a strange dream. He had come to the -time of life when he had no appreciable future. His possibilities were -limited to the renewal of his promissory notes secured on his mortgaged -lands and the stress to feed the monster debt with its accustomed -interest. Beyond these arid vicissitudes he never looked. The day -bounded his scope of view. His life lay in the past, and although the -present constrained his waking moments, all the furniture of his dreams -had garnished the years come and gone. It was not strange to him, -therefore, as he lay asleep in his berth, that he should hear in the -shaking of the glass-door of his stateroom that opened on the guards the -clanking of sabers. The sound was loud, assertive in the night. The wind -had risen. Along the convolutions of the “great bends” it swirled, with -a wide breathy resonance, the gusts seeming full of gasps. Now and then -the timbers of the boat creaked and groaned and the empty chimneys -towering into the gloom of the upper atmosphere sometimes piped forth -sonorous blasts. No longer the somber monotony held the sky. Clouds were -rolling in tumultuous surges from the south, and the wind fretted the -currents into leaping turbulence as it struck upon the waves, directly -against the course of the waters. Low along the horizon pale lightnings -flickered. The river became weirdly visible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span> in these fluctuating -glimmers, and anon there was only the sense of a vast black abyss where -it flowed, and an overpowering realization of unseen motion—for it was -silent, this stupendous concourse of the waters of the great valley, -silent as the grave. In the fitful illuminations the lace-like summit of -the riparian forest would show momentarily against the clouds; the big, -inert structure of the boat, and long ghastly stretch of the arid -sand-bar, would be suddenly visible an instant, then as suddenly sunken -into darkness.</p> - -<p>And again and again the door of Colonel Kenwynton’s stateroom shook with -a clatter in its casing.</p> - -<p>He was not a light sleeper, which is usual to old age. His robust -physique was recruited by the sound slumber that might have accorded -with a score less years than had whitened his hair. The lightnings, -glimmering ever and anon through the glass door and into his placid, -aged, sleeping face—that ere long should sleep hardly more placidly and -to stir no more—did not rouse him. The violent vibrations of the glass -door would scarcely have impinged upon his consciousness save that the -sound suggested the clash of sabers. But all at once Colonel Kenwynton’s -whole being was translated into a day of the past—a momentous day. The -air blared with a trumpet’s imperious mandate; the clank of sabers -filled his ears, and in the lightning’s pale flare he saw, plainly -against the surging clouds of the southwest, the face of the man who had -ridden close to his bridle rein in a furious cavalry charge that broke -the serried ranks of a redoubtable square.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span></p> - -<p>“Regiment! Draw—<i>swords</i>! Trot!—<i>March!</i> Gallop!—<i>March!</i> -Charge!—<i>Charge!</i>”</p> - -<p>The stentorian, martial cry was filling the restricted spaces of the -little stateroom. Colonel Kenwynton, awakened by the sound of his own -voice, had pulled himself up on his elbow and was staring in amazement -at the dull, opaque black square of the glass door of his stateroom, -which might be only discerned because the apartment was partially -illumined through the transom of the opposite door, admitting the -tempered radiance of the lights burning all night in the saloon within.</p> - -<p>He was nettled as with a sense of ridicule. He had known an old -war-horse that after peace had been degraded to cheap domestic uses, but -was accustomed to prance in futile senility and in stately guise to the -sound of a child’s drum. He listened to discern if his wild martial cry -had reached other ears. No—the scoffers slept. Peace to their pillows. -He grimly wished them rest. He—he was an old man, an old man, and not -of much account any more, save at the reunions. Ah, it must have been -the associations of the reunion which resurrected that face—the face of -a man to whom he owed much, a man but for whom he would scarcely be here -now, laying his head down in undisturbed slumber. Once more the -similitude of the clank of sabers. With the thought of the possible -ridicule should he again, in his dreaming, audibly refer this noisy -tumult to the memory of his battles—fought anew here in the dim -midnight, he leaned forward to obviate the repetition of the sound and -the renewal of the hallucination. From his berth he easily reached the -door to the guards, flung it open, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span> lay down content in the -comparative quiet. The river air was dank, but this was on the lee side -of the boat, and though he could hear the wind rush by he could only -slightly feel its influx here. Still illusions thronged the night. The -chimneys piped in trumpet tones to his dreams. The doors of neighboring -staterooms clanked faintly; whole squadrons rode by, their sabers -unsheathed, and suddenly he became conscious of a presence close at hand -that he could not discern in his sleep. All at once he was stiff, -vigilant, expectant, fired by the pulses of a day long dead!</p> - -<p>“The parole, officer of the day,” he gasped, curiously waking, yet still -in the thrall of slumber.</p> - -<p>“Shoulder to shoulder,” came in a shivering whisper from the twilight of -the stateroom.</p> - -<p>Suddenly impressed with the reality of the experience the old man, -agitated, almost speechless, breathless, struggled up on his elbow.</p> - -<p>“Why, Captain,” he began, in a piping travesty of his wonted sonorous -greeting, “when did you come aboard?”</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” said the man standing by the bed, and even the twilight -glimmer of the room showed the wild light in his eyes, “you haven’t -forgotten the day when ‘Shoulder to Shoulder’ was the parole?”</p> - -<p>“Never—! Never!” Colonel Kenwynton clasped his hand on the visitor’s -hand. “But for you on that day I should have been these forty odd years -in hell.”</p> - -<p>“Then follow me. I have something to say. It must be in -private—something to disclose. You can trust me, Colonel—Shoulder to -Shoulder!”</p> - -<p>“Trust you? To the death—Shoulder to Shoulder!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span>” Colonel Kenwynton -cried, in a fervor of enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless he was chilled while he hastily half dressed and emerged -into the dank obscurity of the guards. His hand trembled as he laid it -on the stair rail. “An old man,” his lips were involuntarily formulating -the words, as he followed his guide, who was descending to the lower -deck. “An old man,” and he drew his overcoat about him.</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton was born to authority and had had the opportunities of -command. But his martial experience had taught him also to obey, and -when he had once accepted a mandate he did not hesitate nor even harbor -an independent thought. With his soft, broad felt hat drawn far over his -brows, down the stairs thumped his groping old feet, doggedly active. -The wind was surging amidst the low clouds which were flying before the -blast in illimitable phalanxes in some distraught panic of defeat. There -must have been a moon lurking beyond their rack and rout, for the weird -night landscape was strangely distinct, the forests that restricted the -horizon bowed, and bent, and rose again in definite undulations to the -successive gusts. One might hardly say how the surface of the far spread -of water was discerned, dark, vaguely lustrous, with abysmal -suggestions, though with never a glimmer, save where the dim lights of -the boat pierced the glooms with a dull ray, here and there, or lay -along ripples close at hand with a limited, shoaling glister.</p> - -<p>These shallows covered the line of the treacherous sand-bar that had -been secretly a-building all summer beneath the surface with the -deposits of silt and in the uncovenanted ways of the great water<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span> -course, till now the tow-head was possibly a peninsula in lieu of the -island it had once been, and the packets of the line would never again -find free passage as of yore between its stretches and the bank. -Accustomed eyes could see how far extended the stabilities of the -tow-head and thus differentiate the definite land formation from the -element of land transition, that was neither land nor water. Here the -wind made great sport, shrilling along the desolate arid spaces of the -pallid sand dunes defenseless against the blast. A wild night, and cold.</p> - -<p>The tread of his guide was silent—one might almost say secret. He came -to a shuddering galvanic pause as he suddenly encountered a watchman, a -lantern in his hand. The big, burly Irishman gazed with round, -unfriendly, challenging eyes at the foremost of the two advancing -figures, then catching sight of the familiar face of the Colonel his -whole aspect changed; he beamed with jovial recognition.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the Cunnel, is ut? Faix, the top o’ the mornin’ to yez, sor, if -it’s got anny top to ’t—’tis after twelve. This grisly black night -seems about the ground floor of hell. The river’s risin’ a bit, sor; an’ -if this wind would fall we’d sure have a rain, an’ git out o’ this, -foreshortly.”</p> - -<p>He touched his hat and moved on, the feeble halo of the lantern -betokening his progress among the shadowy piles of freight, dimly -visible in the dull light of the fixed lamps.</p> - -<p>Not even a speculation did Colonel Kenwynton allow himself when suddenly -his precursor put a foot on the gunwale of the boiler deck and sprang -over into the darkness. The old soldier followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span> without a moment’s -doubt. The unseen water surged about his feet, cold as ice, and at the -swiftly flowing, unexpected impact he caught his breath with a gasp. But -the guide had forgotten the lapse of time—how old a man, how feeble, -was the erstwhile stalwart commander. He pressed on, the water splashing -about his feet, now rising to ankle depth, now even deeper, once surging -about his knees. Even Colonel Kenwynton at last had a thought of -protest. This was always a good soldier, Captain Treherne, but a bit -reckless and disposed to unnecessary risks. There was no word of -remonstrance, however, from the elder man, and he was fairly blown when -suddenly Captain Treherne paused at a considerable distance in a level -space near the river’s margin where was beached a clumsy little craft -which the Colonel recognized as a dug-out.</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne seemed all unconscious of the pallid countenance, the -failing breath, the halting step of the old man. For, indeed, Colonel -Kenwynton was fain to catch at his companion’s arm for support as he -listened, panting.</p> - -<p>“Come, Colonel, you will come with me. I need your advice. You can wield -a paddle, and together we can make the distance.”</p> - -<p>Only the obviously impossible checked the old soldier.</p> - -<p>“Wield a paddle against this current, my dear sir? Make the distance! -You forget my age—seventy-five, sir; seventy-five years.”</p> - -<p>“It is not life and death, Colonel. We have faced that together, you and -I, and laughed at both. Dishonest possession is involved now, and -legalized<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span> robbery, and hidden assets. And <i>I</i> have the secret of the -cache, Colonel, <i>I</i>, alone. It must be revealed. I need your help. This -is the crucial crisis of my life. My life—!” He broke off with an -accent of scorn—“of lives worth infinitely more than mine. And, Colonel -Kenwynton,” he laid a sudden, lean hand on the old man’s arm, “the -helpless! For they know nothing of their rights. It must be revealed to -one who will annul this wrong, this heinous disaster.”</p> - -<p>He had drawn very close, and his grasp on the Colonel’s arm, that had -once been so firm-fleshed and sinewy, seemed to crush the collapsed -muscles into the very bone. The old man winced with the pain, but stood -firm.</p> - -<p>“I’m with you, heart and soul, always. Command me. But, my dear boy, -this is impracticable. Let’s get a roustabout to row.”</p> - -<p>The intensifying grip might really have broken the old man’s bone.</p> - -<p>“Not for your life—never a whisper to any other living creature! Only -you can do this. I—I—I should not be believed.”</p> - -<p>“Not believed! You!” cried Colonel Kenwynton in a tone of such -indignant, vicarious, insulted pride, that what self-control the other -man possessed broke down; he flung his arms about the old man’s -quivering frame, bowed his head on the Colonel’s shoulder and sobbed -aloud.</p> - -<p>“Not even you would believe me—if you knew—if you knew what I have -been—what I am.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly what I do know,” said the Colonel, sturdily. “You are overcome -by your emotions, dear old fellow. You are overwrought. We will<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> put an -end to this, sir. Come, halloo the boat. I can’t halloo, Cap—think of -that for me!—damn this cough! Halloo the boat, and tell the mate to -send us a roustabout to paddle. Or, hadn’t we better take the yawl? That -dug-out looks tricky—and, by God, man, it’s leaky.” He had advanced to -the brink where the craft lay.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” cried the other, “not a breath, not a whisper. It would -frustrate all.” Then impressively, “Colonel Kenwynton, strange things -have come about in this country because of the war. The rich are the -poor; the right are the wrong; the incompetent sit bridling in the -places that the capable have builded; an old paper, an old treasure, -lost time out of mind, would reverse some lives, by God! And <i>I</i> hold -the secret, like an omnipotent fate. There must be no miscarriage of -justice here, Colonel Kenwynton.”</p> - -<p>The old man’s eyes stared through the dusk like an owl’s.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t call me out here at this time of night to talk of titles to -property and acts of justice, Hugh Treherne, in this marsh—why, there -ain’t a bull-frog left here.”</p> - -<p>He lifted his head and gazed out from the flapping broad brim of his hat -at the windy waste of waters, the indefinite lines of the shore, the -distant summits of the forest trees tossing to and fro against the -tumultuous unrest of the clouded horizon.</p> - -<p>Close at hand rose sheer precipitous elevations of the tow-head; seeming -far away towered the great bulk of the grounded steamer, whitely -glimmering through the night, her lamps a dim yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span> focus here and -there, her fires extinguished, her engines sleeping and supine.</p> - -<p>“I called you out here, Colonel, because you are the only man left in -the world who respects his promise, who reverences his Maker, who trusts -his friend and would go through fire and water on his summons.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take an affidavit to the water, dammy,” said the Colonel, grimly, -stamping about as the trickling icy streams ran sleekly down his -garments, over his instep. “But come to the steamboat, Hugh. We’ll have -a glass of hot brandy and water, and talk this thing over in comfort.”</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne seemed to struggle for a modicum of self-control. His -voice had a remonstrant cadence such as one might use in addressing a -fractious child.</p> - -<p>“Colonel, you knew once what a council of war might mean.”</p> - -<p>“Heigh? I did so—I did so.”</p> - -<p>“This is secret—to be kept in the bottom of your heart. Your own -thoughts must not revolve about it, lest they grow too familiar and -canvass details with which you have no concern.”</p> - -<p>“Hugh, I am an old man. I don’t believe it, as a general thing. The -rheumatism has to give me a sharp pinch to remind me of the fact. I -couldn’t paddle a boat to save my life—and against that current.”</p> - -<p>It showed in the chiaro-oscuro like the solution of the problem of -perpetual motion as the murky waters sped past.</p> - -<p>“Tell me here and now. Where in all the world could we be more -private?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<p>Captain Treherne lifted his head and looked about him,—only the bare -sand of the bar, dimly visible in the vague light of the clouded moon, -and of a differing tint from the dull neutral hue of the atmosphere of -darkness. The steamer was absolutely silent, save as a loose chain might -clank, swinging in the wind, for at this distance one could not discern -the shaking of the transoms in their casings. There was no sight or -sound of living creature, until a great bird, driven forth from its -roost by the falling of a bough, or evicted by the wind, went screaming -overhead. A shrill blast pursued his flight and presumably from the dark -distance down the river one could not have distinguished the sounds of -the living cry from the skirling of the restless spirit of the air.</p> - -<p>“We crossed the river in a dug-out, under the nose of a gunboat,” -Captain Treherne began, suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Who? When? Where?” interrupted the old man, his face vaguely mowing -under his big hat as he sought to compose his features.</p> - -<p>“How can I tell where? In forty years who knows any locality in the -course of this deceitful old river? All over here,” he pointed to the -expanse of waters, “used to be dense cypress woods. You couldn’t find -the sign of a tree now, unless some snag gets washed up by the current.”</p> - -<p>“For the government snag-boats to pull up,” commented Colonel Kenwynton.</p> - -<p>“Victor Ducie had been wounded, it was thought mortally, in a skirmish -on the Arkansas side, and his brother, Archie, and I,—we were together -in the rangers then,—slipped through the lines one dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span> midnight to -Duciehurst with the news. You remember the Ducies?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, indeed, I do. There is a gentleman of that name—”</p> - -<p>But Treherne was going on. “Mrs. Ducie determined to go to her son -Victor at once; she had only one of her children at home then, a -twelve-year-old boy named Julian, and she could take him with her. The -country was full of bands of wandering marauders and bushwhackers, and -in leaving the house Archie placed a few of his father’s most important -papers, with a lot of specie, and some family jewels, in a strong box, -which we wrapped in an old knapsack and hid away.”</p> - -<p>He had pushed his hat back from his brow and Colonel Kenwynton felt a -pang of blended pity and surprise to note that the head was nearly bald. -The years had trafficked with Treherne as well as with himself, hard -dealings, it seemed. For they had taken his youth, his spirit, his -pervasive cheer; there was something indefinable suggested that savored -of deep melancholy. And had these covetous years given him full value in -return—learning, in the lessons of life, just judgment, self-control, -disciplined purpose, earnest effort, and, last and not least, -resignation and calm and restful faith? Colonel Kenwynton was -unwittingly shaking his old white head at the thought in his mind. Time -had not dealt honestly by Hugh Treherne. Time had exacted usury and had -paid no fair equivalent for the ineffable possession of youth. Colonel -Kenwynton realized, however, that his own foible was hasty judgment, and -he sought to hold his conclusions in suspension while he listened.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<p>“We will come to the end of the story sooner if I give him his head,” he -said to himself and ruefully added as he shivered in his drenched garb, -“that is, if it <i>has</i> any end.”</p> - -<p>“Archie understood the value of these papers of his father’s,” Treherne -resumed suddenly. “There was a mortgage on Duciehurst that had been -lifted, but as all courts of record were closed by the operations of war -the satisfaction had not been noted on the registered instrument. -Carroll Carriton, who held the mortgage, happened to be in Mississippi -at the time and he executed a formal release, and quit claim, signed and -witnessed, but, of course, not registered. You know the chaotic state of -courts of law at that time. The release also expressed a formal -relinquishment of the promissory notes, secured on the land, for they -were not returned; in fact, all the original papers were still out, -having been placed for safekeeping in a bank in Nashville, Tennessee, -where Carriton then resided, and which was within the Federal lines. The -whole matter of the lifting of the mortgage and the full satisfaction of -the debt was thoroughly understood between the principals and the -witnesses, although it was a hasty transaction and in a way irregular, -owing to the lack of facilities for recording the instruments in the -state of war.”</p> - -<p>“But, look here,” cried the Colonel in great excitement, -“Duciehurst—you know, I was a friend of George Ducie—Duciehurst was -sold to satisfy that mortgage, in behalf of the heirs of Carroll -Carriton.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Lord. That’s why I am here, Colonel,” cried Treherne with a strange -note of pathos.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<p>“But, man alive, you ought to have been here forty years ago with -Carriton’s release.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-h, Lord, Colonel, you don’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“But I do understand, I understand mighty well,” cried the Colonel. -“Archie, God bless his soul, I remember him like yesterday, died of -typhoid fever in Vicksburg, where his father was killed by the explosion -of a cannon during the siege. His mother died in Arkansas, succumbed to -pneumonia, contracted on the river that cold night when she crossed it -to join her wounded son, and never returned to Duciehurst. Victor did -not die till long afterward, he recovered from his wound and fell at -last in the battle before Nashville. Not one of the family was left when -the war closed except the youngest son, Julian, and although the suit on -the promissory notes, brought by the executors of Carriton, was defended -in his behalf, he being a minor at the time, no proof of the -satisfaction of the debt could be made, and in default of payment the -mortgage was foreclosed, and the magnificent estate of Duciehurst went -under the hammer for a mere fraction of its value in the collapsed -conditions of those disorganized times.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-h-hh, Lord, Colonel,” Treherne was swaying back and forth as in a -species of anguish.</p> - -<p>“No time to say ‘Ah, Lord, Colonel,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> the old man muttered the words in -irascible mimicry. “Where did you and Archie hide that knapsack?” and, -with increasing sternness, “why have you never produced those -valuables?”</p> - -<p>Was there a fluctuating glimmer of moonlight in the rack of clouds, or -did the pallid day look forth for one moment, averse and reluctant—he -saw distinctly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> that face which he once knew so well, with something -new, strangely unrecognizable upon it. Then he had a sudden vision of a -scene wreathed in the smoke of cannon and the mists of rain; the glitter -of dull gray light on the polished, serried, fixed bayonets of an -infantry square; the sense of the motion of a mad tumultuous gallop of a -charge; the sound of trumpets wildly blowing, pandemonium, yells, -shrieks of pain, hoofbeats, a gush of blood suffusing eyes, and all -consciousness lost save that this man was helping him to his own horse -from under the carcass of the slain charger, humbly holding by the -stirrup in their mad precarious escape through the broken square.</p> - -<p>The years since that momentous day had been something to Colonel -Kenwynton, and but for this man’s courage and devotion he would not have -lived them.</p> - -<p>“Hugh, dear old boy, remember one fact. Through everything misty, I -trust you; I trust you implicitly, Hugh. I know your honorable motives. -Tell me anything you will, but through thick and thin I trust you.”</p> - -<p>“The Ducie valuables are what I am coming to,” said Treherne uneasily, -his voice husky, his articulation muffled, his tongue thick. “We hid -’em—Archie and I. We hid ’em at Duciehurst in the mansion. That is what -I want to tell you.”</p> - -<p>He paused to gaze about, pointing wildly, now up, now down the river.</p> - -<p>“Then we crossed there, no, there, and landed on the Arkansas side. We -had put Mrs. Ducie and Julian into the skiff, which we rowed ourselves. -She had a lot of things with her that she was taking to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span> Victor, -bed-linen, blankets, clothes, medicines, wines and such like, so hard to -come by in the Confederacy in those times. We landed there, no, -<i>there</i>.”</p> - -<p>Again he was pointing wildly from place to place. Now and then he took -short, agile runs to and fro, as if he sought a better view in the windy -obscurity.</p> - -<p>“It was very cold and a pitch black night. We almost got under the hull -of a Yankee gunboat—she was a vessel that had been captured from the -Confederates, armored with iron rails, you know—that kind of iron-clad. -As she swung at anchor I wonder the suction didn’t swamp us, but it -didn’t. The look-out on deck never challenged nor heard us. We hit it -like the bull’s eye, at the Arkansas landing,—Archie knew every twist -and quirk in the current like an old song, born at Duciehurst, you know. -And after we made it to the farm-house, where Victor was lying at the -point of death it seemed, we returned to our command according to -orders, our leave being expired, for we had already hid the box in the -knapsack at Duciehurst. And that’s all.”</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on Colonel Kenwynton’s shoulder and gazed wistfully -into his face. Day was coming surely, for the elder man’s feebler vision -read a strange fact in those eyes, a fact that made him shudder, even -when half perceived, a fact against which his credulity revolted.</p> - -<p>“Hugh, Hugh, why in the name of God have you not produced those papers, -restored the gold and jewels?”</p> - -<p>“Why, why, why,” Treherne’s voice rose to a shriek. “Why, I have -<i>forgotten</i> where they were hidden. Forgotten! Forgotten! Forgotten!”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton was trembling like a leaf. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span> chill keener than the -cold had set his heart a-quiver. “Forgotten,” he echoed in a vague -fright. “Forgotten—impossible!”</p> - -<p>The contradiction seemed to restore Treherne—not so much that it -aroused the instinct of contention as the determination to set himself -right in the eyes of his old commander.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Colonel, where I have been these forty years?” he -demanded, quietly.</p> - -<p>“I thought, in Paradise, dear old boy. I often asked, but could never -hear a word.”</p> - -<p>Wherever he had been it was evident he had not been happy there. The -trembling clasp of Colonel Kenwynton’s arm on his shoulder brought the -younger man’s face down on the soft old wrinkled neck. But now there -were no tears.</p> - -<p>“I have been at Glenrose.”</p> - -<p>The words came from between set teeth, in the merest thread of a voice.</p> - -<p>“Glenrose?” Colonel Kenwynton was aware that there was a significance in -the reply which he had not grasped. “A beautiful little town, I am told, -not far from Caxton, and growing quite into commercial importance,” he -said, glibly, his instinct of courtesy and compliment galvanically -astir.</p> - -<p>“Oh, horrible! Horrible!” Hugh Treherne cried, poignantly. “Do you -wonder now that I have forgotten? <i>I</i> can only wonder that I remember -anything. They pretend that it was the wound at Franklin—the injury to -the medulla substance.”</p> - -<p>“Hugh! Hugh!” the old Colonel was near to falling into the marshy slough -at his feet. “You don’t mean—you can’t mean—the—asylum—the private -sanatorium for the insane. Oh, my poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span> boy, my poor boy. Wait, wait, -give me your hand, I shall fall, wait, wait.”</p> - -<p>But there were sudden voices on the wind, calling here, calling there. -Colonel Kenwynton heard his own name, but he did not respond. He only -sought to detain his old comrade in his endearing clasp. The younger man -was the stronger. Treherne wrested himself away, though not without -repeated efforts, seized the paddle, pushed off the dug-out, and in a -moment was lost in the gloom, for the moon was down, mists were rising -from the low-lying borders of a bayou delta, and the frail craft was -invisible on the face of the waters.</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton was not devoid of a certain kind of policy. He rallied -his composure, realizing that the Captain of the steamboat had been -alarmed by his absence on this precarious spot which the sound of his -voice had betrayed, and before the emissaries sent out to seek him had -reached the old man he had determined on his line of conduct. He -maintained a studied reticence, the more easily since Treherne’s -presence had not been observed to excite curiosity and he himself was in -a state of exhaustion and cold that precluded more than a shivering gasp -in reply to questions. For he was determined to take counsel within -himself before he indulged in explanations. He said to himself that he -could better afford misconstruction of his conduct as some fantastic -freak of drunkenness than run the risk of divulging the interests of -another man to his possible detriment,—this man, who had so obviously, -so appealingly suffered. He steeled himself in this, although he loved -the approval, or rather the admiration, of his fellows, and he felt -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span> his position in some sort forfeited it, not being aware how -thoroughly established he was as a public favorite, so that, indeed, he -could hardly incur reprobation.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t the old Colonel game—must have been tight as a drum last night,” -the Captain said to the clerk. “He was making the tow-head fairly sing -when I heard him, luckily enough.”</p> - -<p>Then to the Boots, who was looking from one to the other of the miry -shoes into which he had thrust each hand: “Take his clothes and get them -dried and pressed and see that you are careful about it. Colonel -Kenwynton shall have the best service aboard as long as I have a plank -afloat.”</p> - -<p>He had no plank afloat now, high and dry as the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> was on -the sand-bar, but his meaning was clear, and Colonel Kenwynton’s gear, -despite its strenuous experience, seemed improved by this careful -handling when once more donned, and he strode out, serene and smiling, -into the outer air.</p> - -<p>“How the old fellows stand their liquor—a body would think he was never -overtaken in his life.”</p> - -<p>The Captain possessed the grace of reticence. None of the passengers had -any inkling of the incident of the previous night, either as Colonel -Kenwynton knew it, or in the interpretation which the Captain had placed -upon it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> the patience, the concentration, the tireless endurance with which -Jasper Binnhart awaited the return of the stranger, could have been -applied to any object of worthy endeavor commensurate results must have -ensued. It was necessarily, even in his own estimation, a fantastic -expectation to learn from him aught of value concerning the treasure -hidden at Duciehurst during the Civil War. If the stranger really had -knowledge of the place of its concealment it was not likely that he -would divulge it, since this would require the division of the windfall. -But, he argued speciously, the man might need assistance, which probably -explained his singular mission to the stranded <i>Cherokee Rose</i> to confer -with Colonel Kenwynton. This confirmed the impression of the Berridge -family that there was something eccentric, inexplicable about him. What -he needed in such an enterprise was not a man of seventy-five, as soft -as an old horse turned out to grass, but a master mechanic, such as -himself, indeed, a man accustomed to the use of tools, with the -dexterity imparted by constant work and the strength of muscles trained -to endurance. The Colonel! Why he would be as inefficient as a baby. But -perhaps only his advice was desired. Binnhart wished again and again -that it had chanced that he could have seen the stranger first. More -than once he despondently shook his round bullet head, with its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> closely -cropped black hair,—as sleek as a beaver’s, from his habit of sousing -it into the barrel of water where he tempered his steel,—as he sat on -one of the steps of the rude flight that led to the door of the -semi-aquatic dwelling of the water-rat’s family, and gazed across the -darkling river at the orange-tinted lights of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, lying -high and dry on the bar. It was a pity for Colonel Kenwynton to be let -into the secret at all. If the stranger had any right to possess himself -of the hidden money he could boldly hire laborers and go to the spot in -the open light of day. If his right were complicated or dubious, and -this was most likely, or why had it lain so long unasserted, the old -Colonel would clamp down on it with both feet. The Colonel had highflown -antiquated ideas, unsuited to the world of to-day; Binnhart had heard -him speak in public. He talked about honor, and patriotism, and -fair-dealing in politics, and such chestnuts, and, although the people -applauded, they were secretly laughing at him in their sleeves. No, no! -Binnhart shook his head once more. It was a thousand pities to bring old -Kenwynton into it at all; nothing he knew was of any value -nowadays,—except the Colonel did know how a horse should be shod, and -the proper care of the animal’s feet; people said he used to own fine -racers in his rich days. If Colonel Kenwynton returned with the stranger -there might be trouble. The old man was a hard proposition. He seemed to -think himself a Goliath, and would certainly put up a stiff fight on an -emergency. “I’d rather see him come back with any three men than the old -Colonel,” Binnhart concluded ruefully.</p> - -<p>This was the hour of the night when a mist began<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> to rise, and the -orange-tinted lights from the steamer’s cabin glimmered faintly through -the haze. Binnhart became apprehensive that he might not discern the -tiny craft in the midst of the great river, struggling across its -intricate braided currents, and thus the stranger return unaware, or -perhaps give him the slip altogether. He rose and took his way down the -successive terraces to the verge of the water. He must needs have heed -not to walk into the river, for silent as the grave it flowed through -the deep gorge of its channel, and but for some undiscriminated sense of -motion in the dark landscape one might never know it was there.</p> - -<p>Long, long he stood at gaze, watching in the direction of the bar, his -ear keenly attentive, aware that he could hear from far the slightest -impact of a paddle on that silent surface. But the wind was rising now; -the mists, affrighted, spread their tenuous white wings and flitted -away. Presently there lay visible before him, vaguely illumined by the -light of a clouded moon, the vast spread of the tossing turmoils of the -sky, the dark borders of the opposite bank, the swift swirling of the -great river, and the white structure of the steamboat, rising dimly into -the air on the sand-bar. Her lights were faint now, lowered for the -night; the vague clanking of the dynamo came athwart the currents; still -the surface of the waters showed no gliding craft, and listen as he -might he heard no measured dip of paddle.</p> - -<p>Once more he betook himself back to the shack and found Connover and -Jorrocks seated on the outer stair. They evidently had no faith in the -adage of honor among thieves, and albeit they had alternately enjoyed -the refreshment of a nap in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> bunks of the cabin one remained always -vigilant as to the movements of Binnhart. As the night wore on and -naught was developed both had taken up a position on the outer stair and -alertly awaited the crisis.</p> - -<p>Dan Berridge and his father were but poor exemplifications of the -sybarite, but the paramount instincts of self-indulgence overpowered -their hope of loot, and their doubt of the fair-dealing of their -co-conspirators, and in their respective bunks they snored as noisily as -if in the sleep of the just.</p> - -<p>Jessy Jane alone took note of the fact that, but for their disclosure of -the somnolent talk of the stranger, the others would have known naught -of the possibility of the discovery of the hidden valuables at -Duciehurst and she resented the chance that they would profit to the -exclusion of her and hers. She remained in the dark in the back room of -the little cabin, but up and dressed, now and again listening intently -for any stir of movement or sound of voices. When she heard the heavy -tread of Jorrocks and Connover tramping to the outer stair as they -relieved each other’s watch, she would set the communicating door ajar -to thrust in her tousled red head to spy upon their motions, withdrawing -it swiftly. Now she perceived through the dim vista of the room the -square face of Jorrocks against the gloom of the night, looking at her -with calculating, narrowing eyes, evidently appreciating the full -significance of her espionage, and, beyond still, a vague shadowy -outline which she recognized as Jasper Binnhart’s profile. She closed -the door with a bang, partly in pettishness and partly through -embarrassment, at the moment that Binnhart grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> stiff and rigid, -motionless in excitement. He had sighted a canoe down the river, which -was shining in a rift of the clouds, a mile, nay, two, below the landing -for which it was bound. Thus she did not see his wild, silent gesture of -discovery, his hand thrown high into the air. Its muscles became -informed with a mandatory impulse as he beckoned to Jorrocks and -Connover to follow and set forth in a dead run for the water’s side.</p> - -<p>A skiff was lying there scarcely discernible in the vague light. It -belonged to the shanty-boater, and into it the owner threw himself, -grasping the oars, the other two with less practiced feet tumbled into -the space left available, and the craft shot out from the land under the -swift, strong strokes of the shanty-boater, rowing as if for a purse. -There was a belt of pallor along the horizon. A sense of dreary -wistfulness, of sadness, lay on the land, coming reluctantly into view. -The clouds hung low and menacing, although the wind still was high. The -dawn was near, or even the practiced eyes of the river pirates might not -have distinguished the dugout, seeking to cross the great expanse, yet -being carried by the strong current further and further down the river -from its objective point.</p> - -<p>“See her now?” asked Jorrocks, resolutely rowing and never turning his -head.</p> - -<p>“Well out todes mid-stream,” replied Binnhart. “Nigh to swampin’, too. -Git a move on ye, Jorrocks, git a move on ye.”</p> - -<p>After a contemplative moment he suddenly threw himself on another pair -of oars and the combined strength of the two men sent the light boat -shooting like an arrow down the surface of the river<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span> upon the craft, -evidently having shipped water and beginning to welter dangerously, -showing a tendency to capsize, the trick so frequently practiced by the -faithless dug-out.</p> - -<p>“Hello, sport!” called out Binnhart, as soon as he was within earshot. -“You’ll go to the bottom in three minutes unless you can swim agin the -Mississippi current better than I can. Will you have a lift?”</p> - -<p>The stranger’s exhausted face showed ghastly white in the dull, slow -light. His wide, dark eyes were wild and suspicious. There was something -in their expression that sent a chill coursing down the spine of the -impressionable Connover, his shaken, exacerbated nerves all on edge from -his constant potations, as well as from the excitements of this -experience and the strain of his long vigil. The stranger scanned them -successively, keeping the canoe in place by an occasional dip of the -paddle. It might seem as if he debated the alternative—Davy Jones’s -locker or a place among these boat-men. When he spoke his reserved -gentlemanly tone struck their attention.</p> - -<p>“I shall be much obliged,” he said, with grave and distant courtesy, -evidently recognizing a vast gulf between their station and his.</p> - -<p>“Move out of the gentleman’s way, Connover,” said Binnhart, quickly. For -this was a gentleman, however water-soaked, however queer of conduct, -whatever project he might have in view.</p> - -<p>After securing the dug-out as a tow, Binnhart seated himself opposite -the stranger, who was given the place of honor in the stern.</p> - -<p>“Nothin’ meaner afloat than a dug-out,” Binnhart<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span> remarked, keenly -watching the face of his guest, whose lineaments became momently more -distinct as the dull dawn grew into a dreary day. “Though to be sure a -dug-out ain’t used commonly for crossing the river, jes’ for scoutin’ -about the banks, and in the bayous, and lakes.”</p> - -<p>“I am not accustomed to its use,” the stranger replied.</p> - -<p>“You come mighty nigh swampin’, an’ that’s a fact, though you couldn’t -have got nothin’ better at Berridge’s, an’ I s’pose your business with -Colonel Kenwynton on the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> wouldn’t wait.”</p> - -<p>“Colonel Kenwynton!” cried the gentleman, with a strange sharpness. “How -do you know I had business with Colonel Kenwynton?”</p> - -<p>“No offense, sir. You spoke of it at Berridge’s. He is a leaky-mouthed -old chap. What goes in at his ears comes out of his jaws.”</p> - -<p>“I spoke of it? <i>I</i> spoke of it?” repeated the stranger. His voice was -keyed to the cadences of despair. The modulation of those dying falls -was scarcely intelligible to Binnhart; he could not have interpreted -them nor even the impression they made upon his mind. But some -undiscriminated faculty appraised their true intendment and on it -fashioned his course. Once more he looked keenly at the stranger’s face, -while the gentleman gazed with deep reflectiveness at the swift waters -so near at hand racing by on either side.</p> - -<p>“Where shall we set you ashore, sir?” Binnhart asked with respectful -urbanity.</p> - -<p>Ah, here was evidently a dilemma. Berridge’s hut was now far up stream, -since the brawny practiced arms of Jorrocks had steadily continued to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> -row the skiff down and down the current, which of itself would have been -ample motive power for a swift transit. An expression of despondency -crossed the stranger’s face.</p> - -<p>“I should have noticed earlier,” he said. “I had intended to return to -Berridge’s, but I cannot ask you to go so far out of your way against -the current. Just set me ashore at the nearest practicable point and I -can walk back.”</p> - -<p>“All ’ight, sir. Duciehurst is the nearest safe landing, the bank is -bluff an’ caving above.”</p> - -<p>Binnhart was quick to note as the word was spoken the change of -expression and a sudden sharp gasp that was not unlike a snap, so did -the muscles evade control.</p> - -<p>“You are acquainted with the old mansion, sir, spoke of it bein’ part of -your business with Colonel Kenwynton to git the hidden money an’ papers -an’ vallybles—take care, Colty, he’ll fall out of the boat!”</p> - -<p>For Captain Treherne, his eyes distended, his lower jaw fallen, his face -livid, had risen in the boat and stood tottering in the unsteady craft, -staring aghast and dumfounded at Binnhart. “<i>I</i> spoke of that? <i>I</i> told -you that?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, but you told Berridge, Josh, the old man.”</p> - -<p>“You lie, you infamous liar! What, <i>I</i> publish abroad the secret that I -have kept through thick and thin, till after forty years of acute mania -I may right the wrong and establish the title. Oh, my God!” he broke -forth shrilly, “am I raving now? Is this a species of hallucination, -obsession,” he waved his wild hands toward sky, and woods, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span> -sinister, silent river, “or, worse still, is it stern fact and have I -betrayed my sacred trust at last?”</p> - -<p>“He’ll turn this boat upside down,” the shanty-boater in a low voice -warned the others.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Liar’ is a toler’ble stiff word for me to have to take off ’n you, -Mister,” said Binnhart, with affected gruffness, for his affiliations -with the truth were not so close as to cause him to actually resent an -accusation of divagation. “It ain’t my fault if you got absent-minded -an’ told Berridge that the vallybles are hid in a pillar or a pilaster,” -he broke off abruptly.</p> - -<p>A shrill scream rent the air. It seemed for one moment as if Captain -Treherne himself had made a discovery, so elated were his eyes, so -triumphant was his face, changed almost out of recognition in the -moment. Agitated as he was he had lost his balance and was swaying to -and fro as if he might pitch head-foremost into the river.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t want the whole water-side popilation rowing out here to -see what’s the matter aboard you had better make him stop that n’ise,” -the shanty-boater urged. “Gag him. Take his handhercher, or his hat,” he -recommended, still swiftly rowing.</p> - -<p>The dull, purplish twilight of the slow-coming day gave little token of -stir amongst the few scattered inhabitants of the riverside within -earshot; cottonpickers are never in the field till the sun has dried the -dew from the plant, but Jorrocks was mindful of the fact that there are -barnyard duties in an agricultural community requiring early rising; -cows are to be milked, horses fed and watered, and any bucolic errand -might bring to the bank an inquisitive interest in these weird cries -ringing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span> shore to shore in an intensity of agonized emotion. The -suggestion of Jorrocks was acted upon instantly. Binnhart roughly -knocked the hat from Captain Treherne’s head, crushed it into a stiff, -shapeless mass, thrust it between his jaws, attempting to secure it with -his large linen handkerchief, despite his strenuous resistance. The -struggle was fierce, and the miscreants were dismayed by the strength -the victim put forth. The two could scarcely hold him; over and again he -shook off both Binnhart and Connover. The shanty-boater had great ado -even with his practiced skill to keep the skiff from overturning -altogether, as it listed from side to side as the weight of the -combatants shifted. The stranger fought with a sort of frenzy, striking, -kicking, butting with his head, even biting with his strong snapping -jaws.</p> - -<p>“He is like a maniac,” cried Binnhart, in amaze, and once more that -awful cry rang upon the air, shrill, wild, freighted with demoniacal -bursts of laughter, yet with an intonation more pathetic than tears.</p> - -<p>Not until Jorrocks shipped his oars and, leaning forward, caught -Treherne’s feet, throwing him on his back in the bottom of the boat, was -the gag again introduced into his mouth, to be promptly and dexterously -ejected as he sought to rise. Again was the semi-nautical skill of the -shanty-boater of avail. A crafty knot in a rope’s end and the stranger’s -arms were pinioned to his side, and while the gag was secured the -surplusage of the cord was bound again and again about his legs till he -was helpless, able neither to move nor to speak. Only his wild eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span> -expressed his indomitable courage, his sense of affronted dignity, his -resentful fury.</p> - -<p>“I do declar’ I’m minded to spit in his face,” exclaimed Binnhart, -vindictively, as panting and breathless, he towered above his victim, -lying at his feet.</p> - -<p>“Better not!” the shanty-boater admonished the blacksmith. Then, in a -lower voice: “You fool you, we depend on his good will to show us the -place where the swag is hid.”</p> - -<p>“Tend to your own biz,” roughly replied Binnhart. “Look where your boat -is driftin’. Bound for Vicksburg, ain’t ye?”</p> - -<p>For, left to its own devices when the oarsman had gone to the aid of his -comrades, the skiff had been carried by the swift current far down the -stream and toward the bank, so close, indeed, that Binnhart apprehended -its grounding. He had not an acquaintance with the river front equal to -the practical knowledge of the shanty-boater, whose peregrinations made -him the familiar of every bogue and bight, of every bar and tow-head for -a hundred miles or more.</p> - -<p>“Look what’s ahead of your blunt pig-snout, an’ maybe ye’ll have sense -enough to follow it,” Jorrocks retorted.</p> - -<p>For a great looming structure had appeared on the bank in the murky -atmosphere, that was not so shadowy as night, yet in its obscurity could -hardly assume to be day. An imposing mansion of three stories, with a -massive cornice and commodious wings, stood well back on the shelving -terraces. Woods on either hand pressed close about and many of the trees -being magnolias and of coniferous varieties<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> foreign to the region, the -foliage was dense despite the season, and gave the entourage a singular, -sinister sense of deep seclusion. In the dim light one could hardly -discern that there was no glass in the windows, but the black, gaping -intervals intimated somehow vacancy and ruin, and Binnhart was quick to -notice the dozen great pillars rising to the floor of the third story -and supporting the roof of the long broad portico. Then he gave no -further attention to the unwonted surroundings, but fixed his gaze on -the face of their prisoner as his helpless bulk was lifted from the boat -by the three. He was of no great weight and they bore him easily enough, -inert and motionless, along the broad broken stone pavement to the -deserted ruin.</p> - -<p>A ready interpretation had Binnhart, a keen intuition. The native -endowment might have wrought him good service in a better field. As it -was it had been the pivotal faculty on which had turned with every wind -of opportunity the nefarious successes that the thieves had achieved. He -now watched the glimmer of recognition in Captain Treherne’s eyes as he, -too, gazed breathlessly with intent interest at the mansion, despite his -bound and gagged situation. He even made shift to turn his head that he -might fix his eyes on the eastern side. Only to the east he looked, and -always. Binnhart felt a bounding pulse of prideful discovery that in the -east the treasure was hidden, in an eastern pilaster of the portico.</p> - -<p>He was not familiar with the meaning of the architectural term, but just -what a “pilaster” was he would know before he was an hour older, he -swore to himself, if there was a carpenter or builder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> awake in the -little town of Caxton where his shop was located and where he must needs -repair for tools. There he would learn this all-significant fact, for -that there was treasure hidden at Duciehurst all the country-side had -been aware for forty years—the question was, where?</p> - -<p>They bore Captain Treherne through half a dozen darkling rooms, showing -as yet scant illumination from the slow coming day. The windows gave -upon a gray nullity outside, and even the size and condition of the -bare, echoing apartments could not be ascertained by the prisoner’s -searching gaze as he was laid down on the floor at full length, watching -the preparations of his captors for their temporary departure. One of -them would remain, as he was assured by Binnhart, who had again adopted -a tone of deference suited to the evident station and culture of the -victim. Connover would stay and see to it that he was not molested in -any manner whatever during the short absence of the others. Binnhart, -making his words as few as possible, took his leave and once more in the -boat Jorrocks pulled down the river with every pulse of energy he could -command.</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne had spent forty years of his life in an insane asylum, -but the experience had not bereft him in this lucid interval of the -appreciation of certain fundamental facts of human nature. He realized -that although he could not use his hands, Connover was in no wise -restricted. Perhaps the offer of the funds in his pocket might compass -his release if he could find means to intimate this delicate -proposition. Treherne waited till he heard the shuffling gait of -Jorrocks and the swift assured step<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span> of Binnhart die away in the -distance before he would seek to communicate his desire by means of -winks and such significant grimaces as the gag would permit. Before the -others were clear of the house Connover had come and stood beside him -gazing down at him with a sort of vacant curiosity on his weak, -dissipated face, unmeaning and without intention. But he immediately -turned away, and, repairing to a long hall hard by, began to tramp idly -back and forth to while away the time of waiting.</p> - -<p>It was likely to be a considerable time, he began to reflect -discontentedly, and he had no particular liking for his commission. The -other fellows would get their feed in Caxton, he argued. Jorrocks would -not go without his breakfast for the United States Treasury. They would -also get drinks, good and plenty. At this thought he took an empty flask -from his pocket and lugubriously smelled it. He was a fool, he said to -himself, and perhaps that was the only true word he had spoken that day. -But, in his opinion, it applied specifically to his consent to remain -here, as if he, too, were bound and gagged.</p> - -<p>Once more he sniffed the departed delights of the empty flask. Suddenly -Captain Treherne heard no more the regular impact of his steps as he -tramped the long length of the vacant hall. There was a livery stable at -a way-station of the railroad some eight miles distant, a goodish tramp -on an empty stomach, but the odor of the flask endued him “with the -strength of ten.” He was known there as an ex-jockey of some success, he -was appreciated after a fashion by its employees; he could count on -their hospitality and conviviality, and perhaps borrowing a rig he could -return before Binnhart and Jorrocks<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span> would be here accoutered with their -tools. The prisoner could not report his defection, even when liberated, -for he could not know where in that great building he had seen fit to -bestow himself to enjoy, perchance, what he was pleased to call, “a nap -of sleep.”</p> - -<p>Thus silence as of the tomb settled on the deserted building. The shades -of night gradually wore away and the pale gray light of a sunless and -melancholy day pervaded the dreary vistas of the bare uninhabited ruin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> his inexorable view of the sanctity of his promise Colonel Kenwynton -had no impulse to confide the details of the revelation he had received -or to take counsel thereon. Still, he could but look with an accession -of interest at Adrian Ducie when he met him at the breakfast table, the -passengers of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> dallying over the meal, prolonging it -to the utmost in the dearth of other interest or occupation.</p> - -<p>Although Ducie seemed to have mustered the philosophy to ignore the -serious aspects of this most irksome and dolorous detention, it had -darkened all the horizon to Floyd-Rosney’s exacting and censorious mood. -“I can’t imagine, Captain, how you should not have been on the lookout -for the formation of an obstruction capable of grounding the boat,” was -his cheerful matutinal greeting.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Dean says he knew it was there all the time, and only wished -to entertain us,” his wife interposed, with a view of toning down her -lord’s displeasure, but her sarcastic chin was in the air, and her -clipped, quick enunciation gave token only of one of her ironic -pleasantries.</p> - -<p>“Well, I intend to eat him out of house and home while I am about it,” -said Ducie, with an affectation of roughness. “This table is not run <i>à -la carte</i>. You can’t charge more than the passage-money,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> Captain, no -matter how long we abide with you in this pleasance of a sand-bar—and I -really think, waiter, I can get away with the other wing of that fried -chicken.”</p> - -<p>“You think you can get away; <i>can</i> you?” Mrs. Floyd-Rosney fleered.</p> - -<p>The queer little roughness he affected was incongruous with the delicate -elegance of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s presence. The polish of his own -appearance and ordinary manner warranted it as little, and the -contrariety of his mental attitude was like that of a bad child “showing -off” in the reverse of expectation or desire. Between the heavy sulking -of her husband in the troublous <i>contretemps</i> of the detention of the -boat, and the peculiar tone that Adrian Ducie had taken, in which, -however, offense was at once untenable and inexplicable, it might seem -that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had much ado to preserve her airy placidity and -maintain the poise of the delicate irony of her manner. This became more -practicable when Ducie’s attention was diverted to a little girl of -twelve who had boarded the packet with her father at the landing of a -fashionable suburban school some distance up the river, evidently -designing to spend the week-end at home. She was a bouncing little girl, -with liquid black eyes, and dark red hair, long and abundant, plaited on -either side of her head and tied up with black ribbon bows of -preposterously wide loops. While she was as noisy and as active as a -boy, she was evidently constantly beset with the realization that her -lot in life was of feminine restrictions, and miserably repented of -every alert caper. Her memory, however, was short, as short, one might -say, as her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span> very abbreviated skirts, and the monition of the staid -gait, appropriate to her sex, always struck her after the fantastic -gallopade or muscular skip on her long, handsome, black-stockinged legs, -and never by any chance earlier. She had a most Briarean and centipedal -consciousness in Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s presence, which she instinctively -appraised as critical, and she was covered with confusion as she came -flustering out of her stateroom to the breakfast table to realize that -she had banged the door behind her. By way of disposing of one -superfluous foot at least she crooked her leg deftly at the knee, placed -its foot in the chair and sat down upon it, turning scarlet as she did -so, realizing all too late that the maneuver was perfectly obvious, and -wondering what Mrs. Floyd-Rosney must think of a girl who sat on her -foot. For the opinion of the score of other persons at the tables she -had not a thought or a care, doubtless relying on their good nature to -condone the attitude, curiously affected and prized by persons of her -age and sex. An agile twist had got the foot down to the floor again, -and now with restored composure and rebounding spirits her gushing -loquacity was reasserted, and she was exchanging matutinal greetings -with her traveling companions; her father, a tall, lean, quiet man, who -had marked her entrance with raised eyebrows and a concerned air, having -resumed his talk on the tariff with his next neighbor at table.</p> - -<p>“Have compassion on our dullness, Miss Marjorie,” said Adrian Ducie, -suavely smiling at her from across the board. In his contrariety he -seemed to have divined Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s covert disapproval and made a -point of according his own favor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span> Marjorie’s heart, however, was in no -danger from his fascinations. To her he seemed a man well advanced in -years, quite an old bachelor, indeed. “Tell us your dreams.”</p> - -<p>“Dreams? oh, mercy!” How often had she been warned against rising -inflections and interjections? “My dreams are all mixed up. I don’t know -now what they were.”</p> - -<p>“I will disentangle them for you,” he said, blandly; then in parenthesis -to the waiter, “Give the cook my compliments and tell him to send up -another omelette, which I will share with Miss Ashley.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t like eggs,” Marjorie blurted out, then stopped short. How -often had she been admonished never to say at table that she disliked -any article of diet. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, she was sure, must have noticed -that lapse.</p> - -<p>“Then I will eat it all by myself—mark me now, Captain! While awaiting -its construction I will tell your dreams, and interpret their mystery.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh,” gurgled Marjorie. What a nice old man was this Mr. Adrian -Ducie! Her blithe young eyes were liquid and brilliant with expectation.</p> - -<p>“You dreamed that you and I went hunting, with some others who don’t -matter and who shall be nameless,” he glanced slightingly up and down -the row of passengers at the table. “We went ashore in the yawl, and I -borrowed the Captain’s rifle, and——”</p> - -<p>“No, you didn’t,” said the Captain, from the next table, “for I haven’t -got one.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean it?” said Ducie, stopping short. “Then what would become -of us if pirates should<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> board this gallant craft of ours? Depend wholly -on the pistol pockets of the passengers?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, Mr. Ducie,” cried Marjorie, quite losing her hold on herself, -“you are so funny!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, oh, very much, I can be funnier than that when I try.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s unseeing eyes perceived no interest apparently in -this conversation. Now and then, with an absorbed air, she recurred to -her tea and toast as if naught were going forward, while her husband ate -his breakfast as silently and with as much gruff concentration as a -hound with a bone.</p> - -<p>Their persistent expression of a lack of interest seemed to stimulate -Mr. Ducie to a further absorption of the attention of the company. “Are -there really no shot-guns, no fowling-pieces aboard, nothing to shoot -with deadlier than the darts of Miss Marjorie’s bright eyes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh,” she squealed, enchanted at this turn, and laid down her knife -and fork to put her hands before her lips apparently to suppress a -series of similar shrillnesses, for this old man’s funniness was of a -most captivating order.</p> - -<p>“I notice that there is a swamper’s cabin over there on the bank; I’ll -bet he has got a rifle; but what is the nearest plantation house, -Captain? Mansion, I should say,” he corrected the phrase with the -satiric flout of the younger generation at the mannerisms of yore.</p> - -<p>The Captain seemed to resent it. “You may very safely call it a -‘mansion,’ sir, it has twenty-five rooms, exclusive of ball-room, -billiard-room, picture-gallery, and the domestic offices, kitchen, -laundry, dairy, and quarters for servants, and so forth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span> The Duciehurst -plantation-house is the nearest mansion. It is really a ruin, now, and -uninhabited, I suppose, but it was good enough in its day.”</p> - -<p>A sudden portentous gravity smote the countenance of Adrian Ducie. -Although the risible muscles and ligaments still held the laughing -contour, all the mirth was gone out of it. His face was as if stricken -into stone, as if he had suddenly beheld the Gorgon Head of trouble. The -change was so marked, so momentous, that Colonel Kenwynton, forgetting -for the moment whence came the association of ideas, suddenly asked:</p> - -<p>“You have the same name as the former owner, Mr. Ducie, though I suppose -you don’t hold the title to the mansion?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I hold the title fast enough,” replied Ducie, with his wonted -off-hand manner, “though it’s like my ‘title to a mansion in the skies,’ -I can’t read it clear.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s mood was already lowering enough, but for some reason, -not immediately apparent, his averse discontent was fomented by the -change of the subject. He paused with his tea-cup poised in his hand. -His deep voice weighed more heavily than usual on the silence.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me a mis-statement to say that you have a title to the -property,—a title is a right. There are certainly some forty years’ -adverse possession against any outstanding claim, of which I have never -heard.”</p> - -<p>Ducie was eyeing Floyd-Rosney with a look at once affronted and amazed. -“And where do you derive your information as to my title to -Duciehurst?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span></p> - -<p>“I have no information as to your <i>title</i> to Duciehurst, which is the -reason that I could not remain silent when such title was asserted, -though the discussion cannot be edifying to this goodly company.” He -waved his hand at the rows of breakfasting passengers with an unmirthful -smile and his courtesy was so perfunctory as obviously to have no root. -“The title is mine, it comes to me within the year from the will of my -Uncle Horace Carriton, who held it for forty years. But,” with his sour, -condescending smile at the company, “the courts and not the breakfast -table are the proper place to assert a right that is not barred by the -lapse of time.”</p> - -<p>“The remedy may be barred, but not the right,” Ducie retorted angrily.</p> - -<p>Captain Disnett’s voice sounded with pacifying intonations. He did not -seek to change the subject but to steer it clear of breakers. “I never -could understand why Mr. Carriton let the old mansion go to wreck and -ruin, fine old place as there is on the river. Though he rented out the -lands the house has always remained untenanted.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s dignity was enhanced by the composure which he found -it possible to maintain in this nettling discussion. “The house was much -injured by the occupancy of guerillas and military marauders during the -Civil War,” he rejoined. “After it came into the possession of my uncle, -when peace was restored, it was left vacant from necessity. My uncle, -who was a non-resident,—lived in Tennessee,—would not cut up the -plantation into small holdings; many tenants make much mischief, so he -preferred to lease the entire place to some man of moderate means for a -term of years, as no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> person of fortune appeared as a purchaser of the -house, which it would cost largely to restore. None of the successive -lessees was able or willing to furnish or maintain the mansion in a -style suitable to its pretensions, yet they were too proud to live in a -corner of it like a mouse in a hole. Such a man would prefer to live in -a neighboring villa or cottage while farming the lands as better suited -to his comfort and credit than that vacant wilderness of architecture.”</p> - -<p>“Strange visitors it must have at odd times,” meditated the Captain. -“Once in a while in our runs I have seen lights flitting about there at -night, quite distinct from the pilot-house. And in wintry weather a -gleam shows far over the snow.”</p> - -<p>“Tramps, gipsies, river-pirates, I suppose,” suggested Colonel -Kenwynton.</p> - -<p>Ducie was glowering down at his spoon as he turned it aimlessly in his -empty cup, a deep red flush on his cheek and his eyes on fire.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes. There is a tradition of hidden treasure at Duciehurst, one of -the wild riverside stories as old as the hills,” said the Captain, “and -I suppose the water-rats, and the shanty-boaters, and the river-pirates -all take turns in hunting for it when fuel and shelter get scarce, and -the pot boils slow, and work goes hard with the lazy cattle.”</p> - -<p>For one moment Colonel Kenwynton’s head was in a whirl. Had he dreamed -this thing, this story of family jewels and important papers stowed in a -knapsack and hidden on Duciehurst plantation? So sudden was the -confirmation of the war-time legend, so hard it came on the revelation -of last night in the turbulent elements on the verge of the sand-bar -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span> it scarcely seemed fact. He had not had time to think it over, to -canvass the strange chance in his mind. Treherne had declared that for -forty years he had been an inmate of an insane asylum. Without analyzing -his own mental processes Colonel Kenwynton was aware that he had taken -it for granted that the story was a vain fabrication of half-distraught -faculties, an illusion, a part of the unreasoning adventure that had -summoned him forth from his bed in the midnight to stand knee-deep in -the marsh to hear a recital of baffled rights and hidden treasure. In -all charity and candor he had begun to wonder that Hugh Treherne should -find himself now beyond the bounds of detention. In these corroborative -developments, however, his opinion veered and he made a plunge at -further elucidation of the mystery.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Ducie, I should be glad to know what relation you are to Lieutenant -Archibald Ducie, who died of typhoid in a hospital in Vicksburg during -the war?”</p> - -<p>Ducie answered in a single word, “Nephew.”</p> - -<p>“Then you are George Blewitt Ducie’s grandson.”</p> - -<p>“Grandson,” monosyllabic as before.</p> - -<p>The old man thought himself a strategist of deep, elusive craft. For the -sake of his friend, Captain Treherne, and his plaintive disability; for -the sake of the implied trust accepted in the fact that he had received -this confidence, he must seek to know the truth while he screened the -motive. “Well, since these old world clavers are mighty interesting to -an ancient fossil such as I am—I must look backward having, you know, -no future in view,—wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span> there some talk of a lost document, a deed -of trust missing, mislaid,—what was it about—a Duciehurst mortgage?”</p> - -<p>“A <i>release</i> of a mortgage,” replied Ducie, his words coming with the -impetus and fury of hot shot. “The lost paper was a release of a -mortgage, a quit-claim, signed and witnessed, but not registered. There -were no facilities at the time to record legal papers, not a court nor a -clerk’s office open in the country, which was filled with contending -armies.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Floyd-Rosney had finished his breakfast and seemed about to rise. -The vexation of this discussion was beyond endurance to a proud and -pompous man. But it was not his temperament to give back one inch. He -stood his ground and presently he began to affect indifference to the -situation, placing an elbow on the table and looking with his imperious -composure first at one speaker and then at the other. He was not so -absorbed, however, that he did not note how his wife loitered over the -waffles before her, spinning out the details of the meal that no point -of the conversation might escape her.</p> - -<p>“I remember now, I remember,” said Colonel Kenwynton, nodding his white -head. “It was claimed that the mortgage was lifted, the debt being paid -in gold, and that a formal release was executed here in Mississippi and -delivered with the original paper, though not noted in the instrument of -registration.”</p> - -<p>“There being no courts in operation,” interpolated Ducie, obviously as -restive as a fiery horse.</p> - -<p>“And by reason of the intervention of the Federal lines and the sudden -deaths of the two principals to the transaction the promissory notes, -thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span> secured on the plantation, were not returned to the maker, but -remained in Tennessee, where Mr. Carroll Carriton had deposited them in -a bank for safekeeping.”</p> - -<p>“Is this a fairy-story, Colonel Kenwynton?” sneered Floyd-Rosney, his -patience wearing thin under the strain upon it, and beginning to -deprecate and doubt the effect on his wife.</p> - -<p>“No, it is a story of the evil genii,” said Ducie, significantly.</p> - -<p>“You mean War and Confusion, and Loss,” said Floyd-Rosney, in bland -interpretation, and apparently in excellent temper. “They are, indeed, -the evil genii. But you will please to observe, Colonel Kenwynton, that -the executors of the mortgagee, Mr. Carroll Carriton, could not accept -this unsupported representation of an executed release of the mortgage. -The executors had the registered mortgage, with no marginal notation of -its satisfaction, and they had the promissory notes. They sued the -estate of George Blewitt Ducie on the promissory notes and foreclosed on -Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>“I remember, I remember,” said Colonel Kenwynton, “and although at the -period when the mortgage was made it was for a sum inconsiderable in -comparison with the value of the property Duciehurst went under the -hammer in the collapsed financial conditions subsequent to the war for -less than the amount of the original indebtedness, plantations being a -drug on the market, and the executors of the mortgagee bought it in for -the Carriton estate.”</p> - -<p>“The executors proceeded throughout under the sanction of the court,” -said Floyd-Rosney. “Of course, I would have the utmost sensitiveness to -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span> position of an interloper or usurper, but in this instance there -can be no such suggestion. No papers could be produced by the defendant, -and a wild legend of the loss of such documents could not withstand the -scrutiny of even the least cautious and strict chancellor. The fact that -Carroll Carriton happened to be in Mississippi at that time and that -George Blewitt Ducie was known to have aggregated a considerable sum in -gold by a successful blockade-running scheme of selling cotton in -Liverpool was dwelt upon by the counsel for the Ducie heir as -corroborative evidence that the two principals to the transaction met -expressly to lift the incumbrance, but this contention was not admitted -by the court.”</p> - -<p>He paused for a moment. Then he turned directly upon Ducie. “While I -should be sorry, Mr. Ducie, if you should grudge me my rightful holding, -I observe that your brother does not share your view. He acquiesced in -the existing status by renting certain of these lands while in my -uncle’s possession before I succeeded under the will.”</p> - -<p>“By no means, by no means,” cried Ducie, furiously. “He is no tenant of -yours. He only purchased the standing crop of cotton from your uncle’s -tenant, who was obliged to leave the country for a time—shot a man. -But, as I understand it, you could not plead that acquiescence, even if -it existed, in the event that the release could be found,—take -advantage of your own tort in the foreclosure of a mortgage duly paid.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you talk of ‘torts,’ this ‘knowledge is too excellent for me, I -cannot attain unto it.’<span class="lftspc">”</span> Floyd-Rosney retorted, lightly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span></p> - -<p>His wife still held her fork in her hand, but he significantly placed -her finger-bowl beside her plate. Then he rose. “Any rights that you can -prove to my estate of Duciehurst, Mr. Ducie, will be gladly conceded by -me. Kindly remember that, if you please.”</p> - -<p>His wife was constrained to rise and he stood aside with a bow to let -her pass first down the restricted space between the tables and the -wall. They were out on the guards when she lifted her eyes to his and -laid her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>“Why did you never tell me that the property which has lately come to -you really belongs to the Ducies?”</p> - -<p>He stared down at her, too astonished to be angry.</p> - -<p>“Why? Because it is a lie. The Ducies have not a vestige of a right to -it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no. The Ducies would never seek to maintain a lie. Only they -can’t substantiate their claim on account of the disastrous chances of -war.”</p> - -<p>She put her hands before her face and shook her head. When she looked up -again there were vague blue circles beneath her eyes. The nervous stress -of the incident and some unformulated association with the idea were -obviously bearing on her heavily.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that we ought not to keep it,” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“Keep it!” he thundered. “Why, we, that is our predecessors, have owned -it for the last forty years, without a question. Why, Paula, are you -crazy? The whole affair went through the courts forty years ago. ‘<i>Ought -not to keep it!</i>’ The Ducie heir, this man’s father, who was then a -minor, had not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span> scrap of paper nor one material witness, only the -general understanding in the country that as Carroll Carriton happened -to be in Mississippi at the time, and George Blewitt Ducie had a lot of -specie from running his cotton through the blockade to England, he paid -off the mortgage in gold. But that was mere hearsay, chiefly rumor of -the gabble of the men who, it was claimed, had witnessed the execution -of the quit-claim, and who took occasion to die immediately thereafter.”</p> - -<p>“There is some inherent coercive evidence, to my mind, of the truth of -those circumstances,” she declared. “It is too hard that the Ducies -should have paid the money owed on the mortgage and then lose the place -by foreclosure, and, oh, for less than the amount of the original debt.”</p> - -<p>“But, Paula, can’t you see there is not a grain of proof that they ever -paid the money? How, when, where? We held the promissory notes and the -registered deed of trust and the court did not even take the matter -under advisement.”</p> - -<p>“But you know the confusion of the times,—no courts of record, no mail -facilities or means of communication.”</p> - -<p>“Much exaggerated, I believe. But at all events we had the promissory -notes and the registered mortgage and they had their cock-and-bull -story.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I should like to give it back,—it would be so noble of you. I -cannot bear that we should own what the Ducies claim is theirs, and I -feel sure that if it is not theirs in law it is by every moral sanction. -And for such a poor price!—to lose the whole estate for the little -amount, comparatively, of the debt!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span> It is too sharp a bargain for us. -How much was the amount for which the executors bought it in?”</p> - -<p>His face changed and he did not answer. It had not been a pleasant -morning, and his imperious temper had been greatly strained. “I -remember,” he said, satirically, losing his self-control at last, “that -you once entertained a tender interest in one of these Messieurs Ducie. -I must say that I did not expect it to last so long or to go so far,—to -propose to denude me of my very own, one of the finest properties in -Mississippi, and vest him with it!”</p> - -<p>Her face flushed. Her eyes flashed. “You have broken your promise! You -have broken your promise!” She looked so vehement, so affronted, so -earnest, that her anger tamed him for a moment.</p> - -<p>“It was inadvertent, dear. The circumstances forced it.”</p> - -<p>“It was solemnly agreed between us that we would never mention this man, -never remember that he existed. When I promised to marry you I told you -frankly that I had been engaged to him, and had never a thought, a hope, -a wish, but that I might marry him, until I met you.”</p> - -<p>“I know, dear, I remember.” His warm hand closed down on her trembling -fingers that she had laid on the railing of the guards as if for -support.</p> - -<p>“It is a matter of pride with me. I have no idea that I should feel so -about it if it were any one else. But, of course, I know that he must -reproach me for my duplicity, my inconstancy—”</p> - -<p>“But you do not reproach yourself,” with a quick, searching glance.</p> - -<p>“No, no, I was not inconstant. Only then I had not met you. But I have -caused him unhappiness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span> and a sort of humiliation among his friends, -who consider that I threw him over at the last minute, and I cannot bear -to own anything that he accounts his. I don’t want <i>his</i> land. I don’t -want <i>his</i> house. I wish you would deed it all back to him.”</p> - -<p>“You tiresome little dunce!” he exclaimed, laughing. “It is one of the -largest plantations in acreage, cleared and tillable, in Mississippi, -and I really should not like to say how much it is worth, especially now -with the price of cotton on the bounce. People would think I was crazy -if I did such a mad thing as to deed it back. I should be unfitted for -any part in the business world. No one would trust me for a moment. And -apart from my own interest, consider our son. What would he think of me, -of you, when he comes to man’s estate, if we should alienate for a whim -that fine property, of which he might one day stand in dire need. Change -is the order of the times. Edward Floyd-Rosney, Junior, may not have a -walk over the course as his father did.”</p> - -<p>“But, Edward, we are rich—”</p> - -<p>“And so would the Ducies be, by hook or by crook, if they knew what is -comfortable.” He laughed prosperously. He was tired of the subject, and -was turning away as he drew forth his cigar-case. He was good to -himself, and fostered his taste for personal luxury, even in every -minute manner that would not be ridiculously obtrusive as against the -canons of good taste. The ring on the third finger of his left hand -might seem, to the casual glance of the uninitiated, the ordinary seal -so much affected, but a connoisseur would discern in it a priceless -intaglio. The match-box which he held<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span> as he walked away along the -guards was of solid gold, richly chased. His clothes were the -masterpieces of a London tailor of the first order, but so decorous and -inconspicuous in their fine simplicity that but for their enhancement of -his admirable figure and grace of movement their quality and cost might -have passed unnoticed.</p> - -<p>Paula looked after him with an intent and troubled gaze, her heart -pulsing tumultuously, her brain on fire. It would never have been within -her spiritual compass to make a conscious sacrifice of self for a point -of ethics. She could not have relinquished aught that she craved, or -that was significant in its effects. To own Duciehurst would make no -item of difference in the luxury of their life,—to give it up could in -no way reduce their consequence or splendor of appointment. To her the -acquisition of a hundred thousand dollars, more or less, signified -naught in an estate of millions. They were rich, they had every desire -of luxury or ostentation gratified,—what would they have more? But that -this prosperity should be fostered, aggrandized by the loss of the man -whom she had causelessly jilted, wounded her pride. It was peculiarly -lacerating to her sensibilities that her husband should own Randal -Ducie’s ancestral estate, bought under the disastrous circumstances of a -forced sale for a mere trifle of its value, and that she should be -enriched by this almost thievish chance. She could not endure that it -should be Randal Ducie at last from whom she should derive some part of -the luxury which she had craved and for which she had bartered his -love—that he should be bravely struggling on, bereft of his -inheritance, in that sane<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span> and simple sphere to which she had looked -back last night as another and a native world, from which she was exiled -to this realm of alien and flamboyant splendor, that suddenly had grown -strangely garish and bitter to the taste as she contemplated it. What, -indeed, did it signify to her?—She had no part, no choice in dispensing -her husband’s wealth. Everything was brought to her hand, regardless of -her wish or volition, as if she were a puppet. Even her charities, her -appropriate pose as a “lady bountiful,” were not spontaneous. “I think -you had better subscribe two hundred dollars to the refurnishing of the -Old Woman’s Home, Paula,—it is incumbent in your position,” he would -say, or “I made a contribution of five hundred in your name to the -Children’s Hospital,—it is expected that in your position you would do -something.” Her position—this made the exaction, not charity, not -humanity, not generosity. But for the mention in the local journals the -institutions of the city would never have known the lavish hand of one -of its wealthiest and most prominent citizens. The money would, -doubtless, do good even bestowed in this spirit, but the gift had no -blessing for the giver, and she felt no glow of gratulation. Indeed, it -was not a gift,—it was a tax paid on her position. More than once when -she had advocated a donation on her own initiative he had promptly -negatived the idea. “No use in that,” he would declare, or the story of -destitution and disaster was a “fake.” These instances were not -calculated to illustrate her position. She could not endure that it -should levy its tribute on Randal Ducie’s future, and she noted the -significant<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> fact that always hitherto in mentioning the recent -acquisition under his kinsman’s will her husband had avoided the name of -the estate which must have acquainted her with its former ownership.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> weather had been vaguely misting all the dreary morning. Through a -medium not rain, yet scarcely of the tenuity of vapor, Paula had gazed -at the tawny flow of the swift river, the limited perspective of the -banks, the tall looming of the forests, the slate-tinted sky, all dim -and dull like a landscape in outline half smudged in with a stump. -Suddenly this meager expression of the world beyond was withdrawn from -contemplation. In the infinitely dull silence the fall of tentative -drops on the hurricane deck was presently audible, and, all at once, -there gushed forth from the low-hung clouds a tremendous down-pour of -torrents beneath which the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> quivered. Paula turned -quickly to the door of the saloon, which barely closed upon her before -the guards were swept by floods of water.</p> - -<p>The whole interior resounded with the beat of scurrying footsteps -fleeing to shelter from this abrupt outbreak of the elements. Squads of -the passengers, or, sometimes, a single fugitive came at intervals -bursting into the saloon, gasping with the effects of surprise, and the -effort at speed, laughing, flushed, agitated, recounting their narrow -escapes from drenching or submergence. Two or three, indeed, had caught -a ducking and were repairing to their staterooms for dry clothing. There -was much sound of activity from the boiler deck as the roustabouts<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> ran -boisterously in and out of the rain, busied in protecting freight or in -sheltering the few head of stock. The whole episode seemed charged with -a cheerful sense of a jolt of the monotony.</p> - -<p>A group of gentlemen who did not accompany ladies or who were not -acquainted with those on board gathered in the forward cabin, but Ducie -sat silent and listless in one of the arm-chairs in the saloon. -Apparently, he desired to show the Floyd-Rosneys that he perceived no -cause for embarrassment in their society and had no intention by -withdrawing of ameliorating any awkwardness which his presence might -occasion to them. There were very acceptable and cozy suggestions here. -Hildegarde Dean sat at the piano with the two old soldiers beside her. -The blind Major, who had a sweet tenor voice, albeit hopelessly -attenuated now, some tones in the upper register cracked beyond repair -in this world, would sing <i>sotto voce</i> a stanza of an old war song, -utterly unknown to the girl of the present day, and Hildegarde, -listening attentively, would improvise an accompaniment with refrain and -<i>ritornello</i> in a vague tentative way like one recalling a lost memory. -Suddenly she would throw up her head, her hands would crash out the -confident <i>tema</i>, Colonel Kenwynton’s powerful bass tones would boom -forth, and the old blind Major’s tremulous voice would soar on the wings -of his enthusiasm, and his memories of the days of yore. Meantime, the -girl’s fresh young face, between the two old withered masks, would glow, -the impersonation of kindly reverent youth and sweet peace and the -sentiment of harmony.</p> - -<p>It was pleasant to listen as song succeeded song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span> Hildegarde’s mother, -soft-eyed, soft-mannered and graceful, still youthful of aspect, smiled -in her sympathetic accord. Two or three of the more elderly passengers -now and again recognized a strain that brought back a long vanished day. -An old lady had taken out her fancy work and, as she plied her deft -needle in the intricate pattern of the Battenberg, she nodded her head -appreciatively to the rhythm of the music, and looked as if she had no -special desire for her journey’s end or a life beyond the sand-bar.</p> - -<p>When the répertoire was exhausted and silence ensued the blank was -presently filled by childish voices and laughter. Marjorie Ashley had -begun to lead little Ned Floyd-Rosney about, introducing him to the -various passengers disposed on the sofas and rocking-chairs of the -saloon. In this scion of the Floyd-Rosney family seemed concentrated all -its geniality. He was a whole-souled citizen and not only accepted -courtesies with jovial urbanity but himself made advances. He had, -indeed, something the tastes of a roisterer, and his father regarded, -with open aversion, his disposition to carouse with his -fellow-passengers. In his arrogant exclusiveness Floyd-Rosney revolted -from the promiscuous attentions lavished on the child. He resented the -intimacy which the affable infant had contracted with Marjorie Ashley, -the two children rejoicing extremely when the old nurse had been -summoned to her breakfast, thus consigning him in the interval to the -care of his mother, and rendering him more accessible to the -blandishments of his new friend. Floyd-Rosney felt that it was not -appropriate that he should be thrust forward in this unseemly publicity -thus scantily attended. It was the habit<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> of the family to travel in -state, with Floyd-Rosney’s valet, the lady’s maid, a French bonne for -the boy, in addition to the old colored nurse in whom Mrs. Floyd-Rosney -had such confidence that she would not transfer the child wholly to -other tendance. The occasion of this journey, however, did not admit of -such a retinue. It was a visit of condolence which they had made to an -aunt of Mr. Floyd-Rosney who had lost her son, formerly a very intimate -friend of his own. She was an aged lady of limited means and a modest -home. To descend upon a household of simple habitudes, already -disorganized by recent illness and death, with a troop of strange -servants to be cared for and accommodated, was manifestly so -inappropriate that even so selfish a man as Floyd-Rosney did not -entertain the idea, although his wife received in his querulous asides -the full benefit of all the displeasure and inconvenience that he -experienced from “having to jaunt about the world with no attendant but -the child’s nurse.” The nurse, “Aunt Dorothy,” as in the southern -fashion she was respectfully called, had, perhaps, found company at -breakfast agreeable to her of her own race and condition, and her -absence was prolonged, which fact gave Marjorie Ashley the opportunity -to make again the round of the group of passengers in the saloon, -cajoling little Ned Floyd-Rosney to show them how he pronounced Miss -Dean’s Christian name. At every smiling effort she would burst into -gurgles of redundant laughter, so funny did “Miff Milzepar’<span class="lftspc">”</span> for “Miss -Hildegarde” sound in her ears. He was conscious of a very humorous -effect as he repeatedly made the attempt to pronounce this long word -under Marjorie’s urgency,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span> gazing up the while with his big blue eyes -brimful of laughter, his carmine tinted lips ajar, showing his two rows -of small white teeth, his pink cheeks continually fluctuating with a -deeper flush, and his beguiling dimples on display. All the ladies and -several of the gentlemen caught him up and kissed him ecstatically; so -enticing a specimen of joyous, sweet-humored, fresh-faced childhood he -presented. His mother’s maternal pride glowed in her smile as she noted -and graciously accepted the tribute, but Floyd-Rosney fumed indignant.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you stop that, Paula?” he growled in her ear as he cast -himself down on the sofa beside her. “All that kissing is dangerous.”</p> - -<p>“It has been going on since the beginning of the world, <i>accelerando</i>, -as the opportunities multiply,” she retorted with her satiric little -fleer.</p> - -<p>“Be pleased to notice that I am serious,” he hissed in his gruff -undertone.</p> - -<p>“You can easily make me serious,—don’t over-exert yourself,” she said -with a sub-current of indignation.</p> - -<p>She deprecated this public display of his surly mood toward her. There -is no woman, whether cherished or neglected, loving or indifferent, -gifted or deficient, who does not arrogate in public the scepter in her -husband’s affections, who is not wounded to the quick by the slightest -suggestion of reproof, or disparagement, or even the assertion of his -independent sentiment when brought to the notice of others. This is -something that finds, even in the most long-suffering wife, a keen new -nerve to thrill with an undreamed of pain. Paula’s cheek had flushed, -her eyes were hot and excited,—indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> she did not lift them. She -could not brook the indignity that the coterie, most of all, Adrian -Ducie, should see her husband at her side with a stern and corrugated -brow, whispering in her ear his angry rebukes, commands, comments,—who -could know what he might have to say to her with that furious face and -through his set teeth. The situation was intolerable; her pride groped -for a means of escape.</p> - -<p>Then she did a thing that she felt afterward she could never have done -had she not in that moment unconsciously ceased to love her husband. She -shielded him no more as heretofore. She did not sacrifice herself, as -was her custom in a thousand small preferences. She did not assume his -whim that he might be satisfied, yet incur no responsibility or -ridicule. On the contrary, she led the laugh,—she delivered him, bound -hand and foot, to the scoffer.</p> - -<p>She suddenly rose, and, with her graceful, willowy gait, walked -conspicuously down the middle of the saloon. “Ladies and gentlemen, -fellow travelers and companions in misery,” she said, swaying forward in -an exaggerated bow, “the heir to the throne must not be kissed. Mr. -Floyd-Rosney is a victim of the theory of osculatory microbes. You can -only be permitted to taste how sweet the baby is through his honeyed -words and his dulcet laughter. Why, he might catch a tobacco-bug from -these human smoke-stacks, or the chewing-gum habit from Marjorie Ashley. -Therefore, you had better turn him over to me and the same old germs he -is accustomed to when his muzzer eats him up.”</p> - -<p>Forthwith she swung the big child up lightly in her, slender arms and, -with gurgles of laughter, devoured<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> him with her lips, while he -squealed, and hugged, and kicked, and vigorously returned the kisses. -Then she held him head downward, with his curls dangling and apparently -all the blood in his body surging through the surcharged veins of his -red face as he screamed in delight.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” said the wondering Marjorie volubly, -“everybody on the boat has been kissing Ned ever since he came aboard. -The mate says he is so sweet that he took Ned’s finger to stir his -coffee with and declared it needed no other sweetening, either long or -short. And little Ned believed him and sat on his knee while he ate his -breakfast waiting to stir his second cup for him. Ned has got a whole -heap of microbes if kissing gives ’em. Why, even that big deer-hound -that is freighted to Vicksburg and has been sitting the picture of -despair and home-sickness, refusing to eat,—dog-biscuit, or meat, or -anything,—just tumbled little Ned over on the deck and licked his face -from his hair to his chin. And when he let Ned up at last Ned just -hugged the dog, and they kissed each other smack in the mouth. Then they -raced up and down the deck among the freight, playing hide and seek till -little Ned could hardly stir. Then the deer-hound ate his breakfast, and -is sitting down there right now, begging the leadsman for more.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, then, let him go to his nurse and get his mouth washed out -with a solution of carbolic acid or some other anti-toxin,—perhaps that -may be a staggerer for the microbes.”</p> - -<p>She let the child slide to the floor and then followed the tousled -little figure as it sped in a swift trot to her stateroom. He paused for -her to turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> the bolt of the door, and as it opened he slipped under her -arm and disappeared, microbe-laden, within.</p> - -<p>Her husband sat silent, dismayed, amazed, scarcely able to believe his -senses. He was of the type of human being who, subtly and especially -fitted to cause pain, was not himself adjusted to stoical suffering. He -had a thousand sensitive fibers. His pride burned within him like an -actual fire. While it was appropriate that in public appearances a wife -should seem to be the predominant consideration, there being more grace -in a deferential affectation than in a sultan-like swagger, this pose -had such scant reality in the domestic economy that when Paula presumed -upon it in this radical nonchalance, he was at once astounded, -humiliated, and deeply wounded. He found it difficult to understand so -strange a departure from her habitual attitude toward him, his -relegation to the satiric methods with which she favored the world at -large, the merciless exposure to ridicule of his remonstrance, which -was, indeed, rather the vent of fretful ill-humor than any genuine -objection or fear of infection. The least exertion of feminine tact in -response to his wish would have quietly spirited the child away and -without comment ended these repugnant caresses of the little fellow by -strangers. Floyd-Rosney began to experience a growing conviction that it -all was the influence of the presence of Ducie. He had had some queer, -not unrelished, yet averse interest in studying in another man the face -of the lover whom he had supplanted. He could scarcely have brooked the -sight of the man she had loved, to tranquilly mark his facial traits, to -appraise his mental<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> development, to speculate on his social culture and -worldly opportunities. But this was merely his image. Here was his twin -brother, his faithful facsimile. Floyd-Rosney had been surprised to note -how handsome he was, how obviously intelligent, how dashing. He had been -flattered as well,—this was no slight mark of honest preference on the -part of Paula, no mean rival he had put aside. He had felt a glow of -added pride in the fact, an accession of affection. He had noted the -studied calm, the inexpressive pose, the haughty simulation of -indifference with which Ducie had sustained the awkward <i>contretemps</i> of -their meeting, the strain upon <i>savoir faire</i> which the conventions -imposed upon the incident.</p> - -<p>And now, as he met Ducie’s eyes again, he perceived elation in them, -disproportionate, futile, but delighted. It was the most trivial of -foolish trifles, Floyd-Rosney said to himself, but this man had seen him -set at naught, put to the blush, held up to ridicule by his wife, airily -satiric, utterly unmindful of his dignity, nay, despising its tenuity, -and leading the laugh at his discomfiture.</p> - -<p>Ducie caught himself with difficulty. He was so conscious of the -unguarded expression of his face, the look of relish, of triumph, of -contempt surprised in his eyes, that he made haste to nullify the -effect. The whole affair was the absent Randal’s, and he must take heed -that he did not interfere by word or look or in any subtle wise in what -did not concern him,—it was, indeed, of more complicated intent than -heretofore he was aware. He was a man of very definite tact but he had -hardly realized the extent of the endowment until that moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> He -appreciated the subtle value of his own impulse, as if it had been -another’s, when he said, directly addressing Floyd-Rosney, as if there -had been only the element of good-natured joviality in the episode, “I -think we are all likely to encounter dangers more formidable than -microbes.—Have you any experience of cloud-bursts, Mr. Floyd-Rosney? -This fall of water is something prodigious, to my mind.”</p> - -<p>In his personal absorptions Floyd-Rosney had not noticed the rain. “Is -it more than a ‘season,’ do you think?—the breaking up of this long -drought?” Floyd-Rosney quickly adopted the incidental tone.</p> - -<p>He was so essentially a proud man that he would fain think well of -himself. His credulity expanded eagerly to the hope that to others the -episode of the morning might seem, as apparently to this man, only a bit -of gay badinage, the feminine insolence of a much indulged wife to her -lenient lord and master. To himself it could not bear this -interpretation, nor to her. He could never forget nor forgive the -impulse that informed it. But he was quick to seize the opportunity to -reinstate his self-possession, nay, the only possibility to “save his -face” and hold up his head. Such demands his assuming dignity made on -the deference of all about him that taken in this wise the incident -could hardly appear serious.</p> - -<p>“If there were thunder and lightning it might seem the equinoctial,” -said Ducie, “although it is something late in the year.”</p> - -<p>They had walked together down the saloon and to the forward part of the -cabin where they stood at the curving glass front looking out on -vacancy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> The rain fell, not in torrents now, but in unbroken sheets of -gray crystal, opaque and veined with white. As the water struck the -guards it rebounded with the force of the downfall in white foam more -than a foot high, while sweeping away over the edge with the impetus and -volume of a cataract. But for the list of the boat, for the <i>Cherokee -Rose</i> had not grounded fair and square on the sand-bar, this flood would -have been surging through the saloon, but the rain drove with the gusts -and, the windward side being several inches lower than the other, the -downpour struck upon it and recoiled from the slant. The sound was -something tremendous; the savagery of the roar of the columns of rain -falling upon the roof was portentous, sinister, expressive of the -unreasoning rage of the tempestuous elements and of the helplessness of -human nature to cope with it. Suddenly, whether the turmoil had in some -sort abated, or alien sounds were more insistently apparent, a new -clamor was in the air,—a metallic clanking, repetitious, constantly -loudening, was perceptible from the lower deck. Then ensued a deep, -long-drawn susurrus. The engines were astir once more. Obviously, an -effort was in progress to get the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> off the bar under her -own steam. A babel of joyous, excited comment in the saloon, at the -extreme pitch of the human voice, could hardly be heard in the midst of -the turmoil without. All agreed that a vast flood must have fallen to -raise the river sufficiently to justify the attempt.</p> - -<p>“We are below the junction of several tributaries in this vicinity that -bring down a million tuns a minute in such weather as this,” commented -one of the passengers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<p>Another, of the type that must have information at first hand, rushed to -the door to secure a conference with the Captain, regardless, or, -perhaps, unconscious, of the remonstrance of the others. As the door -opened in his hand a torrent of water rushed in, traversing the length -of the saloon over the red velvet carpet, and a blast of the wind -promptly knocked him off his feet, throwing him across the cabin against -a huddle of overturned chairs. The other men, with one accord, sprang -forward, and it was only with the united strength of half a dozen that -the door could be forced to close, although its lock seemed scarcely -able to hold it against the pressure from without. For the wind had -redoubled its fury. This region is the lair of the hurricane, and there -was a prophetic anxiety in every eye.</p> - -<p>It is, indeed, well that these great elemental catastrophes are as -transient as terrible. Human nerves could scarcely sustain beyond the -space of a minute the frightful tumult that presently filled the air. -The wind shrilled with a keen sibilance, and shouted in riotous menace -that seemed to strike against the zenith and rebound and reëcho anew. -The sense of its speed was appalling. The thunderous crashing of the -forests on the river bank told of the riving of timber and the -up-rooting of great trees laid flat in the narrow path of the hurricane. -For in the limitations of the track lies the one hope of escape from -this sudden frenzy of the air. Its area of destruction may be fifty -miles in length, but is often only a hundred yards or so in width, cut -as straight as a road and as regular, when this awful, invisible foe -marches through the country. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span> this was the thought in the mind -of every man of the little coterie, the chance that the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> -might be outside the path of the hurricane. The next moment a hollow -reverberation of an indescribably wide and blaring sound broke forth -close at hand, as the smoke-stacks of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> crashed down -on the texas and rolled thence on the hurricane deck, the guy wires -jangling loose and shivering in keen, metallic tones. The boat yawed -over, suddenly smitten, as it were, by one fierce stroke. The furniture, -the passengers, all were swept down the inclined plane of the floor of -the saloon and against the mirrored doors of the staterooms. An aghast -muteness reigned for one moment of surprise and terror. Then cries broke -forth and futile and frantic efforts were made to reach the upper -portion of the cabin. A wild alarm was heard that the boat was on -fire,—that the boat had slipped off the sand-bar and was sinking. -Reiterated shouts arose for the officers, the Captain, the clerks, the -pilot, the mate, and the tumult without was reflected by the confusion -and terror within.</p> - -<p>Ducie’s brain seemed awhirl at the moment of the disaster. As he -regained his mental poise he saw Mrs. Floyd-Rosney on her knees -frantically struggling with the door of her stateroom, the lock -evidently having somehow sprung in the contortions of the steamer under -the blast. She looked up at him for an instant, but her tongue was -obviously incapable of framing a word in the excitement of that -tempestuous crisis. Ducie suddenly remembered, what everyone else but -the mother had forgotten, that the little boy had scarcely five minutes -earlier gone to the stateroom to be dealt with for the kissing -microbes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span> Observing the inadequacy of her efforts Ducie rushed to her -assistance and sought, by main strength, to force open the twisted and -warped door. It was so difficult to effect an entrance that he began to -doubt if this could be done without an axe, when he succeeded in -splintering it a trifle where it had already showed signs of having -sustained a fracture. Into the aperture thus made he thrust his foot and -then wedged in his knee, finally shattering a panel from the frame, to -the horror of the prisoners within, whose voices of terror found an echo -in Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s anguished exclamations.</p> - -<p>Ducie triumphantly lifted out little Ned and then the old colored nurse -was dragged through the aperture, scarcely sufficient for the transit.</p> - -<p>“There you are, good as new,” cried Ducie genially.</p> - -<p>Some of the doors of the staterooms had burst from their fastenings, and -were sagging and swaying inward, offering pitfalls for the unwary, and, -in that wild and excited group, Ducie alone bethought himself of -precaution. “Look out for the boy, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,—he may fall -through one of those open doors into deep water or into the furnace,—I -don’t know what is now beneath this part of the saloon,—the boat seems -twisted and broken to pieces.”</p> - -<p>The suggestion of danger to the child was like a potent elixir to Paula. -Her eyes, strained and set, recovered their normal look of perception, -wild and haggard though they were. She caught the child in her arms and, -although trembling and occasionally staggering under his weight, she -would not relinquish him to Ducie as he desired, but carried him -herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> safely along the precarious way. Ducie aided her to clamber up -the steep incline where the doors ceased and the wall was unbroken, -there being here the barber-shop and the office, and the large space -utilized as a smoking-room. Through the windows streamed a deluge of -rain, and broken glass lay scattered all about.</p> - -<p>Most of the passengers had gathered here in an attitude of tense -expectancy. A man stood at a speaking-tube and, with a lordly urgency, -was insisting that the Captain should take immediate measures to put the -passengers ashore in the yawl. It was no moment to relish a conspicuous -pose, and Floyd-Rosney was too well habituated to the first place to -give it undue value, but he was obviously in his element and carrying -all before him. It was a one-sided conversation, but the comprehension -of his listeners was quickened by their personal interest in its -progress and result.</p> - -<p>“No danger?” a sarcastic laugh. “We take the liberty of differing as to -that. The boat may go to pieces on the sand-bar.”</p> - -<p>“A shelter? yes,—as long as she lasts, but how long will that be? The -boat not much injured except in the furnishings and glass? You think -not?” very sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you guarantee? Now what is your guaranty worth to people drowned in -one hundred feet of water?”</p> - -<p>“No, we won’t wait to be taken off by the next packet. The river is -rising, and the sand-bar might be covered. We demand it,—the passengers -<i>demand</i> to be set ashore in the yawl.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, then, we will hold you and the owners liable.”</p> - -<p>“We are not prisoners. What’s that? Responsibility? humanity?—shelter? -I’ll take care of the shelter. Duciehurst mansion is scarcely ten miles -down the river. I own it, and the yawl could put us in it in a trice.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,—we will risk it,—we will risk the wind and the current. <i>All</i> -right. All <i>right</i>.”</p> - -<p>He had carried his point against every protest according to his wont. As -he turned, triumphant and smiling, to the anxious, disheveled, drenched -group, he had all the pomp and port of a public benefactor. Absorbed in -himself and the prospect of his speedy extrication from this -uncomfortable and dangerous plight he was utterly unaware that his wife -and only child had had urgent need of the succor that they had received -from a stranger.</p> - -<p>Paula gazed enlightened at Floyd-Rosney as if she saw him for the first -time as he was. The scales had fallen from her eyes. His glance met -hers. He had no sense of gratulation that she and the boy were safe. He -had not known they had encountered special danger. He thought they only -shared the general menace which it was his privilege to render less, to -annul. He objected to her pose with the boy in her arms. He deemed it -inelegant,—as little Ned was much too stalwart for the artistic -presentment of the babe in the bosom of graceful maternity,—and the -backward cant of her figure thus extremely plebeian. It was not this -personal disapproval, however, that informed the coldness in his eyes. -The incident of the ridicule to which she had subjected him among these -passengers still rankled in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span> every pulsation. He was glad of the -opportunity to confer benefits upon them, from his high position to -rescue them from imminent danger, to be reinstated, in their opinion, as -a man of paramount influence and value,—a fleer at him should be -esteemed, indeed, a self-confessed folly.</p> - -<p>“I dare say the old house leaks like a riddle,—I know it is in ruins,” -he said, in a large, off-hand, liberal manner, “but it is on solid -ground, at any rate, and I shall be glad to entertain this worshipful -company there as best I may till we can get a boat that can navigate -water and not tow-heads. I know we can’t spend the night here. In fact, -the Captain proposes to set us ashore as soon as he is convinced that no -boat is coming down,—but, of course, every craft on the river is tied -up in such weather as this. If he will set us ashore at Duciehurst with -some bedding and provisions I will ask no more.”</p> - -<p>There was a murmur of acquiescence and acceptance,—then a general -acclaim of thanks, for the wind was still so high that communication was -conducted almost in shouts. Nevertheless, Ducie heard very distinctly -when Mrs. Floyd-Rosney turned toward him a pale, pained, troubled face.</p> - -<p>“You will come, too? You will have no scruple about—about the -ownership?” she faltered.</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie laughed satirically. “Not the least scruple in the world. I -have the best right there from every point of view,—even his own!—for -if my brother is only a lessee, and not the rightful owner, as he -contended this morning, Randal is in possession and my welcome is -assured in a house of which he is the host.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<p>“I only thought—I wanted to say——”</p> - -<p>The big child was very big in her arms, and had had his share of the -suffering from the general tumult and excitement. He was fractious, -hungry, and sleepy, although he could not sleep. But he burrowed with -his head in her neck and tried to put his cheek before her lips that she -might talk to no one but him, and began to cry, although he forgot his -grievance midway and attempted to get down on his own stout legs.</p> - -<p>“I wanted to say,—you have been so good to me and the baby,—don’t Ned, -be quiet, my pet,—that I could not bear for you to remain in danger or -discomfort on the boat because of any sensitiveness about our presence -at Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you believe it,” he responded cavalierly. “I am not subject to -any sensitiveness about Duciehurst. I shall have the very best that -Duciehurst can afford and be beholden to nobody for it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">A diminution</span> in the floods of rain began to be perceptible, and the -extreme violence of the wind was abated. Now and then a gust in -paroxysmal fury came screaming down the river, battering tumultuously at -the shattered doors and windows of the wreck, setting all the loose -wires and chains to clattering, and showing its breadth and muscle by -tearing up some riverside tree and carrying it whirling as lightly as a -straw through the air above the tortured and lashed currents of the -stream. The clouds, dark and slate-tinted, showed occasionally a white -transparent scud driving swiftly athwart their expanse, which gave -obvious token of the velocity of the wind, for, although the hurricane -was spent, the menace of the stormy weather and the turbulent, maddened -waters was still to be reckoned with. It was scarcely beyond noon-day, -yet the aspect of the world was of a lowering and tempestuous darkness. -The alacrity of the Captain in getting them afloat argued that he now -accorded more approval to the plan than when it was first suggested, and -that, although he would not have assumed the responsibility of the -removal of the passengers at such imminent risk, he was glad to forward -it when it was of their own volition, indeed insistence. A fact that his -long riparian knowledge revealed to him was not immediately apparent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span> -the passengers until the yawl was about to be launched,—the sand-bar -was in process of submergence. The rise of the river was unprecedented -in so short an interval, due to the fall of the vast volume of rain. -During the last ten minutes the Captain began to realize that it was -beyond the power of prophecy to judge what proportion of the tow-head -would be above water within the hour. It was not difficult to launch the -yawl from the twisted timbers of the deck. It swung clear and slipped -down with a smart impact, rocking on the tumultuous current as if there -were twenty feet of water beneath it.</p> - -<p>“Where the yawl is now was bare sand ten minutes ago,” commented -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>This fact imparted courage to the weak-hearted who had held back at the -sight of the weltering expanse of the great river, the sound of the -blasts of the strong wind, and the overwhelming downpour of the rain. -They were disposed now to depend upon Mr. Floyd-Rosney, who was so -masterful and knowing, and who shared all their interest, rather than -the Captain, whose conservative idea seemed to be to stick to the boat -at all hazards, and to what might be left of the tow-head.</p> - -<p>“This is the season of dead low water,” he argued. “This rain is -local,—the rise of the river is only temporary.”</p> - -<p>But he had the less influence with them, because they felt that he was -complicated by his duty to the owners of the boat and the shippers of -freight, and also the traditions that forbid the Captain’s abandonment -of his deck till the last moment.</p> - -<p>He did not resent the discarding of his opinion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span> but was quite genial -and hearty as he stood on the guards and himself directed the men who -were handling the yawl.</p> - -<p>“It may be the best thing,—if she doesn’t capsize,” he -admitted,—“though I wouldn’t advise it.”</p> - -<p>Whereupon the weak-hearted again began to demur.</p> - -<p>“Don’t discourage us, Captain,” said Floyd Rosney, frowning heavily, “we -have no other resource.”</p> - -<p>“I shall use my best judgment, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” the Captain retorted. -“I am not here to encourage you in fool-hardy undertakings. We know -where we are now,—and we have the yawl and the other boats as a last -resource. The weather, too, may clear. It can’t rain and blow forever.”</p> - -<p>“I shall show my opinion by taking to the boat and carrying my family -with me,” said Floyd-Rosney loftily. “Any one who wishes to go with us -will be very welcome at Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>He already had on his overcoat and hat and the other passengers, with -their suit-cases or such other possessions as could be handed out of -their almost inverted staterooms by the grinning roustabouts, began to -make their precarious descent to the lower deck on the reeking and -slippery stair, all awry and aslant.</p> - -<p>“Take care of the Major,—oh, take care of the Major,” cried Hildegarde -Dean, almost hysterically, as the old man was lifted by his colored -servant, who had been with him as a “horse-boy” in the army, and who, -though grizzled, and time-worn, and wrinkled, was still brawny and -active. In fact, he had lived in great ease and competence owing to his -special fidelity and utility in the Major’s infirmities,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> since “Me an’ -de Major fout through de War.” In fact, if old Tobe might be believed, -the majority of the deeds of valiance in that great struggle were -exploited by “Me an’ de Major.”</p> - -<p>“Sartainly,—sartainly,” his big voice boomed out on the air, responsive -to the caution, “Me an’ de Major have been through a heap worse -troublements dan dis yere.”</p> - -<p>And, indeed, surely and safely he went down the stair, buffeted by the -wind and drenched by the rain and the spray leaping from its impact on -the surface of the water.</p> - -<p>Hildegarde herself descended as easily as a fawn might bound down a -hill, to Colonel Kenwynton’s amazement, accustomed to lend the ladies of -his day a supporting arm. She sprang upon the gunwale of the yawl in so -lightsome a poise that it scarcely tipped beneath her weight before she -was seated beside the old blind soldier, joyous, reassuring and hopeful.</p> - -<p>“It is hard to be in danger and unable to help others or even to see and -judge of the situation,” he said meekly, bending forward under the -down-pour, his face pallid and wrinkled, its expression of groping -wistfulness most appealing.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” she assented, her voice sounding amidst the rain like the -song of a bird from out a summer shower. “But I think all this hubbub is -for nothing,—the sky is going to clear, I believe, toward the west. -Still, the next packet can take us off at Duciehurst as well as from the -<i>Cherokee Rose</i>.” “And, Major,” with a blithe rising inflection, “I can -see a veritable ante-bellum mansion, and you can go over it with me and -explain the life of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> old times. You can refurnish it, Major! You can -tell me what ought to stand here and there, and what sort of upholstery -and curtains the ‘Has-Beens’ used to affect.”</p> - -<p>His old face was suddenly relumed with this placid expectation; his -brain was once more thronged with reminiscences. He lifted his aged head -and gazed toward the clearing west and the radiant past, both beginning -to relent to a gentle suffusion of restored peace.</p> - -<p>In this transient illumination the great dun-tinted forests that lined -the banks showed dimly, as well as the vast river swirling intervenient, -tawny, murky, but with sudden mad whorls of white foam where the current -struck some obstruction flung into its course by the storm. The wreck of -the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> was very melancholy as a spectacle since, but for -the hurricane, she would have been floated in five minutes more of the -deluge of rain. The yawl seemed a tiny thing, painfully inadequate, as -it rocked with a long tilt on the swaying undulations of the current. -The preparations for departure were going swiftly forward; another boat -was in process of loading with material comforts, cots, bedding, all -under tarpaulins, boxes and hampers of provisions, and the trunks and -suit-cases of passengers. Since escape was now possible and at hand, one -or two of the faint-hearted began to experience anew that reluctance to -removal, that doubt of an untried change so common to the moment of -decision. “It is a long way—ten miles in this wind,” said one, “how -would it do for a few of us to try that swamper’s shack on the bank? The -yawl is overloaded, anyhow.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span></p> - -<p>“Now, I <i>can</i> advise you,” said the Captain definitely. “It won’t do at -all to trust river-side rats. You might be robbed and murdered for your -watch or the change in your purse. I am not acquainted with that -swamper,—I speak from precedent. And how can you judge if the shack is -above water now,—or whether it has been blown by the hurricane down the -river?”</p> - -<p>“Still, the yawl <i>is</i> overloaded,” said Floyd-Rosney, with a trifle of -malice. He was bent on exploiting the situation to his own commanding -credit, and the proposition, reiterated anew, to withdraw for a -different course, nettled his troublous and sensitive pride.</p> - -<p>The next man who stepped into the yawl was the one who had advanced this -divergent theory, and Floyd-Rosney flashed a glance of triumph at his -wife, who still stood with the child in her arms at the warped rail of -the promenade deck. She was pale, anxious, doubtful, in no frame of mind -to furnish her wonted plaudits, the incense of wifely flatteries on -which his vanity lived. These others had admired his initiative, had -gladly adopted his plans, were looking to him with a unanimity of -subservience that had quite restored the tone of his wonted arrogance. -He could ill brook to see her with that discouraged questioning in her -face, gazing forth over the forbidding gray water, letting first one, -then another pass her to a place in the yawl. She should have been the -first to board it,—to show her faith by her works.</p> - -<p>He approached her with a rebuking question.</p> - -<p>“Why do you lug that child around, Paula?” he demanded. “He will break -your back.” He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> stepped forward, as if to lift the little fellow from -her arms, but she precipitately moved a pace backward. Paula’s grisly -thoughts were of the dungeon, the trap of the warped stateroom,—whence -the boy was liberated by a stranger, while his father, unthinking and -unnoting, was absorbed in his own complacence, in his busy and arrogant -pose. No,—she would not let the child go again, she would hold him in -her arms if his weight broke every bone in her body till they were all -in safety.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to risk that yawl,” she said querulously. “I think the -Captain knows best,—he has had such long experience. The yawl looks -tricky, and the water is fearful. We ought to take to the yawl as a last -resort, when the steamer can’t house us. That is always the custom. It -is only in cases of absolute necessity that the yawl is used.”</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to say whether he were more surprised or incensed, -as for a moment, with short breaths and flashing eyes, he gazed at her. -He was of an impetuous temper, yet not beyond schooling. He had had a -lesson, he had felt the keen edge of her ridicule this morning, and he -would not again lay himself liable to a public exhibition.</p> - -<p>“Why, you must be a graduated pilot to know so much about the river,” he -cried with a rallying laugh. “The kid and I are going in the yawl at all -events. Unloose your hold,” he added in a furious undertone. “He is -mine,—he is mine,—not yours.”</p> - -<p>He had laid his hand on both hers as they clasped the child. -Floyd-Rosney was still smiling and apparently gracious and good-humored, -which might have seemed much, thus publicly withstood in this moment of -excitement and stress. He was resolved<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> that he would not lower his -pride by an open and obvious struggle. He did not consider her pride. He -forced her fingers apart, invisibly under the folds of the child’s -cloak, by an old school-boy trick of suddenly striking the wrist a sharp -blow. The muscles must needs relax in the pain, the hold give way, and, -as the boy was about to slip from her clasp, his father called for the -nurse, placed the child in the arms of the old servant and consigned -them both to a stout roustabout who had them in the yawl in a trice. -Without a word of apology, of justification, of soothing remonstrance, -Floyd-Rosney turned away from his wife with brisk cheerfulness and once -more addressed himself to the matter in hand.</p> - -<p>Paula felt that if this had been her husband of yesterday it would have -broken her heart. But that identity was dead,—suddenly dead. Indeed, -had he ever lived? She wondered that the revulsion of feeling did not -overpower her. But she was consciously cool, composed, steady, without -the quiver of a muscle. She made no excuses to herself in her -introspection for her husband,—gave him no benefit of doubt,—urged no -palliation of his brutality. Yet these were not far to seek. The -hurricane had come at a crisis in his mental experience. He had been -publicly held up to ridicule, even to reprehension, by his own -subservient wife. He had been released from this pitiable attitude by -some unimaginable impulse in the brother of the man whom she had jilted -at the last moment, and thus confused, absorbed, scarcely himself at the -instant of the stupendous crash, he had lost sight of the fact, if he -had earlier noticed, that the child was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span> not with her, and in the -saloon,—his latest glimpse of the boy was in her arms. It was natural -that he did not witness the rescue by Ducie, for he was planning an -escape for them all, and, surely, it was her place to defer to his -views, his seniority, his experience, and be guided by him rather than -take the helm herself. Naught of this had weight with her. She only -remembered the provocation that had elicited her fleer, his furious -whisper of objection, his censorious interference, the humiliation so -bitter that she could not lift her head while his rebukes hissed in her -ears before them all. Then, in that terrible moment of calamity, he had -not thought of her, of their son,—had not rushed to gather them in his -arms, that they might, at least, die together. Doubtless, he would have -said they could die together in due time,—it was not yet the moment for -dying—and he was preparing to postpone that finality as far as might -be.</p> - -<p>And thus it was Adrian Ducie,—Randal’s brother—who had saved the -child, shut up in the overturned stateroom like a rat in a trap. She -knew, too, how lightly Floyd-Rosney would treat this if it were brought -to his knowledge—he would say that not a drop of water had touched the -child; he had sustained not an instant’s hurt. That he and his nurse had -for a few moments been unable to turn the bolt of a door was only a -slight inconvenience, as the result of a hurricane. One of the -passengers had a badly bruised arm, on which a chandelier had fallen, -another was somewhat severely cut about the head and face by the -shattering of a mirror. The baby was particularly safe in the restricted -little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span> stateroom, where naught more deadly fell upon him than a pillow.</p> - -<p>But it mattered not now to her what Floyd-Rosney said or thought. All -dwindled into insignificance, was nullified by the fact of the covert -blow, on the sly,—how she scorned him—that these men might not see and -despise him for it!—dealt in the folds of the child’s cloak, their -child, his and hers! She wondered that he dared, knowing how she had -surrendered him to scorn in their earlier difference. Perhaps he knew, -and, indeed, she was sure, instinctively, that none would believe; the -blow would be considered unintentional, the incident of the struggle to -wrest the child from her grasp.</p> - -<p>If a moment ago she had seemed pale, haggard, a flaccid presentment of -an ordinary type, that aspect had fallen from her like a mask. Her -cheeks burned, and their intense carmine gave an emphasis to the luster -and tint of her redundant yellow hair. Her eyes were alert, brilliant, -not gray, nor brown, nor green, yet of a tint allied to each, and were -of such a clarity that one could say such eyes might well gaze unabashed -upon the sun. All her wonted distinction of manner had returned to her -unwittingly, with the resumption of her normal identity, the reassertion -of her courage. The necessity to endure had made her brave, quick to -respond to the exigencies of the moment.</p> - -<p>As the child’s voice came to her through the torrents in a plaintive -bleat of reluctance and terror, full of the pain and fear of parting -from her, who was his little Providence, omnipotent, all-caring, -infinitely loving, she nerved herself to call out gaily to him and wave -her hand, and exhort him in the homely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> phrase familiar to all infancy, -“to be a good boy.” The tears started to her eyes as she noted his -sudden relapse into silence, and saw, through the rain, how humbly and -acquiescently he lent himself to the bestowal of his small anatomy in -the corner deemed fit by the imperious paternal authority.</p> - -<p>Little Marjorie Ashley had been almost stunned into silence for a time. -The terrors of the experience, the exacerbation of nerves in the -tempestuous turmoils, the suspense, the agitation, the fear of injury or -even of death, all seemed nullified now in the expectation of rescue and -under the protective wing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. Her father, going within -to the office for some valuable which he had deposited in the safe of -the boat, had charged Marjorie to stand beside Mrs. Floyd-Rosney till -his return. The little girl utilized the interval more acceptably to -that lady than one might have deemed possible, by her extravagant -praises of baby Ned and her appreciative repetition of his bright -sayings.</p> - -<p>Catching sight of him as he looked up from the yawl, she called out in -affected farewell,—“So long, partner!”—her high, reedy voice -penetrating the down-pour with its keenly sweet and piercing quality, -and she fell back against Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, laughing with delight and -gratified mirth, when the response came shrill, and infantile, and -jubilant,—“So long, Mar’jee! So long, Mar’jee!”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s look of inquiry as the business of embarkation brought -him near his wife was so marked as to be almost articulate. He could not -understand her changed aspect. He was prepared for tears, for -reproaches, even for an outbreak of indecorous rage. He had intended -that, in any<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> event, she should feel his displeasure, his discipline, -and it was of a nature under which she must needs writhe. Anything that -affected the boy, however slightly, had power to move her out of all -proportion to its importance. In this signal instance of danger, almost -of despair, her conduct, her accession of beauty, seemed inexplicable. -Her manner of quiet composure, her look, the stately elegance so in -accord with her slender figure, her attitude, her gait, peculiarly -characteristic of her personality, seemed singularly marked now, and out -of keeping with the situation, challenging comment.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney has got the nerve!” said the Captain admiringly. “She -is fit for the bridge of a man-of-war. Are you going to stand by the -deck till the last passenger has taken to the boats, madam?”</p> - -<p>For Floyd-Rosney, knowing full well that he was imposing on her no -danger that the others did not share, had made it a point to pass her by -in summoning the ladies to descend to the yawl. In fact, a number of men -were seated on the thwarts by his orders. He had only intended to -impress her with a sense of his indifference, his displeasure, his -power. But he had given her the opportunity to assert her independence, -and, incidentally, to levy tribute on the admiration of the whole boat’s -company.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney doesn’t care for a living thing but little Ned,” -cried the voluble Marjorie. “If little Ned is safe she had just as lief -the rest of us would go to the bottom as not.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Floyd-Rosney took his wife by the elbow. “Come on,” he said, “why -are you lagging back here,—afraid to get in the yawl?” Then he added<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> -in a lower voice, “Can you do nothing to stop that miserable girl’s -chatter?”</p> - -<p>But the voice, even hissing between his set teeth, was not so low that -Marjorie, being near, did not hear it. At all events, <i>she</i> had had no -schooling in self-repression, in the humiliation of a politic deference. -She flamed out with all the normal instincts of self-asserting and -wounded pride.</p> - -<p>“No, there isn’t any way to stop my chatter,”—she exclaimed hotly, “for -I have as good a right to talk as you. I am <i>not</i> a ‘miserable girl.’ -But I don’t care what <i>you</i> say. I don’t train with your gang, anyhow!”</p> - -<p>“Why, Marjorie,” cried Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and her husband had a moment’s -relief in the expectation that the indignity offered to him would be -summarily, yet tactfully rebuked. But his wife only said, “What slang! -Is that the kind of thing you learn at Madame Gerault’s?”</p> - -<p>She passed her arm about the girl’s shoulder, but Marjorie had as yet -learned no self-control at Madame Gerault’s or elsewhere, and burst into -stormy tears. Even after she was seated in the yawl, beside Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, she wept persistently, and sobbed aloud. The -grief-stricken spectacle greatly affected little Ned Floyd-Rosney at the -further end of the yawl. After staring, in grave and flushed dismay and -amaze for a few moments, he made one or two spasmodic efforts to cheer -his boon companion from the distance. Then he succumbed to sympathy and -wept dolorously and loudly in concert.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Floyd-Rosney made no effort to reach him by word or look. Her -husband, whose nerves a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> crying child affected with such intense -aggravation that he was seldom subjected to this annoyance, was -compelled to set his teeth in helpless discomfort, and endure the -affliction, intensified by the difference in age, and the variance in -pitch and vocal volume of the two lachrymose performers.</p> - -<p>Thus freighted, the yawl pushed off, at length, into the steely rain, -the white foam, and the surging, tawny currents of the river. All looked -back at the sand-bar, doubtless, with some apprehensive regret. The -sight of the stanch Captain on the deck waving his farewell was not -calculated to dispel anxiety. The sand-bar, too, was big,—on board they -had scarcely realized its extent. In comparison with the yawl it seemed -very solid, continental. They sheered off cautiously from it lest the -yawl, too, go aground on some submerged and unsuspected process of land -building. It was obviously safer in the middle of the river, despite the -menacing aspect of the swift tumultuous current, lashed into foaming -swirls by the blast. The tremendous impetus of the flow was demonstrated -by the speed of the yawl; in one moment the steamer had disappeared, its -great white bulk, lifted high on the sand-bar, showed like a mirage -through a sudden parting of the dashing torrents, then fell astern to be -glimpsed no more. When the yawl began to run precipitately toward the -bank there was a general outcry of fear, but the mate, who was -navigating the little craft, explained that it must needs go with the -sweep of the current, which now hugged the shore, for the strength of -his crew could not make headway against it, heavily laden as the yawl -was.</p> - -<p>From this proximity to the land the voyagers<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> could mark the evidences -of the fury of the hurricane. Its track through the woods was near a -hundred yards wide, in almost a perfectly straight line, and in this -avenue the trees were felled, the ground cleared, the levee laid flat. -It was impossible to say what dwellings or farm-buildings shared the -disaster, for no vestige was left to tell the tale. As the yawl fared -onward it encountered one of the great monarchs of the woods, tossed -into the river by the gusts that had uprooted it and now borne swiftly -on by the combined force of the wind and the current. It required all -the strength of the oarsmen to hold back and give precedence to this -gigantic flotsam, lest some uncovenanted swirl of the waters fling it -with all its towering intricacies of boughs upon the boat, and, -hopelessly entangling it, thrash out the life of every creature on -board. For the wind was rife in its branches and thus contorted its -course. It tossed them high; whistled and screamed madly among them, and -the yawl, following reluctantly in the rear, was witness of all the -fantastic freaks of these wild gambols of the gusts. This unlucky -blockade of their course gave rise to some discussion between the mate -and the passengers, and Floyd-Rosney would fain seek to pass the -obstruction by a spurt of rowing to one side.</p> - -<p>“I am not well acquainted with the current just along here,” said the -mate, “but if it should make in toward the land with us between it and -the bank we would be flailed alive and drowned besides.”</p> - -<p>There was a general consensus of opinion with the mate’s position, and -one of the elderly ladies openly remonstrated against Floyd-Rosney’s -risky proposition, but his wife said never a word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span></p> - -<p>Suddenly the mate called out in a startled voice: “Back -oars,—back,—back,” and every roustabout put his full force against the -current, but their utmost strength only sufficed to retard the progress -of the boat. The tree had been struck by a flaw of wind which almost -turned it over on the surface of the water, and then went skirling and -eddying down the river. The whirling foliage gave an effect as of a -flash of iridescent light through the sad-hued landscape; the leaves all -green and yellow, as in a blend of some gorgeous emblazonry, showed now -against the white foam and now against the slate-tinted sky. The myriad -wild waves, surging to and fro in the commotion, leaped in long, elastic -bounds, and shook their tawny manes. In the tumultuous undulations of -the waters it required all the skill of the experienced boat-hands to -keep the yawl afloat.</p> - -<p>“Give it up,” said Floyd-Rosney, at length. “We must go back to the -<i>Cherokee Rose</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Impossible,—against the current with this load,” said the mate.</p> - -<p>“We can try, at least,” urged Floyd-Rosney. “If we don’t turn back the -current will carry us down into the midst of that cursed tree in case we -have another gust.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t there a bayou about half a mile further?” suggested Adrian Ducie. -“Does the current make in?”</p> - -<p>“I am not sure whether it’s a creek or a bayou,” said the mate, “but the -current does make in along there.”</p> - -<p>“As if it matters a <i>sou marqué</i> whether it is a creek or a bayou,” -fleered Floyd-Rosney contemptuously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span></p> - -<p>“It makes all the difference in the world,” retorted Ducie. “If it is a -creek it flows into the Mississippi,—a tributary. If it is a bayou the -Mississippi flows into it, for it is an outlet. If the current sets that -way it may carry the tree into the bayou, provided it is wide enough, -and, if it is narrow, the boughs may be entangled there.”</p> - -<p>It was one of the misfortunes under which the voyagers labored that -these consultations of the leaders must needs be made in the hearing of -the others, owing to the restricted space which they occupied. Several -had begun to grow panicky with the suggestion that progress was so -environed with danger, and yet that return was impossible. Perhaps the -mate was skilled in weather-signs not altogether of the atmosphere when -he said, casually,</p> - -<p>“You seem to be well acquainted with the river hereabouts, Mr. Ducie.”</p> - -<p>“Not the river itself, but I have made a study of a plot of survey of -the Duciehurst lands. Bayou Benoit touches the northwestern -quarter-section just where it leaves the river. We cannot be far now.”</p> - -<p>And, indeed, a sudden rift in the sullen cypress woods on the eastern -shore revealed, presently, a stream not sluggish as was its wont, when -one might scarce have discerned the course of the water, whether an -inlet or an outlet of the river. Now it was flowing with great speed and -volume obviously directly from the Mississippi. As the mate had said, -the current hugged the shore. The oarsmen made as scant speed as might -be while the great tree, in its rich emblazonment of green and gold, -went teetering fantastically on the force of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> river. Its course grew -swifter and swifter with the momentum of the waters, seeking liberation, -until, all at once, it became stationary. As Ducie had thought probable, -its boughs had entangled themselves with the growths on one side of the -narrow bayou. It was effectually checked for the nonce, although, at any -moment, the force of the stream might break off considerable fragments -of the branches and thus compass its dislodgment.</p> - -<p>“Give way, boys,” cried the mate in a stentorian voice. “Give way.” The -crew stretched every muscle, and the yawl skimmed swiftly past the -great, flaring obstruction, swinging and swaying as if at anchor in the -mouth of the bayou. Now and again anxious, frightened glances were cast -astern. But a pursuit by the woodland monster did not materialize.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> aspect of the Duciehurst mansion gave no token of its ruinous -condition when first it broke upon the view. Its stately portico, the -massive Corinthian columns reaching to the floor of the third story of -the main building, impressively dominated the scene, whitely glittering, -surrounded by the green leaves of the magnolia grandiflora, ancient now, -and of great bulk and height. The house was duplicated by the reflection -in water close at hand, whether some lake or merely a pool formed by the -rain, Paula could not determine. A wing on either side expressed the -large scope of its construction, and from a turn in the road, if a -grass-grown track could be so called, came glimpses, in the rear of the -building, of spacious galleries both above and below stairs, shut in by -Venetian blinds, so much affected in the architecture of Southern homes -in former years. A forest of live oak, swamp maple, black gum closed the -view of the background, and cut off the place from communication with -the cotton lands appurtenant to it, but at a very considerable distance. -For the region immediately contiguous to the house had become in the -divagations of the great river peculiarly liable to overflow, and thus -the forest, known, indeed, as the “open swamp,” continued uncleared, -because of the precarious value of the land for agricultural -operations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> In fact, the main levee that protected the fields now lay -far in the rear of the old Duciehurst mansion. Doubtless in times of -specially high water seeping rills effected entrance at door and -casement and ran along the floors and rose against the walls, and -brought as tenants crayfish and frogs, water-snakes and eels, and other -slimy denizens of the floods, who explored the strange recesses of this -refuge, and, perhaps, made merry, thus translated to the seat of the -scornful.</p> - -<p>Paula paused on the crest of the old levee. It had been in its day a -redoubtable embankment, and despite the neglect of a half century, it -still served in partial efficiency, and its trend could be discerned far -away. She gazed at the place with emotions it was difficult for her to -understand. She could not shake off the consciousness of the presence of -Adrian Ducie, nor could she cease to speculate how it must affect him to -see his ancestral estate in the possession of the usurper, for thus he -must consider her husband. Ducie had grown silent since they had -disembarked, and walked a little apart from the cluster of tramping -refugees. She dared not look at his face.</p> - -<p>But law is law, she argued within herself. It was not the fiat of her -husband or of his predecessors, but the decree of the court that had -given the property to them. Nevertheless, there was to her mind an -inherent coercive evidence of the truth of the tradition of the released -mortgage, duly paid and satisfied, and she looked at the old place with -eyes rebuked and deprecatory, and not with the pride or interest of the -rightful owner.</p> - -<p>It was still raining as the group reached the pavement<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> of heavy stone -blocks. These had defied the growths of neglect and the wear of time, -and were as they had always been save that one of them had scaled and -held a tiny pool of shallow water, which reflected the sky. Her husband -walked beside her, now and again glancing inquiringly at her. Never -before in all their wedded life had so long a difference subsisted -between them. For, even if she were not consciously at fault, Paula had -always hitherto made haste to assume the blame, and frame the apology, -for what odds was it, in good sooth, who granted the pardon, she was -wont to argue, so that both were forgiving and forgiven. Now, she recked -not of his displeasure. She seemed, indeed, unusually composed, -absorbed, self-sufficient. She did not even glance at him, yet how her -eyes were accustomed to wait upon him. She looked about with quiet -observation, with obvious interest. One might suppose, in fact, that she -did not think of him at all, as she walked so daintily erect and -slender, with such graceful, sober dignity beside him. He had acquitted -himself well that day, he thought, had certainly earned golden opinions, -but he was beginning to miss sadly the most adroit flatterer of all his -experience, the woman who loved him. As together they ascended the broad -stone steps he suddenly paused, took her hand in one of his and with -ceremony led her through the great arched portal, from which the massive -doors had been riven and destroyed long ago.</p> - -<p>“Welcome to your own house, my wife,” he said with his fine florid smile -and a manner replete with his conscious importance and his relish of it.</p> - -<p>At that moment there came a sound from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> ghastly vacancy glimpsed -within, a weird, shrill sound, full of sinister suggestion. The group, -peering in from behind them, thrilled with horror, broke into sudden -frightened exclamations, before its keen repetition enabled them to -realize that it was only the hooting of an owl, roused, doubtless, from -his diurnal slumbers by the tones of the echoing voice and the -vibrations of the floor under an unaccustomed tread. Some sheepish -laughter ensued, at themselves rather than at Floyd-Rosney, but at this -moment any merriment was of invidious suggestion and he flushed deeply.</p> - -<p>“Here, you fellow,” he hailed one of the roustabouts, “get that owl out -of here, and any other vermin you can find,” and he tossed the darkey a -dollar.</p> - -<p>The roustabout showed all his teeth, and he had a great many of them, -and with a deprecatory manner ran to pick up the silver coin. He was -trained to a degree of courtesy, and he fain would have left it where it -had fallen on the pavement until he had executed the commission. But he -knew of old his companions of the lower deck, now busied in bringing up -the luggage of the party. Therefore, he pocketed the gratuity before he -went briskly and cheerfully down the long hall to one of the inner -apartments whence proceeded the sound of ill-omen.</p> - -<p>While they were still making their way into the main hall they heard a -great commotion of hootings and halloos, and all at once a tremendous -crash of glass. It is a sound of destruction that rouses all the -proprietor within a man.</p> - -<p>“Great heavens,” cried Floyd-Rosney, “is the fool<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> driving the creature -through the window without lifting the sash, little glass as there is -left here.”</p> - -<p>It seemed that this was the case, for a large white owl, blinded by the -light of day, floundering and fluttering, went winging its way clumsily -scarcely six feet from the ground through the rain, still falling -without, and after several drooping efforts contrived gropingly to perch -himself on a broken stone vase on the terrace, whence the other -roustabouts presently dislodged him, and with gay cries and great -unanimity of spirit, proceeded to dispatch him, hooting and squawking in -painful surprise and protesting to the last.</p> - -<p>Paula had caught little Ned within the doorway to spare his innocence -and infancy the cruel spectacle. And suddenly here was the roustabout -who had been sent into the recesses of the house, coming out again with -a strange blank face, and a peculiar, hurried, dogged manner.</p> - -<p>“Did you find any more owls? And why did you break the glass to get him -out?” Floyd-Rosney asked, sternly.</p> - -<p>“Naw, sir,” the man answered at random, but loweringly. He bent his head -while he swiftly threaded his way through the group as if he were -accustomed to force his progress with horns. He was in evident haste; he -stepped deftly down the flight to the pavement and, turning aside on the -weed-grown turf, reached the shrubbery and was lost to view among the -dripping evergreen foliage.</p> - -<p>As it is the accepted fad to admire old houses rather than the new, a -gentleman of the party who made a point of being up-to-date began to -comment on the spacious proportions of the hall, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span> the really stately -curves of the staircase as it came sweeping down from a lofty -<i>entresol</i>. “It looks as if it might be a spiral above the second story, -isn’t that an unusual feature, or is it merely the attic flight?” he -interrogated space.</p> - -<p>For Floyd-Rosney, all the host, was looking into the adjoining rooms and -giving orders for the lighting of fires wherever a chimney seemed -practicable.</p> - -<p>“Listen how the old rattle-trap is leaking,” said one of the elderly -ladies, ungratefully.</p> - -<p>Paula made no comment. She was hearing the melancholy drip, drip, drip -of the rain through the ceilings of the upper stories. As the drops -multiplied in number and increased in volume they sounded to her like -foot-falls, now rapid, now slow, circumspect and weighty; sometimes -there was a frenzied rush as in a wild catastrophe, and again a light -tripping in a sort of elastic tempo, as of the vibrations of some gay -dance of olde. The echoes,—oh, the echoes,—she dropped her face in her -hands for a moment, lest she should see the echoes materialized, that -were coming down the stairs, evoked from the silence, the solitude, the -oblivion of the ruined mansion. Neglected here so long, who would have -recked if the old memories had taken wonted form—who would have seen, -save the moonbeam, itself wan and vagrant, or the wind of kindred -elusiveness, going and coming as it listed.</p> - -<p>Yet there had been other and more substantial tenants. “The damned -rascals have pulled up nearly every hearth in the house,” Floyd-Rosney -was saying, as he came forging back through the rooms on the right. Then -once more among the ladies he moderated his diction. “Destroying the -hearths,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> searching for the hidden treasure of Duciehurst—idiotic -folly! River pirates, shanty-boaters, tramps, gipsies, and such like -vagrants, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>Paula, seated on one of the steps of the stair, cast a furtive glance at -Adrian Ducie, who had followed Floyd-Rosney from the inner apartments. -His face was grave, absorbed, pondering. Doubtless he was thinking of -the persistence of this tradition to endure, unaided, unfostered for -forty years. It must have had certainly some foundation in fact.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps the vagrants discovered it and carried it off,” suggested the -up-to-date man.</p> - -<p>“Not in the chimney-places,” fretted Floyd-Rosney, “which makes it all -the more aggravating. The solid stone hearths are laid on solid masonry, -each is constructed in the same way, and you couldn’t hide a hair-pin in -one of them. Why did they tear them <i>all</i> up?”</p> - -<p>But fires were finally started in two of the rooms on the ground floor -where the hearths were found intact. They were comparatively dry, -barring an occasional dash of the rain through the broken glass of one -of the windows, the ceilings being protected from leakage by the floor -of the upper story. Floyd-Rosney began to feel that this was sufficient -accommodation for the party under the peculiar difficulties that beset -them. The scarcity of wood rendered the impairment of the fire-places -elsewhere of less moment. The sojourners were fain to follow the example -of the lawless intruders hitherto, who tore up the flooring of the rear -verandas, the sills of the windows, the Venetian blinds for fuel. This -vandalism, however, in the present instance, was limited, for its -exercise required muscle, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> this was not superabundant. True, the -Captain’s forethought had furnished them with an axe, and also a cook, -in the person of one of the table waiters, understood to be gifted in -both walks of life. There was present, too, the Major’s negro servant, -who, although sixty years of age, was still stalwart, active and of -unusual size. But neither of these worthies had hired out to cut wood.</p> - -<p>The crisis was acute. Floyd-Rosney offered handsome financial -inducements in vain and then sought such urgency as lay in miscellaneous -swearing. His language was as lurid as any flames that had ever flared -up the great chimney, but ineffective. The group stood in a large -apartment in the rear, apparently a kitchen, of which nearly half the -floor was already gone, exhaled in smoke up this massive chimney. It -occupied nearly one side of the room, and still a crane hung within its -recesses and hooks for pots. There was also a brick oven, very quaint, -and other ancient appurtenances of the culinary art, hardly understood -by either of the modern claimants of ownership, but of special interest -to the up-to-date man who had followed them out to admire the things of -yore, so fashionable anew.</p> - -<p>“Naw, sir,” said the Major’s retainer. “I can’t cut wood. I ain’t done -no work since me an’ de Major fought de war, ’cept jes’ tend on him. -Naw, sir, I ain’t cut no wood since I built de Major’s las’ bivouac -fire.” He was perfectly respectful, but calm, and firm, and impenetrable -to argument.</p> - -<p>The other darkey, a languid person with an evident inclination to high -fashion, perceived in the demand an effort at imposition. With his -spruce white jacket and apron, he lounged in the doorway<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> leaning -against its frame in a most negative attitude. His voice in objection -took on the plaint of a high falsetto. “The Cap’n nuver mentioned nare -word to me ’bout cuttin’ wood. I’ll sure cook, if I have got a fire to -cook with.”</p> - -<p>“You black rascal, do you expect me to build your fire?” sputtered -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>“The Cap’n nuver treated me right,” the provisional cook evaded the -direct appeal. “He nuver tole me that I was gwine to be axed to cut -wood.”</p> - -<p>“How were you going to cook without a fire?” demanded Ducie.</p> - -<p>“I ’spected you gemmen had a fire somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“In my coat-pocket?” asked Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>The waiter would not essay the retort direct. He, too, was perfectly -polite. “I ain’t gwine to cut wood,” he murmured plaintively.</p> - -<p>“I wish we had kept one of those roustabouts to cut wood instead of -letting them all go with the yawl back to the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>,” said -Floyd-Rosney, in great annoyance. “They are worth a hundred of these -saloon darkies.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t name <i>me</i> ’mongst dat triflin’ gang, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” the -Major’s retainer said, in dignified remonstrance. “But I jes’ come along -to wait on de Major, an’ cuttin’ wood is a business I ain’t in no wise -used to. Naw, sir.”</p> - -<p>“I never was expectin’ to cut wood,” plained the high falsetto of the -saloon darkey.</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” exclaimed Ducie. “If this keeps up I’ll split some fool’s head -open.”</p> - -<p>He threw off his coat, seized the axe, heaved it up and struck a blow -that splintered a plank in the middle. Floyd-Rosney, his coat also on -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> floor, inserted the blade of a hatchet edgewise beneath it and -pried it up, then began to chop vigorously while Ducie prepared to rive -another plank.</p> - -<p>The two negroes looked on with sulky indifference.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the Major’s servant grinned genially, without rhyme or reason. -“You two gemmen git out of yere. Make yerselfs skeerce. You think I’m -gwine to stand yere an’ let you chop wood. I know de quality. I have -always worked for de quality. I’m gwine to l’arn dis yere little coon, -dat dunno nuthin’ but runnin’ de river, how to behave hisself before de -quality. Take up dat hatchet, boy, an’ mind yer manners.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney surrendered the implement readily and with all the grace of -good-will, but Ducie continued to deal the stanch old floor some -tremendous blows and at last laid the axe down as if he did not half -care.</p> - -<p>“We had best run as few fires as possible,” Ducie commented as they left -the room, “change of heart might not last.”</p> - -<p>Thus it was that only two of the many spacious apartments were put into -commission. One, the walls of which betokened in the scheme of their -decoration its former uses as a music-room, was filled with the effects -of the ladies of the party, while the gentlemen were glad to pull off -their shoes and exchange for dry hose and slippers before the fire of an -old-time smoking-room, that must have been a cozy den in its day. The -house had long ago been stripped of all portables in decoration as well -as furnishing. A few mirrors still hung on the walls, too heavy or too -fragile to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> safely removed, wantonly shattered by the vandal hands of -its occasional and itinerant inmates. Several of these had been a -portion of the original construction, built into the walls, and in lieu -of frames were surrounded by heavy mouldings of stucco-work, and this, -too, had given opportunity to the propensity of destruction rife -throughout the piteous wreck of a palace. In the smoking-room, the haunt -of good-fellowship and joviality, Bacchus seemed doubly drunk, riding a -goat of three legs and one horn, at the summit of the mirror, and -really, but that the figure in half relief was too high to be -conveniently reached all semblance of the design might have been -shattered. Only here and there was it possible to follow the rest of the -rout of satyrs and fauns, the tracery of bowls and beakers and gourds, -and bunches of grapes, the redundant festoons of tobacco leaves and -replicas of many varieties of pipes, all environed with the fantastic -wreathing of smoke, and the ingenious symbolism in which the interior -decorator had expended a wealth of sub-suggestion.</p> - -<p>There was only a “shake-down” on the floor for the men, and two or three -were already disposed upon it at length, since this was a restful -position and there were no chairs available. Floyd-Rosney stood with his -back to the fire, his hands behind him, his head a trifle bent, his eyes -dull and ruminative. He had much of which to think. Adrian Ducie sat -sidewise on the sill of a window and looked out through the grimy panes -at the ceaseless fall of the rain amidst the glossy leaves of the -magnolias which his grandmother,—or was it his great-grandmother?—had -planted here in the years agone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> Was that the site of her -flower-garden, he wondered, seeing at a distance the flaunting of a -yellow chrysanthemum. How odd it was that he should sit here in his -great-grandfather’s den, smoking a cigar, practically a stranger, a -guest, an intruder in the home of his ancestors. He and his brother, the -lawful heirs of all this shattered magnificence, these baronial tracts -of fertile lands, were constrained to work sedulously for a bare living. -He, himself, was an exile, doomed to wander the earth over, with never a -home of his own, never a perch for his world-weary wings. His brother’s -fate was to juggle with all those vicissitudes that curse the man who -strives to wrest a subsistence from the soil, to pay a price of purchase -for the rich products of the land which his forbears had owned since the -extinction of the tribal titles of the Indians. A yellow -chrysanthemum,—a chrysanthemum swaying in the wind!</p> - -<p>There had begun to be strong hopes of dinner astir in this masculine -coterie, and when the door opened every head was turned toward it. But -melancholy reigned on the face of the cook, and it was a dispirited -cadence of his falsetto voice that made known his lack.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” he plained, “I can’t dress canned lobster salad -without tarragon vinegar. This yere cruet has got nuthin’ in it in dis -world but apple vinegar. The Cap’n nuver done me right.”</p> - -<p>“God A’mighty, man, ‘<i>lobster</i>!’ I could eat the can,” cried one of the -recumbents, springing up with such alacrity that his bounce awakened -Colonel Kenwynton, who had been able to forget his fatigue and hunger in -a doze.</p> - -<p>“Get that dinner on the table, or I’ll be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> death of you,” cried -Floyd-Rosney. “We are hungry. It is nearly five o’clock and we have had -nothing since breakfast.”</p> - -<p>The door closed slowly on the disaffected cook, who was evidently a -devotee to art for art’s sake, for he presently reappeared in his -capacity of table servant, as if he had been rebuked in an altogether -different identity as cook. He drooped languidly between the door and -the frame and once more in his high falsetto plaint he upbraided the -Captain.</p> - -<p>“The Cap’n nuver done me right. He oughter have let <i>me</i> pack that box, -instead of the steward. There ain’t no fruit napkins, Mr. Floyd-Rosney. -Jes’ white doilies,” he was not far from tears, “white <i>doilies</i> to -serve with o’anges!”</p> - -<p>The mere mention was an appetizer.</p> - -<p>“Let me get at ’em, whether they are served with doilies or -bath-towels!” cried the recumbent figure, recumbent no longer. “Call the -ladies. Ho, for the festive board. If you don’t want scraps only, you -had better not let me get there first. Notify the ladies. Does this vast -mansion possess nothing that is like a dinner-bell, or a gong, or a -whistle, that may make a cheerful sound of summons. Ha, ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>“It compromises on something like the crackling of thorns under a pot,” -said Floyd-Rosney, sourly. Then with gracious urbanity, “Major, let me -give you my arm, perhaps our presence at the festive board may hasten -matters.”</p> - -<p>The ladies had already surged out into the great, bare, echoing hall, -Hildegarde Dean, freshly arrayed in an Empire gown, as blue as her eyes, -protesting that she was as hungry as a hunter. Ducie<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span> offered his arm -ceremoniously to her mother, and Floyd-Rosney, who had intended his -attention to the old blind Major as a bid for his wife’s notice and -approval, was not pleased to see the procession, stately and suggestive, -by reason of the lordly expansiveness of the place, headed by the heir -of the old owners in the guise of host. It was an idea that never -entered Ducie’s mind, not even when whetting the carving knife on the -steel in anticipation of dispensing shares of the saddle of mutton from -his end of the table. At this table, in truth, his grandfather had sat, -and his great-grandfather also, and dispensed its bounty. So heavy it -was, so burdensome for removal, that in the various disasters that had -ravaged the old house, war and financial ruin, marauders and tramps, -wind and rain, lightning and overflow, it had endured throughout. -Mahogany was not earlier the rage as now, and the enthusiasm of the -up-to-date man could scarcely be restrained. There were no chairs; -planks from the flooring elsewhere had been hastily stretched benchwise -on the boxes that had held the provisions and bedding, but even this -grotesque make-shift did not detract from his keen discernment of the -admirable in the entourage. The size and shape of the room, the -old-fashioned bow-window, the ornate mantel-piece, the cabinets built -into the walls for the silver and choice show of old china, now without -even a shelf or a diamond-shaped pane of glass, the design of the paper, -the stucco ornaments about the chandelier, or rather the rod which had -once supported it, for the pendants had been dismembered in wanton -spoliation and now lay in fragments on the lawn without, the pantry, the -china-closet, the storeroom<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> contiguous all came in for his -commendation, and much he bewailed the grinning laths looking down from -the gaps in the fallen plaster, the smoke-grimed walls, the destroyed -hearth, half torn out from the chimney-place. The stream of his talk was -only stemmed by the reappearance of the cook, now with his white jacket -and apron in the rôle of waiter. Every eye was turned apprehensively -toward him lest he was moved to say that the Cap’n had ordered no dinner -to be put into the box. He dolorously drooped over Ducie’s shoulder in -the place of host, and at once disclosed the melancholy worst. “Dere -ain’t no soup, sir. While I was speakin’ to you gemmen in de—de—in de -library, sir, de soup scorched. I had set dat ole superannuated mule of -de Major’s ter watch de pot an’ he didn’t know enough to set it off de -fire when it took to smokin’. Hit was ’p’tage Bec’mul, sir.”</p> - -<p>Ducie laughed and called for the roast, and the company, as soon as the -functionary had disappeared, addressed their wits to the translation of -the waiter’s French to discover what manner of soup they had lost.</p> - -<p>Paula was not sorry to see Adrian Ducie in his hereditary place; somehow -it would have revolted her that she and hers should sit in the seat of -the usurper. Accident had willed it thus, and it was better so. She had -noted the quick glance of gauging the effect which her husband had cast -at her as he made much ado of settling the old Major at the table. Even -without this self-betrayal she would have recognized the demonstration -as one of special design. How should she now be so discerning, she asked -herself. She knew him, she discriminated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span> his motives, she read his -thoughts as though they were set forth on the page of an open book. And -of this he was so unconscious, so assured, so confident of her attitude -as hitherto toward him, that she had the heart to pity while she -despised him, while she revolted at the thought of him.</p> - -<p>She wished to risk not even a word aside with him. She was eager to get -away from the table, although the dinner that the Captain had ordered to -be packed made ample amends for the delay. It had its defects, -doubtless, as one might easily discern from the disconsolate and -well-nigh inconsolable port of the waiter at intervals, but these were -scarcely apparent to the palates of the company. It was, of course, -inferior to the menus of the far-famed dinners of the steamboats of the -olden times, but there is no likelihood of famishing on the Mississippi -even at the present day, and the hospitable Captain Disnett had no mind -that these voluntary cast-a-ways should suffer for their precipitancy. -It was still a cheerful group about that storied board as Paula slipped -from the end of the bench and quietly through the door. If her -withdrawal were noted it would doubtless be ascribed to her anxiety -concerning little Ned, and thus her absence would leave no field for -speculation. She did not, however, return to the room devoted to the use -of the feminine passengers of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, where the child now -lay asleep. She walked slowly up and down the great hall, absorbed in -thought. She was continually surprised at herself, analyzing her own -unwonted mental processes. She could not understand her calmness, in -this signal significant discovery in her life, that she did not love her -husband.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span> She would not rehearse his faults, retrace in her recollection -a thousand incidents confirmatory of the revelation of his character -that had been elicited on this unhappy voyage. How long, she wondered, -would the illusion have continued otherwise,—to her life’s end? Somehow -she could not look forward, and she felt a sort of stupefaction in this, -although she realized that her faculties were roused by her perception -of the truth. The spirit-breaking process, of which she had been -sub-acutely aware, was ended. She could not be so subjugated save by -love, the sedulous wish to please, the tender fear of disapproval, the -ardent hope of placating. Suddenly she was aware that she was laughing, -the fool, to have felt all this for a man who could strike her, cruelly, -painfully, artfully, on the sly that none might know. But even while she -laughed her eyes were full of tears, so did she compassionate the self -she ridiculed with scorn as if it were some other woman whom she pitied.</p> - -<p>She felt as if she must be alone. All the day since that crisis the -presence of people had intruded clamorously upon her consciousness. She -would fain take counsel within herself, her own soul. Above all, she -wished to avoid the sight of her husband, the thought of him. Whenever -the sound of voices in the dining-room broke on her absorption as she -neared the door in her pacing back and forth, she paused, looking over -her shoulder, tense, poised, as if for flight. And at last, as the -clamor of quitting the table heralded the approach of the company, with -scarcely a realized intention, the instinct of escape took possession of -her, and she sped lightly up the great staircase, as elusive, as -unperceived<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> as the essence of the echoes which she had fancied might -thence descend.</p> - -<p>She hesitated, gasping and out of breath, at the head of the flight, -looking about aghast at the gaunt aspect of the wrecked mansion. The -hall was a replica of the one below, save that there were three great -windows opening on a balcony instead of the front door. The glass was -broken out, the Venetian blinds were torn away, and from where she stood -she could see the massive Corinthian columns of the portico rising to -the floor of the story still above. A number of large apartments opened -on this hall, their proportions and ornate mantel-pieces all visible, -for the doors, either swung ajar or wrenched from their hinges, lay upon -the floors. Paula did not note, or perhaps she forgot, that the wreck -expressed forty years of neglect, of license and rapine and was the -wicked work of generations of marauders. She felt that the destruction -was actuated by a sort of fiendish malice. It had required both time and -strength, as well as wanton enmity, a class hatred, one might suppose, -bitter and unreasoning, the wrath of the poor against the rich, even -though unmindful and indifferent to the injury. It seemed so strange to -her that the house should be left thus by its owners, despite its -inutilities in the changed conditions of the world. It had a dignity, as -of the ruin of princes, in its vestiges of beauty and splendor, and the -savor of old days that were now historic and should hold a sort of -sanctity. Even the insensate walls, in the rifts of their shattered -plaster, their besmirched spoliation, expressed a subtle reproach, such -as one might behold in some old human face buffeted and reviled without -a cause.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span></p> - -<p>She had a swift illumination how it would have rejoiced the Ducies to -have set up here their staff of rest in the home hallowed as the harbor -of their ancestors. They were receptive to all the finer illusions of -life. They cherished their personal pride; they revered their ancient -name; they honored this spot as the cradle of their forefathers, and -although they were poor in the world’s opinion, they held in their own -consciousness that treasure of a love of lineage, that obligation to -conform to a high standard which imposed a rule of conduct and elevated -them in their own esteem. Their standpoint was all drearily out of -fashion, funny and forlorn, but she could have wept for them. And why, -since the place had no prosaic value, had not Fate left it to those whom -it would have so subtly enriched. Here in seemly guise, in well-ordered -decorum, in seclusion from the sordid world, the brothers who so dearly -loved each other would have dwelt in peace together, would have taken -unto themselves wives; children of the name and blood of the old -heritage would have been reared here as in an eagle’s nest, with all the -high traditions that have been long disregarded and forgotten. It seemed -so ignoble, so painful, so unjust, that the place should be thus -neglected, despised, cast aside, and yet withheld from its rightful -owners. She caught herself suddenly at the word. Her husband, her son, -were the rightful owners now, and it was their predecessor who did not -care.</p> - -<p>As she stood gazing blankly forward the three windows of the upper hall -suddenly flamed with a saffron glow, for they faced a great expanse of -the southwestern sky, which, for one brief moment, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> full of glory. -The waters of the Mississippi were a rippling flood of molten gold; the -dun-tinted, leafless forests on either bank accentuated in somber -contrast this splendid apotheosis of the waning day. The magnolia trees -about the house shone with every glossy leaf, an emerald for richness of -hue, and all at once, far beyond, Paula beheld the solution of the -mystery that had baffled her, the answer to her question, the Duciehurst -cotton fields, as white as snow, as level as a floor, as visibly -wealth-laden as if the rich yield of the soil were already coined into -gold. Here was the interest of the sordid proprietors; the home was no -home of theirs; they had been absentees from the first of their tenure. -The glimmering marble cross, the lofty granite shaft that showed when -the wind shifted among the gloomy boughs of the weeping willows in the -family graveyard, marked the resting place of none of their kindred. -Their bones were none of these bones, their flesh sprung from none of -these dead ashes. The Duciehurst lands made cotton, and cotton made -money, and the old house, built under other conditions, was suited to no -needs that they could create in the exigencies of a new day. Therefore, -it was left to shelter the owl, the gopher, the river-pirate, the -shanty-boater, the moon in its revolutions, and when the nights were -wild the wind seemed to issue thence as from a lair of mysteries.</p> - -<p>Paula suddenly turned from the revelation, and gathering the lustrous -white skirt of her crêpe dress, freshly donned, in one jewelled hand -with a care unconsciously dainty, as was her habit, she noiselessly -slipped up the great dusty spiral of the stair leading to the third -story, lest curiosity induced some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> exploring intrusive foot thus far, -ere she had thought out her perplexity to its final satisfaction. She -was aware that the day dulled and darkened suddenly; she heard the wind -burst into gusty sobs; the clouds had fallen to weeping anew, and the -night was close at hand. She was curiously incongruous with the place as -she stood looking upward, the light upon her face, at a great rift in -the roof. The rain-drops dripped monotonously from smaller crevices down -upon the floor with a sort of emphasis, as if the number were registered -and it kept a tally. There were doubtless divisions and partitions -further to the rear, but this apartment was spacious above the square -portion of the mansion, and the ceiling had a high pitch. She thought -for a moment that they might have danced here in the old times, so fine -were the proportions of the place. Then she remembered that third-story -ball-rooms were not formerly in vogue, and that she had heard that the -one at Duciehurst was situated in the west wing on the ground floor. -This commodious apartment must have been a place of bestowal. The walls -betokened the remnants of presses, and she could almost fancy that she -could see the array of trunks, of chests, of discarded furniture, more -old-fashioned than that below, the bags of simples, of hyacinth bulbs -which were uprooted every second year to be planted anew. There was an -intensification of the spirit of spoil manifested elsewhere as if the -search for the hidden treasure here had been more desperate and radical. -The chimneys seemed to have been special subjects of suspicion, for -several showed that the solid masonry had been gouged out, leaving great -hollows. As she stood amidst the gray shadows in her lustrous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> white -crêpe gown with the shimmer of satin from its garniture, she was a -poetic presentment, even while engrossed in making the prosaic deduction -that here was the reason these chimneys smoked when fires were kindled -below.</p> - -<p>The solitude was intense, the silence an awesome stillness, her -thoughts, recurring to her own sorry fate, were strenuous and troublous, -and thus even her strong, elastic young physique was beginning to feel -very definitely the stress of fatigue, and excitement, and fear, that -had filled the day as well as the effects of the emotional crisis which -she had endured. She found that she could scarcely stand; indeed, she -tottered with a sense of feebleness, of faintness, as she looked about -for some support, something on which she might lean, or better still, -something that might serve as a seat. Suddenly she started forward -toward the window near the outer corner of the room. The low sill was -broad and massive in conformity with the general design of the house, -and she sank down here in comfort, resting her head against the heavy -moulding of the frame. Her eyes turned without, and she noted with a -certain interest the great foliated ornaments, the carved acanthus -leaves of the capitals of the Corinthian columns, one of which was so -close at hand that she might almost have touched it, for the roof of the -portico here, which had been nearly on a level with the window, was now -in great part torn away, giving a full view of the stone floor below. -This column was the pilaster, half the bulk of the others, being -buttressed against the wall. The size of the columns was far greater -than she had supposed, looking at them from below, the capitals were -finished<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> with a fine attention to detail. The portico was indeed an -admirable example of this sort of adapted architecture which is usually -distinguished rather by its license than its success. But she had scant -heart to mark its values or effect. Her reflections were introspective. -She looked out drearily on the wan wastes of the skies, and the somber -night closing in, and bethought herself of the woeful change in the -atmosphere of her soul since the skies last darkened. She said to -herself that illusions were made for women, who were not fitted to cope -with facts, and that it was better to be a loving fool, gulled into the -fancy that she, too, is beloved, than to see clearly, and judge justly, -and harbor an empty aching heart. For there was no recourse for her. It -was not in her power to frame her future. Her husband had, and he knew -he had, the most complete impunity, and doubtless this gave him an -assurance in domineering that he would not otherwise have dared to -exert. He was cognizant of her delicate pride, the odium in which she -would hold the idea of publicity in conjugal dissension. She would never -have permitted, save under some extreme stress like that of the single -instance of the morning, others to look in upon a difference between -them, yet there had been from the first much to bear from his -self-absorbed and imperious temper, and she had borne it to the extent -of self-immolation, of self-extinction. In fact, she was not, she had -not been for years, herself. She could not say, indeed, when her old -identity had asserted itself before to-day. It was the aspect of the -Ducie face, the associations of the past that had recalled her real self -to life, that had relumed the spark of pride<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> which had once been her -dominant trait, that had given her courage to revolt at rebuke in -Adrian’s presence, to hold up her head, to speak from her own -individuality, to be an influence to be reckoned with. But of what -avail? Life must go on as heretofore, the old semblance of submission, -of adulation, the adjustment of every word, every idea, every desire, to -the mould of her husband’s thought, his preference. She wondered how she -would be enabled to maintain the farce of her love, that had hitherto -seemed capable of infinite endurance, of limitless pardoning power, and -the coercive admiration for him that she had felt throughout all these -five years. He was aware, and this fact was so certain that she was sure -he had never given the matter even a casual, careless thought, that for -the sake of their son, his precious presence, his comfort and care, his -future standing before the world, no recourse was possible for her, no -separation, no divorce. Floyd-Rosney might beat her with a stick if he -would, instead of that deft, crafty little blow he had dealt on her -wrist with his knuckles, and she would hide the wales for her child’s -sweet sake. No law was ever framed comprehensive enough to shield her. -She was beyond the pale and the protection of the law. And as she -realized this she held down her head and began to shed some miserable -tears.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was this relaxation that overpowered her nerves, this -cessation of resistance and repining. When she opened her eyes after an -interval of unconsciousness her first thought was of the detail of the -Scriptures touching the young man who slept in a high window through the -apostle’s preaching<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> and “fell down from the third loft.” She had never -imagined that she should do so reckless, so wild a thing. Her methods -were all precautionary, her mental attitude quiet and composed. She -still sat in the window, looking out for a little space longer, for she -was indisposed to exertion; her muscles were stiff, and her very bones -seemed to ache with fatigue. The sky had cleared while she slept; only a -few white, fleecy lines, near the horizon, betokened the passing of the -clouds. It had that delicate ethereal blue peculiar to a night of lunar -light, for the stars were faint, barring the luster of one splendid -planet, the moon being near the full and high in the sky. The beams fell -in broad skeins diagonally through the front windows, while the one at -the side gave upon the dark summits of the great magnolias, where the -radiance lingered, enriching the gloss of their sempervirent foliage. -The weeping willows in their leafless state were all a fibrous glister -like silver fountains, and in their midst she could see glimpses in the -moonlight of the white gleam of the marble cross, the draped funereal -urn, the granite shaft where those who had once rested secure beneath -this kindly roof of home now slept more securely still within the shadow -of its ruin. A broken roof it now was, and through the rift overhead the -moonlight poured in a suffusive flood, illuminating all the space -beneath. She heard the plaintive drip, drip, drip, from some pool among -the shingles where the rain had found a lodgment. The river flashed in -myriad ripples, as steadily, ceaselessly it swept on its surging way to -the Gulf. She was familiar with its absolute silence, concomitant with -its great depth, save, of course, in the cataclysmal<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> crisis of a -crevasse, and as she heard the unmistakable sound of a dash of water, -she bent a startled intentness of gaze on the surface to perceive a -rowboat steadily, but slowly, pulling up the current. She wondered at -her own surprise, yet so secluded was the solitude here that any sight -or sound of man seemed abnormal, an intrusion. She knew that a boat was -as accustomed an incident of a riverside locality as a carriage or a -motor in a street. It betokened some planter, perhaps, returning late, -because of the storm, from a neighboring store or a friend’s house. Any -waterside errand might duplicate the traffic of the highway.</p> - -<p>How late was it, she wondered, for her interest in the boat had dwindled -as it passed out of sight beneath the high bank. The idea that perhaps -she alone was waking in this great, ruinous house gave her a vague chill -of fear. She began to question how she could nerve herself, with this -overwhelming sense of solitude, to attempt the exit through the -labyrinth of sinister shadows and solemn, silent, moonlit spaces among -the unfamiliar passages and rooms to the ground floor. She remembered -that the railing of the spiral staircase had shaken, here and there, -beneath her hand as she had ascended, the wood of the supporting -balusters having rotted in the rain that had fallen for years through -the shattered skylight. Her progress had been made in the daylight, and -she had now only the glimmer of the moon, from distant windows and the -rift in the roof. She began to think of calling for assistance; this -great empty space would echo like a drum, she knew, but unfamiliar with -the plan of the house she could not determine the location of the rooms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> -occupied by the party from the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>. If the hour were late, -as she felt it must be, and their inmates all asleep, she might fail to -make herself heard. And then she felt she would die of solitary terror.</p> - -<p>Paula could not sufficiently rebuke her own folly that she should have -lingered so long apart from the party, that she should have carried so -far her explorations,—nay, it was an instinct of flight that had led -her feet. She dreaded her husband’s indignant and scornful surprise and -his trenchant rebuke. She realized why she had not been already missed -by him as well as by the others. Doubtless the ladies who were to occupy -the music-room as a dormitory had retired early, spent with fatigue and -excitement. Perhaps Hildegarde Dean might have sat for a time in the -bow-window of the dining-room and talked to Adrian Ducie, and Colonel -Kenwynton, and Major Lacey, as they ranged themselves on one of the -benches by the dining-table and smoked in the light of a kerosene lamp -which the Captain had furnished forth, and watched the moon rise over -the magnolias, and the melancholy weeping willows, and the marble -memorials glimmering in the slanting light. But even Hildegarde could -not flirt all day and all night, too. Paula could imagine that when she -came into the music-room, silent and on tip-toe, she stepped out of her -blue toggery with all commendable dispatch, only lighted by the moon, -gave her dense black hair but a toss and piled it on her head and -slipped into bed without disturbing the lightest sleeper, unconscious -that the cot where little Ned should slumber in his mother’s bosom was -empty, but for his own chubby<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span> form. The men, too, as they lay in a row -on the shake-down in the smoking-room with their feet to the fire, might -have chatted for a little while, but doubtless they soon succumbed to -drowsiness, and slumbered heavily in the effects of their drenchings and -exhaustion, and it would require vigorous poundings on their door to -rouse them in the morning.</p> - -<p>Obviously there was no recourse. Paula perceived that she must compass -her own retreat unaided. She rose with the determination to attempt the -descent of the stairs. Then, trembling from head to foot, she sank down -on the broad sill of the window. A sudden raucous voice broke upon the -spectral silence, the still midnight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Paula</span> looked down through the broken roof of the portico supported by -the massive Corinthian columns. A group of men stood on the stone floor -below, men of slouching, ill-favored aspect. She could not for one -moment confuse them with the inmates of the house, now silent and -asleep, although her first hopeful thought was that some nocturnal alarm -had brought forth the refugees of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>.</p> - -<p>The newcomers made no effort at repression or secrecy. They could have -had no idea that the house was occupied. Evidently they felt as alone, -as secluded, as secure from observation, as if in a desert. They were -not even in haste to exploit their design. A great brawny, workman-like -man was taking to task a fellow in top-boots and riding-breeches.</p> - -<p>“Why did you go off an’ leave Cap’n Treherne?” he asked severely.</p> - -<p>The ex-jockey seemed somewhat under the influence of liquor, not now -absolutely drunk, although hiccoughing occasionally—in that dolorous -stage known as “sobering up.”</p> - -<p>“If you expected me to stay here all that time, with no feed at all, you -were clear out of the running,” he protested. “I lit out before the blow -came, an’ after the storm was over I knowed you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> fellers couldn’t row -back here against the current with the water goin’ that gait. So I took -my time as you took yourn.”</p> - -<p>The next speaker was of a curiously soaked aspect, as if overlaid with -the ooze, and slime, and decay of the riverside, like some rotting log -or a lurking snag, worthless in itself, without a use on either land or -water, neither afloat nor ashore, its only mission of submerged malice -to drive its tooth into the hull of some stanch steamer and drag it -down, with its living freight, and its wealth of cargo, and its -destroyed machinery, to a grave among the lifeless roots. His voice -seemed water-logged, too, and came up in a sort of gurgle, so defective -was his articulation.</p> - -<p>“You-all run off an’ lef’ me las’ night, but Jessy Jane put me wise this -mornin’, an’ I was away before the wind had riz. I stopped by here to -see if you was about, but I declar’ if I had knowed that you had lef’ -Cap’n Treherne in thar tied up like a chicken, I’m durned if I wouldn’t -hey set him loose, to pay you back for the trick you played me. But I -met up with Colty,” nodding at the jockey, “an’ we come back just now -together.”</p> - -<p>Binnhart’s brow darkened balefully as he listened to this ineffective -threat while old Berridge chuckled.</p> - -<p>Another man with a sailor-like roll in his walk was leaning on an axe. -Suddenly he cast his eyes up at the pilaster. Paula on the shadowy side -of the window sat quite still, not daring to move, hoping for -invisibility, although her heart beat so loud that she thought they -might hear its pulsations even at the distance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span></p> - -<p>“Durned if I got much sense out of that fool builder’s talk to you, -Jasper,” he said. “I think you paid out too much line,—never held him -to the p’int. You let him talk sixteen ter the dozen ’bout things we -warn’t consarned with, pediments, an’ plinths, an’ architraves, an’ -entablatures, an’, shucks, I dunno now what half of ’em mean.”</p> - -<p>“I had to do that to keep him from suspicionin’ what we were after,” -Binnhart justified his policy. “All I wanted to know was just what a -‘pilaster’ might be.”</p> - -<p>“An’ this half column ag’in the wall is the ‘pilaster’ the Crazy talked -about?” And once more the shanty-boater cast up a speculative eye. “But -I ain’t sensed yit what he meant by his mention of a capital.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Jackson, capital of Miss’ippi, ye fool you, fines’ city in the -Union,” exclaimed a younger replica of the old water-rat, coming up from -the shrubbery with a lot of tools in a smith’s shoeing-box, from which, -as he still held it, Binnhart began with a careful hand to select the -implements that were needed for the work.</p> - -<p>“How do you know the plunder is in the ‘pilaster’?” asked Connover, the -dejected phase of the “after effects” clouding his optimism.</p> - -<p>“Why, he talked about it in his sleep. He may be crazy when he is awake, -but he talks as straight as a string in his sleep. Fust chance, as I -gathered, that he has ever had to be sane enough to make a try for the -swag,” explained Berridge. “But I dunno why you pick out this partic’lar -pilaster,” and he, too, gazed up at its lofty height.</p> - -<p>“By the way he looked at it when we was fetchin’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> him in from the skiff, -that’s why, you shrimp,” exclaimed the shanty-boater.</p> - -<p>“I don’t call <i>that</i> a straight tip,” said Connover, discontentedly.</p> - -<p>“Why, man, this Treherne was with Archie Ducie when they hid the -plunder. This is the column he says in his sleep they put it in, an’, by -God, I’ll bring the whole thing to the ground but what I s’arches it, -from top to bottom. I’ll bust it wide open.”</p> - -<p>With the words the shanty-boater heaved up the axe and smote the column -so strong a blow that Paula felt the vibrations through the wall to the -window where she sat.</p> - -<p>“What are ye goin’ to do with Crazy?” demanded old Berridge with a -malicious leer.</p> - -<p>“Better bring Cap’n Crazy out right now an’ make him tell, willy nilly, -exactly where the stuff <i>is</i> hid,” urged the disaffected Connover.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll tell, fas’ enough,” rejoined old Berridge. He began to dwell -gleefully on the coercive effects of burning the ends of the fingers and -the soles of the feet with lighted matches.</p> - -<p>“Lime is better,” declared his son, entering heartily into the scheme. -“Put lime in his eyes, ef he refuses to talk, an’ he won’t hold out. -Lime is the ticket. Plenty lime here handy in the plaster.”</p> - -<p>“Slaked, you fool, you!” commented Binnhart. Then, “I ain’t expectin’ to -git the secret out’n Cap’n Treherne now, I b’lieve he’d die fust!”</p> - -<p>“He would,” said the shanty-boater, with conviction. “I know the cut of -the jib.”</p> - -<p>“We had to keep him here handy, though, or he might tell it to somebody -else. But, Jorrocks, can’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> you see with half an eye that there has -never been an entrance made in that pillar. Them soldier fellows were -not practiced in the use of tools. The most they could have done was to -rip off the washboard of the room, flush with the pilaster. They must -have sot the box on the top of the stone base inside the column. This -base is solid.”</p> - -<p>He was measuring with a foot-rule the distance from the pilaster to the -nearest window. It opened down to the floor of the portico and was -without either sash or glass. As the group of clumsy, lurching figures -disappeared within, Paula, with a sudden wild illumination and a -breathless gasp of excitement, sprang to her feet. The capital, said -they? The pilaster! She fell upon the significance of these words. The -treasure, long sought, was here, under her very hand. She caught up a -heavy iron rod that she had noticed among the rubbish of broken plaster -and fallen laths on the floor. It had been a portion of a chandelier, -and it might serve both as lever and wedge. The rats had gnawed the -washboard in the corner, she trembled for the integrity of the storied -knapsack, but the gaping cavity gave entrance to the rod. As she began -to prize against the board with all her might she remembered with a -sinking heart that they builded well in the old days, but it was -creaking—it was giving way. It had been thrust from the wall ere this. -She, too, took heed of the fact that it was the clumsy work of soldier -boys which had replaced the solid walnut, no mechanic’s trained hands, -and the thought gave her hope. She thrust her dainty foot within the -aperture, and kept it open with the heel of her Oxford tie, as more and -more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> the washboard yielded to the pressure of the iron rod, which, like -a lever, she worked to and fro with both arms.</p> - -<p>In the silence of the benighted place through the floor she heard now -and then a dull thud, but as yet no sound of riving wood. The washboard -there—or was it wainscot?—had never been removed, and the task of the -marauders was more difficult than hers. She was devoured by a turbulent -accession of haste. They would make their water-haul presently, and then -would repair hither to essay the capital of the pilaster. Was that a -step on the stair?</p> - -<p>In a wild frenzy of exertion she put forth an effort of which she would -not have believed herself capable. The board gave way so abruptly that -she almost fell upon the floor. The next moment she was on the verge of -fainting. Before her was naught but the brickwork of the wall. Yet, -stay, here the bricks had been removed for a little space and relaid -without mortar. She gouged them out again after the fashion of the -marauder, and behind them saw into the interior of the pilaster. The -cavity was flush with the floor. She thrust in her hand, nothing! Still -further with like result. She flung herself down upon the floor and ran -her arm in to its extreme length. She touched a fluffy, disintegrated -mass, sere leaves it might have been, feathers or fur. Her dainty -fingers tingled with repulsion as they closed upon it. She steadily -pulled it forward, and, oh, joy, she felt a weight, a heavy weight. She -thrust in both arms and drew toward her slowly, carefully—a footfall on -the stair, was it? Still slowly, carefully, the tattered remnants of an -old knapsack, and a box, around which it had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> wrapped. A metal box -it was, of the style formerly used, inclosed in leather as jewel-cases, -locked, bound with steel bands, studded with brass rivets, intact and -weighty.</p> - -<p>Paula sprang up with a bound. For one moment she paused with the burden -in her arms, doubting whether she should conceal the chest anew or dare -the stairs. The next, as silent as a moonbeam, as fleet as the gust that -tossed her skirts, she sped around the twists of the spiral turns and -reached the second story. She looked over the balustrade, no light, save -the moonbeams falling through the great doorless portal, no sign of -life; no sound. But hark, the gnawing of a patient chisel, and presently -the fibrous rasping of riving wood came from the empty apartments on the -left. Still at work were the marauders, and still she was safe. She -continued her descent, silently and successfully gaining the entresol, -but as she turned to essay the flight to the lower hall she lost the -self-control so long maintained, so strained. Still at full speed she -came, silent no longer, screaming like a banshee. Her voice filled the -weird old house with shrill horror, resounding, echoing, waking every -creature that slept to a frenzied panic, and bringing into the hall all -the men of the steamboat’s party, half dressed, as behooves a -“shake-down.” The women, less presentable, held their door fast and -clamored out alternate inquiry and terror.</p> - -<p>“I have found it! I have found it!” she managed to articulate, -wild-eyed, laughing and screaming together, and rushing with the box to -the astonished Ducie, she placed it in his hands. “And, oh, the house is -full of robbers!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<p>The disheveled group stood as if petrified for a moment, the moonbeams -falling through the open doorway, giving the only illumination. But the -light, although pale and silvery, was distinct; it revealed the intent -half-dressed figures, the starting eyes, the alert attitudes, and -elicited a steely glimmer from more than one tense grasp, for this is -preëminently the land of the pistol-pocket. The fact was of great -deterrent effect in this instance, for if the vistas of shadow and sheen -within the empty suites of apartments gave upon this picture of the -coterie, wrought in gray and purple tones and pearly gleams, it was of -so sinister a suggestion as to rouse prudential motives. There were ten -stalwart men of the steamboat’s passengers here, and the marauders -numbered but five.</p> - -<p>A sudden scream from the ladies’ dormitory broke the momentary pause. A -man, nay, three or four men, had rushed past the windows on the portico.</p> - -<p>“I hear them now!” cried Hildegarde Dean; “they are crashing through the -shrubbery.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” Floyd-Rosney brusquely exclaimed. “There are no robbers -here.” Then to his wife, “Is this hysteria, Paula, or are you spoiling -for a sensation?”</p> - -<p>She did not answer. She did not heed. She still stood in the attitude of -putting the heavy box into Adrian Ducie’s grasp and while he -mechanically held it she looked at him, her eyes wild and dilated, -shining full of moonlight, still exclaiming half in sobs, half in -screams, “I have found it! I have found it!—the Duciehurst treasure.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney cast upon the casket one glance of undisciplined curiosity. -Then his proclivity for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span> first place, the title rôle, asserted -itself. He did not understand his wife. He did not believe that she had -found aught of value, or, indeed, that there was aught of value to find. -Beyond and above his revolt of credulity was his amazement at his wife’s -insurgent spirit, so signally, so unprecedentedly manifested on this -trip. He connected it with the presence of Adrian Ducie, which in point -of facial association was the presence of his twin brother, her former -lover. The mere surmise filled him with absolute rage. His tyrannous -impulse burned at a white heat. A wiser man, not to say a better man, -would have realized the transient character of the incident, her natural -instinct to assert herself, to be solicitous of the judgment of the -Ducies on her position, to seem no subservient parasite of the rich man, -but to hold herself high. Thus she had resented too late the absolute -dominion her husband had taken over her, and she felt none the lack of -the manner of consideration, even though fictitious, which was her due -as his wife.</p> - -<p>He took her arm that was as tense as steel in every muscle. “You are -overwrought, Paula,—and this disturbance is highly unseemly.” Then, -lowering his voice and with his frequent trick of speaking from between -his set teeth, “you should be with the other ladies, instead of the only -one among this gang of men.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” she flared out at full voice, “we don’t live in Turkey.”</p> - -<p>“By your leave I will ask Mrs. Floyd-Rosney to witness the opening of -this box, which she has discovered,” said Ducie gravely, “and you also -in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> view of your position in regard to the title of the property.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly I will,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, defiantly forestalling her -husband’s reply, “by his leave, or without it. I am no bond-slave.” Her -eyes were flashing, her bosom heaved, she was on the brink of tears.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon,” stammered Ducie. “It was a mere phrase.”</p> - -<p>“Foolish fellow! He thought you had promised to love, honor and <i>obey</i>!” -said Floyd-Rosney, ill-advised and out of countenance.</p> - -<p>“Foolish fellow!” she echoed. “He thought you had promised to love, -honor and cherish.”</p> - -<p>But she was dominated by the excitement of the discovery. She ran to the -door of the ladies’ dormitory. “No danger! No danger!” she cried, as it -was cautiously set ajar on her summons. “The robbers are gone. We have -more than twice as many men here, and the Duciehurst treasure is found. -Come out, Hildegarde, and give me that lamp. They are going to open the -box. Oh, oh, oh!” She was shrilling aloud in mingled delight and -agitation as she came running down the hall in the midst of the silvery -moonlight and the dusky shadows, the wind tossing her white skirt, the -lamp in her hand glowing yellow, and flaring redly out of the chimney in -her speed, to its imminent danger of fracture, sending a long coil of -smoke floating after it and a suffocating odor of petroleum.</p> - -<p>Paula placed the lamp on the table in the dining-room, where the box -already stood. Around it the men were grouped on the boards which had -hitherto served as benches. Several were shivering in shirt-sleeves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span> -the suspenders of their trousers swinging in festoons on either side, or -hanging sash-wise to their heels. Others, more provident, with the -conviction that the sensation was not so ephemeral as to preclude some -attention to comfort, left the scene long enough to secure their coats, -and came back with distorted necks and craned chins, buttoning on -collars. Hildegarde obviously had no vague intention of matching her -conduct to the standards of Turkey, for she joined the party -precipitately, her blue eyes shining, her cheeks flushed with recent -sleep, her hair still piled high on her head and her light blue crêpe -dress hastily donned. The elderly ladies, mindful of the jeopardy of -neuralgia in the draughty spaces without, had betaken themselves again -to bed. The Duciehurst treasure had no possibilities for their -betterment and they did not even affect the general altruistic interest.</p> - -<p>There was ample time for the assembling of the party for no key among -them would fit or turn the rusted lock. The box on the table held its -secret as securely within arm’s length as when hidden for more than -forty years in the capital of the pilaster. Hildegarde suggested a -button-hook, which, intended seriously, was passed as an ill-timed jest. -Mr. Floyd-Rosney had a strong clasp-knife, with a file, but the lock -resisted and the lid was of such a shape that the implement could not be -brought to bear.</p> - -<p>“The robbers were working with a lot of tools,” said Paula, suddenly. -“Perhaps they left their tools.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman who was testing his craft with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> the lock looked up at her -with a significant, doubtful inquiry. “The robbers?” he drawled, -slightingly.</p> - -<p>They possibly number thousands in this wicked world. Their deeds have -filled many court records, and their reluctant carcasses many a prison. -But the man does not live who credits their proximity on the faith of a -woman’s statement. “The robbers?” he drew in his lower lip humorously. -“Where do you think they were working?”</p> - -<p>“Come, I can show you exactly.” Paula sprang up with alacrity.</p> - -<p>He rose without hesitation, but he took his revolver from the table and -thrust it into his pistol-pocket. While he did not believe her, perhaps -he thought that stranger things have happened. They did not carry the -lamp. The moon’s radiance poured through all the shattered windows of -the great ruin with a splendor that seemed a mockery of the imposing -proportions, the despoiled decorations, the lavish designs of the -fresco, the poor travesties of chandeliers, making shift here and there -to return a crystal reflection where once light had glowed refulgent.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney had sat silent for a moment, as if dumfounded. Then he -slowly and uncertainly threw his legs athwart the bench and rose as if -to follow. But the two had returned before he could leave the room, the -“doubting Thomas” of an explorer with his hands full of tools and an -expression of blank amazement on his face.</p> - -<p>“Somebody <i>has</i> been working at that wall,” he announced, as if he could -scarcely constrain his own acceptance of the fact. “The wainscot has -been freshly ripped out, but there is nothing at all in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> hollow of -the pilaster. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney examined it herself.”</p> - -<p>“You were looking for another find, eh?—like a cat watching a hole -where she has just caught a mouse,” said Floyd-Rosney to his wife with -his misfit jocularity.</p> - -<p>No one sought to reply. Every eye was on Adrian Ducie, who had found a -cold chisel among the tools and was working now at the hinges and now at -the lock, wherever there seemed best promise of entrance. The hinges -were forced apart finally, the lock was broken, and once more the box -was opened here where it was packed forty-odd years ago. A covering of -chamois lay over the top, and as Adrian Ducie put it aside with -trembling fingers the lamplight gloated down on a responsive glitter of -gold and silver, with a glint here and there, as of a precious stone. -There was obviously insufficient room in the box for the vanished table -service of the family silver, but several odd pieces of such usage were -crowded in, of special antiquity of aspect, probably heirlooms, and thus -saved at all hazards. The method of packing had utilized the space -within to the fraction of an inch. Adrian drew out a massive gold goblet -filled with a medley of smaller articles, a rare cameo bracelet, an -emerald ring, an old seal quaintly mounted, a child’s sleeve-bracelets, -a simple ornament set with turquoise, and a diamond necklace, fit for a -princess. None of these were in cases, even the protection of a wrapping -would have required more space than could be spared.</p> - -<p>“You know that face?” Ducie demanded, holding a miniature out to -Floyd-Rosney, catching the lamplight upon it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span></p> - -<p>“Can’t say I do,” Floyd-Rosney responded, cavalierly and with apparent -indifference.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps Colonel Kenwynton will recognize it,” said Ducie, with -composure.</p> - -<p>“Eh, what? Why certainly—a likeness of your grandfather, George Blewitt -Ducie,—an excellent likeness! And this,” reaching for a small oval -portrait set with pearls, “is his wife—what a beauty she was! Here, -too,” handling a gold frame of more antiquated aspect, “is your great -grandfather—yes, yes!—in his prime. I never saw him except as an old -man, but he held his own—he held his own!”</p> - -<p>The miniatures thus identified and his right to the contents of the box -established, Ducie continued to lift out the jammed and wedged treasures -as fast as they could be disengaged from their artful arrangement. An -old silver porringer contained incongruities of value, a silver mug of -christening suggestions, a lady’s watch and chain with a bunch of -jeweled jangling “charms,” a filagree pouncet-box, a gold thimble, a -string of fine and perfect pearls with a ruby clasp, a gold snuff-box -with an enameled lid. The up-to-date man thrust his monocle in his eye -to better observe, with a sort of æsthetic rapture, the shepherds -dancing in the dainty workmanship. There was an array of spoons of many -sorts and uses, soup ladles, salt ladles, cream ladles, and several gold -and silver platters. These had kept in place one of the old-fashioned -silver coasters, which held contents of value that the least æsthetic -could appreciate. It was nearly half full of gold coin, worth many times -its face value in the days when thus hidden away from the guerrilla and -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span> bushwhacker. Every man’s eyes glittered at the sight except only -those of Ducie. He was intent upon the search for the papers, the -release of the mortgage that he had believed all his life was stowed -away here.</p> - -<p>To every man the knowledge that he has been befooled, whether by foible -or fate, is of vital importance. In many ways he has been influenced to -his hurt by the obsession. His actions have been rooted in his mistaken -persuasions. His mental processes issue from false premises. He is not -the man he would otherwise have been.</p> - -<p>All his life Adrian Ducie had raged against the injustice that had -involved in absolute oblivion the release of the mortgage, that had -wrested from his father both the full satisfaction of the debt and the -pledged estate as well. Otherwise he would have inherited wealth, -opportunity, the means of advancement, luxury, pleasure. He was asking -himself now had he made less of himself, the actual good the gods had -doled out, because he had bemoaned fictitious values in case there had -never been a release and the lands had gone the facile ways of -foreclosure, the imminent, obvious, almost invariable sequence of -mortgage. Ah, at last a paper!—carefully folded, indorsed. His -grandfather’s will, regularly executed, but worthless now, by reason of -the lapse of time. An administrator had distributed the estate as that -of an intestate, and defended the action of foreclosure. The incident -was closed, and the sere and yellow paper had not more possibility of -revivification than the sere and yellow leaves that now and again came -with sibilant edge against the windowpane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span> or winged their way on an -errant gust within the room through a rift in the shattered glass.</p> - -<p>As Ducie flung the paper aside he chanced to dislodge one of the gold -pieces, a sovereign, the money being all of English coinage. It rolled -swiftly along the table, slipped off its beveled edge, and was heard -spinning somewhere in the shadows of the great dusky room. More than one -of the gentlemen rose to recover it, and Paula, with unbecoming -officiousness, her husband thought, joined in the search. It was she who -secured it, and as she restored the coin she laid a glittering trifle -before the box, as if it, too, had fallen from the table. “Here is one -of the Ducie jewels,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Why, it is a key, how cute,” cried Hildegarde.</p> - -<p>Ducie had paused, the papers motionless in his hand. He was looking at -Paula, sternly, rebukingly. Perhaps his expression disconcerted her in -her moment of triumph, for her voice was a little shrill, her smile both -feigned and false, her manner nervous and abashed, yet determined.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is a thing of mystic powers,” she declared. “It commands the -doors of promotion and pleasure, it can open the heart and lock it, too; -it is the keynote of happiness.” She laughed without relish at the pun -while the up-to-date man thrust his monocle in his eye and reached out -for the bauble. There was a moment of silence as it was subjected to his -searching scrutiny.</p> - -<p>“A thing of legend, is it?” he commented. “Well, I must say that it does -not justify its reputation—it has a most flimsy and modern aspect, -nothing whatever in conformity with those exquisite examples of old -bijouterie.” He waved his hand toward the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> Ducie jewels blazing in -rainbow hues, now laid together in a heap on the table. “Its value, why -I should say it could not be much, though this is a good white diamond, -and the rubies are fair, but quite small; it is not worth more than two -hundred dollars or two hundred and fifty at the utmost.”</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie had finally remitted his steady and upbraiding gaze, but -Paula was made aware that he still resented unalterably and deeply her -conduct to his brother. It was Randal’s option to forgive, if he -would,—Adrian Ducie held himself aloof; he would not interfere. His -hands were occupied in opening a paper as the up-to-date man tendered -him the jeweled key, and this gave him the opportunity to decline to -receive it without exciting curiosity. His words were significant only -to Paula when he said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, perhaps, will -kindly take charge of this article.”</p> - -<p>With unabated composure, with extreme deliberation, he opened this, the -last paper in the box, which held an enclosure. The yellow glow of the -lamp at one end of the table was a rayonnant focus of light amidst the -gloom of the great, lofty apartment, and showed the variant expressions -of the faces grouped about it. Floyd-Rosney, seated with one side toward -the table, resting an elbow on its surface, had an air of tolerant -ennui, his handsome face, fair, florid, and impressive, was imposed with -its wonted fine effect against the dun, dull shadows which the lamplight -could not dissipate, so definite that they seemed an opaque haze, a -dense veil of smoke. The countenances of the others, less conscious, -less adjusted to observation, wore different degrees of intelligent -interest. Hildegarde’s disheveled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span> beauty shone like a star from the -dark background of the big bow-window where she sat—through the -shattered glass came now and then a glittering shimmer when the magnolia -leaves, dripping and lustrous in the moonlight, tossed in some vagrant -gust. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s aspect was of a conventional contrast, as -point-device as if she sat at table at some ordinary function. The sheen -of her golden hair, the gleam of her white dress, her carmine cheeks, -her elated and brilliant eyes, her attentive observation of the events -as they deployed, were all noted in turn by her domestic tyrant, with a -view to future reference. “I’ll have it out with Paula when we get away -from here, if ever,” he said grimly within his own consciousness.</p> - -<p>The next moment he had incentive for other thoughts. Ducie scanned the -caption of the paper in his hand, turned the page to observe its -signature, then lifted his head. His voice, although clear, trembled.</p> - -<p>“Here is the release of the mortgage, duly executed and with the -original deed of trust inclosed.”</p> - -<p>There was a moment of tense silence. Then ensued a hearty clapping of -hands about the table.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney satirically inclined his head to this outburst of -involuntary congratulation. “Thank you, very much,” he said with an -ironical smile.</p> - -<p>The group seemed somewhat disconcerted, and several attempted -justification.</p> - -<p>“Always gratifying that the lost should be found,” said one. “Nothing -personal to you, however.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure you, too, would wish the right to prevail,” said a priggish -gentleman, who looked as if he might be a Sunday-school superintendent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I hate to see an old family kept out of its own on a legal -quibble,” said one fat gentleman uncompromisingly; he knew better how to -order a dinner acceptably than his discourse.</p> - -<p>“It will be difficult to prove an ouster after forty years of adverse -possession,” said Floyd-Rosney, “even if the release or quit-claim, or -whatever the paper is, shall prove to be entirely regular.”</p> - -<p>“You surely will not plead the prescription in bar of the right,” the -broker seemed to remonstrate.</p> - -<p>“Of the remedy, you mean,” Floyd-Rosney corrected with his suave, -unsmiling smile. “I should, like any other man of affairs, act under the -advice of counsel.”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, of course,” assented the broker, accessible to this kind of -commercial logic. However, the situation was so contrary to the general -run of business that it seemed iniquitous somehow that the discovery of -the papers restoring the title of this great estate to its rightful -owners, after forty years of deprivation of its values, should be at -last nullified and set at naught by a decree of a court on the -application of the doctrine of the statute of limitations. There was a -pervasive apprehension of baffled justice even before the paper was -examined.</p> - -<p>Ducie was disposed to incur no further Floyd-Rosney’s supercilious -speculations as to the contents of the paper. Instead, he spread it -before Colonel Kenwynton.</p> - -<p>“Read it, Colonel,” he said, moving the lamp to the old gentleman’s -elbow.</p> - -<p>It seemed that Colonel Kenwynton in his excitement could never get his -pince-nez adjusted, and when this was fairly accomplished that he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> -be balked at last by an inopportune frog in his throat. But finally the -reading was under way, and each of the listeners lent ear not only with -the effort to discriminate and assimilate the intendment of the -instrument, but to appraise its effect on a possible court of equity. -For it particularized in very elaborate and comprehensive phrase the -reasons for the manner, time, and place of its execution. It recited the -facts that the promissory notes secured by the mortgage were in bank -deposit in the city of Nashville, State of Tennessee, that the said city -and State were in the occupation of the Federal army, that since the -said notes could not be forwarded within the Confederate lines, by -reason of the lack of mail facilities or other means of communication, -the said promissory notes were herein particularly described, released -and surrendered, the several sums for which they were made having been -paid in full by George Blewitt Ducie in gold, the receipt of the full -amount being hereby acknowledged, together with a quit-claim to the -property on which they had been secured. For the same reason of the -existence of a state of war, and the suspension of all courts of justice -in the county in which the mortgage was recorded, and the absence of -their officials, this release could not at that time be duly registered -nor the original paper marked satisfied. Therefore the party of the -first part hereunto appeared before a local notary-public and -acknowledged the execution of this paper for the purposes therein -contained, the reasons for its non-registration, and the lack of the -return of the promissory notes.</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton took careful heed of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span> notarial seal affixed, and -the names of five witnesses who subscribed for added security.</p> - -<p>“Every man of them dead these forty-odd years and both the principals,” -he commented, lugubriously.</p> - -<p>“Great period for mortality, the late unpleasantness,” jeered -Floyd-Rosney. With a debonair manner he was lighting a cigar, and he -held it up with an inquiring smile at the tousled Hildegarde on the sill -of the bow-window, her dilated blue eyes absorbed and expressive as she -listened. She gave him a hasty and transient glance of permission to -smoke in her presence and once more lapsed into deep gravity and -brooding attention.</p> - -<p>The incident was an apt example of the power of Fate. With the best -mutual faith, with one mind and intention on the part of both principals -in the procedure, with every precaution that the circumstances would -admit, with the return of the original deed of trust, with a -multiplicity of witnesses to the execution of the quit-claim and -release, which would seem to preclude the possibility of misadventure, -the whole was nullified by the perverse sequence of events. The papers -were lost, and not one human being participating in the transaction -remained to tell the tale. The solemn farce of the processes of the -courts was enacted, as if the debt was still unsatisfied, and the -rightful owner was ejected from the lands of his ancestors.</p> - -<p>“But for the casual recollection of your father, Julian Ducie, who was a -child at the time his mother quitted Duciehurst, and this box of -valuables was hidden here to await her return, there would not have been -so much as a tradition of the satisfaction<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> of this mortgage,” Colonel -Kenwynton remarked in a sort of dismay.</p> - -<p>“I have often heard my father describe the events of that night, the -examination of my grandfather’s desk by my Uncle Archie and Captain -Treherne, and their discussion of the relative importance of the papers -and valuables they selected and packed in this box; one of the papers -they declared was in effect the title to the whole property. He was a -little fellow at the time, and watched and listened with all a child’s -curiosity. But he did not know where they hid the box at last, although -he was aware of their purpose of concealment, and, indeed, he was not -certain that it was not carried off with the party finally to Arkansas, -his uncle, Archie, and Captain Hugh Treherne rowing the skiff in which -he and his mother crossed to the other side.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-h, <i>Captain Hugh Treherne</i>”—Colonel Kenwynton echoed the name with -a bated voice and a strange emphasis. He had a fleeting vision of that -wild night on the sand-bar, all a confused effect of mighty motion, the -rush of the wind, the rout of the stormy clouds, the race of the surging -river, and overhead a swift skulking moon, a fugitive, furtive thing, -behind the shattered cumulose densities of the sky. He started to speak, -then desisted. It was strange to be conjured so earnestly to right this -wrong, to find this treasure, to visit this spot, and within forty-eight -hours in the jugglery of chance to be transported hither and the -discovery accomplished through no agency of his, no revelation of the -secret he had promised to keep.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Captain Hugh Treherne,” assented Ducie. “He was known to have been -severely wounded toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> the end of the war, and as he could never -afterward be located it is supposed he died of his injuries. Every -effort to find him was made to secure his testimony in the action for -the foreclosure of the mortgage.”</p> - -<p>“But he was not dead,” said Paula, unexpectedly. “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Captain Treherne,’ -that’s the very name.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Paula,” exclaimed Floyd-Rosney, astounded. “What do you mean? You -know absolutely nothing of the matter.”</p> - -<p>“The robbers spoke of him,” she said, confusedly. “I overheard them.” -Then with more assurance: “They derived their information from him as to -the hiding-place. That’s how I found it out. Not that he disclosed it -intentionally. They spoke as if—as if he were not altogether sane. They -said that he could not remember. But in his sleep he talked ‘as straight -as a string.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, stuff and nonsense! You heard no such thing!” exclaimed -Floyd-Rosney. “You are as crazy as he can possibly be.”</p> - -<p>The ridicule stimulated self-justification, even while it abashed her, -for every eye was fixed upon her. Colonel Kenwynton looked at once -eager, anxious, yet wincing, as one who shrinks from a knife.</p> - -<p>“They did not understand the meaning of his sleeping words,” Paula -persisted. “He spoke of pillar and base and pilaster and capital——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh,” exclaimed Floyd-Rosney, in derision.</p> - -<p>Paula had the concentrated look of seeking to shake off this -embarrassment of her mental progress and to keep straight upon a -definite trend. “They spoke, indeed, as if they had Captain Treherne in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> -reach somewhere,—I wish I had remembered to mention this earlier,—as -if he were to be forced to further disclosures if they should fail to -find the treasure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is too preposterous,” cried Floyd-Rosney, rising. He threw -away the stump of his cigar into the old and broken fireplace. “I must -beg of you, Paula, for my credit if not your own, to desist from making -a spectacle of yourself.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton lifted a wrinkled and trembling hand in protest. “I -ask your pardon; Mrs. Floyd-Rosney will do no one discredit. I must hear -what she has to say of this. The gentleman is my dear, dear friend. I -had lost sight of him for years.” Then turning toward Paula: “Did I -understand you to say, madam, that they spoke as if he were in their -power?”</p> - -<p>The old man was gasping and his agitation frightened Paula. Her face had -grown ghastly pale. Her eyes were wide and startled. “I wonder that I -did not think of it earlier,” she said, contritely. “But it did not -impress me as real, as the actual fact, I was so excited and alarmed. I -remember now that they said they had gagged him,—I don’t know where he -was, but they spoke as if he were near and they could produce him and -force him to point out the spot. They had ‘brought him down,’—that was -their expression,—for this purpose. Did they mean,—do you suppose,—he -could have been near, in this house?”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton rose, the picture of despair.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands and wringing them hard. -“That man saved my life at the risk of his own. And if, by blindness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span> -and folly, I have failed him at his utmost need, may God do as much to -me and more when I call from out of the deep. The lamp! The lamp! Bring -the lamp! Search the house—the grounds!”</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne had endured many hours of duress, of the torture of -bonds and constraint, of dread, of cold, of hunger, but the terror of -ultimate doom filled his heart when he heard the approach of roving -footsteps, the sound of voices unnaturally loud and resonant, echoing -through the bare rooms, when he saw a flickering glimmer of yellow light -wavering on the ceiling but lost presently in gloom as the party -wandered hither and thither through the vacant place. The miscreants who -had overpowered and bound him were returning, he thought. In the -impaired mental condition from which he had so long suffered, one of his -great sorrows lay in his incapacity at times to differentiate the fact -from hallucination. He could not be sure that the whole scene of ghastly -violence through which he had passed was not one of the pitiable -illusions of his mania, and he lay here bound and gagged and famished as -treatment designed to mend his mental health. He sought to recall the -aspect of the men who, as perhaps he fancied had brought him here,—his -flesh crept with repulsion at the thought of them. One had the rolling -walk of a sailor. Another was garbed like a jockey,—some brain-cell had -perchance retained this image from the old half-forgotten associations -of the race course. So much of the jargon of pathology he had picked up -in his melancholy immurement in the sanatorium. But these impressions -were so definite, so lifelike that if they should prove illusory and -this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span> experience another seizure of his malady it was worse than those -that had beset him hitherto, when he had often had a lurking doubt of -their reality, even while he had acted as if they were demonstrable -fact. It was a terrible thing to harbor such strange discordant fancies. -He remembered that during the day, he could not be sure of the time, he -awoke from a sleep or swoon to find himself here (or, perchance, he had -dreamed), bound and gagged, and the great rough figure of a gigantic -negro standing in the doorway of the room gazing upon him with an -expression of stupid dismay, and then of horrified fright. The negro -disappeared suddenly,—many of the images present to the diseased brain -of Captain Treherne were subject to these abrupt withdrawals. Afterward -he saw, or, as he stipulated within himself, he thought he saw, through -an open door, this swart apparition again, chasing and beating with a -boat-hook a large white owl. Now and then, throughout the afternoon, he -imagined he heard sounds, faint, distant; footsteps, voices and again -silence. Deep into the weary night the hapless prisoner watched the -moonlight trace the outline of the leafless vines outside upon the -ceiling and wall. This was the only impression of which he was certain. -He could not be sure what this seeming approach might mean; whether a -fact, direful and dangerous, to which the helpless must needs submit; or -whether a fantasy of merely seeming menace.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a voice—resonant, yet with a falling cadence; hearty and -whole-souled, yet quavering with trouble. “Hugh Treherne! Hugh -Treherne!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span> it was calling, and a thousand echoes in the bare and -ruinous building duplicated the sound.</p> - -<p>A rush of confidence sent the blood surging through the veins of Captain -Treherne, almost congested with the pressure of the cords. He gave a -start that might have dislocated every bone in his body, yet the bonds -held fast. He could not stir. He could not reply. He had recognized the -voice of Colonel Kenwynton, his old commander,—he felt that he could -take his oath to the reality of this fact. There were other -voices,—many foot-falls; it was a searching party with lights, with -arms,—he heard the familiar metallic click as one of the men cocked a -revolver. But what was this? They were taking the wrong turn in the maze -of empty apartments; the steps of their progress had begun to recede, -sounding farther and farther away; their voices died in the distance; -the light had faded from the wall.</p> - -<p>He thought afterward that in the intensity of his emotions he must have -fainted. There was a long gap in his consciousness. Then he saw a -well-remembered face bending over him, but oh, so changed, so venerable. -He knew every tone of the voice calling his name, amidst sobs, “Oh, -Hugh, my dear, dear boy!” He felt the eager hands of younger, strong men -deftly loosening the bonds, and the sound of their voices in muttered -imprecations, not loud but deep, filled him with a surging sense of -sweet sympathy. It was swearing, doubtless, but the sentiment that -prompted it was pious. It is not of record that the good Samaritan swore -at the thieves, but it is submitted that, in the fervor of altruism, he -might have done so with great<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> propriety. Treherne felt the taste of -brandy within his aching jaws. These profane wights were lifting him -with a tenderness that might have befitted the tendance of a sick -infant. He could not restrain the tears that were coursing down his -cheeks, although he had no grief,—he was glad,—glad! for now and again -Colonel Kenwynton caught his hand in his cordial grasp and pressed it to -his breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Day</span> was breaking. The luster of the moon had failed. Gaunt and grisly -the old ruin began to increase in visibility. The full, gray, prosaic -light emphasized details, whether of workmanship or wreck, which the -silver beams had been inadequate to show. It was difficult to say if the -fine points of ornamentation had the more melancholy suggestion in the -wanton spoliation where they were within easy reach, or in those heights -and sequestered nooks where distance had saved them from the hand of the -vandal. The lapse of time itself had wrought but scant deterioration. -The tints of the fresco of ceilings and borders were of pristine -delicacy and freshness in those rooms where the destroyed hearths had -prevented fires and precluded smoke, save that here and there a cobweb -had veiled a corner, or a space had gathered mildew from exposure to a -shattered window, or a trickling leak had delineated the trace of the -falling drops down the decorated wall.</p> - -<p>All exemplified the taste of an earlier period, and where paper had been -used in great pictorial designs it fared more hardly than had the -painting. The vicissitudes of the voyage of Telemachus, portrayed in the -hall, were supplemented by unwritten disaster. His bark tossed upon seas -riven in gaps and hanging in tatters. The pleasant land where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span> he and -his instructive companion met the Island goddess and her train of -nymphs, laden with flowers and fruit for their delectation, was -cataclysmal with torrential rains and broken abysses. The filial -adventurer was flung from the storied cliffs into a Nirvana of blank -plaster.</p> - -<p>It had required some muscular force and some mental energy to destroy -the marble mantel-pieces. Here and there bits of the carving still lay -about the floor, the design thus grossly disfigured, showing with -abashed effect above the gaping cavity of the torn-out hearth.</p> - -<p>The up-to-date man with his glass in his eye, one hand always ready to -readjust it, the fingers lightly slipped into the pocket of his -trousers, his attitude a trifle canted forward after the manner of the -critical connoisseur, was going about, exploring, discriminating and -bemoaning. Now and again he was joined by one of his fellow-passengers, -who stood with his hat on the back of his head, and gazed with blank, -unresponsive eyes, and listened in uncomprehending silence. The interior -decoration of the old house represented several periods. The salient -fact of wreck and ruin was apparent, however, to the most limited -discernment, and the knots of refugees from the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> -discussed its woeful condition as they wandered restlessly about. They -expressed a doubt whether repair would not cost more than the house was -worth, argued on the legal effect of the belated discovery of the -quit-claim papers, and contemned the spirit of the men in possession in -the last forty years to allow so fine a thing in itself to fall into -such a desperate condition, while the lands appurtenant were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span> worked to -the extremest capacity of money-making. There was a disposition to -deduce from the fact a suspicion on the part of the holders that their -title was vulnerable, and a sordid desire to make the most possible out -of the property while it was still in possession. It was always -Floyd-Rosney’s fate to be in a measure justified of circumstances, yet -to seem at fault. The question of mesne profits in case of the recovery -of property did not suggest itself for some time, and when it did arise -it was submitted that mesne profits were mighty hard to get and often -could not be made from the interloper.</p> - -<p>“They can make the money out of Floyd-Rosney, though,—he has got money -to burn. For one, I don’t care if he does lose. It would be outrageous -for him to defend the suit for recovery and plead the statute of -limitations,” said the fat man, who did not mince his opinions.</p> - -<p>“But he may win out,” said the broker. “Possession is nine-tenths of the -law,—and for forty years under a decree of the Chancery court.”</p> - -<p>“Forty thousand years would do him no good in the face of that release,” -protested another. “It was wrongful possession from the beginning. -Floyd-Rosney is a trespasser here and nothing more.”</p> - -<p>“But can you call a man a ‘trespasser’ who holds under color of title? -His is an adverse possession,” argued the broker.</p> - -<p>And the wrangle began anew with revived spirit. It was well, perhaps, -that the refugees had a subject of discussion so charged with immediate -and general interest, since they had no resource but to roam the old -place until breakfast should be announced. After this meal they would -resume their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span> fitful wanderings till a boat should be sighted. They had -turned out of their comfortable quarters when Captain Treherne had been -brought to the restricted inhabited space of the old building, -relinquishing the shake-down and the fire to him and his special -ministrants.</p> - -<p>Now and again a speculation concerning breakfast agitated the group of -men, and one venturesome spirit made a journey down the quaking old rear -verandah to the kitchen, stepping over gaps where the flooring had been -torn up for fuel and walking the rotting sills when the hiatus was too -wide to be leaped. His errand to expedite breakfast was, apparently, -without result.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sah,” said the waiter-cook, into whose gloomy soul morning had yet -cast no illuminating ray. “I gwine ter dish up when de breakfast is -cooked,—nuver knowed you wanted it raw. Cap’n nuver treated me -right,—no range, no cook-fixin’s,—nuthin’—an’ breakfast expected to -be smokin’ on de table ’fore de fog is off de river. Naw, Sah,—ef you -kin cook it any quicker, why cook it yourself, Sah. I ain’t got no -dijections to your cookin’ it.”</p> - -<p>Upon his return from his tour of discovery, being earnestly interrogated -as to the prospects by his fellow-refugees, the gentleman gave this sage -advice: “If you don’t want to have to knock an impudent nigger down you -will stay here and eat breakfast when he has a mind to serve it.”</p> - -<p>The fog clung to the face of the river. It stood blank and white at the -great portal of the house, and sifted through the shattered windows, and -silence dominated it. One felt infinitely removed from all the affairs -of life. The world was not even a neighbor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span> Time seemed annihilated. It -could not be that yesterday, at this hour, they stood on the stanch deck -of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, or that only the week before they trod the -streets of Memphis, or Vicksburg, or Helena. That white pall seemed to -shut off all the possibilities of life, and there was a sort of shock, -as of a revulsion of nature, when there came through this flocculent -density the sound of a horse’s hoofs on the graveled drive, and then, on -the portico, the ponderous measured tread of a man of weight and bulk.</p> - -<p>He was in the hall before the group was aware of his entrance. Hale and -strong, although of advanced years, well dressed in a sober fashion, -grave, circumspect, reticent of manner, he had turned toward the second -door before a word of his intent could be asked. A gesture had answered -his inquiry for Captain Hugh Treherne. He entered, without knocking, and -the door closed on silence. The group in the hall stared at one another, -aware, in some subtle way, of a crisis which the simple facts did not -explain.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a wild cry of defiance rose from within,—a quivering, aged -voice full of rancor and of rage.</p> - -<p>“I will resist to the death,—begone, begone, sir, before I do you a -mischief.”</p> - -<p>It was the voice of Colonel Kenwynton, furious, fierce, beyond -placation, beyond argument, beyond self-control.</p> - -<p>A murmur of remonstrance rose for a moment. Then the group outside -followed the example of the stranger and, without ceremony, burst in at -the door.</p> - -<p>The stranger stood in quiet composure with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span> back to the fire while -the old Colonel, his bushy white eyebrows bent above eyes that flashed -all the lightnings of his youth, waved his hand toward the door, -exclaiming with an intonation of contempt that must have scathed the -most indurated sensibilities, “Begone, sir,—out of the door, if you -like, or I will throw you out of the window.” He stamped his foot as if -to intimidate a cur. “Begone! Rid us of your intolerable presence.”</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne, who had lain all the early morning hours on the rugs -and blankets on the floor, seeking to recuperate from his terrible -experience of constraint, had arisen with an alertness scarcely to be -expected. He laid a restraining hand on the old man’s arm. Colonel -Kenwynton placed his own trembling hand over it.</p> - -<p>“Captain Treherne is among his friends who will revenge it dearly if you -attempt the least injury. Insane! He is most obviously, most absolutely -sane, and on that fact I will stake my soul’s salvation. Any attempt at -his incarceration,—you despicable trickster, I have no doubt you turn -your penny out of this burial alive,—before God, sir, I’ll make you rue -it. I will publish you throughout the length and the breadth of the -land, and I will beat you with this stick within an inch of your life.”</p> - -<p>He brandished his heavy cane, and, despite his age and his depleted -strength, he was a most formidable figure as he advanced. Once more -Treherne caught at his arm. So tense were its muscles that he could not -pull it down, but he hung upon it with all his weight.</p> - -<p>The stranger eyed Colonel Kenwynton with the utmost calm, a placidity -devoid alike of fear and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span> of the perception of offense. He spoke in a -quiet, level tone, with an undercurrent of gentle urgency.</p> - -<p>“Sane or insane, Hugh Treherne never intentionally deceived a friend,” -he remarked composedly. “Tell him the facts, Captain Treherne,—he -deserves to know them.”</p> - -<p>He met at the moment Treherne’s eye. A long look passed between them,—a -terrible look, fraught with some deep mystery, of ghastly intendment, -overwhelming, significant, common to both, which neither would ever -reveal. There was in it something so nerve-thrilling, so daunting, that -Colonel Kenwynton’s bold, bluff spirit revolted.</p> - -<p>“None of your hypnotism here!” he cried, again brandishing his stick. “I -will not stand by and see you seek to subjugate this man’s mind with -your subtle arts. So much as cast your evil eye upon him again and I -will make you swallow a pistol-ball and call it piety. (Where is that -damned revolver of mine?)” He clapped his hand vainly to his -pistol-pocket.</p> - -<p>“Hugh,” the stranger’s tone was even more gently coercive than before. -“Tell him, Hugh. He is not a man to delude.”</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” cried Treherne, still hanging on the old man’s arm, “this -gentleman means me nothing but kindness. He would not,—he could -not,—why, don’t you know he was a surgeon in the Stones’ River -campaign? For old sake’s sake he would do me no harm.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton himself looked far from the normal, his white hair -blowsing about his face, fiery red, his blue eyes blazing with a bluer -flame, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span> muscles knotted and standing out as he clutched his stick -and brandished it.</p> - -<p>“I don’t care if he was commander-in-chief, he shall not mesmerize you, -if that is what he calls his damnable tricks. Hugh,—forty years! Oh, my -dear boy, that I should have lost sight of you for forty years, what -with my debts, and my worries, and my shifts to keep a whole roof over -my head, and a whole coat on my back. Forty years,—I thought you were -dead. I had been told you were dead,—that is your Cousin Thomas’s -work,—I’ll haul <i>him</i> over the coals. And you as sane as I am all the -time! Begone, sir!” and once more he waved his stick at the stranger. “I -will see to it that every process known to the law is exhausted on you! -The vials of wrath shall be emptied! Oh, it is too late for apology, for -repentance, for sniveling!”</p> - -<p>For still the stranger’s manner was mild and gravely conciliatory. “Oh, -Hugh,” he said reproachfully, “why don’t you tell him?”</p> - -<p>Once more their glances met.</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” said Treherne falteringly, “I am not sane. I admit it.”</p> - -<p>“I know better,” Colonel Kenwynton vociferated, facing around upon him. -“You are as sane as I am, as any man. This is hypnotism. I saw how that -fellow looked at you. I marked him well. Why, sanity is in your every -intonation.”</p> - -<p>Treherne took heart of grace. “But, Colonel, this is a lucid interval. -Sometimes I am not myself,—in fact, for many years I was <i>absent</i>.” He -used the euphemism with a downcast air, as if he could not brook a -plainer phrase. Then, visibly bracing himself, “It was the effects of -the old wound,—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span> sabre cut on the skull. It injured the brain. I -have persuasions—obsessions.” His words faltered. His eyes dilated. -There was a world of unexpressed meaning in his tone, as he lowered his -voice, scarcely moving his lips. “Sometimes I am possessed by the -Devil.”</p> - -<p>“We will not speak of that to-day,” said the stranger suavely.</p> - -<p>“It is impossible!” exclaimed the Colonel dogmatically. “Look at the -facts,—you come to me out on that sand-bar to induce me to aid you in -the search for the Ducie treasure and title papers, their recovery is -due to your effort and, in all probability, the restoration of this -great estate to its rightful owners.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” exclaimed the stranger with intense interest. He look elated, -inordinately elated.</p> - -<p>“And because you had forgotten in the lapse of time—forty years,—the -exact spot where you and Archie Ducie hid the box away, and the wind was -blowing, and the rain imminent, I put it off—like a fool—and these -fiends of river pirates, or gipsies, or what not, got the information -from you when you were asleep,—talking in your sleep.”</p> - -<p>“Subconscious cerebration,” murmured the alienist.</p> - -<p>“And because they did not exactly understand the terms of architecture -you used they brought you down here to force you to point out the spot, -and bound and gagged you,—oh,—Hugh, my heart bleeds for you!”</p> - -<p>“But can’t you think for him a little, Colonel—can’t you advise him? -Forty years of seclusion does not fit a man to cope with the world -without some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span> preparation for the encounter,—he was in danger of his -life, in falling among these thieves. He incurred a jeopardy which I -know he esteems even greater. He is on the verge of a most extraordinary -cure,—in all my experience I have never known its parallel. Any -disastrous chance might yet prevent its completion. Now that he has -accomplished all that he so desired to do, can’t you advise him to go -back with me to treatment, regimen, safety.”</p> - -<p>“Not unless I know what ails him,” said the Colonel stoutly.</p> - -<p>Once more the eyes of Treherne and the stranger met, with that dark and -dreadful secret between them. Colonel Kenwynton appraised the glance and -its subtle significance, and fell to trembling violently.</p> - -<p>“It is something that we cannot mention this day,—this day is clear,” -said the alienist firmly.</p> - -<p>“I cannot go back,—I cannot go back,—and meet it there,” cried -Treherne wildly. “It is waiting for me,—where I have known it so long. -I shall pass the vestibule, perhaps,—but there in the hall”—he paused, -shivering.</p> - -<p>“You see that, as yet, you cannot protect yourself in the world, even -now, when you are as sane as the Colonel. But, for the accident that -brought these people here, you might have been murdered by those -miscreants for the secret hiding-place that had slipped your memory. You -might have been heedlessly left on the floor bound and gagged to die. It -was the merest chance that I happened to think you might be at -Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>Treherne was trembling in every fiber. Cold drops of moisture had -started on his brow. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span> eyes were dilated and quickly glancing, as he -contemplated this obsession to which neither dared to refer openly, lest -the slight bonds that held the mania within bounds, the exhaustion of -the spasm of insanity, called the lucid interval, be overstrained and -snap at once.</p> - -<p>“I believe I would not meet it here, in the world,—away from where it -has been so long,” he said doggedly.</p> - -<p>“What would you do if you should? You might hurt yourself,—and Hugh, -and this you would deplore more, you might injure some one else,” said -the doctor.</p> - -<p>Treherne suddenly turned, throwing his arms about Colonel Kenwynton in a -paroxysm of energy.</p> - -<p>“Colonel, lead the way. Go with me, for I would follow you to hell if -you led the charge. God knows I have done that often enough. Lead the -charge, Colonel!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, come with us, Colonel,” said the alienist cordially,—it could but -seem a sinister sort of hospitality. “We should be delighted to -entertain you for a few days, or, indeed, as long as you will stay. It -is not a public institution, but we have a beautiful place,—haven’t we, -Hugh?—something very extra in the way of conservatories. Hugh has begun -to take much interest in our orchids. It is a good distance, but Mr. -Ducie drove me down here from Caxton with his fast horse in less time -than I could have imagined.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Ducie?” said Adrian Ducie, with a start. “Where is he? Has he -gone?”</p> - -<p>The doctor stared as if he himself had taken leave of his senses. “You -remember,” he said confusedly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span> blending the reminder with an air of -explanation to the group generally, “that when we had that game of -billiards at your hotel in Caxton last evening I asked you a question or -two about the Duciehurst estate; I didn’t like to say much, but your -replies gave me the clew as to where Captain Treherne had gone after his -escape from the Glenrose sanatorium. He had inquired about Duciehurst as -soon as he began to recover his memory, and seemed to recur to the -subject and to brood upon it. The idea stayed with me all night, for I -was very anxious, and about daybreak I took the liberty of rousing you -by telephone to ask if the roads here from Caxton were practicable for a -motor-car. You remember, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>He paused, looking in some surprise at Adrian.</p> - -<p>“You told me,” he continued, “that the roads would be impracticable -after these rains, and as I disclosed the emergency, in my great -perturbation for Captain Treherne’s safety, you offered to drive me -down, as you had an exceptionally speedy horse which you kept for your -easy access from Caxton to the several plantations that you lease in -this vicinity.”</p> - -<p>Captain Treherne, the possession of his faculties as complete at the -moment as if he had never known the aberrations of a mania, listened -with an averse interest and a lowering brow to these details of the -preparations made for his capture and reincarceration. The alienist did -not seem to observe his manner but went on, apparently at haphazard. “I -regretted to put you to so great an inconvenience at this hour, but you -relieved my mind by saying that you knew that Captain Treherne had been -a valued<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span> friend of your uncle’s, and that you not only felt it -incumbent on you to be of any service possible to him, but esteemed it a -privilege.”</p> - -<p>“But where,—where is Randal Ducie now?” asked Adrian, turning hastily -to the door.</p> - -<p>The doctor’s face was a picture of uncomprehending perplexity. “Why, -isn’t this you?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no. It is my brother,” exclaimed Adrian, amidst a burst of laughter -that relieved the tension of the situation. Several followed from the -room to witness, at a distance not very discreet, the meeting of the -facsimile brothers.</p> - -<p>Randal Ducie had hitched the horse and the four-seated phaeton which -they had had the precaution to provide to the old rack, and, awaiting -the return of the physician, had strolled aimlessly up the pavement -through the rolling fog to the steps of the portico. There he was -suddenly confronted by the image of himself. He looked startled for a -moment; then, with a rising flush and a brightening eye, ascended the -flight with an eager step.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” said one brother cavalierly.</p> - -<p>“Hello yourself,” responded the other.</p> - -<p>“Let me show you how the fellows kiss the cheek in old France,” said -Adrian.</p> - -<p>“Let me show you how the fellows punch the head in old Mississippi,” -said Randal.</p> - -<p>There was a momentary scuffle, and then, arm in arm and both near to -tears, they strolled together down the long portico of their ancestral -home with much to say to each other, after their separation, and much to -hear.</p> - -<p>The group of men at the door, looking laughingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span> after them, might -readily have discriminated the moment of the disclosure of the discovery -of the Duciehurst treasure with the release of the mortgage foreclosed -so long ago. Randal paused abruptly, facing round upon his brother and -apparently listening in stunned amaze. They were too distant for words -to be distinguished, but his voice came on the air, loud and excited, in -eager questioning. He was, evidently, about to turn within the house, -possibly to have the evidence of his eyes to the intendment and validity -of this paper, when Adrian, by a gesture, checked him. The fog was -beginning to lift, and the figures of the two men were imposed on a -vista of green, where the sunlight in a delicate clarity after the -rains, in a refined glister of matutinal gold, was beginning to send -long glinting beams among the glossy foliage of the magnolias, and to -light with reverent tapering shafts the solemn aisles of the weeping -willows where the tombstones reared unchanged their mortuary memorials, -unmindful of sheen or shadow, of fair weather or foul, even of time, as -the years came and went, a monition only of death and a prophecy of -eternity.</p> - -<p>“There is one thing I must tell you, Ran,” Adrian said, laying both -hands on his brother’s shoulders.</p> - -<p>Randal threw up his head, excited, expectant, apprehensive.</p> - -<p>“<i>She</i> is here,—one of the passengers of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>.”</p> - -<p>“She?” exclaimed Randal in blank mystification. “Who?”</p> - -<p>Adrian was embarrassed. It seemed as if even an old love could hardly be -of so sluggish a divination,—as if Randal must have probed his -meaning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span> He reflected that it might be some keenly sensitive -consciousness that could not yet bear the open recognition of the facts. -Between them the subject of the sudden jilting had never been mentioned, -save in Randal’s one letter apprising his brother that the engagement -was off, by reason of the lady’s change of mind, which came, indeed, -later than the item in the Paris journals, chronicling news of interest -to Americans sojourning abroad, and giving details of a new betrothal in -a circle of great wealth and position. He himself had never known such -frenzy of emotion, of rage, and humiliation, and compassion, and pride. -The event had racked him with vicarious woe. It had dealt him a wound -that would not heal, but now and again burst into new and undreamed of -phases of anguish. Even yet he shrank from taking her name on his -lips—and to Randal himself, of all people. Yet Randal must be told,—he -must not meet her unaware. The pause of indecision continued so long as -they stood thus, Adrian’s hands on his brother’s shoulders, that -Randal’s eyes dilated with a surprise obviously unaffected. He lifted -his own hands to his brother’s elbows, and thus facing each other he -said: “What of it? I am in a hurry,—I want to see that release. Who is -this ‘she’?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Randal,—it is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,—Paula Majoribanks, that was, -and her husband and child.”</p> - -<p>There was still a pause, blank of significance.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Randal, meditatively, at length, “they won’t like that -quit-claim paper one little bit of a bit.” There was a laugh in his -brilliant hazel eyes, and it touched the finely cut corners of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span> -lips. His fresh face was as joyous, as candid, as full of the tender -affection of this reunion as if no word of a troubled past had been -spoken to jar it.</p> - -<p>Oh, that she should come between them on this day when they were so -close to each other, Adrian reflected, when absence had made each so -dear, when there was so much to say and to do, when separation impended, -and time was so short. He felt that he could hardly endure to have their -mutual pleasure marred, that he could not brook to see Randal abashed in -her presence, and conscious, disconcerted and at a disadvantage before -her husband. Above all, and before all, he winced for Randal’s pain in -the reopening of these poignant old wounds to bleed and ache anew.</p> - -<p>His arms tightened and slipped up from his brother’s shoulders and -around his neck. “Oh, Randal, will it hurt you much?”</p> - -<p>Randal looked grave. “A lawsuit is always a troublesome, long-drawn-out -bother; I shrink from the suspense and the expense. But I am mighty glad -to have the chance to be hurt that way.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I meant will it give you pain to meet Paula again as Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney?”</p> - -<p>“<i>What?</i>” Randal’s hearty young voice rang out with a note of amazement. -“Not a bit. What do you take me for?”</p> - -<p>“I was afraid—you would feel,” faltered Adrian.</p> - -<p>“Is that what’s the matter with you? You look awfully muffish.”</p> - -<p>“Well,—as you loved her once,—I thought——”</p> - -<p>“That was a case of mistaken identity,” said Randal. “Can’t you realize -that it is just because she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span> <i>could</i> prefer another man; that she could -think a thought of change; that her plighted faith could be broken; that -her love,—or what we called love,—could take unto itself wings and fly -away; that she was only an illusion, a delusion, a snare. I never loved -the woman she is.”</p> - -<p>“She is very beautiful,” hesitated Adrian.</p> - -<p>“When I thought her mind and heart matched her face she seemed beautiful -to me, too,” said Randal.</p> - -<p>“You will think so still.”</p> - -<p>“Kid, you know nothing about love. A man truly in love may have been -attracted by beauty, but it is not that which holds him. It is a unity -of soul; he finds a complement of mind; he has a sense of sympathy and, -through thick and thin, a partisan, constant faith in a reciprocal -heart. He gets used to the prettiest face and it makes little impression -on him,—just as he wouldn’t notice, after a time, a fine costume. She -is nothing that I imagined. She is not now, and she never was the ideal -I loved. I don’t regret her. Don’t grieve for me, little boy. And now -will you be so kind as to take those paws off my neck,—you are half -strangling me with your fraternal anxiety. Behold, I will smite you -under the fifth rib.”</p> - -<p>There was once more a brief, boyish scuffle. Then the two turned and -came walking decorously back to the group on the portico. The exterior -aspect of the old ruin had an added majesty by daylight, despite the -more obvious injuries of wreckage. Its fine proportions, the blended -elegance and stateliness of its design, the richness even in the -restraint of its ornamentation, all showed with telling effect, apart -from the wild work within of the marauders.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span> These details the rude -usage it had received could not affect. It might have stood as an -imposing architectural example of a princely residence of the date of -its erection, and it was impossible to gaze upon it with a sense of -possessing it, and feel no glow of gratulation.</p> - -<p>“Why, the item of glass alone would be a corker,” a practical man was -saying, walking backward down the stone pavement and surveying the great -black gaps of the shattered windows.</p> - -<p>The two brothers cast a meaning glance at each other, the discussion, of -which this was obviously a fragment, evidently looked to a -rehabilitation of the mansion under a change of owners, for, certainly, -it would seem that Floyd-Rosney had neither the interest nor the -associations to induce him to set up his staff of rest here. It was only -a straw, but it showed how the wind of opinion set, and the brothers -were in the frame of mind to discern propitious omens. The sun was -bright on the over-grown spaces of the lawn. The Cherokee rose hedge -that divided it from the family graveyard, and continued much further, -had spread with its myriad unpruned sprangles beyond the space designed -for a boundary, growing many feet wide. Beneath the great arch it -described stretched a long tunnel-like arbor, throughout its whole -extent, dark, mystic, in the shadow of its evergreen leaves. By reason -of some natural attraction which quaint nooks have for children, -Marjorie and little Ned had discovered this strange passageway, and were -running in and out of the darksome space, with their shrilly sweet cries -of pretended fright and real excitement, each time venturing a little -farther than<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span> before. The mists had lifted from the river, which spread -a broad, rippling surface of burnished copper in the sunshine under an -azure sky. There was no sign of approaching craft, no curl of smoke -above the woods beyond the point to herald deliverance by a steamboat. -One of the old ladies had established herself on her suitcase on the -topmost step of the flight from the portico, and it would, indeed, have -been a swift steamer that could have escaped her vigilance and passed -without being signaled.</p> - -<p>Adrian paused good-naturedly. “You need give yourself no uneasiness, -madam,—it will require half an hour’s time at least for a steamboat to -pass this place from the moment that she is sighted,” he said, in polite -commiseration.</p> - -<p>But the old lady sat tight. “They tell me there is a crazy man in -there,” she declared lugubriously. She would leave by the first -opportunity.</p> - -<p>“He is going presently in a phaeton across the country,” Adrian -explained. “There is no possible danger from him, however,—he has only -occasional attacks. He is perfectly at himself to-day. But he will not -be going on the boat.” This remark was unlucky, as it increased her -anxiety to embark.</p> - -<p>Randal had lifted his hat after a moment’s pause, and passed on without -his brother. He hesitated, looked back, then entered the vestibule, and -came suddenly face to face with Paula.</p> - -<p>It had been five years since they had met and then it was as lovers. She -had not dreamed of seeing him here. She thought him ten miles away at -Caxton. She had never been more brilliantly, more delicately beautiful. -Her burnished redundant hair that was wont to resemble gold, and to seem -so elaborately<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span> tended, had now a luminous fibrous effect at the verges -of the smooth pompadour roll that had been hastily tossed up from her -forehead. She even appeared taller, more slender than usual, since she -wore a clinging gown of princess effect, in one piece, and, obviously, -of matutinal usage, in more conventional surroundings. The flowing -sleeve showed her bare arm from the elbow, exquisitely white and soft. -The V-shaped neck gave to view her delicate snowy throat rising from a -mist of lace. The strange large flower-pattern cast over a ground of -thick sheeny white was an orchid with a gilded verge, and in the mauve -and pearl tones she, too, looked like some rare and radiant bloom. Her -eyes were sweet and expectant—her step swift. She was on her way to -call back the child. She paused suddenly, dumfounded, disconcerted, -confronted with the past.</p> - -<p>She recognized Randal in one instant, despite his resemblance to his -brother, and for her life she could not command her countenance. It was -alternately red and white in the same moment. She felt that his -confusion would heighten hers, yet she could not forgive his composure, -his well-bred, graceful, gracious manner, his clear, vibrant, assured -voice when he exclaimed, holding out his hand: “Mrs. Floyd-Rosney—this -is an unexpected pleasure. I have this moment heard that you are here. -Is that your husband?” For Floyd-Rosney had just issued from the -dining-room and was advancing down the hall toward her with an -unmistakable, connubial frown. “Will you kindly present me?”</p> - -<p>It seemed for a moment as if Floyd-Rosney had never heard of the simple -ceremony of an introduction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span> Paula could not secure and hold his -attention. He passed Randal over with a casual, unnoting glance, and -began to take her to task in no measured terms.</p> - -<p>“Why do you allow the child to chase back and forth in that dark tunnel -under the Cherokee rose hedge? He will be scratched to pieces by the -briars, the first thing you know. Why is he with that madcap tom-boy, -Marjorie Ashley? Where is his nurse, anyhow?”</p> - -<p>“Why, she is completely knocked out by the fatigue and excitements,—she -is quite old, you remember,” said Paula meekly, seeking to stem his tide -of words. “I was just coming out to play nurse myself. But stop a -minute. I want to——”</p> - -<p>“I won’t stop a minute,—I don’t care what you want,”—her aspect -suddenly seemed to strike his attention. “And why do you trick yourself -out in such duds at such a time?”</p> - -<p>“Because this is so easy to put on,—and I had to dress the baby,” Paula -was near to tears. “But I want to——” she mended the phrase,—“This is -Mr. Ducie; he wishes to meet you.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney turned his imperious gaze on Ducie with a most unperceiving -effect. “Why, of course, I know it is Mr. Ducie,—have you taken leave -of your senses, Paula? Mr. Ducie and I have seen enough of each other on -this trip to last us the rest of our natural existence. I can’t talk to -you now, Mr. Ducie,—if you have anything to say to me you can -communicate it to my lawyers; I will give you their address.”</p> - -<p>“It is not business. It is an introduction,” explained Paula, in the -extremity of confusion, while<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span> Randal, placid and impassive, looked on -inscrutably. “Mr. Ducie wishes to make your acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he has got it,—if that is any boon,” Floyd-Rosney stared at her, -stupefied.</p> - -<p>“But this is the brother,—Mr. Randal Ducie,—the one you have never -met.” In Paula’s haste to elude her husband’s impatient interruption she -could scarcely speak. Her mouth was full of words, but they tripped and -fell over each other in her agitation with slips and grotesque -mispronunciations.</p> - -<p>“Hoh!” said Floyd-Rosney, permitting himself to be enlightened at last. -“Why this thing of twin brothers is no end of a farce.” He shook hands -with Randal with some show of conventionality. He, too, was mindful of -the past. But so impatient was his temperament with aught that did not -suit his play that he was disposed to cavil on the probabilities. “Are -you sure,”—then he paused.</p> - -<p>“That I am myself,—reasonably sure,” said Randal, laughing. And now -that Adrian was coming in at the door Floyd-Rosney surveyed them both as -they stood together with a sort of disaffected but covert arrogance.</p> - -<p>“Well—I can see no sort of difference,” he declared.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the difference is very obvious,” said Paula, struggling to assert -her individuality.</p> - -<p>“I should thank no man for taking the liberty of looking so much like -me,” said Floyd-Rosney, seeking to compass a casual remark. Indeed, but -for the pressure of old associations, the necessity of taking into -consideration the impression made upon the by-standers, all conversant, -doubtless, with the former relations of the parties, for several -passersby<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span> had paused, attracted by the opportunity for the comparison -of the twins side by side, Floyd-Rosney would have dismissed the Messrs. -Ducie and their duplicate countenance with a mere word.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t expect we should keep up the resemblance,” remarked Adrian. -“While I was abroad I did not know what Randal was getting to look like, -and, therefore, I didn’t know which way to look myself. But now that we -are together we each have the advantage of a model.”</p> - -<p>The broker seemed to gravely ponder this strange statement, the others -laughed, and Paula saw her opportunity to terminate the <i>contretemps</i>. -“I’ll call the baby in,” she said, and slipped deftly past and out into -the sunshine.</p> - -<p>Paula’s instinct was to remove the cause of her husband’s irritation, -not because she valued Floyd-Rosney’s peace of mind or hoped to -reinstate his pose of dignity. But she could not adjust herself to her -habitual humility with him in Randal Ducie’s presence,—to listen to his -instruction, to accept his rebukes, to obey his commands, to laugh at -his vague and infrequent jests, to play the abased jackal to his lion. -She would efface herself; she would be null; she would do naught to -bring down wrath on her devoted head,—but beyond this her strength was -inadequate. So she hustled the two children into the house and up the -stairs, and out of the great front windows of the hall where she told -them to stand on the balcony above the heads of the group below and -watch for the appearance of a boat.</p> - -<p>Now and then their sweet, reedy tones floated down as they conversed -with each other at the extreme limit of their vocal pitch, breaking, -occasionally,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span> into peals of laughter. Their steps sounded like the -tread of half a dozen pairs of feet, so rapidly and erratically they ran -back and forth. At intervals they paused and stood at the iron -balustrade, surveying the scene from every point of view, up the river -and down the river, and again across, in the zealous discharge of their -delegated duty to watch for a boat. Below reigned that luxurious sense -of quiet which ensues on the cessation of a turbulent commotion. Groups -strolled to and fro on the portico, or found seats on the broad stone -sills of the windows that opened upon it. Paula, in her white and lilac -floriated house-dress, walked a little apart, pausing occasionally and -glancing up to caution the two children on the balcony to be wary how -they leaned their weight on the grillwork of the iron balustrade, as -some rivet might be rusted and weakened.</p> - -<p>Hildegarde had found her rough gray suit impracticable because of the -drenching rains of yesterday and was freshly arrayed in a very chic -street costume of royal blue broadcloth, trimmed with bands of -chinchilla fur, with a muff and hat to match. She was standing near a -window, on the sill of which the Major, wrapped in a rug and his -overcoat, was ensconced, having been brought forth for a breath of air. -He had a whimsical look of discovery on his pallid and wrinkled face. -She was recalling to him a world which he had forgotten so long ago that -it had all the flavor of a new existence.</p> - -<p>“I can’t give you any idea of the scenery <i>en route</i>, Major,”—she was -describing a trip to the far west,—“in fact I slept the whole way. You -see, my social duties were very onerous last spring. Our club had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span> -determined to give twelve dinner dances during the season, and the -weather became hot unusually early, and so many people were leaving town -that as we were pledged to twelve we were compelled to give four of the -dinner dances during the last week and my head was in a whirl. There was -the Adelantado ball, too, and several very elaborate luncheons, and two -or three teas every afternoon, and what between the indigestion and the -two-step lumbago I was in a state of collapse on the journey west.”</p> - -<p>“That was a novel campaign,” remarked the old soldier.</p> - -<p>“It was a forced march,” declared Hildegarde. “I didn’t revive until I -heard dance music again in the Golden City. Let me prop your head up -against the window frame on my muff, Major. Oh, yes, it is very -pretty,—all soft gray and white.” She made a point of describing -everything in detail for his sightless vision. “You might get a nap in -this fresh air,—for it is a ‘pillow muff.’ Yes, indeed,” watching his -trembling fingers explore its soft densities, “it is very fine, but I -won’t mention the awful sum it cost my daddy lest such a conscienceless -pillow give you the nightmare.”</p> - -<p>The air had all that bland luxurious quality so characteristic of the -southern autumn. A sense was rife in the sunlit spaces of a suspension -of effort. The growths of the year were complete; the inception of the -new was not yet in progress. No root stirred; there was never a drop of -sap distilled; not a twig felt the impetus of bourgeonning anew. Naught -was apposite to the season save some languorous dream, too delicate, too -elusive even for memory. It touched the lissome grace of the -willow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span>-wands, bare and silvery and flickering in the imperceptible -zephyrs. It lay, swooning with sweetness, in the heart of a late rose -which found the changing world yet so kind that not a petal wilted in -fear of frost. It silvered the mists and held them shimmering and -spellbound here and there above the shining pearl-tinted water. It was -not summer, to be sure, but the apotheosis of the departing season. -Those far gates of the skies were opening to receive the winged past, -and, surely, some bright reflection of a supernal day had fallen most -graciously on all the land.</p> - -<p>“For my part, since that deal is over and done with by this time, I -don’t care how long I have to wait for a boat,—it can neither mar nor -make so far as I am concerned,” said the broker, as he puffed his cigar -and walked with long, meditative strides up and down the stone pavement.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney did not concur in this view. He had expected all the early -hours that some of the neighboring negroes would come to the house, -attracted by the rumors of the commotions enacted there during the -night. Thus he could hire a messenger to take a note or a telephone -message to the nearest livery establishment and secure a conveyance for -himself and family to the railroad station some ten miles distant. He -feared that hours, nay a day or so, might elapse before one of the -regular packets plying the river might be expected to pass. Those -already in transit had, doubtless, “tied up” during the storm, and now -waited till the current should compass the clearance of the débris of -the hurricane floating down the river. The steamers advertised to leave -on their regular dates had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span> cast off, in all probability, but lay -supine in their allotted berths till the effects of the storm should be -past, and thus would not be due here for twelve or twenty-four hours, -according to the distance of their point of departure.</p> - -<p>As, however, time went on and the old house stood all solitary in the -gay morning light as it had in the sad moon-tide, Floyd-Rosney reflected -that no one had gone forth from the place except the robbers and the -roustabouts who had rowed the party down from the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, -returning thither immediately. It was, therefore, improbable that any -rumor was rife of the temporary occupation of the Duciehurst mansion. -Hence the absence of curiosity seekers. Moreover, even were the -circumstances known, every human creature in the vicinity with the -capacity to stand on its feet and open and close its fingers was in the -cotton fields this day, for the sun’s rays had already sufficiently -dried off the plant, and the industry of cotton-picking, even more than -time and tide, waits for nobody. For “cotton is money,—maybe more, -maybe less, but cotton is money <i>every time</i>,” according to the old -saying. These snowy level fields were rich with coin of the republic. -The growing staple was visible wealth, scarcely needing the transmuting -touch of trade. No! of all the wights whom he might least expect to see -it was any cotton-picker, old or young, of the region.</p> - -<p>There being, evidently, no chance of a messenger, he had half a mind, as -his impatience of the detention increased, to go himself in search of -means of telephonic communication. But, apart from his spirit of leisure -and his habit of ease, his prejudices<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span> were dainty, and he looked upon -the miry richness of the Mississippi soil as if it were insurmountable. -To be sure, now and again he affected a day of sylvan sport, when, with -dog and gun, he cared as little as might be for mud, or rain, or sleet, -or snow; but then, he was caparisoned as a Nimrod, and burrs and briers, -stains and adhesive mire, were all the necessary accessories, and of no -consideration. In his metropolitan attire to step out knee deep in a -soil made up of river detritus, the depth and blackness of which are the -boast and glory of the cotton belt, was scarcely to be contemplated if -an alternative was possible.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a cry smote the air with electrical effect. “A boat! A boat!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> auspicious announcement came first from the balcony. Then the cry “A -boat! A boat!” was taken up by the group on the portico, and echoed by -those within, pouring out in eager expectation through the vestibule or -the windows that opened to the floor. Floyd-Rosney experienced a moment -of self-gratulation on his prudential hesitation. He might have -otherwise been half a mile off, plunging through slough and switch-cane, -or the sharp serrated blades of the growths of saw-grass that edged the -lake, before he could gain the smooth ways of the turn-rows of the -cotton fields. All knew that considerable time must needs elapse from -the moment the boat was sighted, far up the river, before it could pass -this point. But shawls were strapped, gloves, wraps, hats, gathered -together, toilet articles tumbled hastily into Gladstone bags, trunks -and suitcases. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with incomparable quickness, had -shifted into a gown of taupe cloth, with a coat to match, and with a -large hat, trimmed with ostrich plumes of the same shade, on her golden -hair, in lieu of the rain-drenched traveling attire of yesterday.</p> - -<p>After a few moments of this pandemonium of preparation all eyes were -turned toward the river. Vacant it was, sunlit, a certain play of the -swift current betokening the added impetus of the recent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span> heavy rainfall -and the influx of its swollen tributaries from the region to the -northward. Not even a coil of smoke showed above the forest where the -river curved.</p> - -<p>“The packet must be rounding the point,” said Floyd-Rosney hopefully.</p> - -<p>“Did you see the smoke above the trees, darling?” Paula called out to -the eager little man, now racing joyfully about the balcony, now pausing -to point at an object in the offing with his tiny forefinger.</p> - -<p>“No, mamma; the boat; the boat!”</p> - -<p>Marjorie, leaning on the iron rail, was gazing with eager eyes in vain -search.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that we ought to be able to see the boat from the -portico as soon as he can from the balcony,” said the broker.</p> - -<p>An adequate reason was presently presented for the advantage of the -balcony as an outlook, lifted so high above the portico.</p> - -<p>The boat lay very flat on the surface,—a shanty-boat!</p> - -<p>“Why, Eddie,” cried Marjorie, with an inflection of poignant -disappointment,—she, too, had been looking for the towering chimneys, -the coil of black smoke, backward blown in the smooth progress of a -packet, the white guards, the natty little pilot-house, and only -casually she had chanced to descry the tiny flat object drifting with -the current that carried it far in toward the point. “That is a -shanty-boat,—we don’t travel on that kind of boat.”</p> - -<p>The child’s pink and white face was crestfallen in a moment. Language -seemed to fail him as he gazed disconsolate. Then he sought -reassurance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span> “Him <i>is</i> a boat,” he declared with his pointing -forefinger, so small in contrast with the vast spaces he sought to -index. “Him <i>is</i> a boat, <i>ain’t him</i>, mamma?”</p> - -<p>“Him is, indeed, a boat,” cried out Paula. “Never mind,” for little -Ned’s head was drooping, “we shall get a bigger boat presently. And it -was you that saw the first one!”</p> - -<p>“Get him down from there, Paula,” said Floyd-Rosney, greatly -discomposed. “Set him at some other mischief, for God’s sake,—anything -but this.”</p> - -<p>“He is coming now,” she answered, glimpsing the rueful little face -through the balusters of the stairs within, and, presently, the whole -diminutive figure came into view as he descended, always the right foot -first, and only one step at a time, so high were the intervals for his -fat baby legs.</p> - -<p>“The poor child,” Paula suddenly exclaimed, the tears springing. “There -just seems to be no place for him.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney obviously felt the rebuke. He winced for a moment. Then he -justified himself.</p> - -<p>“To have twenty people on the <i>qui vive</i> for a boat and then disappoint -them with that silly prank,—it is out of the question.”</p> - -<p>“It was no prank,—he meant no harm,” said Paula in abashed -discomfiture. “I had told him to watch for a boat merely to keep him out -of the way. I didn’t think to explain that it was to be a steamboat for -us to board.”</p> - -<p>“Then you ought to have more consideration for other people,” -Floyd-Rosney fumed.</p> - -<p>His strong point was scarcely altruism, but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span> probably felt the -misadventure even more sensibly than any of the others, for he was -accustomed to lording it in a fine style and in a fine sphere. There was -no lack of indicia of displeasure among the thwarted travelers as they -strolled in baffled irritation up and down the stone floor of the -portico, and gazed along the glittering river at the slow approach of -the shanty-boat, now drifting as noiselessly and apparently as aimlessly -on the lustrous surface as a sere leaf on a gust of wind, and now, with -its great sweeps, working to keep the current from carrying it in and -grounding it on the bank. The old lady who had entertained fears of the -insane man was both peevishly outspoken and addicted to covert innuendo.</p> - -<p>“I declare it has given me a turn,—I am subject to palpitation.” She -put her hand with a gingerly gesture to the decorous passamenterie on -her chest that outlined her embroidered lawn guimpe. “Shocks are very -bad for any cardiacal affection. Oh, of course,” a wan and wintry smile -at once of acceptance and protest as Paula expressed her vicarious -contrition, “the child didn’t intend any harm, but it only shows the -truth of the old saw that children should be seen and not heard.” She -could not be placated, and she sighed plaintively as she once more sat -down on her suitcase on the steps of the portico.</p> - -<p>The men had less to say, but were of an aspect little less morose. Even -the broker, whose heart had warmed to the sunshine, felt it a hardship -that he should not have the boon at least of knowing how the deal had -gone. A grim laugh, here and there, betokened no merriment and was of -sarcastic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span> intimations that touched the verge of rudeness. The business -interests of more than one were liable to suffer by prolonged absence, -and the ruefulness of disappointment showed in several countenances -erstwhile resolutely cheerful.</p> - -<p>Paula, to escape further disaffected comment, had turned within, -perceiving, at a distance, Hildegarde coming down the hall, gazing -intently on a little forked stick, carried stiffly before her in both -hands, the eyes of a group hard by fixed smilingly upon her mysterious -progress. Randal Ducie suddenly entered from one of the rooms on the -left, where he and his brother had been examining the rescued papers.</p> - -<p>Was it because Paula was so accustomed to the vicarious preëminence -which her husband’s wealth and prominence had conferred upon her that -she should experience a sentiment of revolt upon discerning the surprise -and accession of interest in Randal Ducie’s face as his eyes passed from -her and fixed themselves on Hildegarde—or was it because she still -arrogated instinctively her quondam hold upon his heart? Had she never -consciously loosed it?—or, while he had escaped its coercions, were -they still potential with her? Why should she wince and redden as, with -his hat in his hand, he advanced instantly to meet Miss Dean, who seemed -not to see him and to cavalierly ignore his presence.</p> - -<p>“Why, won’t you speak to me?” he demanded, smiling.</p> - -<p>Her casual glance seemed to pass him over. She was intent upon the -little forked stick. “What do you want me to say to you?” she asked, not -lifting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span> her radiant blue eyes, half glimpsed beneath her lowered black -lashes.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, at least,” replied Randal.</p> - -<p>“How many greetings do you require? Upon my word, the man has forgotten -that he has seen me earlier to-day. I wished you a ‘good morning’ at -that very delectable breakfast table.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that must have been my brother,” said Randal, enlightened. “This is -I, myself, Randal Ducie.”</p> - -<p>“You had better beware how you try your fakes on me. You don’t know what -magic power I have in this little divining-rod. I will tell you -presently to go and look into your strong box and find all your jewels -and gold turned to pebbles, and your title-deeds cinders and blank -paper.”</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Floyd-Rosney unpleasantly. “The blind goddess will -undertake that little transformation.” His imperious temper could -scarcely brook the perception that the coterie regarded the Ducies as -restored to the ownership of their ancient estates, even while he stood -in the hall of the house he held by the decree of the courts.</p> - -<p>But Hildegarde did not hear or heed. Bent on her frivolous fun, she -brushed past Ducie, holding her divining-rod stiffly in her dainty -fingers. Her eyes were alight with laughter as she exclaimed in a voice -agitated with affected excitement, “Oh, it’s turning! It’s turning! I -shall find silver in one more moment. Oh, Major, Major,” she brought the -twig up against the old soldier’s breast. “Here it is—silver—in the -Major’s waistcoat pocket!”</p> - -<p>She fell back against the great newel of the staircase, laughing -ecstatically, while all the idle group<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span> looked on with amused sympathy, -save only the two Floyd-Rosneys. The wife’s face was disconcerted, -almost wry, with the affected smile she sought to maintain, as she -watched Ducie’s glowing expression of admiration, and the husband’s -gravity was of baleful significance as he watched her.</p> - -<p>“I have found silver! I have found silver! Now, Major, stand and -deliver.” As the trembling fingers of the veteran obediently explored -the pocket and produced several bits of money, they were hailed with -acclamations by the discoverer, till she suddenly espied a coin with a -hole in it. “Oh, Major,” she cried, in genuine enthusiasm. “Give me this -dime!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Hildegarde,”—Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s face assumed an expression of -reprehension, but Mrs. Dean only laughed at the childish freak.</p> - -<p>“I will have it,—it won’t make or break the Major—I want it—to wear -as a bangle, to remind me of this lovely trip, and all that the Major -and I have plotted, and contrived, and conspired together. Eh, Major? -Oh,—thanks,—thanks,—muchly. You may have the rest, Major.” And she -tucked the remaining coins back into his pocket, smiling brightly the -while up into his sightless eyes.</p> - -<p>Randal Ducie, with an air of sudden decision, turned about, seized his -brother by the arm and together they stood before the joyous young -beauty, who was obviously beginning to canvass mentally the next -possibility of amusement under these unpropitious circumstances.</p> - -<p>“Now, Miss Dean, be pleased to cast your eyes over us. I am not going to -allow this fellow to deprive me of your valuable acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pick me out, Miss Dean,” cried Adrian<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span> plaintively. “I am all mixed -up. I don’t know if I am myself or my brother.”</p> - -<p>Miss Dean stared from one to the other, her brilliant eyes wide with -wonder.</p> - -<p>“How perfectly amazing!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, how did -you distinguish and recognize one of them Thursday afternoon?”</p> - -<p>Paula’s mind was so engrossed that, quick as she was always to discern -the fluctuations of favor in her husband’s disposition toward her, she -had not observed his peculiar notice of the fact of her retentive memory -and keen perception in distinguishing the veiled identity of the man who -had once been dear to her,—once?</p> - -<p>“Oh, I saw the difference instantly,” she declared, with what her -husband considered an undignified glibness, and an interest especially -unbecoming in a matter so personal, which should be barred to her by the -circumstances. “This is Randal, and this is Mr. Adrian Ducie.”</p> - -<p>Indeed, they all noticed, with varying sentiments, the familiar use of -the Christian name, but only Adrian spoke in his debonair fashion.</p> - -<p>“Right-o! I begin to breathe once more. I was afraid I was going to have -to be Randal.”</p> - -<p>Miss Dean was still studying the aspect of the two brothers. “I believe -you are correct, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” she said slowly. “For this one, Mr. -Adrian Ducie, is just from France, and he has on Paris-made shoes,—I -know the last. It is the <i>dernier cri</i>.”</p> - -<p>There was a general laugh.</p> - -<p>“Blessed Saint Crispin! I’ll make a votive offering!” cried Adrian. -“Now, Randal, you stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span> away from me,” with a vigorous push of his -brother at arm’s length, “so that this mix-up can’t happen again.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll borrow his shoes when he is asleep and he will never know himself -any more!” said Randal vindictively.</p> - -<p>There was a sudden cheerful acclaim from the portico without. A boat had -been sighted, slowly rounding the point, a packet of the line this time, -and all was bustle preparatory to embarkation. Even now the whistle, -husky, loud, widely blaring, filled the air, signaling the approaching -landing, the Captain having received information when passing the -<i>Cherokee Rose</i> of the plight of the refugees. The next moment they were -sheepishly laughing, for the steamer, the <i>Nixie</i>, was sending forth a -second blast, a prolonged whining shriek, the signal known on the river -as a “begging whistle” by which boats solicit patronage in passengers or -freight, and which is usually sounded only when there is a doubt whether -a stoppage is desired.</p> - -<p>Humoring the joke at their expense, the refugees made a vigorous reply, -waving handkerchiefs, raising hats on umbrellas and canes, hallooing -lustily, as they wended their way down the pavement, over the ruined -embankment of the old levee, along the grass-grown road and to the brink -of the bank, seeming high and precipitous at this stage of the river. -They were well in advance of the stoppage of the steamer, although, as -she came sweeping down the current, the constantly quickening beat of -her paddles on the water could be heard at a considerable distance in -that acceleration of speed always preliminary to landing. They watched -all her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span> motions with an eagerness to be off as if some chance could yet -snatch the opportunity from their reach,—the approach, the backing, the -turning, the renewed approach, all responsive to the pilot-bells -jangling keenly on the air. Then ensued the gradual cessation of the -pant of the engines, the almost imperceptible gliding to actual -stoppage, as the <i>Nixie</i> lay in the deep trough of the channel of the -river, the slow swinging of the staging from the pulleys suspended above -the lower deck. The end of the frame had no sooner been laid on the -verge of the high bank than the refugees were trooping eagerly down its -steep, cleated incline to the lower deck as if the steamer would touch -but a moment and then forge away again.</p> - -<p>The <i>Nixie</i> was sheering off, thus little delayed, to resume her -downward journey and the passengers had begun to gather on the promenade -deck when Miss Dean encountered Adrian Ducie. She stopped short at the -sight of him. “Why, where is the other one of you?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“He remained at Duciehurst. I have pressing business in Vicksburg,—my -stoppage, as you know, was involuntary. I shall return later.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t like to see you apart.”</p> - -<p>“If you would take a little something now,” he said alluringly, “you -might see double. Then the freak brothers would be all right again.”</p> - -<p>“But the parting must be very painful after such a long separation,” she -speculated.</p> - -<p>“We shed a couple of tears,” and Adrian wagged his head in melancholy -wise.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you turn everything into ridicule,—even your fraternal affection,” -she said reproachfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span></p> - -<p>“Would you have me fall to weeping in sad earnest? Besides, the parting -is only for a day or so. I shall take the train at Vicksburg and rejoin -him.”</p> - -<p>“And where is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney?” she asked, looking about.</p> - -<p>“She, too, remained at Duciehurst,” said one of the sour old ladies.</p> - -<p>Adrian rose precipitately. The boat, headed downstream, was now in the -middle of the channel, and he gazed at the rippling, shimmering expanse -as if he had it in mind to attempt its transit. Here, at all events, was -something which he did not turn into ridicule. The great house beyond -its ruinous levee rose majestically into the noontide sunlight, all its -disasters and indignities effaced by the distance. The imposing, -pillared portico, the massive main building with its heavy cornice, the -broad wings, the stone-coped terraces, all were distinct and -differentiated, amidst the glossy magnolias that, sempervirent, aided -its aspect of reviviscence, with a fain autumnal haze softening its -lines, and the brilliant corrugated surface of the river in the -foreground.</p> - -<p>He stood gazing vainly upon it, as it seemed to recede into the -distance, till, presently, the boat rounded a point and it vanished like -an unsubstantial mirage, like a tenuous mist of the morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was through no will of her own that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had remained at -Duciehurst. She had been eager and instant in the preparations for -departure as soon as the approach of the boat was heralded. She had -aided the old nurse with convulsive haste by hustling the baby’s effects -into his suitcase, jamming his cap down on his head and shaking him into -his coat with little ceremony. She had seen from the broken windows of -the deserted music-room the Ducie brothers, the last of all the -procession of travelers, wending down toward the great white shell in -the river slowly approaching, throwing off the foam in wreaths on each -side. The two men walked shoulder to shoulder; now and again they paused -to confer; then going on; and there was something so affectionate in -their look and attitude, almost leaning on one another, so endearing in -the way in which one would lay his hand on the other’s arm that tears -sprang to her eyes, and, for the moment, she felt that nothing was worth -having in the world but the enduring affection of a simple heart, which -asks naught but love in return.</p> - -<p>The momentary weakness was gone as it had come. She could feel only -elation—to be going, to get out of the house of Randal Ducie, which she -had entered with reluctance, even when she had doubted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span> his claim, and -now that it had been proved valid in fact, if not in law, she could -scarcely wait to be quit of it.</p> - -<p>In the hall, as she flustered forth—as Floyd-Rosney would have -described her agitated movements—she was astonished to come upon her -husband, placidly pacing up and down, his deliberate cigar between his -lips, his hands clasped behind him.</p> - -<p>“Why, dear,”—she used the connubial address from force of habit, for -her voice was crisp and keenly pitched—“aren’t you ready?”</p> - -<p>“Seems not,” he said, looking at her enigmatically.</p> - -<p>“But we shall be left!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Exactly.” He took his cigar from his mouth and emitted a puff of -fragrant nicotian.</p> - -<p>He was wont to consult his own whims, but hitherto her supine -acquiescence had been actuated less by a realization of helplessness -than endorsement of his right of mastery, his superior and prevailing -will. She thought of her submissiveness at the moment.</p> - -<p>How she had loved money! His money, of which she had enjoyed such share -as he saw fit to dole forth. All the stiffness, the induration of long -custom was at war with her Impulse as she cried:</p> - -<p>“But I want to go! What do you mean by staying here?”</p> - -<p>“But I want to stay,” he said imperiously, “and that is what I mean, and -all I mean.”</p> - -<p>This was hardly comprehensive. He could scarcely control the rage that -from the first of this ill-omened detention had possessed him upon the -discovery of her lingering interest in the face of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span> old lover—a -simple matter and explicable; without latent significance it would have -been in the mind of any other man. Had it involved no sequence of -subsequent events even he, perhaps, would have brought himself to let it -pass unconsidered. He could not expect her to forget the fashion of -Randal Ducie’s features, and the presence of the twin brother conjured -up his face anew—his face which she had subtly distinguished from its -counterpart. That revolted his pride. His wife must have no thought, no -care, no memory, even, for aught save him! But her protest as to his -ownership of Duciehurst, her revolt against owing any phase of her -prosperity to the misfortunes of the Ducies, argued latent -sensitiveness, an unprobed wound that he had not suspected, thoughts -that he could not divine, memories that he did not share. Never, in all -his experience of her, had her individuality, or even a question of his -authority, been asserted save since that remembered face reappeared, -affecting their matrimonial accord—he, imperious to command, from his -plenitude of wealth and power, she eager to fawn and obey.</p> - -<p>“You don’t consider me at all. You don’t consult my wishes.”</p> - -<p>“I do better, my love. I consult our mutual interests.”</p> - -<p>“You treat me like a child, an idiot! You let me know nothing of our -plans. Why should we not leave this battered old ruin with the rest of -the passengers? How and when are we to leave? If, for nothing but to -make a decent response to Aunt Dorothy’s questions, I ought to be told -something. I hardly know how to face her.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span></p> - -<p>“Well <i>I</i> am not posing for that old darkey’s benefit,” he said, -satirically smiling.</p> - -<p>There was a pause full of expectancy.</p> - -<p>“This battered old ruin!” he exclaimed. “It will be the finest mansion -in Mississippi by the time I am through with it.”</p> - -<p>He cast his imperative eyes in approval over the great spaces of its -open apartments. “And you, my dear, will be proud to be its chatelaine, -and dispense its hospitalities.”</p> - -<p>“Never,” she cried impetuously—“an abasement of pride for me!”</p> - -<p>He changed color for a moment, and then held his ground.</p> - -<p>“The ante-bellum glories will be revived in a style that has not been -attempted in this country.”</p> - -<p>“The ante-bellum glories—that were the Ducies’,” she said, with a -flushed face and a flashing eye.</p> - -<p>He was of so imperious a personality that he seldom encountered rebuke -or contradiction. He was of such potential endowments that effort was -unknown and failure was annihilated in his undertakings. He scarcely -understood how he should deal with this unprecedented insolence, this -revolt on the part of the being who had seemed to him most devoted, most -adoring. The incense of worship had been dear to him,—and now the -worshiper had lapsed to revilings and sacrilege!</p> - -<p>“Paula, you are a fool absolute,” he said roughly.</p> - -<p>“Ah, no—not I—not I!” she cried significantly. She lifted her head -with a quick motion. The boat at the landing was getting up steam. She -heard the exhaust of the engines, then the sonorous beat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span> of the paddles -on the water, and the swishing tumult of the waves as the wheels -revolved.</p> - -<p>“They are going,” she cried, “and we are left!”</p> - -<p>She turned to him in agitation. He stood, splendid in his arrogant -assurance, in his unrelenting dominance, his fine presence befitting the -great hall which he would so amply grace in its restored magnificence. -It was well for him that he was so handsome. Such a man, less graciously -endowed, would have been intolerable in his arrogance, his selfishness, -his brutality.</p> - -<p>He showed no interest in the departure at the landing; he knew, by the -sound, that the steamboat was now well out in midstream, and he secretly -congratulated himself upon the termination of this ill-starred revival -of old associations with the Ducies. Never again should they cross his -wife’s path. Never again should he submit to the humiliation imposed -upon him by the revival of old memories which had incited in her this -strange restiveness to his supreme control. She had been wont to hug her -chains—not that he thus phrased the gentle constraints he had imposed, -rather wifely duty, conjugal love, admiration, trust.</p> - -<p>The steamboat was gone at length, and his wife, standing in the hall and -looking through the wide doorless portal, had seen the last of the -passengers. Looking with a strange expression on her strained face which -he could not understand,—what series of mysteries had her demeanor set -him to interpret during these few hours, she who used to be so -pellucidly transparent! Looking with frowning brow and questioning -intent eyes, then with a suddenly clearing expression and a vindictive -glance like triumph,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span> she turned away with an air of bridling dignity, -as if the steamer and its passengers had no concern for her, and, the -next moment, Randal Ducie ascended the steps and entered the hall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Edward Floyd-Rosney</span> in some sort habitually confused cause and effect. -In his normal entourage he mistook the swift potencies of his wealth, -waiting on his will, like a conjurer’s magic, for an individual -endowment of ability. He had great faith in his management. In every -group of business men with whom his affairs brought him in contact his -financial weight gave him a predominance and an influence which -flattered his vanity, and which he interpreted as personal tribute, and -yet he did not disassociate in his mind his identity from his income. -His wealth was an integral part of him, one of the many great values -attached to his personality—he felt that he was wise and witty, capable -and coercive. He addressed himself to the manipulation of a difficult -situation with a certainty of success that gave a momentum to the force -with which his money carried all before him. So rarely had he been -placed on a level with other men, in a position in which wealth and -influence were inoperative, that he had had scant opportunities to -appraise his own mental processes—his judgment, his initiative, his -powers of ratiocination.</p> - -<p>He did not feel like a fool when Randal Ducie walked deliberately into -the hall of his fathers, staring in responsive surprise to see the -Floyd-Rosneys still lingering there. That admission was impossible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span> to -Floyd-Rosney’s temperament. He felt as if contemplating some revulsion -of nature. He had seen this man among the crowd, boarding the steamer, -and lo, here he was again, on dry land and the boat now miles distant.</p> - -<p>He stood stultified, all his plans for the avoidance of Ducie strangely -dislocated and set at naught by the unexpected falling out of events.</p> - -<p>He was not calculated to bear tamely any crossing of his will, and the -blood began to throb heavily in his temples with the realization that -his wife had understood his clumsy maneuver, of which she was the -subject, and witnessed its ludicrous discomfiture. His pride would not -suffer him to glance toward her, where she sat perched up on the grand -staircase, in the attitude of a coquettish girl. He curtly addressed -Ducie:</p> - -<p>“Thought you were gone!”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Ducie, almost interrogatively, as to why this conclusion.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney responded to the intonation.</p> - -<p>“I saw you going down to the landing.”</p> - -<p>“To see my brother off.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,—ah——”</p> - -<p>What more obvious—what more natural? The one resumed his interrupted -journey, and the other was to take up his usual course of life. That is, -thought Floyd-Rosney, if this one is Randal Ducie. But, for some reason, -they might have reversed the program, and this is the other one.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney struggled almost visibly for his wonted dominance, but -Ducie had naught at stake on his favor, naught to give or to lose, and -his manner was singularly composed and inexpressive—too well<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span> bred to -even permit the fear of counter questions as to why they lingered here -and let the steamer leave without them. Perhaps, he felt such inquiries -intrusive, for, after a moment, he turned away, and Floyd-Rosney still -confronted him with eyes round and astonished and his face a flushed and -uneasy mask of discomfiture.</p> - -<p>Momentarily at a loss how to dispose of himself, Ducie looked about the -apartment, devoid of chairs or any furniture, and, finally, resorted to -the staircase, taking up a position on one of the lower steps. Perhaps, -had he known that the Floyd-Rosneys were within he would have lingered -outside. But dignity forbade a retreat, although his disinclination for -their society was commensurate with Floyd-Rosney’s aversion to him and -his brother. For his life Floyd-Rosney, still staring, could not decide -which of the twain he had here, and Paula, with a perverse relish of his -quandary, perceived and enjoyed his dilemma. Although he was aware she -could discern the difference her manner afforded him no clew, as she sat -silent and intentionally looking very pretty, to her husband’s -indignation, as he noted the grace of her studied attitude, her face -held to inexpressive serenity, little in accord with the tumult of -vexation the detention had occasioned her.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney could not restrain his questions. Perhaps they might pass -with Ducie as idle curiosity, although with Paula he had now no -disguise.</p> - -<p>“You are waiting——?”</p> - -<p>“For my horse,” returned Ducie, with the accent of surprise. “There was -no room in the phaeton for me, as Colonel Kenwynton and Major Lacey<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span> -concluded to accompany the doctor and his patient to the sanatorium.”</p> - -<p>So this was Randal Ducie, and the brother had resumed his journey down -the river.</p> - -<p>“The doctor promised to send the horse back for me——” he paused a -moment. “I hope he will send the phaeton, too, for if you have made no -other arrangements——” Once more he paused blankly—it seemed so -strange that Floyd-Rosney should allow himself to be marooned here in -this wise. “If you have made no other arrangements it will give me -pleasure to drive you to the station near Glenrose.”</p> - -<p>“We are due at the sanatorium for the insane, I think,” cried Paula, -with her little fleering laugh, her chin thrust up in her satirical -wont.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney, sore bestead and amazed by her manner, made a desperate -effort to recover his composure.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I sent a telegram by one of the passengers to be transmitted when -the boat touches at the landing at Volney, and this will bring an -automobile here for my family.”</p> - -<p>“If the passenger does not forget to send it, or if, when the boat -touches he is not asleep, after his vigils here, or if he is not taking -a walk, or eating his lunch, or, like Baal of old, otherwise engaged, -when we, too, may cry Baal, Baal, unavailingly. For my part, I accept -your offer, Mr. Ducie, if your vehicle comes first; if not I hope you -will take a seat in the automobile with us.”</p> - -<p>“That is a compact,” said Ducie graciously.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney felt assured that this was Randal. He was more suave than -his brother—or was it that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span> old associations still had power to gentle -his temper? He could not understand his wife’s revolt. Now and again he -looked at her with an unconscious inquiry in his eyes. So little was he -accustomed to subject his own actions to criticism that it did not occur -to him that he had gone too far. The worm had turned, seeming unaware -how lowly and helpless was its estate. He had all the sentiment of -grinding it under his heel, as he said loftily:</p> - -<p>“We shall have no need to impose upon you, Mr. Ducie. Our own conveyance -will be here in ample time,”—then, like a jaw-breaker—“Thanks.”</p> - -<p>“I march with the first detachment,” declared Paula hardily. “I shall -accept your offer of transportation, Mr. Ducie, if the auto does not -come first.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney thought this must surely be Adrian Ducie, and not his -brother. For some reason of their own they <i>must</i> have exchanged their -missions, and Randal had gone down the river, leaving his brother here. -For she—a stickler on small points of the appropriate—could never say -this if it were her old lover. Her sense of decorum, her respect for her -husband, her habitual exercise of good taste would alike forbid the -suggestion. Doubtless, it was Adrian Ducie.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think an automobile will come,” remarked Ducie. “The roads are -very rough between here and Volney.”</p> - -<p>Paula’s next words seemed to mend the matter a trifle in Floyd-Rosney’s -estimation.</p> - -<p>“I think we have all had enough of Duciehurst for one time! I would not -risk remaining here, as evening closes in, for any consideration. All -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span> riverside harpies will be flocking here when this story of treasure -trove is bruited abroad. The old place will be fairly torn stone from -stone, and there will be horrible orgies of strife and bloodshed. There -ought to be a guard set, though there is nothing now to guard.”</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose Captain Treherne’s story of the river pirates was all -fact or was partly the effect of his hallucination?” Ducie asked.</p> - -<p>“The cords he was bound with were pretty circumstantial evidence,” said -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, not waiting, as usual, for her husband’s word, but -taking the lead in the conversation with aplomb and vivacity—he -remembered scornfully that before her marriage she had been accounted in -social circles intellectual, a <i>bel esprit</i> among the frivols.</p> - -<p>“The gag failed of its function of silence,” she continued, “it told the -whole story. You would have known that it was stern truth if you had -seen it.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney vacillated once more.</p> - -<p>“This <i>must</i> be Randal Ducie,” he thought, “for Adrian was present at -the liberation of Captain Treherne—indeed, he was with the group -searching among the series of ruined vacant apartments when the prisoner -was discovered.”</p> - -<p>“The finding of the box was very singular,” speculated Ducie, “the -closest imaginable shave. It was just as possible to one of the parties -on the verge of discovery as the other.”</p> - -<p>He was in that uneasy, disconcerted state of mind usual with a stranger -present at a family discord which he feels, yet must not obviously -perceive and cannot altogether ignore.</p> - -<p>“It seems the hand of fate,” said Paula.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span></p> - -<p>“I went up to the third story this morning and looked at the place,” -remarked Randal. “I really don’t see how, without tools, you contrived -to wrench the heavy washboard away, and get at the bricks and the -interior of the capital of the pilaster.”</p> - -<p>“It seems a feat more in keeping with Miss Dean,” suggested -Floyd-Rosney, “she has such a splendid physique.”</p> - -<p>“Hilda is as strong as a boy,” declared Paula. “She does ‘the -athletic’—affects very boyish manners, don’t you think?” she added, -addressing Ducie directly.</p> - -<p>There were few propositions which either of the Floyd-Rosneys could put -forth with which Randal Ducie would not have agreed, so eager was he to -close the incident without awkward friction. To let the malapropos -encounter pass without result was the instinct of his good breeding. -But, upon this direct challenge, he felt that he could not annul his -individuality, his convictions.</p> - -<p>“Why, not at all boyish,” he said. “On the contrary, I think her manners -are most feminine in their fascination. Did you notice that the old -blind Major was having the time of his life?”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney, without the possibility of seating himself unless he, too, -resorted to the stair, was pacing slowly back and forth, his head bent -low, his hands lightly clasped behind him. Now and again he sent forth a -keenly observant glance at the two disposed on the stair, like a couple -of young people sitting out a dance at a crowded evening function.</p> - -<p>“Hildegarde will flirt with anything or anybody when good material -cannot be had,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, with a manner of vague -discomfiture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, that is scarcely fair to my brother,” said Randal. He would not -let this pass.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I should judge his flirting days are over,” cried Paula, wilfully -flippant. “He is as crusty as a bear with a sore head.”</p> - -<p>“Or a sore heart,” said Randal, thinking of Adrian’s long exile, and his -hard fate, ousted from his home and fortune; then he could have bitten -his tongue out, realizing the sentimental significance of the words. -Still one cannot play with fire without burning one’s fingers, and there -are always embers among the ashes of an old flame.</p> - -<p>For her life Paula could but look conscious with the eyes of both men on -her face.</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t seem an exponent of a sore heart.” She stumbled inexcusably -in her clumsy embarrassment. There was an awkward silence. The -implication that Adrian might be representative passed as untenable, and -the subject of hearts was eschewed thereafter.</p> - -<p>“Miss Dean has been quite famous as a beauty and belle in her brief -career,” Mr. Floyd-Rosney deigned to contribute to the conversation.</p> - -<p>“She is wonderfully attractive—so original and interesting,” said Ducie -warmly.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me Hilda carries her principal assets in her face,” said -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney. “They say she wouldn’t learn a thing at the -convent—and what is worse, she feels no lack.”</p> - -<p>“What does any woman learn?” demanded Floyd-Rosney iconoclastically, -“and what does any woman’s education signify? A mosaic of worthless -smattering, expensive to acquire, and impossible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span> apply. Miss Dean -lacks nothing in lacking this equipment.”</p> - -<p>Paula sat affronted and indignant. In her husband’s sweeping assertion -he had not had the courtesy to except her, and it was hardly admissible -for Ducie to repair the omission. He could only carry the proposition -further and make it general, and his tact seized the opportunity.</p> - -<p>“I think that might be said of the youth of both sexes. The fakir, with -his learning made-easy, is the foible of the age and its prototype -extends to business methods—the get-rich-quick opportunities match the -education-while-you-wait, and the art, reduced to a smudge with a thumb, -and the ballads of a country—the voice of the heart of the people, -superseded by ragtime.”</p> - -<p>But Paula would not be appeased.</p> - -<p>“If women are constitutionally idiots and cannot be taught,” she cried, -“they ought not to be responsible for folly. That is a charter wide as -the winds.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all—not at all,” said her husband dogmatically. But how he -would have reconciled the variant dicta of incapacity and accountability -must remain a matter of conjecture, for there came suddenly on the air -the iterative sound of the swift beat of hoofs and, through the open -door in another moment, was visible a double phaëton drawn by a glossy, -spirited blood bay, brought with difficulty to a pause and lifting -alternately his small forefeet with the ardor of motion, even when the -pressure on the bit in his mouth constrained his eager activity and -brought him to a halt.</p> - -<p>“I have won out,” said Ducie genially. Since it had awkwardly fallen to -his lot to offer civilities to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span> these people he did it with a very -pretty grace. “I shall be glad to see you and your family to the -station, Mr. Floyd-Rosney.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s eyes were on the space beyond the portico.</p> - -<p>“That’s a good horse you have,” he remarked seriously.</p> - -<p>“Yes—before I bought him he was on the turf,—winner in several -events.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t often see such an animal in private use,” said Floyd-Rosney, -unbending a trifle. He, too, loved a good horse for its own sake.</p> - -<p>“True, but I am located at a considerable distance from the plantations -I lease, and going to and fro he is of special use to me. I can’t stand -a slow way of getting through the world, and the roads won’t admit of an -auto.”</p> - -<p>The two men were quite unconstrained for the moment in the natural -interest of a subject foreign to their difficult mutual relations. -Randal Ducie’s head was thrown up, his eyes glowed; he was looking at -the horse with a sort of glad admiration—an expression which Paula well -remembered. Floyd-Rosney’s eyes narrowed as they scanned successively -the points of the fine animal, his own face calm, patronizing, -approving. Neither of them, for the moment, was thinking of her. She had -followed them out upon the wide stone portico and stood in the sun, her -head tilted a trifle that her broad hat of taupe velvet might shade her -eyes. She brought herself potently into the foreground, seizing the fact -that Randal was unincumbered with baggage of any sort.</p> - -<p>“Where is the treasure trove?” she cried. “Surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span> you are not going to -leave it in the ruins of this old mansion!”</p> - -<p>Her husband flashed at her a glance of reproof which would once have -silenced her, abashed to the ground. Now she repeated her words, -wondering to feel so composed, so possessed of all her faculties. -Without a conscious effort of observation the details of the scene were -registered in her mind unbefogged by her wonted bewilderment in her -husband’s disapproval. She even noticed the groom who had driven the -vehicle back from the livery stable—no colored servant, but a -carrot-headed youth, with jockey boots, riding breeches, a long freckled -face, and small red-lidded eyes, very close together, gazing at Ducie -with a keen intentness as she asked the question. The fame of the -discovery must have been bruited abroad already, and she vaguely -wondered at this, for, as yet, no one on land knew the facts, except the -alienist and his party, safely housed at the sanatorium.</p> - -<p>“The chest of valuables found here last night?” replied Ducie. “Why, I -haven’t it. My brother took it on the boat in his suitcase, and, before -nightfall, it will be in one of the banks in Vicksburg.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney, thrown out of all his reckonings by the unaccountable -behavior of his wife, spoke at random, more to obviate its effects than -with any valid intendment.</p> - -<p>“I saw the box opened,” he said; “only family jewels and a lot of gold -coin and papers, but I should think, from the pretensions of this place, -there must have been elaborate table services of silver, perhaps of gold -plate. Were any such appurtenances hidden, do you know, and recovered?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span></p> - -<p>Ducie shook his head. “I know nothing of such ware. It may be, or it may -not be here. The absence of the papers brought out the story of the -hiding of the family diamonds, else the box would have remained in the -capital of the pilaster, where my uncle left it, till the crack of -doom.”</p> - -<p>Paula never understood the impulse that possessed her. Boldly, in the -presence of her husband, she took from her dainty mesh bag a small key -set with rubies and one large diamond.</p> - -<p>“Your brother carelessly left one of the Ducie jewels on the table and I -picked it up. I am so glad I remembered to restore it to you. It should -have been in your possession long ago.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney was watching her like a hawk, and she began to quail before -his eyes. Oh, why had she not remembered that he was a connoisseur in -bijouterie and bric-à-brac of many sorts and would detect instantly, at -a glance, the modern fashion and comparatively slight value of the -trinket. More than all, why had she not reckoned on the fact that Randal -Ducie was no actor. Who could fail to interpret the surprised -recognition in his eyes, his gentle upbraiding look before the -associations thus ruthlessly summoned? It was as if some magic had -materialized all the tender poignancy of first love, all his winged -hopes, all the heartbreak of a cruel disappointment crystallized in this -scintillating bauble in his hand. He glanced from it to her, then back -at the flashing stones, red as his heart’s blood. He looked so wounded, -so passive, as if content to succumb to a blow which he was too -generous, too magnanimous to return in kind.</p> - -<p>And he said never a word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span></p> - -<p>She felt that her face was flaring scarlet; the hot tears were smitten -into her eyes. She could not speak, and, for a long moment neither of -the two men moved, although the horse, restive and eager to be off, -plunged now and again, almost lifting from his feet the groom at his -head, still swinging at the bit, but staring, as if resolved into eyes, -at the group on the piazza.</p> - -<p>“It is the key to something of value”—she found her voice suddenly—“or -it would never have been so charmingly decorated. I hope it will unlock -all the doors shut against you,” she concluded with a little bow.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said formally. And he said no more.</p> - -<p>“And now shall we go?” asked Floyd-Rosney curtly.</p> - -<p>There being only four places, the gentlemen occupying the front seats, -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, the nurse and the baby the others, there was no room -for the groom, and Ducie, gathering up the reins preparatory to driving, -directed him to return to the livery stable on one of the cotton wagons -which would be starting in an hour or so. The ill-looking fellow touched -his cap, loosed the bit and the horse sprang away with an action so -fine, so well sustained, that Floyd-Rosney’s brow cleared. The pleasure -of the moment was something.</p> - -<p>“What will you take for him?” he asked, quite human for the nonce.</p> - -<p>“Not for sale. Couldn’t spare him,” Ducie responded, the reins wound -about his forearms, all his strength requisite to hold the abounding -vitality and eagerness of the animal to the trot, the hoofs falling<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span> -with the precision of machinery, mile after mile.</p> - -<p>Only once did the pace falter. Suddenly the animal plunged. A man dashed -out from the Cherokee rose hedge that bordered the high-way and clutched -the bit. With the momentum of his pace the horse swung him off his feet, -and frightened and swerving from the road, reared high. As the forefeet -crashed to the ground once more with a sharp impact the man was thrown -sprawling to the roadside, and the horse was a mile away before the -occupants of the vehicle knew exactly what had happened.</p> - -<p>“Oh,—oh——” cried Paula, “was the man hurt? What did he want?”</p> - -<p>“No good,” said her husband grimly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, oughtn’t we go back and see what we have done?” She could scarcely -speak with the wind of their transit blowing the words down her throat. -“Oh, I know Mr. Floyd-Rosney won’t, but, Randal, don’t you think we -ought?”</p> - -<p>“Hardly,” said Randal.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s head slowly turned, and his slumberous eyes, with a bated -fury smoldering in their depths, looked their sneering triumph at his -wife.</p> - -<p>“That crack,—was it——?” he asked of Randal.</p> - -<p>“A pistol ball, I think. I saw—I thought I saw a puff of smoke from the -Cherokee hedge. My head feels hot yet. For simple curiosity look at my -hat.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney removed the hat from the head of the man by him. He turned -it in his hand and his eyes glittered. Then he held it out for Ducie’s -observation.</p> - -<p>There was a small orifice on one side, and a corresponding<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span> rift, -higher, on the other. Evidently, the ball had passed through.</p> - -<p>“Thirty caliber, I should judge,” Floyd-Rosney ventured.</p> - -<p>“Looks so?” Randal assented.</p> - -<p>“But why—<i>why</i>——” exclaimed Paula, “should Randal be shot at—he -might have been killed—oh, any of us might have been killed!”</p> - -<p>“The story of the treasure trove—out already, I suppose,” suggested -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>“And it is believed that I have it now in my possession, carrying it to -a place of safety,” said Ducie.</p> - -<p>“Just as well for you to get to town as speedily as possible,” remarked -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>To have escaped an attempt at highway robbery is not an agreeable -sensation, however futile and ill advised the enterprise. This -possibility had not occurred to Floyd-Rosney, yet he perceived its -logic. It was obvious that the rich find of gold and jewels must be -removed from Duciehurst, and by whom more probably than their owner? -Doubtless, the miscreants had expected Ducie to be accompanied only by -the groom, perhaps a party to the conspiracy, and albeit this -supposition had gone awry, there was only one unarmed man beside himself -to contend against a possible second attack. Floyd-Rosney would be glad -to be rid of Ducie on every account. No such awkward association had -ever befallen him, significant at every turn. But, when actual physical -danger to himself and his family was involved in sitting beside him, he -felt all other objections frivolous indeed, and it was in the nature of -a rescue when the fast horse drew up beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span> the platform of the little -station near Glenrose, where the train was already standing.</p> - -<p>The <i>congé</i> was of the briefest, although Randal omitted no observance -which a courteous voluntary host might have affected. He left the horse -in charge of an idler about the station, assisted Mrs. Floyd-Rosney into -the coach, where, to her husband’s satisfaction, the stateroom was -vacant and they might thus be spared the presence of the vulgar horde of -travelers. He shook hands with both husband and wife, only leaving the -train as it glided off. Paula, looking from her window, had her last -glimpse of him, standing on the platform, courteously lifting his hat in -farewell. She had a wild, unreasoning protest against the parting, her -eyes looked a mute appeal, and she felt as if delivered to her fate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> ex-jockey, left standing alone on the drive in front of the old -mansion, had watched, with glowing eyes, the departure of the phaëton -from Duciehurst.</p> - -<p>“Ai-yi, Ran Ducie,” he jeered, “ridin’ for a fall you are, if you did -but know it!”</p> - -<p>The vehicle was out of sight in a moment. He thrust his cap on the back -of his head, sunk his hands deep in his pockets and strode up the flight -of steps to the broad stone-floored portico. He stood for a moment, -watching the great shining, rippling expanse of the silent river, vacant -save for a small steamer of the government fleet, whisking along in -haste on the opposite side, with a heavy coil of smoke and a fluttering -flag. Then he strolled into the house, looking about keenly and -furtively as he went. The place was obviously familiar to him, doubtless -from many secret explorations, and, without hesitation, he took his way -up two flights of stairs, threading the vacant apartments, coming, at -last, to the third story which gave access to the interior of the -capital of the pilaster where the treasure had been found.</p> - -<p>He stood, his hands still in his pockets, gazing into the cavity, the -washboard left where it had been prized away from the wall. He stooped -down presently and sought to explore the interior of the pillar,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span> -pulling out first the rotten fragments of the ancient knapsack. He gazed -at these remnants with great scorn of their obsolete fashioning, then -set to work to ransacking them, deftly manipulating the flaps lest -something hidden there should escape his scrutiny. The search resulted -in naught, save a handful of crumbs of desiccated leather. He even -paused to examine the quality of the fabric and the stitching of the -construction.</p> - -<p>“Sewed by hand, by jinks!” he muttered. But the article had evidently -been used merely as protection, or concealment, perhaps, for the box it -had contained. He made a long-armed lunge into the depths of the cavity -in hopes of further booty, realizing that he was the first intruder into -the place after the departure of the refugees from the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, -and might make prize of whatever they had possibly overlooked. His heart -quickened its beats as his fingers touched straw, but when he dragged -forth a bundle holding persistently together he discovered that it was -but one of the well-woven, enormous nests of the tiny sparrow, creeping -in through a crevice without, and, like some human builders, having a -disproportionate idea of suitable housing for its station. He spat a -flood of tobacco juice upon the cunning work of the vanished architects, -and, with a curse as grotesque as profane, made a circuit of the -interior of the cavity in the pillar with his bare palms. Nothing—quite -empty. The treasure had lain here for forty years, the fact bruited -throughout the traditions of the country. Hundreds, of whom he was one, -had made vain search—“and Randal Ducie had found it first go! Some -people have <i>all</i> the luck!” He had ventured<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span> to the window of the great -dining-room last night, after his confederates had fled, and had gazed -with gloating eyes on the pile of gold and jewels on the table before -Adrian Ducie, whom he mistook for the man familiar to the neighborhood. -The sight had maddened him. He had urgently sought to stimulate his -confederates to an attack on the place while the money lay undefended, -openly on the table. He thought that in the tumult of surprise a rich -capture might be effected.</p> - -<p>“To snatch jes’ a handful would have done me a heap o’ good,” he -meditated.</p> - -<p>But no! Binnhart had declared they were too far outnumbered, that the -enterprise was impracticable. And Binnhart had seemed slow and dazed, -and himself the victim of surprise. Colty’s loose lips curled with -bitter scorn as he recalled how owlishly wise Binnhart had looked when -he had declared that he would try first the inside and then the outside -of this pilaster from the ground floor, instead of at once essaying the -capital,—but he did not know what a “capital” was,—nor, indeed, did -the jovial “Colty” until he heard the word from Randal Ducie a few -minutes ago. In fact, Binnhart did not know the difference between a -“pillar” and a “pilaster,” except as the builder in Caxton had expounded -the terms. Indeed, Binnhart, assuming to be a leader of men, should be -better informed. Leader! He would lead them all to the penitentiary if -they followed him much farther. It was an ill-omened association of -ideas. Colty Connover began to wonder if any of the refugees from the -<i>Cherokee Rose</i> had acquired any knowledge of the search for the -treasure prosecuted from without.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span> He remembered how suddenly the sound -of a woman’s screams had frightened the marauders from their occupation -in what they had deemed the deepest solitude. If some woman had been -sitting at this window she could easily have heard their unsuspecting -talk. He looked down speculatively. Through the broken roof of the -portico he could discern some of their abandoned tools still beside the -base of the column. “Pilaster,” he sneered. The word had for him the -tang of an opprobrious epithet. She could have heard everything. Had -she, indeed, heard aught? Could she remember the names? She could -doubtless recall “Colty.” That was within the scope of the meanest -intelligence. He began to quail with the realization of disastrous -possibilities. What woman was it, he wondered. The one in the phaëton? -He hoped Binnhart might shoot her in the hold-up planned on the road. A -pistol ball would tie her tongue if—if she had not already told all she -knew! Yet what would his name signify? Only that he was one of the -seekers who from time immemorial had ransacked the house for its -treasure. Robbery, perhaps, in a way, yet what was so definitely -abandoned to the will of the marauder could scarcely be esteemed in the -pale of ownership. If only the gang had not left their insane victim -bound and gagged, as evidence of their brutality. “Colonel Kenwynton -will never rest till he ferrets out who done that job.” He winced and -lifted one foot high, and let it down with a stamp. “I’d hate for the -old Colonel to git on my track, sure,” he muttered.</p> - -<p>He reflected that this was what had queered the whole run, through -Binnhart’s self-sufficiency,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span> though that fellow, Treherne, did tell, in -his sleep, where the money was hid. If they had known—if they had only -known—what constituted the capital of a pillar. It had been -mismanaged—mismanaged from the beginning, and once more he declared -that it was Captain Hugh Treherne who had queered the whole run.</p> - -<p>He walked slowly down the stairs into the broad hall, and then, -threading the vacant apartments with the definite intention of -familiarity, he came into the room where poor Hugh Treherne had lain for -hours bound and gagged, not knowing whether his sufferings were actual -or the distraught illusions of his mental malady.</p> - -<p>Connover stood looking at the many footprints in the dust on the floor, -clustered about the clear space where the man had lain. In the corners -of the apartment the dust was thick and gray and evidently had not been -disturbed in years. Here it was that the refugees of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> -had found Captain Treherne. But <i>he</i> could not have informed his -rescuers where the swag was hidden. He himself did not know,—he could -not say when he was awake. By reason of his distorted mental processes -only in dreams did his memory rouse itself; only his somnolent words -could reveal the story of the hiding of the treasure in the capital of -the pilaster. As, in his ignorant fashion, Connover sought to realize -the situation he groped for the clew of its discovery. How had they -chanced to find it? Could the woman have overheard the talk of the gang -from the window of the attic, and, knowing the signification of the -terms “pilaster” and “capital,” could she have fallen like a hawk upon -her prey? Oh, Binnhart<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span> was distanced by the whole field,—a fool and a -fake. And if he should botch this hold-up that he had planned for Randal -Ducie—— Suddenly a nervous thrill agitated Connover. He was conscious -that an eye was upon him, a fixed, furtive scrutiny. He gazed wildly -about the desolate, empty room. Almost he could see a vague figure at -the door withdrawing abruptly as he glanced toward it, but when he ran -into the hall there was naught for sixty feet along which any spy upon -him must have passed. Still, as he returned, reassured, he felt again -that covert gaze. Nothing was visible at the window on one side of the -apartment. On the other side the room was lighted by a glass door -opening on a veranda, in which the panes had recently been shattered, -and broken glass lay about. When he pulled it ajar loose bits fell from -the frame and crashed upon the floor, setting astir keen shrill echoes -through the empty desolation that put every quivering nerve to the -torture. Outside he heard a vague, silly laugh even before he perceived -Mrs. Berridge standing close against the wall in her effort to escape -observation, her head, with its towsled copper hair, all bare, but an -apron pinned shawl-wise around her shoulders in lieu of a wrap.</p> - -<p>“I’m cotched,” she exclaimed deprecatingly. “I thought I’d peek in and -find out what’s going on, though I reckon I ain’t wanted.”</p> - -<p>“Not much you ain’t,” he declared, recovering his composure with -difficulty. “How’d you come?”</p> - -<p>“In the dug-out,” she explained. “I tied Possum in his bunk, and locked -him up, and took out. He’s safe enough.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s all right. He’ll spend most of his days locked up, ennyhow,” -Colty roughly joked.</p> - -<p>“He won’t nuther.” She struck at him with an affectation of retaliation. -But her face was not jocose, and a tallowy pallor accented the freckles.</p> - -<p>“Colty,” she lowered her voice mysteriously, “I have heard shootin’.”</p> - -<p>“Naw!” he cried remonstrantly, as if the reluctance to entertain the -fact could annul it.</p> - -<p>“Whenst on the ruver I heard shootin’,” she declared again.</p> - -<p>“Oh, shucks, gal,” he exclaimed. “You couldn’t hear it so fur off.”</p> - -<p>“On the water!” she cried, lifting her eyebrows. “The water fetches the -sound.”</p> - -<p>“He <i>said</i> he wouldn’t shoot,” cried Colty Connover, his lip pendulously -drooping. “He said on no account.”</p> - -<p>“You b’lieve his gab? Well, you <i>are</i> a softy!” she flung at him. Then, -with one end of the apron string in her mouth, she ejaculated -murmurously: “I heard shootin’,” looking doubtfully and vaguely over her -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Then he’ll swing for it ef he’s killed Ran Ducie. There ain’t a more -pop’lar man in the county, nor a better judge of horseflesh.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t carin’ fur Binnhart arter the way he made me trick that crazy -loon out’n his secrets an’ then declared he’d gimme nuthin’ thout he -found the truck.”</p> - -<p>“Pulled the horse an’ lost yer pay, too,” grinned Colty.</p> - -<p>“But all the rest will be tarred with the same stick—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span>—”</p> - -<p>“Not me nor you,” interrupted Colty Connover,—“<span class="lftspc">’</span>cause he said he -wouldn’t shoot. He swore he wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly she pushed back her tousled red hair as she stood near the -glass door, and looked up with a startled apprehension on her face.</p> - -<p>“Listen, Colty, listen——! What is that sound—what is that sound?”</p> - -<p>Then a strange thing happened. The sun, low in its circuit, was already -westering on the October day. Even now its radiance fell through the -great windows and open doors all aslant, and lay in deep orange tints -athwart the bare, dusty floors. Many a skein-like effulgence was -suspended from the panes, and on these fine and fiery lines illuminated -motes were scattered like the notation of music on an immaterial cleff. -There was no wind, no rustle of the magnolia trees glimpsed without. The -river was silent as always. The stillness was intense, indescribable, -and, suddenly, with a long drawn sigh, a creaking dissonance, the old -house gave forth one loud moan, voicing its sorrows, its humiliation, -its inanimate woe.</p> - -<p>The two looked at each other with aghast, white faces. Then, with a -common impulse, they fled from—they knew not what. The woman sprang out -of the shattered glass door and sped through the shrubbery, across the -ruined levee to her dug-out, swinging at the old landing. The groom -dashed down the hall, the echoes of his steps hard on his heels like -swift pursuers, out into the road, and thence, scarcely relaxing his -pace, ran along the rugged ground till he was in the turn-row, where his -speed was aided by the smooth hard-beaten earth. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span> cotton was breast -high, and glittering in the afternoon sun—a famous crop. He could -scarcely see the pickers, although he noted here and there their big -cylindrical baskets, filled as the bags, suspended from their necks, -overflowed from time to time. A great wagon was drawing up at one side -where the road struck the turn-row, and this notified him that the -weigher, with his steelyards, had arrived to pay off the laborers -according to the weight of the contents of their baskets, and to convey -the product to Ran Ducie’s gin. He welcomed the sight of another white -man, for he desired more credible testimony, in case it should be -needed, than the haphazard observation of the darkey cotton pickers that -he was miles distant from the scene of Binnhart’s hold-up at the time of -the shooting. Hence he attached himself to the society of the weigher, -and made himself unpleasantly conspicuous, and was officious and -obstructive during the weighing process, as much from latent intention -as maladroit folly. When, at last, the wagons were heaped and he and the -weigher took their seats behind two of the big mules, the pickers, -trailing on foot contentedly in the rear, his companion observed: “I’m -goin’ to tell Mr. Ducie that the nex’ time he treats you to a ride he -may pervide a coach and four, for durned if I’ll have you monkeying in -the cotton fields along of me another time.” Colty Connover had made the -desired impression and on this score he was content. Nevertheless, again -and again during the afternoon, throughout the process of the weighing, -and on the road to the town, and in the midst of his duties at the -livery stable there recurred to him a stupefied, stunned realization of -some uncomprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span> crisis, and again and again he asked himself -helplessly: “What was that strange sound in the old house? What was it?”</p> - -<p>And on the river bank, in the little amphibious cabin upon its grotesque -high-water stilts, through all the afternoon and deep into the night, -the woman with a vague thrill of terror futilely wondered, “What was -that strange, strange sound in the old house? What was it?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Certainly</span> no institution of its type ever had such cheerful inmates as -the Glenrose Sanatorium could boast so long as Colonel Kenwynton and the -blind Major sojourned within its gates, the guests of the alienist and -Captain Hugh Treherne. The patient experienced no recurrence of his -malady during the visit. Indeed, the beneficial influence, with the -incident change of thought, conversation, and occupation, was so obvious -that the physician acceded to Colonel Kenwynton’s earnest urgency to -allow the Captain to go home with him and spend a few weeks at his -plantation, in a neighboring county. They made a solemn compact for the -conservation of his safety and the promotion of his mental health.</p> - -<p>“Captain,” said the Colonel the first evening that they spent together -over the wood fire in the old plantation house, “I don’t know what is -the particular devil that you say possesses you at times, and I don’t -want to know. He is an indignity to you and an affront to me. Never -mention the nature of the obsession to me for I won’t hear it. Never let -me have so much as a glimpse of his horn or his hoof. But if you, -unhappily, ever feel again the clutch of his claw fastening on you, just -report to me, and we’ll both strike out in a dog-trot for that insane -asylum, and let the doctor exorcise him a bit. And I swear to you before -God on our sacred bonds as comrades in the Lost Cause I will stay there -with you till you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span> are ready to come home with me. Shake hands on it, -dear old fellow—shake hands on it.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps because the topic was interdicted in conversation it was the -less intrusive in thought. Hugh Treherne maintained an observance of the -Colonel’s mandate as strict and as soldierly as if it had been read in -general orders at the head of the regiment. He found an interest in the -Colonel’s affairs in the ramshackle old place, which was but a meager -remnant of his former princely domain. Colonel Kenwynton had brought -down from the larger methods of the old times a constitutional disregard -of minutæ. Hence men, “indifferent honest,” otherwise would overreach -him in negotiation. Servants filched ruthlessly his minor possessions. -His pastures, fields, barns, orchards, were plundered with scarcely a -realization of the significance of robbery, the facile phrase, “The old -Cunnel won’t care,” or “The old Cunnel won’t ever know the difference,” -sufficient to numb any faint prick of conscience.</p> - -<p>And thus it was that his home had fallen to decay; his barns and fences -rotted; his gin was broken and patched and deteriorated in common with -all his farm machinery; his hedges of Cherokee rose, widened, unpruned -and untended, becoming veritable land grabbers, rather than boundaries, -and yearly more and more of his acres must needs be rented for lack of -funds to pay a force of laborers. Colonel Kenwynton lived on in his -mortgaged home and “scuffled up the money,” as he phrased the process, -to meet the interest year by year, and kept but sorry cheer by a bleak -and lonely fireside. Nevertheless, he twirled up the ends of his white -mustachios jauntily and faced the world with a bold front.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span></p> - -<p>From his own account it seemed wonderful that he had any income at all, -and as if much business tact must be requisite to hold his mortgages -together in such shape that they should assume all the enlightened -functions of a fortune. The age of some of these obligations was a -source of special pride with him, although sometimes with an air of -important dismay he would compute the amount of interest he had paid in -the course of years on their several renewals aggregating more than the -property would sell for in the present collapsed condition of such real -estate values. When he came to speak of the interest he had promised to -pay, he would pause with an imperative shake of the head, as if to abash -the futurity which was fast bringing about the maturity of these notes.</p> - -<p>“Why, Colonel, this is not good business,—you have practically bought -your own property twice over,” Treherne attempted to argue with him one -day when his mood waxed confidential. “You should have given up the -fight long ago and let them foreclose.”</p> - -<p>“Foreclose on my home place, sir,—the remnant of my father’s -plantation?” he replied in amaze. “Why, what would the snail do without -the shell he was born with? I shall need a narrower one before that day -comes, I humbly trust in Providence.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton could scarcely imagine existence without a mortgage. A -deed of trust seemed as natural and essential an incident of a holding -in fee simple as the title papers.</p> - -<p>Treherne discovered as time went on opportunities for betterment in the -Colonel’s affairs, small it is true, pitiful in comparison with the -ideals of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span> the old gentleman, who lifted his brows in compassionate -surprise when the subject was broached, and, but that he could not -contravene the common sense of the proposition, he might have thought it -an insane impulse, manifesting itself in schemes of domestic economy on -a minute scale.</p> - -<p>“Colonel, this place ought to make its own meat. There is plenty of corn -in that rearward barn. I put a padlock on its door to-day. Those young -shoats will be as fine a lot of meat as ever stepped by hog-killing -time. I had them turned into the oak woods to-day,—to give them a -chance at the mast,—makes the meat streaked lean and fat, you know.”</p> - -<p>“You surprise me,” said the Colonel, looking blankly over his -spectacles. “I didn’t know there was any corn left. And a few hogs -didn’t seem worth wasting time about. I don’t go into such matters, dear -boy,—cotton is my strong suit. Cotton is the only play.”</p> - -<p>“You spent your time in the war mostly on the firing line, Colonel. -Somebody ought to be mighty thankful you were not in the quartermaster’s -office. That ham we cut to-day came from the store, and the cook tells -me so does every pound of lard that goes into your frying pan, and all -the bacon you furnish to your force of hands. And yet you have here an -ample lot of bacon on the hoof and abundance of good feed to fatten it.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel appraised the logic and sat humiliated and silent.</p> - -<p>“I had the shoats all marked and sent the mark to the county court to be -registered. And now you’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>{268}</span> eat your own meat after January or go -without,” said Treherne sternly, in command of the situation.</p> - -<p>By some accident, searching in the Colonel’s desk for an envelope or -some such matter, Treherne chanced to discover a receipt for a bill -which the old gentleman had carelessly paid twice.</p> - -<p>“I took his word, of course,” said the Colonel in vicarious abasement, -“as the word of a gentleman and an old soldier.”</p> - -<p>“An old soldier on the back track generally. I remember him well,” said -Treherne uncompromisingly. “He shall refund as sure as my name is -Treherne.”</p> - -<p>And he did refund, protesting that the matter was an accident, an -oversight, which excuses the Colonel accepted in good faith and brought -back to the skeptical Hugh Treherne.</p> - -<p>“So queer those mistakes never happen to your advantage, Colonel,” he -snarled, and although his contention was obviously logical, the Colonel -listened dubiously.</p> - -<p>In truth, Colonel Kenwynton was of a different animus, of a dead day, of -a species as extinct as the Plesiosaurus. He could not even adapt -himself to the conditions of his survival. He could neither hear nor -speak through the telephone, although all his faculties were unimpaired. -He held himself immune from diseases of modern diagnosis; for him there -was no microbe, no appendicitis, no neurasthenia. His credulity revolted -against the practicability of wireless telegraphy and aviation. He clove -to his old books, and, except for the newspapers, he read nothing that -had been printed within the last fifty years. His ideas of amusement -were those<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>{269}</span> of previous generations. He was a skilled sportsman, a dead -shot, indeed; his play at billiards held the record at his club; he was -versed in many games of chance and had the nerve to back his hand or his -opinion to the limit of his power.</p> - -<p>He was a shrewd judge of horseflesh, and, as he often remarked since he -could no longer own and race a string, he took pleasure in seeing the -fine animals of other men achieve credit on the turf. Despite his early -gambling and racing proclivities he had always been esteemed a man of -immaculate honor and held a high social position. This ascendancy was -supplemented by certain associations of special piety incongruously -enough. As long as his wife had lived he accompanied her to church every -Sunday morning; he drew the line, it is true, at the evening service. He -carried a large prayerbook, and his notable personality rendered his -presence marked. He read the responses with a devotional air and a -solemn voice and listened to the sermon with an appearance of unflagging -interest and absorption; as he seemed to take it for granted that he -could go to heaven on the footing of an honorary member, his persuasion -was in a manner accepted, and it might have been a source of surprise to -his friends to realize that, after all, he was not a professedly -religious man.</p> - -<p>For some weeks the two incongruous companions lived on in great peace -and amity in the seclusion of the old plantation house, a rambling frame -structure far too large for the shrunken number of its inmates. The -broad verandas surrounding it on three sides scarcely knew a footfall; -the upper story was unoccupied save for the Colonel’s bedroom, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a>{270}</span> -Treherne had selected a chamber among the vacant apartments on the -ground floor that, through a glass door opening on the veranda, -permitted his egress betimes to take up his self-arrogated supervisory -duties on the place hours before his host, always a late riser, was -astir.</p> - -<p>One night,—a memorable night,—a dreadful thing happened. The Colonel -lay asleep in his big mahogany four-poster; the placidity of venerable -age on his face was scarcely less appealing than the innocence of -childhood; his snowy hair on the pillow gave back a silvery gleam to the -red suffusions from the hearth. If he dreamed, it was of some gentle -phase of yore, for his breathing was soft and regular, his consciousness -far away adown the misty realms of the past, irrevocable save in these -soft and sleeping illusions. The old house was still and silent. At long -intervals an errant gust stole around a corner and tried a window. Then -it skulked away and, for a time, a mute peace reigned.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a sound,—not of the elements, not from without. A sound that -in the deep peace of dreams smote no fiber of consciousness. It came -again and again. It was the sound of a step ascending the stair. A -slender shaft of light preceded it—the dim radiance showed first in a -line under the door. Then the door slowly swung ajar, and Hugh Treherne -entered, his candle in his hand—not the officer that the old Colonel -had known and trusted in the years that tried men’s souls, who never -broke faith or failed in a duty; not the piteous wreck whom he had met -on the tow-head where the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> lay aground, who wept on his -neck and besought his aid; not the earnest altruist, who planned<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a>{271}</span> and -contrived his escape from durance, through suffering and dread, to -retrieve the injustice done to an old comrade’s heirs, and with his -first recall of memory to reveal hidden treasure to enrich other men. -This was Hugh Treherne, of the obsession, a man who believed himself -possessed of the devil.</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton, gazing wincingly up with eyes heavy with sleep, and -dazed by the glare of the candle held close to his face, hardly -recognized the lineaments bent above him—wild, distorted, with a -sinister smile, a queer furtive doubt, as if some wicked maniacal -impulse debated with the vanishing instinct of reason in his brain.</p> - -<p>The Colonel feared no man. The instinct of fear, if ever it had existed -in him, was annulled, atrophied. But in this lonely house, in the -presence of this strange and inexplicable possession, in all that this -change, so curiously wrought, so radical, so sinister, intimated, his -blood ran cold.</p> - -<p>“He has come, Colonel,” hissed the strange man, for the Colonel could -hardly make shift to recognize him, “the Devil has come!”</p> - -<p>There was an aghast pause. Then Colonel Kenwynton understood the -significance of the catastrophe. He plunged up in the bed, throwing off -the cover, and gazed wildly around the room.</p> - -<p>“The Devil has come?—Then skirmish to the front, Hugh! Hold him in -check, while I get on my clothes, and I’ll flank him. By George, I’ve -led a forlorn hope in my time, and I’m not to be intimidated by any -little medical fiend like this!”</p> - -<p>It was not long, however, that they sojourned at the sanatorium, but the -doctor, who had heard of the suddenness of the seizure, warned Colonel -Kenwynton<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>{272}</span> that he had always best have help at hand in case of a -relapse as sudden.</p> - -<p>“You might be in danger of violence from him,” the doctor explained, -seeing that Colonel Kenwynton stared in blank amaze.</p> - -<p>“In danger of violence, sir, <i>from my own officer</i>,” he exclaimed, -flouting the obvious absurdity, as if the Confederate army were in -complete organization, the loyal submission to a superior in rank at -once the dearest behest and the instinct of second nature with the -soldier.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, Hugh Treherne justified the trust. He wrought Colonel -Kenwynton nothing but good. His mental health was so far restored to its -normal strength that when they had returned together to the old home he -took the lead in all those practical little affairs of life which bored -the Colonel, and which he at once misunderstood and despised. He shrank -from society, in which, indeed, he was more feared than welcomed, and -the Colonel, in compassion for his infirmity and loneliness, had given -up most of his cronies. The Colonel suffered from this deprivation more -than Treherne, who took an intense and almost pathetic interest in -trifling improvements; the fences were mended; the farm buildings were -repaired; various small peculations ceased, for the servants and the -hands whose interests brought them about the place were afraid of the -“crazy man,” and were alert and capable in obeying his orders,—the -anger that flashed in his wild dark eyes was not reassuring. He pottered -in placid content about these industrial pursuits till chance led to a -greater utility.</p> - -<p>He displayed unexpected judgment in advice<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a>{273}</span> which saved the Colonel from -taking a financial step that would, indeed, have bereft the simple snail -of his rickety old shell in his defenseless years, and certain -financiers of a dubious sort, baffled in the expectation of gain at the -old man’s loss, looked askance at Hugh Treherne and his influence with -his former commander which promised in time to remove him altogether -from their clutches. They made great talk of having considered his -interest rather than their own, and in set phrase withdrew the sun of -their favor to shine on his shattered affairs no more. But his affairs -were on the mend. Through Treherne’s urgency he devoted the returns from -the bulk of his cotton crop, unusually large this year, to the lifting -of a mortgage on a pretty tract of land nearer the county town than his -plantation, almost in the suburbs, in truth, and which was thus left -unencumbered. In this matter he was difficult of persuasion, and yielded -only at last to be rid of importunacy.</p> - -<p>“Lord, Hugh, how lonesome I do feel without that money,” he said -drearily, lighting his candle one night.</p> - -<p>“But you have got the land free of all encumbrance, Colonel,—dead to -rights,—within two miles of the town, right out there in the night.”</p> - -<p>“It is a cold night and dark,” said the Colonel, toying with the -snuffers. “It seems cruel to leave it there, bare and bleak, with no -sort of a little old mortgage to cover it.”</p> - -<p>But then he laughed and took himself upstairs to his rest.</p> - -<p>A similar application of funds betided his later shipments of bales, the -receipts from which were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>{274}</span> formerly wont to vanish in driblets he hardly -knew how.</p> - -<p>“Hugh, this way of paying debts that I thought would last through my -time and be discharged by my executors almost takes my breath away,” he -said half jocosely, half upbraiding. “You scarcely leave me a dollar for -myself,—to buy me a little ‘baccy.’<span class="lftspc">”</span> And then they both laughed.</p> - -<p>In the forty years of Hugh Treherne’s incarceration such independent -means as he had possessed had barely sufficed for his maintenance at the -sanatorium, constantly dwindling until now becoming inadequate for that -purpose. His relatives greatly disapproved of the course that events had -taken and were also solicitous for his safety while at large and the -possibility of injury to others at his hands. One of them, a man of -ample fortune, by way of coercing acquiescence in their views, notified -Colonel Kenwynton that they would not be responsible for any expenses -which Captain Treherne might incur during his absence from the asylum, -where he had been placed with the sanction of his kindred, and where the -writer of this communication was prepared to defray all the costs of his -sojourn and treatment. Colonel Kenwynton, in a letter as formal and -courteous as a cartel and as smoothly fierce, expressed his ignorance -that any moneys had been asked of Captain Treherne’s relatives, and -begged to know when and by whom such requests had been made. Then a -significant silence settled on the subject.</p> - -<p>The old Colonel felt that he had routed the enemy, but Hugh Treherne, to -whom he detailed the circumstances, for he treated his friend in every -respect<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>{275}</span> as a sane man and kept nothing from him, did not share his -host’s elation. A deep gloom descended upon his spirits and a furtive -apprehension looked out of his eyes. He cautiously scanned the personnel -of every approach to the house before he ventured to appear and greet -the newcomers, and in his small interests about the place he kept within -close reach of refuge. The negroes began to notice that he discontinued -his supervisory errands to the fields where the picking of cotton was -still in progress and where he had shown himself exceedingly suspicious -of the accounts of the weigher and the bulk of the cotton delivered as -compared with the distribution of the money furnished by Colonel -Kenwynton for paying the cotton pickers. “The ole Cunnel’s crap will -sho’ly turn out fur all hit is worf’ dis time,” the grinning darkeys -were in the habit of commenting.</p> - -<p>The old gentleman was constitutionally and by training incapable of -detecting this deviation from the established routine, but affection -whetted his wits and he observed the change in Hugh Treherne’s -appearance when it began to be so marked as scarcely to be imputed to -fluctuations in his malady.</p> - -<p>“Why are you looking so down-in-the-mouth, Hugh?” he demanded one -morning after breakfast as he sprawled comfortably with his pipe before -the crackling fire, agreeable in the chill of the early December day -despite the bland golden sunshine of the southern winter. Treherne cast -at him a glance helplessly terrified, like a child in the face of -danger, and said not a word. “You are losing your relish for country -life, I am afraid,” the Colonel went on. “Why, you haven’t put your foot -in stirrup for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>{276}</span> week. Why don’t you take your horse out for a canter?”</p> - -<p>The hearty genial tones opened the floodgates of confidence. It was -impossible for Treherne to resist the look of affectionate solicitude, -of kindly sympathy in those transparently candid eyes.</p> - -<p>“Colonel,—I’m—I’m—afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Zounds, sir. Afraid of what?”</p> - -<p>“Capture,” the hunted creature replied succinctly.</p> - -<p>“Why, look here, man,” the Colonel rallied him, “I really think you have -been captured before this time. How long were you in prison at Camp -Chase?”</p> - -<p>“But, Colonel, this is different. I think my friends—my unfriends,—are -bent on restoring me to seclusion.”</p> - -<p>“Doctor Vailer won’t receive you,—professional pride much lacerated by -the criticism of his course expressed by your precious relative, Tom -Treherne,—excuse me if I pause here to particularly curse him—and you -know when you touch a really learned technician of any sort on his -professional pride, you have got hold of his keenest susceptibility, -where he feels most acutely and most high-mindedly, the very nerves of -his soul, so to speak, his spiritual essence. Doctor Vailer won’t have -you.”</p> - -<p>“But there are other alienists, other asylums in Mississippi.”</p> - -<p>“And under your favor there is <i>me</i> in Mississippi,—and there is the -law of the land. I tell you, Hugh, that Tom Treherne might as well try -to bottle up the Mississippi River as to incarcerate you again without -Doctor Vailer’s sanction, of course, so long as I am out of the -ground.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a>{277}</span></p> - -<p>Hugh Treherne stirred uneasily and crossed and uncrossed his legs as he -sat opposite the Colonel in a big mahogany chair before the frowsy -hearth where the ashes of nearly all the fires since fall set in were -banked behind the big tarnished brass dogs—the Colonel was no dainty -housekeeper, and deserved the frequent declaration that “de Cunnel don’t -know de diffunce.”</p> - -<p>“People generally, Colonel, will approve the course of my relations,” -Treherne argued. “It will seem the proper thing as long as I -am—am—occasionally—absent.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you are all here, now, in one piece,” declared the old man, -wagging his head with vehement emphasis.</p> - -<p>“It will seem very generous of Tom Treherne to offer, to desire to -maintain me at his own expense at a high-priced private sanatorium, -since I have no means of my own.”</p> - -<p>He paused, a bitter look of repulsion on his face. All these -years—these long years, the men of his own age, the compeers of his -youth, had been at work restoring their shattered fortunes, after the -terrible cataclysm of war that had wrecked the financial interests as -well as the face of the southern country, achieving eminence and -distinction in their varied lines of effort, life signifying somewhat of -attainment even to those of meanest ability, while he was gone to waste, -destroyed by his own gallant exploit; the blow of the sabre, the jeering -accolade of Fate, when he had triumphantly led his troop to the capture -of a strong battery, had consigned him to forty years of idleness, -helplessness, imprisonment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a>{278}</span> in effect. “Be brave, loyal, and -fortunate,” quotha.</p> - -<p>He was silently revolving these reflections so long that Colonel -Kenwynton, puffing his pipe with gusto, declared:</p> - -<p>“I’ll make Tom Treherne’s liberality look like thirty cents before I am -done with him. He can’t choke you off and hide you out because he is -afraid you might be troublesome to <i>him</i> in the future,—dispose of you -for good and all,—not while I am alive. Why, damme, man, you commanded -a troop in my regiment.”</p> - -<p>“If he should once more lay hands on me I could never get away from him -and his precautions and anxieties, and considerations for the safety of -the public and open-handed generosity. And, Colonel, you might not know -where he had stowed me away next time.”</p> - -<p>“Hoh,” snorted the Colonel, “I never lose sight of you longer than -between breakfast and dinner. I’d be on his track with every detective -in the State before dark. Why, Hugh, I’m a moneyed man. I’d take -advantage of your absence to mortgage that little tract of land out -yonder bare of all encumbrance, and I’d spend the last nickel of it -making publicity for Tom Treherne. <i>He</i> isn’t going to spend any money -except for his own objects. Now, boots and saddles! Time for you to be -on the march!”</p> - -<p>In two hours Treherne was back again, with a flush on his face and a -light in his eyes, bearing the mail, for which he had ridden to the -nearest town, and this contained matters of interest both for him and -the Colonel. It was, indeed, a rare occurrence when he received a -letter—in forty years he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>{279}</span> count the missives on the fingers of -one hand. To-day the post brought him one addressed directly to him by -Adrian Ducie, although the counsel for the two brothers wrote instead to -Colonel Kenwynton. In common with all people of advancing years, -Treherne was continually impressed with the superiority of the methods -of the past in comparison with those of to-day. He noted the courtesy, -the consideration of the tone of the letter, and at once likened it to -the manner of the writer’s boy uncle, who had been his chum and comrade -in the ancient days. His heart warmed to the perception of tact which -had induced this one of the brothers to write who had been present at -the finding of the box and the valuable papers, that it was hoped would -return to the Ducie heirs the estate which had been so long wrested from -them. Adrian and Randal had both taken care on that occasion to express -their deep appreciation of the efforts of Archie Ducie’s friend to -restore to them their rights, although they had been the victims of his -disqualified memory. But now Adrian repeated their realization of the -extreme and friendly interest which had caused this object to so -persistently cling to the mind and intention of Captain Treherne, and -asked if he would object to giving testimony in a sort which the counsel -recommended, immediately after the filing of the bill for the recovery -of the property, a proceeding <i>de bene esse</i>, to be used in case of -death or a recurrence of a malady which would prevent the taking of his -deposition in the regular proceedings in the cause.</p> - -<p>It was a difficult letter to write, a delicate proposition to make, and -it was done with a simple directness, a lack of circumlocution which -might imply<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>{280}</span> that Adrian Ducie thought it a usual matter that gentlemen -could be seized with a recurrence of acute mania, obstructing the course -of business, and tending to impede justice. Treherne declared that it -was exactly the sort of letter that Archibald Ducie would have written, -and he was eager to comply with the request.</p> - -<p>“Only,” he began, and paused abruptly.</p> - -<p>“Only what?” asked the Colonel, looking up with grizzled eyebrows drawn.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know how—how baffling it is to talk, to speak, when you are -aware that everybody is all the time disparaging every word as insanity. -Even you could scarcely hold your own under such circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“I could,” declared the Colonel hardily. “I’d know that nine out of -every ten men are crazy anyhow, with no lucid intervals,—natural fools, -born fools—fools for the lack of sense,—only,” with a crafty leer, -“the rest of the fellows are so looney themselves that nobody has found -it out.”</p> - -<p>Treherne laughed, and the Colonel went on with his prelection.</p> - -<p>“Never stop to consider what people will think, Hugh. They will think -what they damn please. It is the root of most of the troubles that beset -this world,—trying to square our preferences and duty to what people -will think.”</p> - -<p>Thus the testimony <i>de bene esse</i> was taken, Captain Treherne’s story -from the beginning;—his part in the concealment of the treasure at -Duciehurst, assisting his friend and comrade Archibald Ducie; his -knowledge of the nature of the papers among the jewels; the early death -of his friend; his own wound<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>{281}</span> and his consequent mental disability; his -incarceration for forty years in an insane asylum; his recent recovery -of memory, and his resolve to right this wrong which impelled him to -make his escape from Glenrose; his meeting with Colonel Kenwynton; the -strange attack he sustained from unknown miscreants after quitting the -sand-bar; the transit, bound and gagged, to Duciehurst, supplemented by -the circumstances of his liberation by Colonel Kenwynton and Adrian -Ducie. The affidavit of the alienist as to his lucid condition at the -time and his present mental reliability completed the proceedings.</p> - -<p>This was merely a precautionary measure, designed to guard against a -relapse of Captain Treherne into his malady. The Ducie heirs had already -made formal demand for the restoration of their ancestral estate, -alleging the full satisfaction of the indebtedness, recording the -release of the mortgage and the quit-claim deed, and bringing suit -against all in interest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>{282}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Floyd-Rosney</span> could scarcely restrain his fury when the papers were -served upon him. The whole subject had grown doubly distasteful because -of its singular connection with his domestic concerns. He could not fall -to so poor spirited a plane as to imagine that his wife preferred -another man—he was too ascendant in his own estimation to harbor the -thought. Logic, simple, plain common sense, forbade the conclusion. She -had thrown this man over for him years ago at the first summons. He did -not esteem his wealth as the lure; it was only an incident of his other -superlative advantages. She had not seen the discarded lover since, yet -from the moment of the appearance of the facsimile brother was -inaugurated a change in her manner, her conversation, the very look in -her eyes, which he could not explain, except as the result of old -associations which he did not share, antagonistic to his interest and -his domestic peace.</p> - -<p>She had very blandly explained on the first opportunity, volunteering -the communication, indeed, the mystery of the return of the key—an old -<i>gage d’amour</i>, a trifle—the slightness of which he mentally conceded, -for he had large ideas in <i>bijouterie</i>. She did not wish to keep it, nor -to send it back without explanation; in fact, she was not willing to -return it at all except in her husband’s presence.</p> - -<p>“Dear me, you need not have been so particular,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span> he declared -cavalierly. “A matter of no importance.”</p> - -<p>She had magnified it in her fear of him till it loomed great and -menacing. She felt cheapened and crestfallen by his manner of receiving -the disclosure. Yet he had marked the occurrence, she was sure; he had -resented it—though he now flouted it as a trifle. This added to her -respect for him, and it riveted the fetters in which he held her.</p> - -<p>The inauguration of the suit to rip up and annul the ancient -foreclosure, the many irritating questions as to whether the lapse of -time could be pleaded in bar of the remedy, whether disabilities could -be brought forward to affect the operation of the statute of -limitations, what line of attack would be pursued by the Ducie brothers, -all wrought him almost to a frenzy. He could scarcely endure even -canvassing with his lawyers the points of his adversary’s position. Any -intimation of the development of possible strength on their part -affected him like the discovery of disloyalty in his counsel. More than -once the senior of these gentlemen saw fit to explain that this effort -to probe the possibilities, to foresee and provide against the maneuvers -of the enemy, to weigh the values in their favor, was not the result of -conviction, but merely to ascertain the facts in the case.</p> - -<p>The counsel, in closer conference still, closeted together, canvassed in -surprise and disaffection the difficulty of handling their client, and -the best method of avoiding rousing from his lair the slumbering lion of -his temper. It was a case involving so much opportunity of distinction, -of professional display, as well as heavy fees, that they were loath<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span> to -risk public discomfiture because Mr. Floyd-Rosney was prone to gnash his -teeth at a mere inquiry which bore upon one of the many sensitive points -with which the case seemed to bristle. He was as prickly as a porcupine, -and to stroke him gently required the deftness of a conjurer. At the -most unexpected junctures this proclivity of sudden rage, of -unaccountable discomfiture broke forth, amazing and harassing the -counsel, who, with all their perspicacity, could not perceive, lurking -in the background of Floyd-Rosney’s consciousness, the mirage of his -wife’s ancient romance, more especially as he himself could not justify -its formulation on the horizon.</p> - -<p>As Floyd-Rosney was accustomed to handle large business interests and -was ordinarily open to any proposition of a practical nature, -conservative in his views, and close and accurate in his calculation of -chances, his attitude in this matter mystified his co-adjutors, who had -had experience hitherto in his affairs and were versed in his peculiar -characteristics. The legal firm had come to avoid speaking of any point -that might redound to the advantage of the opponent, unless, indeed, -there was some bit of information necessary to secure from Floyd-Rosney. -Thus matters had been going more smoothly, save that he was wont to come -to the conferences with his counsel bearing always a lowering brow and a -smoldering fire in his surly, brown eyes. It flared into open flame when -one day Mr. Stacey, the senior counsel, observed:</p> - -<p>“They will, doubtless, call Mrs. Floyd-Rosney.”</p> - -<p>The client went pale for a moment, then his face turned a deep purplish -red. Twice he sought to speak before he could enunciate a word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>{285}</span></p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he sputtered at length. “As their witness? It is -monstrous! I will not suffer it! It is monstrous!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; not at all.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Stacey had a colorless, clear-cut face of the thin, hatchet-like -type. His straight hair, originally of some blonde hue, had worn sparse, -and neither showed the tint of youth nor demanded the respect due to the -bleach of age. It seemed wasted out. He was immaculately groomed and was -very spare; he looked, somehow, as if in due process of law he had been -ground very sharp, and had lost all extraneous particles. There seemed -nothing of Mr. Stacey but a legal machine, very cleverly invented, and, -as he sat in his swivel chair, his thin legs crossed, he turned a bit -from his desk, intently regarding Mr. Floyd-Rosney, who was thrown back -in a cushioned armchair beside him, flanked by the great waste-paper -basket, containing the off-scourings of the lawyer’s desk. Mr. Stacey’s -light gray eyes narrowed as he gazed,—he was beginning to see into the -dark purlieus of his client’s reasonless conduct.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney is perfectly competent to testify in the case.” Mr. -Stacey wore a specially glittering set of false teeth which made no -pretense to nature, but gave effect to his clear-clipped enunciation. -“Her deposition will certainly be taken by them.”</p> - -<p>“As against her husband?” foamed Floyd-Rosney in vehement argument. “She -can be introduced <i>by</i> her husband to testify in his behalf, but not -<i>against</i> him, except in her own interest, as you know right well.”</p> - -<p>“That incompetency is limited to the Mississippi<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>{286}</span> law as regards third -persons, in the case of husband and wife. But in the proceedings in -reference to the Tennessee property the local statutes will obtain,—she -can testify against her husband’s interest and, in my opinion, will be -constrained to do this.” After this succinct, dispassionate statement -Mr. Stacey paused for a moment; then, in response to Floyd-Rosney’s -stultified bovine stare, as in speechless amazement, he went on with a -tang of impatience in his tone. “Why, you know, of course, there is a -bit of Tennessee property involved,—that small business house in South -Memphis,—I forget, for the moment, the name of the street. You are -aware that in the foreclosure proceedings nearly forty years ago the -plantation and mansion house of Duciehurst were bid in for the estate of -the mortgagee, but as the amount of the highest bid at the sale did not -equal the indebtedness in the shrunken condition of real estate values -at that time, the executors pursued and subjected other property of the -mortgagor for the balance due, this Tennessee holding being a part of -it, and the Ducies now contend that the debt having been previously -fully satisfied and paid in full, this whole proceeding was null and -void from the beginning. They bring suit for all in sight. Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney can testify in their interest under the Tennessee -statutes.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney sprang up and strode across the room, coming flush against -the waste-paper basket as he threw himself once more into his chair, -overturning the papers and scattering them about the floor. He took no -notice of them, but the tidy Stacey glanced down at the litter, though -with an inscrutable eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a>{287}</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll get her out of the country. They shall not have her testimony. -They shall not call her as their witness. She has been wanting a trip to -the Orient—she shall go—at once—at once!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Stacey very closely and critically examined a paper knife that had -been lying on the table. Then, putting it down, he rejoined, without -looking at Floyd-Rosney, who was scarcely in case to be seen, the veins -of his forehead swollen and stiff, his face apoplectically red, his eyes -hot and angry: “They can have her deposition taken in a foreign -country.”</p> - -<p>“If they can find her,” said Floyd-Rosney in prophetic triumph. “But -they would not take the time for that.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you don’t reflect,” said the lawyer very coolly, “the cause may -not come to trial for two or three years. In view of the usual delays, -continuances and the like, you could not expatriate her for that length -of time.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s face was a mask of stubborn conviction as he replied:</p> - -<p>“The Ducies will want to race the matter through. They claim that they -and their predecessors have been wrongfully kept out of their own for -forty years. They will think that is long enough. <i>I</i> won’t make delays. -The question is a legal one, and can be decided on the jump—yes or no. -The case can come to trial at the April term of the court, and by that -time Mrs. Floyd-Rosney will be in Jerusalem or Jericho.”</p> - -<p>“This will damage your position in the case, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” urged -the lawyer. “I think, myself, that it is a particularly valuable point -for you that it should be your wife, who, at considerable risk and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a>{288}</span> in a -very dramatic manner, discovered and secured these family jewels and -papers, knowing what they were and that they threatened the title of her -husband, and restored them to the complainants. It proves your good -faith in your title—the foreclosure of the mortgage in ignorance of the -outstanding release. Your wife as their witness is a valuable witness -for us, and the motives of your contention being thus justified there -remains nothing but the question of title to come before the court.”</p> - -<p>“All that rigamarole can be proved by other witnesses,” said -Floyd-Rosney doggedly. “There were twenty people who saw her come -bouncing down the stairs with the box and give it to Adrian Ducie.”</p> - -<p>There is a species of anger expressed in unbecoming phraseology. Mr. -Stacey made no sign, but the words “rigamarole,” applied to his own -lucid prelection, and “bouncing” to the gait of the very elegant Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, did not pass unnoted.</p> - -<p>“I am sure the case on neither side can be ready for the April -term,—the docket is crowded and there is always the possibility of -continuances.”</p> - -<p>“There are to be no continuances on our side,” declared Floyd-Rosney, -both glum and stubborn; “I don’t choose that my wife shall testify in -their interest. She goes to the Orient, and stays there till the -testimony is all in and the case closed.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a>{289}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> season had opened in a whirl of social absorption for Paula, once -more established in their city house for the winter. She had never known -her husband so interested in these functions nor so solicitous that her -entertainments should be characterized by a species of magnificence that -would once have dazzled and delighted her, but that now seemed only to -illustrate his wealth and predominance. He was critical and fretful -because of small, very small, deficiencies, as—some flower being -unattainable that one less costly should be used in decoration, or a -shade of an electrolier being broken that another, dissimilar to the -rest in design, should be temporarily substituted. Her own toilets were -submitted to his scrutiny and preference, and when she revolted, saying -that she knew far more of such matters than he did, he lapsed into surly -dissatisfaction. Once he spoke of a costume of delicate, chaste elegance -as “common”—“nothing on it.” Then he added significantly, “You ought to -have married a poor man, Paula, if that is your taste.”</p> - -<p>She held the gown up when she was disrobing afterward and examined its -points. She saw that the effect could have been duplicated in simple -materials costing a trifle; thus beautifully and gracefully could she -have gowned herself if she <i>had</i> married a poor man as once she had -thought to do.</p> - -<p>Of her own initiative she could not have given the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a>{290}</span> series of dinners of -which the lavish richness astonished, as was intended, the guests, and -of which, strangely enough, she was tired before they began. More than -once, as she took up her position beside her husband in the glittering -drawing-room, hearing the approach of the first of the guests, he said -to her in a low voice, the tone like a pinch: “Don’t seem so dull, -Paula—you have gone off awfully in your looks lately, and that gown is -no good. For Heaven’s sake be more animated, and not so much like a rag -doll.” It was poor preparation to meet the coterie of men and women -keyed to a high pitch of effort toward charm and brilliancy, as doing -honor to the occasion, their hosts, and themselves. A large ball was -also among the functions he planned, to be given in compliment to -Hildegarde Dean, whose beauty he affected to admire extravagantly. He -had remembered his wife’s obvious jealousy of her attractions when -Randal Ducie had seemed interested and delighted, and it did not soothe -his unquiet spirit to note that now she had no grudging, but joined -ardently in making the festivity a great success and an elaborate -tribute to the reigning belle and beauty. She was required to invite the -wives of certain men whom he desired to compliment,—yet who were not of -his list of dinner guests,—to luncheons, and teas, and afternoon -receptions, till she was tired out with the meaningless routine and sick -at heart. Yet this was what she had craved—all her dream come true, -pressed down and running over. Why had it no longer an interest for her? -Was it sheer satiety, or was it that naught is of value when love has -flown. And it had gone—even such poor semblance as had worn its name -had vanished. She could not delude<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>{291}</span> herself, though she might make shift -to masquerade in such wise that he should not know. She hoped for this, -for she had begun to fear him. He was so arrogant, so self-sufficient, -so dominant, so coercive. She feared his frown, his surly slumbrous -eyes, his hasty outbursts of gusty temper.</p> - -<p>One evening in this arid existence, this feast of dead-sea fruit, there -was on hand no social duty—the pretty phrase for the empty -frivolity—and she was glad of it. It was a gala night at the opera, for -a star of distinction was to sing in a Wagnerian rôle, and the -Floyd-Rosneys would occupy their box, according to their habit when -aught worth while was billed. She was dressed for the occasion and -awaiting him in the library, but he had not yet come in. She was more -placid than her wont of late, for she realized that it would rest her -nerves to be still and listen, a respite, however brief, from the -tiresome round; and she had just come from the nursery where the baby -was being put to bed—very playful, and freakish, and comical. She had -been laughing with him, and at him, and the glow of this simple -happiness was still warm in her heart when the door opened and her -husband entered. He was not yet dressed for the evening, and, as she -looked her surprise, he responded directly:</p> - -<p>“No,—we are not going.”</p> - -<p>He often changed his plans thus, regardless of her preferences, and she -had grown so plastic to his will that she was able to readjust her -evening or her day without regard to her previous expectations.</p> - -<p>The spacious room might have seemed the ideal expression of a home of -culture and affluence. The walls were lined with books from floor to -ceiling, unbroken<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a>{292}</span> save where a painting of value and distinction was -inserted, special favorites of their owner, and placed here where his -eyes might constantly rest upon them, rather than consigned to the -gallery of his art treasures. The furniture was all of a fashion -illustrating the extremity of luxury,—such soft cushions, such elastic -springs, such deep pile into which the feet sunk treading the Oriental -rugs. Not a sound from the street nor from any portion of the house -could penetrate this choice seclusion, and over the fireplace, where the -hickory logs flared genially, the legend “Fair Quiet, have I found thee -here?” was especially accented by a finely sculptured statue of Silence, -her finger on her lip, which stood on its pedestal at a little distance -from the deep bay of a window.</p> - -<p>The beautiful woman, in the blended radiance of the electric light and -the home-like blaze, seemed as one of the favored of the earth. She had -dressed with great care, and her gown of lavender gauze over satin of -the same shade, with a string of fine pearls about her throat and -another in her fair hair, could scarcely have incurred his unfavorable -criticism. Her gloves of the same tint lay ready on the table and an -evening cloak of white brocaded satin hung over a chair. Great pains and -some time such a toilette cost; but she had learned never to count -trouble if peace might ensue.</p> - -<p>She was prepared to be left in ignorance of his reason for a change of -plans, but he seemed, this evening, disposed to explain. He came and -stood opposite to her, one hand lifted on the shelf of the massive -mantel-piece, while he held his hat with the other. He was still in his -overcoat, its collar and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a>{293}</span> lining of fur bringing out in strong relief -the admirable points of his handsome face, its red and white tints, the -brilliancy of his full lordly eyes, the fine shade of his chestnut hair. -He was notably splendid this evening, vitally alert, powerful of aspect, -yet graceful, all the traits of his manly beauty finished with such -minutely delicate detail. She noticed the embellishment of his aspect, -as if the evident quickening of his interest in some matter had enhanced -it, and she remembered a day—long ago, it seemed, foolish and transient -when she had had a proud possessory sentiment toward this fair outer -semblance of the identity within, so little known to her then, so -overwhelming all other attributes of his personality.</p> - -<p>She did not ask a question—she was too well trained by experience. He -would tell her if he would; if not, it was futile to speculate as to his -intentions.</p> - -<p>“Well, the Oriental tour is <i>un fait accompli</i>,” he said, smiling. “You -sail within the week.”</p> - -<p>She started in surprise. She had definitely been denied this desire, -which she had once harbored, on the score of all others most seemingly -untenable—expense. But it was her husband’s habit to make everything -inordinately costly. He would not appear in public except <i>en prince</i>, -nor travel abroad save with a most elaborate and extensive itinerary and -a suite of attendants.</p> - -<p>“This week—why—I don’t know——” she hesitated. “I suppose—I can get -ready.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you will scarcely need any preparation,” he said cavalierly. “Any -old things will answer.”</p> - -<p>This was so out of character with his wonted solicitude<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a>{294}</span> in small -matters that she was surprised and vaguely agitated. She saw a quiver in -the tip of her dainty lavender slipper, extended on a hassock before her -in the relaxed attitude she had occupied, and she withdrew it that the -disquietude of her nerves might not be noticed. She raised herself to an -upright posture in her chair before she replied in a matter-of-fact -tone.</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t alluding to dress. What I am wearing here will answer, of -course—but I was thinking of the arrangements for the nurse. Will we -take his old colored nurse, or do you suppose she would not be equal to -the requirements of the trip? Had Elise better go in her place?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that cuts no ice. For the baby won’t go at all,” he replied, as -simply as if this were an obvious conclusion.</p> - -<p>She sat petrified for one moment. Then she found her voice—loud and -strong and definite.</p> - -<p>“The baby won’t go!” she exclaimed. “Then I won’t go—not one foot! What -do you take me for?”</p> - -<p>“For a sensible woman,” he retorted.</p> - -<p>He looked angry, as always, when opposed, but not surprised. He had -evidently anticipated her objection, and he controlled himself with care -unusual to his ungoverned temper. “Who wants to go dragging a child -three years old all around Europe and the Holy Land! You won’t be gone -more than a year!”</p> - -<p>“A year! Why, Edward—are you crazy? To think I would leave the baby for -a year! No—nor a month! No—nor a day! He has scarcely been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>{295}</span> out of my -sight for two hours together since he was born.”</p> - -<p>“How many women leave their children to take a trip abroad,” he argued, -and she began to feel vaguely that he would much prefer that she should -agree peaceably—he was even willing to exert such self-control as was -necessary to persuade her.</p> - -<p>“Never—never would I,” she declared, “and he would be miserable without -me.”</p> - -<p>“Not with me here,” her husband urged. “He is pleased to regard me with -considerable favor.” And he bent upon her his rare, intimate, -confidential smile.</p> - -<p>For, unknown to him, she had been at great pains to build up a sort of -idolatry of his father in the breast of the little boy, such as children -usually feel without prompting. He was taught to disregard -Floyd-Rosney’s averse, selfish inattention, to rejoice and bask in the -sun of his favor, to run to greet him with pretty little graces, to -admire him extravagantly as the finest man in all the world, to regulate -his infantile conduct by the paternal prepossessions, being stealthily -rewarded by his mother whenever his wiles attained the meed of praise.</p> - -<p>Paula looked dazed, bewildered.</p> - -<p>“You know, dearest, I am held here by the pressure of that villainous -lawsuit, and as it will absorb all my leisure I thought that now is your -chance for your Oriental tour—for I really don’t care to go again, and -you may never have another opportunity.”</p> - -<p>He paused, somewhat at a loss. She was leaning forward, gazing at him -searchingly.</p> - -<p>“What <i>can</i> possess you to imagine for one moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a>{296}</span> that I would go -without the boy! What is the Orient to me—or my silly fad for Eastern -travel! I wish my tongue had been withered before I ever spoke the -word!”</p> - -<p>“Why, you talk as if I were proposing something amazing—abnormally -brutal. Don’t other women leave their children?”</p> - -<p>“But with their mothers, or some one who stands in that tender, -solicitous relation,—and I have no mother!” Her words ended in a wail.</p> - -<p>“But he will be with me—and surely I care for him as much as you do,” -he argued, vehemently.</p> - -<p>“But why can’t I take him with me,” she sought to adjust the difficulty, -“even though the pleasure of the trip is lost if you don’t go?”</p> - -<p>“Because—because,” he hesitated. “Because I cannot bear the separation -from him,” he declared bluntly. “I am afraid something—I don’t know -what—might happen to him. I know I am a fool. I couldn’t bear it.”</p> - -<p>His folly went to her heart in his behalf as nothing else could have -done. This evidence of his love for the child, his son and hers, atoned -for a thousand slights and tyrannies which she forgave on the spot. Her -brow cleared, her face relaxed, her cheek flushed.</p> - -<p>“Aha!” she cried jubilantly, “you know how it feels, too!” She gleefully -shook her fan at him. “We will let the trip to the Orient drop, now and -forever. I can’t go without little Edward, and you”—she gave him a -radiant, rallying smile—“can’t spare him, so we will just stay at home -and see as much of each other as the old lawsuit will let you. And what -I want to know,” she added, with a touch<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a>{297}</span> of indignation, “is, why do -those lawyers of yours allow the matter to harass you? It is their -business to take the care of it off your shoulders.”</p> - -<p>He stood silent throughout this speech, changing expressions flitting -across his face, but it hardened upon the allusion to the lawsuit and -his vacillation solidified into resolve.</p> - -<p>“Come, Paula, this talk is idle; the matter is arranged. The Hardingtons -start for New York to-morrow, and sail as soon as they strike the town. -Mrs. Hardington says she will be enchanted to have you of her party, and -I have telegraphed and received an answer engaging your stateroom on the -ship. Your section in the Pullman is also reserved,—couldn’t get the -stateroom on the train—already taken, hang it.”</p> - -<p>She had risen to her feet and was gazing at him with a sort of averse -amazement, once more pale and agitated, and with a strange difficulty of -articulation. “Why, Edward, what do you mean? Why should you want to get -me out of the country? There’s something behind all this, evidently.” -She noted that he winced by so slight a token as the flicker of an -eyelash. “You know that I would not consent to go without my child for -any earthly consideration.”</p> - -<p>“I know no such thing, as I have told you,” he retorted hotly. “The -arrangements are all made. Your passage is taken. I have ready your -letter of credit. I do think you are the most ungrateful wretch alive,” -he exclaimed, his eyes aglow with anger. “A beautiful and costly trip, -that you have longed for, planned out for you in every detail, and -you——” he broke off with a gesture of repudiation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a>{298}</span></p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t be separated from my child for one night for all the -jauntings about the globe that could be devised,” she declared.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney suddenly lost all self-control. “Well, you certainly will -be separated from him for one night—for many nights,—for he is gone!”</p> - -<p>“Gone?” She sprang forward with a shriek and started toward the door. -Then with a desperate effort to compose herself she paused even in the -attitude of flight. “For God’s sake, Edward, where has he gone? What do -you mean?”</p> - -<p>“He has been sent to the place where I propose to have him cared for in -your absence. Knowing that your time is short I tried to smooth the -way.”</p> - -<p>“But where?—where?”</p> - -<p>“Where you shall not know,—you shall not follow. You may as well make -up your mind to take the trip.”</p> - -<p>She seemed taller, to tower, as she drew herself up in her wrath, -standing on the threshold in the ghastly incongruity of her festival -evening gown and her tragic face. “Oh, you brute!” she shrilled at him. -“You fiend!”</p> - -<p>Then she turned and fled through the great square hall and up the -massive staircase to the nursery that she had quitted so lately, that -had been so full of cheer and cosy comfort and infantile laughter and -caresses.</p> - -<p>The room was empty now. The fire was low in the grate, seen through the -bars of the high fender that kept the little fellow from danger of -contact with the flames. The dull, spiritless, red glow of the embers -enabled her to discern the switch to turn on the electric light, and -instantly the apartment<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>{299}</span> sprang into keen visibility. The bed was -vacant, the coverlets disarranged where the child had been taken thence, -doubtless after he had fallen asleep. The drawers of the bureau, the -doors of the wardrobe stood ajar, the receptacles ransacked of all his -little garments, his hats and shoes. Evidently a trunk had been packed -in view of a prolonged absence while she had sat downstairs in the -library, all unconscious of the machinations in progress against her in -her own home. She was numb with the realization of the tremendous import -of the situation. She could not understand the motive—she only -perceived the fact. It was her husband’s scheme to get her out of the -country, and he had fancied that he could force her to go without her -child. She took no account of her grief, her fears, the surging anguish -of separation. She was saying to herself as she turned into her own room -adjoining that she must be strong in this crisis for the child’s sake, -as well as her own. She must discern clearly, and reason accurately, and -act promptly and without vacillation. If she should remain here she -might be seized and on some pretext coerced into leaving the country on -that lovely trip which he had planned for her. She burst into a sudden -bitter laugh, and the sound startled her into silence again. When had -her husband ever planned aught for her save to serve some purpose of his -own? She would not go—she would not, she said over and over to herself. -Her determination, her instinct were to ascertain where the child had -been hidden, and if possible to capture him; if not to be near, on the -chance of seeing him sometimes, to watch over him, to guard him from -danger. In her self-pity at this poor hope the tears welled up<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>{300}</span> and she -shook with sobs. But on this momentary collapse ensued renewed strength. -It might be, she thought, she could appeal to the law. She knew that her -husband’s was the superior claim to the child, but in view of his tender -years, his delicate health in certain respects, might not a court grant -his custody to his mother? At all events his restoration to her care was -henceforward her one object, and if she allowed herself to be forced out -of the country, to serve this unknown, unimagined whim of her cruel -husband’s, she might never see the child again.</p> - -<p>A knock at the door startled her nerves like a clap of thunder. A maid -had come to say that dinner had been served—indeed the butler had -announced it an hour ago—and should it still wait?</p> - -<p>“Have it taken down,” Paula said with stiff lips. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney will -not dine at home.”</p> - -<p>For Paula had heard the street door bang as she fled up the stairs, and -she knew that he was not in the house. The girl gazed at her with a -sharp point of curiosity in her little black eyes as she obsequiously -withdrew. Despite the humility of the manner of her domestics Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney had not the ascendency in her household due a chatelaine so -magnificently placed. It was his wealth—she was an appendage. It was -his will that ruled, not hers. As the servants loved to remark to each -other, “She has got no more say-so here than me,” and the insecurity of -her authority and the veneer of her position affected unfavorably the -estimation in which she was held. The girl perceived readily enough that -a clash had supervened between the couple and sagely opined that the -master would have the best of it. Below stairs they ascribed to it the -strange removal<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>{301}</span> of the child at this hour of the night and the change -in their employer’s plans for the evening. Their unrestrained voices -came up through doors carelessly left ajar, along with the clatter of -the dishes of the superfluous dinner, and Paula, with some unoccupied -faculty, albeit all seemed burdened to the point of breaking with her -heavy thoughts, realized that this breach of domestic etiquette could -never have chanced had the master of the house been within its walls.</p> - -<p>As she hastily divested herself of her dainty evening attire, with -trembling fingers her spirits fell, her courage waned. No one would heed -her, she said to herself. What value would a court attach to her -representations as against the word and the will of a man of her -husband’s wealth and prominence? And how could she expect aught of aid -from any quarter? She had literally no individual position in the world. -She had no influence on her husband, no real hold on his heart. She -could command not one moment’s attention, save as his wife. Bereft of -his favor and countenance she would be more of a nullity than a woman, -poor but independent, working for a weekly wage. Truly Floyd-Rosney -could ship her out of the country as if she were a mare or a cow. -Decorum would forbid open resistance, for indeed if she clamored and -protested she could be sent with a trained nurse as the victim of -hysteria or monomania. She must get away. Her liberty was threatened. -Her will had long been annulled, but now she was to be bodily bound and -in effect carried whither she would not. Her liberty, her free agency -were at stake—not her life. Never, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>{302}</span> thought, would he do a deed -that would react upon himself. She must be gone—and swiftly.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Paula never realized the extent of her subjection until when -dressed in her dark coat suit with hat and gloves, her suitcase packed -with a few indispensable articles, she stood at her dressing table and -opened her gold mesh-bag with a sudden clutch at her heart to ascertain -what money she might have. Her white face, so scornful of herself, -looked back from the mirror, duplicating her bitter smile. She had not -five dollars in the world. Floyd-Rosney never gave money to his wife in -the raw, so to speak. All her extravagant appointments came as it were -from his hand. She could buy as she would on his accounts; she could -subscribe liberally to charities and public enterprises which he -countenanced, and he made her signature as good as his, but she could -never have undertaken the slightest plan of her own initiative. She had -no command of money. She could not go—she could not get away from under -his hand. She was as definitely a prisoner as if she were behind the -bars. Still looking scornfully, pityingly, distressfully at her pallid -image in the mirror, a strange thought occurred to her. She wondered if -she were Ran Ducie’s wife could she have been as poor as this. But she -must go—and quickly. For one wild moment she contemplated borrowing -from the servants the sum she needed. As she revolted at the degradation -she realized its futility. Their place in his favor was more secure than -hers—her necessity attested the tenuity of her position. They would not -lend money to her in order to thwart him. She looked at the strings of -pearls, the gold mesh-bag, and remembered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>{303}</span> pawnbroker. Once more she -shivered back from her own thought. They were not hers, for her own. -They were for her to wear, to illustrate his taste, his liberality to -his wife, his wealth. She knew little of law, of life. This might be an -actual theft. But she must go—and go at once.</p> - -<p>With her suitcase in her hand she stole down the stairs and softly let -herself out of the massive front door, closing it noiselessly behind -her, never for a moment looking up at the broad, tall façade of the -building that had been her home. She crossed the street almost -immediately, lest she encounter her husband returning with his plans -more definitely concluded and with a more complete readiness to execute -them.</p> - -<p>The night was not cold, but bland and fresh, and she felt the vague stir -of the breeze like a caress on her cheek. The stars—they were strangers -to her now, so long it had been since she had paused to look upon -them—showed in a dark, moonless heaven high above the deep canyon of -the street. She walked rapidly, despite the weight of the suitcase, but -so long had it been since she had traversed the thoroughfares on foot -that she had forgotten the turnings—now the affair of the -chauffeur—and once she was obliged to retrace her way for a block. She -deprecated the loss of time and the drain upon her strength, but she was -still alert and active when she paused in the ladies’ entrance of a -hotel and stood waiting and looking about with her card in her hand. Oh, -how strange for her, accustomed to be so considered, so attended, so -heralded! She did not for the moment regret the coercion her splendors -were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a>{304}</span> wont to exert. She only wondered how best to secure her object, if -she could not win the attention of the supercilious and reluctant -functionaries dully regarding her in the distance.</p> - -<p>The lobby of the ladies’ entrance opened upon the larger space of the -office of the hotel, and here in a delicate haze of cigar smoke a number -of men were standing in groups about the tessellated marble floor, or -seated in the big armchairs placed at the base of the tall pillars. As -fixing her eyes on the clerk behind the desk she placed her suitcase on -the floor and started forward, he jangled a sharp summons on a hand -bell, and a bell-boy detached himself from the coterie that had been -nonchalantly regarding her, and loungingly advanced.</p> - -<p>“Will you take that card to Mr. Randal Ducie?” she said, controlling her -voice with difficulty.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t hyar,” airily returned the darkey. He was about to turn away from -this plainly dressed woman, who had no claim on any eagerness of service -when his eyes chanced to fall on a token of quality above her seeming -station. He suddenly noted the jeweled card case as she returned the -card to it, and the gold mesh bag, and he vouchsafed pleasantly:</p> - -<p>“I noticed myse’f the announcement in the evenin’ paper, but it is his -brudder stoppin’ hyar.”</p> - -<p>That moment her eyes fell upon Adrian Ducie standing in one of the -groups of men smoking in the office. Her impulse was like that of a -drowning creature clutching at a straw. Without an instant of -hesitation, without even a vague intention of appropriately employing -the intermediary services of the limp bell-boy, with a wild, hysteric -fear that a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>{305}</span> moment’s waiting would lose her the opportunity, she dashed -into the midst of the office, and, speechless, and pallid, and -trembling, she seized Adrian by the arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a>{306}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Adrian Ducie</span> looked in startled amazement down into her white, drawn -face with its hollow, appealing eyes, and quivering lips that could not -enunciate a word. He did not recognize her for one moment. Then his -expression hardened, and his gaze grew steady. With dextrous fingers he -took his hat from his head and his cigar from his lips with one hand, -for she held the other arm with a grip as of steel. The moony luster of -the electric lights shone down upon a scene as silent and as motionless -as if, Gorgon-like, her entrance had stricken it into stone; the groups -of men who had been smoking standing about the floor, the loungers in -the armchairs, the clerks behind the counter were for the moment as if -petrified, blankly staring.</p> - -<p>“What can I do for you?” Adrian asked courteously, and the calm, clear -tones of his voice pervaded the silence like the tones of a bell.</p> - -<p>In her keen sensitiveness she noted the absence of any form of greeting -or salutation. He would not call her name for the enlightenment of these -gazing strangers in this public place, in the scene she had made. Oh, -how could she have so demeaned herself, she wondered, as to need such -protection, such observance on his part of the delicacy she had -disregarded. She despised herself to have incurred the necessity, yet -with both her little gloved hands she clung to his arm with a convulsive -strength of grasp<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a>{307}</span> which he could not have shaken off without a struggle -that would have much edified the gazing crowd, all making their own -inferences as to the unknown significance of the scene. Such good -breeding as it individually possessed had begun to assert itself against -the shock and numbing effects of surprise, and there was the sound of -movement and the murmur of resumed conversation which induced Adrian -Ducie to hope that the one word she suddenly gasped had not been -overheard.</p> - -<p>“Randal,” she began in a broken voice, and the look in his eyes struck -her dumb. They held a spark of actual fire that scorched every delicate -sensibility within her. But it was like the ignition of a fuse—it set -the whole train of gunpowder into potentiality. With sudden intention he -looked over his shoulder and signaled to a gentleman at a little -distance, staring, too, but not in the least recognizing Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>“We will go into the reception room and talk the matter over,” he said -decisively. “Colonel Kenwynton will give us the benefit of his advice.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Kenwynton had been trained in the school of maneuvers and -strategy. Off came his hat from his old white head, and with a resonant -“Certainly! Certainly!” he advanced on the other side of Paula, who -noticed that he followed Ducie’s example and did not speak her name. -“Good evening, good evening, madam, I trust I see you well!” was surely -salutation enough to satisfy the most exacting requirements of -etiquette.</p> - -<p>Scarcely able to move, yet never for one instant relaxing her hold on -Ducie’s arm, she suffered herself to be led, half supported, to the -reception room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>{308}</span> where she sank into an armchair while Ducie stood -looking down at her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Ducie,” she cried plangently, “I had hoped to find Randal -here—his arrival was in the paper. I am in such terrible trouble, and I -know my old friend would feel for me. Oh, he loved me once! I know he -would help me now!”</p> - -<p>“I will do whatever Randal could,” said Ducie. His voice was suave and -kind, but his face was stern, and doubtful, and inquiring.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you look so like him—you might have a heart like his. But you are -not like him. Oh, I have not another friend in the world!”</p> - -<p>Adrian thought she had not deserved to account Randal Ducie her friend. -But this was no occasion to make nice and formal distinctions. He only -said:</p> - -<p>“Randal is not in town. But if you will give me the opportunity to be of -use to you, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, I will do anything I can.”</p> - -<p>Both her auditors thought for a moment that she was insane when she -replied:</p> - -<p>“I want you to lend me ten dollars.”</p> - -<p>The two men exchanged a glance. Then Ducie heartily declared:</p> - -<p>“Why, that is very easily done. But may I ask, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, what -use you wish to make of it?”</p> - -<p>He was thinking the trifling sum was yet sufficient to work mischief if -she were under some temporary aberration.</p> - -<p>“I want to go to my aunt’s place in the uplands of Mississippi—my old -home! Oh, how I wish I had never left it!”</p> - -<p>She threw herself back in the chair and pressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>{309}</span> her handkerchief to her -streaming eyes. “Mr. Ducie, I have fled from my husband’s house. He has -taken my child from me—spirited him away—and I don’t know where he is, -nor how he will be cared for. He is only three years old—oh, just a -little thing!”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, you must control your voice,” said Ducie, -embarrassed and reluctant. “I hate to say it—but you will bring the -whole house about us.”</p> - -<p>Once launched on a recital of her woes she had acquired a capacity to -arrange her ideas, and was keenly noting the effect of her words. There -was no alacrity to produce the money she had requested as a loan, -corresponding to the prompt acquiescence of Adrian Ducie a moment or so -ago. She marveled in humble anxiety, not knowing that the two men -doubted her mental responsibility, and feared to trust her with money.</p> - -<p>Her griefs, once released, strained for expression, and she went on in a -meek, muffled tone that brought the tears to the old Colonel’s pitying -eyes—his heart had grown very soft with advancing years—but Adrian -Ducie held himself well in hand and regarded her with critical -dispassionateness.</p> - -<p>“My husband desires, for some reason which he does not explain, but -which I suspect, to get me out of the country.”</p> - -<p>Once more Colonel Kenwynton and Ducie exchanged a covert glance of -comment.</p> - -<p>“He has arranged an extensive European and Oriental tour for me—without -my child—leaving my child for a year at least. Why, Colonel Kenwynton, -tell me what would all the glories of foreign<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>{310}</span> capitals and all the -associations of Palestine count for with me when the one little face -that I care to see is far away, and the one little voice I cannot hear!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear madam”—the Colonel had a frog in his throat—“surely Mr. -Floyd-Rosney would not insist. You must be mistaken!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is all arranged—my passage taken; my letter of credit ready; my -party—such a gay party—made up and prepared to start to-morrow, the -Hardingtons——”</p> - -<p>The Colonel’s face bore a sudden look of conviction.</p> - -<p>“I recollect now—it had slipped my memory—Mr. Charles Hardington was -telling me this evening of the tour his family have in contemplation, -and he mentioned that they were to have the great pleasure of your -company, starting to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I will not go! I will not!” cried Paula, springing from her -chair and frantically clasping her hands. “I will not go without my -child! If you will not help me I will hide in the streets—but he could -find me and—as I have not one friend—he could lock me up as insane!” -She turned her wild eyes from one to the other. Then she broke into a -jeering laugh. “It would be very easy in this day to prove a woman -insane who does not prefer the tawdry follies and frivolities of gadding -and staring through Europe with a party of fashionable empty-pates to -the care and companionship of her only child. But I will not! I will not -be shipped out of the country!”</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie’s face had changed. He believed that Floyd-Rosney was -capable of any domestic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a>{311}</span> tyranny, but however he moved the -responsibility involved in her appeal was great. He could not consign -her to whatever fate might menace her. Still, he dared not trust her -with money. She might buy poison, she might buy a pistol.</p> - -<p>“Colonel, we must do something,” he declared. Then he turned to her. -“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he said, “will you permit us, instead of handing -you the small amount you mentioned, to buy your ticket for your aunt’s -home and see you aboard the train?”</p> - -<p>In one moment her face was radiant.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you only would! If you only would! I should bless and thank you -to the end of my days!”</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie, with a clearing brow, crossed the room and touched the -bell. The summons was answered so immediately as to suggest the -prompting of a lurking curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Time-table,” said Ducie, and when it was brought he rid himself of the -officious bell-boy by commanding: “Taxi, at the ladies’ entrance.”</p> - -<p>“We must be starting at once,” he said to Paula. “We have barely time to -catch the train. Bring the lady’s suitcase,” to the returning servant; -and to the veteran: “Come, Colonel, you will kindly accompany us.”</p> - -<p>Then they took their way out into the night.</p> - -<p>Paula felt as if she trod on air. It had been so long since she had done -aught of her own initiative, so little liberty had she possessed, even -in trifles, that it gave her a sense of power to be able to carry any -plan of her own device into successful execution. She was suddenly -hopeful, calm, confident of her judgment, and restored to her normal -aspect and manner. As they stood for a moment on the sidewalk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a>{312}</span> while -the cab came chugging to the curb, she looked as with the eyes of a -restored vitality upon the familiar surroundings—the electric street -lights, the brilliant, equidistant points far down the perspective, the -fantastic illuminated advertisements, the tall canyon of the buildings, -the obstructive passing of a clanging, whirring street car, and then she -was handed into the vehicle by Adrian Ducie. The next moment the door -banged, and she was shut in with the two who she felt were so -judiciously befriending her. The taxicab backed out into the street and -was off for Union Station at a speed as rapid as a liberal construction -of the law would allow.</p> - -<p>There was no word said, and for that she was grateful. Her eyes stung as -if blistered by the bitter tears she had shed, but not for one moment -would she let the restful lids fall, lest the face of the man before her -vanish in the awakening from this dream of rescue. She watched the -fluctuations of light on Ducie’s countenance as the arc lamp at every -street intersection illuminated it, for she found a source of -refreshment in its singular likeness to the one friend, she told -herself, she had in the world. Adrian would not have lent himself as he -had done to her aid, she felt sure, were he not Randal’s brother. She -had been vaguely sensible of a reluctance that was to her inexplicable, -of a reserve in both the men before her, that seemed to her inimical to -her interest. She would venture no word to jar the accord they had -attained.</p> - -<p>When the taxicab drew up at the Union Station the glare of lights, the -stir of the place enthused her. She was here at last, on her way, -success almost attained. She did not share Ducie’s sudden<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a>{313}</span> fever of -anxiety in noting the great outpouring of smoke from the shed where the -train stood almost ready to start, the resonance of its bell and the -clamors of the exhaust steam of the engine already beginning to jar the -air. He ran swiftly up the stair to the ticket office, leaving her with -Colonel Kenwynton, and was back almost immediately, taking her -protectively by the arm as he urged her along into the great shed. At -the gate she was surprised to see that he presented three tickets, but -he voluntarily explained, not treating her as an unreasoning child, as -was Floyd-Rosney’s habit, that he thought it best that he and the -Colonel should accompany her to the first station, to see her fairly -clear of the city. He was saying this as they walked swiftly down -between the many rows of rails in the great shed where a number of cars -were standing, and the train which she was to take was beginning to move -slowly forward.</p> - -<p>Her heart sank as she marked its progress, but Ducie lifted his arm and -signed eagerly to the conductor just mounting the front step of the -Pullman. The train slowed down a bit; the stool was placed by the alert -porter, but the step passed before she could put her foot upon it. Ducie -caught her up and swung her to the next platform as it glided by, and -the two men clambered aboard as the cars went on.</p> - -<p>They were laughing and elated as they conveyed her into its shelter. -Then a deep shade settled on the face of the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear madam, you have no luncheon!” He regarded the suitcase -with reprobation, as affording<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>{314}</span> no opportunities of refreshment, save of -the toilette.</p> - -<p>“But, Colonel, I don’t lunch throughout the night,” she returned, with a -smile. “I shall be glad to sleep,” she added plaintively.</p> - -<p>The Colonel looked disconsolate for a moment. Then he took a handsome -little flask from his pocket. “With my best compliments,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But I don’t drink brandy, either,” she declared, strangely flattered, -“and I have no pistol pocket.”</p> - -<p>“Tuck it in your suitcase,” he insisted seriously. “Something might -happen. You might—might—see fit to faint, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I never faint,” she protested. “If I haven’t fainted so far I -shall hold my own the rest of the way.”</p> - -<p>As they sat in the section which Ducie had reserved for her the Colonel -eyed him enigmatically, as if referring something for his approval. Then -he said bluffly:</p> - -<p>“I am sorry I haven’t the ten dollars which you did us the honor to wish -to borrow. I have nothing less than a twenty, that you can get changed -by the conductor and return to me at your good pleasure. I’m getting -rich, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” he laughed gaily, at the incongruity of the -jest. “And I never carry anything but large bills.”</p> - -<p>He took the little empty mesh bag from her hand and slipped the money in -it, despite her protest that she had now no need of it.</p> - -<p>“It is never prudent to travel without an emergency fund,” he opined -sagaciously. “My affairs are managed by Hugh Treherne now, for a share -of the proceeds. He did not want any compensation<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>{315}</span> at all, but I -insisted on it. Wonderful head for detail he has, Ducie. I’d go to the -asylum and stay there a term or two if it would educate me to make every -edge cut as he can.”</p> - -<p>When they had alighted on the platform of the first station and stood -lifting their hats, as her pale face looked out of the window while the -train glided on, Colonel Kenwynton spoke his mind.</p> - -<p>“She is as sane as I am, and a fine, well-bred woman. She has married a -brute of a husband, and if I were not such an excellent Christian, -Ducie, I don’t know what I wouldn’t wish might happen to him.”</p> - -<p>Ducie said nothing. Floyd-Rosney was a distasteful subject that he was -averse to discuss. They took their places in the electric street car -which would whisk them back to town speedily, and, as the train slowly -backed on the switch, she saw them through the window, as yet the sole -occupants on the return run.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>{316}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> Floyd-Rosney’s temper were less imperious, if he had had less -confidence in the dictates of his will, which he misconstrued as his -matured judgment, he could not have so signally disregarded the feelings -of others; if only in obedience to the dictates of policy, he could not -have been so oblivious of the possibility of adverse action, -successfully exploited.</p> - -<p>Maddened by his wife’s revolt against his plans, futile though he deemed -it, he would not await her return from the nursery whither she had -hurried to verify his words. He burned with rage under the lash of her -fiery denunciation—“Brute!—Fiend!” How dared she! He wondered that he -had not beaten her with his clenched fists! He had some fear of being -betrayed into violence, some doubt of his own self-restraint that -induced him to rush forth into the street and evade her frenzied -jeremiad when she found the child was indeed gone.</p> - -<p>What a fool of a woman was this, he was arguing before the banging of -the front door behind him had ceased to resound along the street. What -other one would turn down such a beautiful opportunity! As to leaving -the child—why, it would have been to any except the perverse vixen he -had married one of the special advantages of the outing—to be free for -a time of domestic cares, of maternal duties.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a>{317}</span> Had he not over and over -heard women of her station congratulate themselves on a “vacation”—the -children loaded off on somebody, Heaven knows whom, or where, a matter -of minor importance. It was absolutely fantastic, the idea of dragging a -child of Edward’s age around Europe and the Orient for a year’s travel. -The very care of him, the necessary solicitude involved at every move, -would destroy all possibility of pleasure. The mere item of infantile -disorders was enough in itself to nullify the prospect. And he might die -of some of these maladies in a foreign country, deprived of his father’s -supervision and experience in the ways of the world.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s contention in the matter seemed to him eminently right -and rational. It was desirable that she should not testify in the suit, -he could not leave at this crisis, and she could not well take the child -with her. He would not risk his son and heir to the emergencies, the -vicissitudes of a year of foreign travel under the guidance merely of an -inexperienced and careless woman. Paula herself was like a child. He had -kept her so. Everything had been done for her. In any unforeseen, -disastrous chance she would be utterly helpless to take judicious action -and to protect the child from injury.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney was not more willing to be separated from the boy than the -mother herself. He had, indeed, no unselfish love for the child, but his -son’s beauty and promise flattered his vanity; the boy would be a credit -to his name. His prospects were so brilliant that in twenty years there -would be no young man in the Mississippi Valley who could vie with him -in fortune and position.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a>{318}</span> Floyd-Rosney had gloated on the future of his -son. He was glad, he often said, that he was himself a young man, for he -would be but in the prime of life when Edward would come to his -majority. No dependent station would be his—to eat from his father’s -hand like a fawning pet. With an altruistic consideration, -uncharacteristic of him, the father had made already certain investments -in his son’s name, and these, though limited in character, by a lucky -stroke had doubled again and again, till he was wont to say proudly that -his son was the only capitalist he knew who had an absolutely safe -investment paying twenty per cent. He had a sort of respect for the boy, -as representing much money and many inchoate values. His infancy must be -carefully tended, his education liberal and sedulously supervised, and -when he should go into the world, representing his father’s name and -fortune, he should be worthy of both. Turn him over to Paula, in his -tender callowness, to be dragged about from post to pillar for her -behoof—he would not endure the idea.</p> - -<p>As the cool air chilled his temper and the swift walk and change of -scene gave the current of his thoughts a new trend he began to be more -tolerant of her attitude in the matter. The truth was, he said to -himself, they each loved the child too dearly, were too solicitous for -his well being, to be willing to be separated from him, and, but for the -peculiar circumstances of this lawsuit, he would never have proposed it. -It was, however, necessary, absolutely necessary, and he would take -measures to induce Paula to depart on this delightful journey without -making public her disinclination. He had taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a>{319}</span> her, perhaps, too -abruptly by surprise. She was overcome with frenzy to discover that the -child was actually gone!—he should overlook her hasty words—though to -his temperament this was impossible, and he knew it; they were burned -indelibly into his consciousness. Never before, in all his pompous, -prosperous life had he been so addressed. But he would make an -effort—one more effort to persuade her; with a resolute fling he turned -to retrace his way, coming into the broad and splendid avenue on which -his palatial home fronted, he walked up the street as she was walking -down the opposite side.</p> - -<p>He let himself in with his latch-key, closing the door softly behind -him. The great hall and the lighted rooms with their rich furnishings, -glimpsed through the open doors, looked strangely desolate. For one -moment silence—absolute, intense. Then a grotesque, unbecoming -intrusion on the ornate elegance—a burst of distant, uncultured -laughter from below stairs, and a clatter of dishes. Floyd-Rosney was -something of an epicure, and it was a good dinner that went down -untouched. The master of the house frowned heavily. He lifted his head, -minded to ring a bell and administer reproof. Then he reflected that it -well accorded with his interests that he should be supposed to be out of -the house while the interview with his wife was in progress. She had a -way of late of raising her voice in a keen protest that advertised -domestic discordances to all within earshot. “Let the servants carouse -and gorge their dinner; I’ll settle them afterward!” he said to himself -grimly, as he noiselessly ascended the stairs.</p> - -<p>Once more silence—he could not hear even his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>{320}</span> own footfall. He had a -vague sense of solitude, of uninhabited purlieus. With a sudden rush of -haste he pushed open the door of the nursery, flaring with lights, but -vacant, and strode through to his wife’s room, to find it vacant, too. -He stood for a moment, mystified, anger in his eyes, but dismay, fear, -doubt clutching at his heart. What did this mean? He went hastily from -one to another of the suite of luxurious rooms devoted to her especial -use, but in none save one was any token of her recent presence. He stood -staring at the disarray. There was the gown of lavender gauze that she -had donned for the opera, lying on a chair, while the silk slip that it -had covered lay huddled on the floor. The slippers, hastily thrust off, -tripped his unwary step as he advanced into the room. On the dressing -table, glittering with a hundred articles of toilet luxury, lay the two -strings of costly pearls “where anyone might have stolen them”; he -mechanically reproved her lack of precaution. He strove to reassure -himself, to contend against a surging sense of calamity. What did this -signify? Only that the festivity of the evening relinquished she had -laid aside her gala attire. Her absence—it was early—she might have -gone out with some visitor; she might have cared to make some special -call, so seldom did they have an evening unoccupied. Despite the -incongruity of the idea with the recollection of her pale, drawn, -agonized face, the frenzy of her grief and rage, he took down the -receiver of the telephone and called up Hildegarde Dean. The moment the -connection was completed he regretted his folly. Over the wire came the -vibrations of a string-orchestra, and he recalled having noticed in the -society columns<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a>{321}</span> of the papers that Miss Dean was entertaining with a -dinner dance to compliment a former schoolmate. He had lost his poise -sufficiently, nevertheless, to make the query, “Is Mrs. Floyd-Rosney -there?” and had the satisfaction to be answered by the butler, in the -pomp and pride of the occasion: “No, sah. Dis entertainment is -exclusively for unmarried people.”</p> - -<p>“The devil it is!” Floyd-Rosney exclaimed, after, however, cautiously -releasing the receiver.</p> - -<p>His fuming humor was heightened by this <i>contretemps</i>, although a great -and growing dismay was vaguely shadowed in his eyes, like a thought in -the back of the mind, so to speak, too unaccustomed, too preposterous, -to find ready expression. He endeavored to calm himself, although he -lost no time in prosecuting his investigations. With a hasty hand he -touched the electric bell for his wife’s maid and impatiently awaited -the response. To his surprise it was not prompt. He stood amidst his -incongruous surroundings of gowns, and jewels, and slippers, and laces, -and revolving panels of mirrors, frowning heavily. How did it chance -that her service should be so dilatory? He placed his forefinger on the -button and held it there, and the jangling was still resounding below -stairs when the door slowly opened and the maid, with an air of -affronted inquiry, presented herself. Her face changed abruptly as she -perceived the master of the house, albeit it was like pulling a cloak of -bland superserviceableness over her lineaments of impudent protest.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by being so slow to answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a>{322}</span> this bell?” he thundered, -his angry eyes contemptuously regarding her.</p> - -<p>“I came as soon as I heard it, sir. I think there must be something -wrong with the annunciator.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by leaving your mistress’s gowns lying around, and her -room in this disorder?”</p> - -<p>The girl’s beady eyes traveled in bewilderment from one article to -another of the turmoil of toilet accessories scattered about the -apartment. She had looked for a moment as if she would fire up at the -phrase “your mistress,” and she said with a slight emphasis on the -title:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had changed.”</p> - -<p>“Where has she gone?”</p> - -<p>Once more a dull and genuine bewilderment on the maid’s face.</p> - -<p>“I am sure, sir, I don’t know—she didn’t ring for me.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon you didn’t answer the bell,” Floyd-Rosney sneered. “She -couldn’t wait forever. She hasn’t my patience.”</p> - -<p>The girl glowered at his back, but, mindful of the mirrors, forbore the -grimace so grateful in moments of disaffection to her type.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney was speaking through the house telephone.</p> - -<p>“Have the limousine at the door—yes—immediately.”</p> - -<p>The ready response of the chauffeur came over the wire.</p> - -<p>“Now see what gown she wore, so that I can guess where to send for her. -A nice business this is—that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney can’t get hold of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>{323}</span> -maid to change her dress and leave a message. I don’t doubt there is a -note somewhere, if I could find it.”</p> - -<p>He affected to toss over the <i>mélange</i> on the dressing-table. He even -looked at the evening paper lying on the foot-rest, which she had read -while her hair was being dressed for the opera.</p> - -<p>As he did so an item of personal mention caught his attention. Mr. -Randal Ducie was in the city, doubtless in connection with the gathering -of planters to consult with the Levee Commission in regard to river -protection. A meeting would be held this evening at the Adelantado -Hotel.</p> - -<p>This was the most natural thing in the world. Half the planters in the -river bottom were in active coöperation seeking to influence the Levee -Commission, or the State Legislature, or the Federal Government to take -some adequate measures to prevent the inundation of their cotton lands -by a general overflow of the great Mississippi River, according to the -several prepossessions relative to the proper plans, and means, and -agency to that end.</p> - -<p>But as he read the haphazard words of the paragraph the blood flared -fiercely in Floyd-Rosney’s face; a fire glowed in his eyes, hot and -furious; his hand was trembling; his breath came quick. And he was well -nigh helpless even to conjecture if his wife’s absence had aught of -connection with this ill-starred appearance of the lover of her -girlhood. He—Edward Floyd-Rosney, baffled, hoodwinked, set at naught! -Could this thing be!</p> - -<p>For one moment, for one brief moment, he upbraided himself. But for his -tyranny in sending off the child without her consent, without even -consulting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a>{324}</span> her, but for his determination that, willing or no, she -should expatriate herself for a year, and, with neither husband nor -child, tour a foreign country in company of his selection they might -already be seated in their box at the opera, rapt by the concord of -sweet sounds in the midst of the most elegant and refined presentment of -their world, at peace with each other and in no danger of damaging and -humiliating revelations of domestic discord.</p> - -<p>He heard the puffing of the limousine at the curb below the windows, and -he turned to the maid.</p> - -<p>“I can find no scrape of a pen—no note here. Do you know what gown she -wore?”</p> - -<p>The girl had made a terrifying discovery. As she fingered the skirts -hanging in the wardrobe, for she had thought first of the demi-toilette -of usual evening wear, she was reflecting on the gossip below stairs, -where it was believed that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had not known of the -departure of her little son till he was out of the house, and where it -was surmised she would be all “tore up” when she should discover his -absence—so much she made of the boy. Aunt Dorothy had been given -permission to spend the night with her granddaughter who lived on the -opposite side of the river, a favorite excursion with the ancient -colored retainer. She was not popular with the coterie below stairs, -and, being prone to report what went amiss, would certainly have -notified her young mistress if any attempt had been made to spirit away -the child while in her charge. The maid had found naught missing from -among the dresses most likely to be worn on any ordinary occasion in the -evening, and she was turning away reluctantly to examine the boxes in -the closet<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a>{325}</span> where were stored those gowns of grander pretension, -designed for functions of special note. She had a discontented frown on -her face, for they were enveloped, piece by piece, in many layers of -tissue paper; she could not ascertain what was there and what was gone, -from the wrappers, save by actual investigation; among them were sachets -of delicate perfumes that must not be mixed; they had trains and -draperies difficult to fold, and berthas and sashes that must be laid in -the same creases as before—a job requiring hours of work, and useless, -for no gown of this sort could have been worn without assistance in -dressing, and for an occasion long heralded. As she closed the wardrobe -with a pettish jerk it started open the other door, and she paused with -an aghast look on her face. She was afraid of Mr. Floyd-Rosney when he -was angry.</p> - -<p>“She has worn her coat-suit of taupe broadcloth,” she said in a bated -voice, and with a wincing, deprecatory glance at him, “and the hat to -match.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney received this information in silence. Then—“Why do you -look like that, you fool?” he thundered.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>C—c—cause,” stuttered the girl, “she has taken her suit-case—it was -always kept on the shelf here, packed with fresh lingerie, so she might -be ready for them quick little auto trips you like to go on so often, -and her walking boots is gone”—holding up a pair of boot-trees,—“and,” -opening a glove box, “the suède taupe gloves is gone.” Her courage -asserted itself; her temper flared up. “And it seems to me, Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, that if there’s any fool here, ’taint me!”</p> - -<p>“You will be paid your wages to-morrow,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a>{326}</span> foamed Floyd-Rosney, dashing -from the room. “Clear out of the house.”</p> - -<p>“Just as well,” the girl said to the gaping servants downstairs, who -remonstrated with her for her sharp tongue, reproaching her with -throwing away a good place, liberal wages and liberal fare. “Just as -well. If there’s to be no lady there’s no use for a lady’s maid.”</p> - -<p>“To the Union Station,” Floyd-Rosney hissed forth as he flung himself -into the limousine. In the transit thither he took counsel within -himself. Where could Paula be going?—Only on some fantastic quest for -her child. He ran over, in his mind, any hint that he might have let -drop as to the locality where he had bestowed him, and she, putting two -and two together, had fancied she had discovered the place. If, by any -coincidence, she had hit upon the boy’s domicile, he told himself, he -would make no protest; he would let her have her way; he would give the -world for all to be between them as it was this afternoon. As to the -lawsuit—let come what might! If only he could intercept her in this mad -enterprise; if he could reach her before she took the train! He called -through the speaking tube to the chauffeur to go faster.</p> - -<p>“Never mind the speed limit—do all you know how!”</p> - -<p>Presently the great vehicle slowed up, panting and sizzling as if winded -in the race. He sprang out before it had ceased to move and rushed up -the stairs, patrolling the various apartments, the ladies’ waiting room, -the refreshment room—he remembered that she could have had no -dinner—the general ante-room, with its crowd of the traveling public.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>{327}</span> -He was a notable figure, with his splendid appearance, his fur-lined -overcoat, his frowning, intent brow, his long, swift stride.</p> - -<p>All in vain—she was not there. The clamor of the train that was making -ready for departure struck his absorbed attention. The place was full of -the odor of the bituminous smoke from the locomotive; he heard the -panting of the steam exhaust.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney rushed down the stairs and into the great shed which -seemed, with its high vaulted roof, clouded with smoke dull and dim, -despite the glare here and there of electric lights. He was stopped in -the crowd at the gate. He had no ticket—money could not buy it here. He -explained hastily that he wished to see a friend off. The regulations -were stringent, the functionary obdurate; the crowd streaming through -the gate disposed to stare, and a burly policeman, lounging about, -regarded the insistent swell with an inimical glare. For there are those -dressed like swells that are far from that puffed-up estate.</p> - -<p>The suggestion calmed Floyd-Rosney for the nonce. It needed but this, he -felt, to complete his folly—to involve himself in a futile fracas with -a gateman and a cop. Moreover, he had no justification in fancying that -Paula was likely to take a train—in fact, and he smiled grimly, she -would not have the cash to buy a ticket. The whole theory that she might -quit the city was a baseless fabrication of his fears, of the disorder -of his ideas induced by the vexatious and unexpected <i>contretemps</i>. -Doubtless, by this time she had returned from the stroll or the call, or -whatever device she had adopted to quiet her spirit and divert her mind, -he argued—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a>{328}</span>he himself had found refreshment in a brisk walk in the -night air—and was now sitting before the fire at home, awaiting his -coming, possibly willing to discuss the matter in a more amicable frame -of mind.</p> - -<p>He was about to turn aside when suddenly down the line of rails within -the shed and between the train standing still and the one beginning to -move, the metallic clangor of its bell insistently jarring the air, he -saw the figure of Paula, visible in the glare of the headlight of the -locomotive beside her. Every detail was as distinct, as illuminated as -in the portrayal of a magic lantern—her taupe gown, her hat with a -plume of the same shade, her face flushed, laughing and eager. A man was -assisting her to mount the platform of the coach and in him Floyd-Rosney -was sure he recognized Randal Ducie, whose arrival in the city he had -noted in the evening paper. The whole maneuver of boarding the -train,—the placing of the stool by the porter, Paula’s failure to reach -from it to the step of the car, the swift muscular effort by which Ducie -seized her, swung her to the platform, and then sprang upon it -himself,—was all as plain to the frenzied man watching the vanishing -train from between the palings of the gate as if the scene had been -enacted within ten feet of him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a>{329}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Paula</span> reached her destination early the next morning. She had not slept -during the night and as soon as the light began to dawn she raised the -blind at her window and lay in her berth looking out drearily at the -face of the country, growing constantly more familiar, but yet dimly -descried and colorless as a scene in sepia, with the lagging night still -clinging to the earth. Belts of white vapor lay in every depression; the -forests along the horizon made a dark circumference for the whole; the -stars were wan and sad of aspect and faded from the sky, one by one, as -the eye dwelt upon them. The characteristic features of the swamp region -had vanished. In many places the land was deeply gullied, showing as the -day waxed a richly tinted red clay that made the somber landscape glow. -Everywhere were the hedges of the evergreen Cherokee rose, defining the -borders of fields, often untrimmed and encroaching in a great green -billow on spaces unmeet for a mere boundary mark. The trees were huge; -gigantic oaks and the spreading black-gum; and she was ready, her hat -on, her wrap and furs adjusted, looking out eagerly at these dense bosky -growths when the red wintry sun began to cast long shafts of quiet dull -sheen adown their aisles, showing the white rime on the rough bark of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a>{330}</span> boughs, or among the russet leaves, still persistently clinging. -More than once the conductor came in to consult her as to the precise -point of stoppage, and, when a long warning whistle set the echoes astir -in the quiet matutinal atmosphere and the train began to slow down, she -was alertly on her feet.</p> - -<p>“You are sure of the place, ma’am?” said the conductor, helping her -descend the step; he was new to the road, and there seemed to him -nothing here but woods.</p> - -<p>She reassured him as she lightly ran down the steep incline, and then -she stood for a moment, mechanically watching the train, epitome of the -world, sweeping away and leaving her here, the dense forest before her, -the smoke flaunting backward, the sun emblazoning its convolutions, the -wondering faces of the passengers at the windows.</p> - -<p>She remembered the time when this wonder would have nettled her. She had -wanted a station platform built here, but her uncle had utilitarian -theories, and, somehow, “never got round to it,” as he was wont to -phrase it. So seldom, indeed, they boarded the train, so seldom it -brought a visitor, that it seemed to him the least and last needed -appurtenance of the plantation. She wondered if the stoppage had been -not noted at the house. The woods were silent, as with mystery, as she -took her way through “the grove.” The frost lay white on the grass, and -there was even a glint of ice in the water lurking in the ruts of a -wagon wheel in the road. She walked on these frozen edges after a -fashion learned long ago to keep her feet dainty when not so expensively -shod as now. Suddenly she heard the deep baying of a hound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a>{331}</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, old Hero!” she exclaimed pettishly. “He will tell them all I have -come!”</p> - -<p>For she had wished to slip in unobserved. The humiliation of her return -in this wise seemed less when the kindly old roof should be above her -head. But the dog met her, fierce and furious, at the fence of the door -yard—how she had hated that fence; she had wanted the grove and yard -thrown together like some fine park. As the old retainer recognized her -the complication of his barks which he could not forego, in view of her -capacity as stranger, with his wheezes and whines of ecstasy, as -greeting to an old friend, while he leaped and gamboled about her, -brought her uncle and aunt, every chick and child, the servants from the -outhouses, and all the dogs on the place to make cheerful acclaim of -welcome.</p> - -<p>So long had it been since she had heard this hearty, genuine note of -disinterested affection that it came like balm to her lacerated heart, -and suddenly there seemed no more need for pride, for dissimulation, for -self-restraint. She broke down and burst into a flood of tears, the -group lachrymose in sympathy and wiping their eyes.</p> - -<p>She had planned throughout the night how best and when to tell her -story, but it was disclosed without preface or method, before she had -been in the house ten minutes, her aunt cautiously closing the door of -the sitting-room the instant Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s name was mentioned and -her uncle looking very grave.</p> - -<p>“You were quite right in coming at once to us, my dear,” he said kindly. -“Be sure you shall not be shipped out of the country.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a>{332}</span></p> - -<p>He was a tall, heavy man, somewhat spare and angular, and his large -well-formed features expressed both shrewdness and kindness. He had -abundant grizzled hair and his keen gray eyes were deeply set under -thick dark eyebrows. He was a fair-minded man one could see at a glance, -a thoroughly reliable man in every relation of life, a gentleman of the -old school.</p> - -<p>“Some arrangement will surely be made about the baby; I shall love to -see the little fellow again. Set your heart at rest. I will communicate -at once with Mr. Floyd-Rosney, as your nearest relative, standing in -<i>loco parentis</i>.”</p> - -<p>“And give me some breakfast,” said Paula, lapsing into the old childish -whine of a spoiled household pet. “I have had nothing to eat since -yesterday at lunch.”</p> - -<p>The husband and wife exchanged a glance over her head.</p> - -<p>“And before I forget it——” she raised herself to an upright position -and took from her bag the twenty dollar bill. “Please write and return -this to old Colonel Kenwynton. I should be ashamed to sign my name to -such a letter. He <i>would</i> lend it to me—though I didn’t need it after -he and Adrian Ducie—Randal Ducie’s brother—had lent me the money to -buy my ticket.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Majoribanks was a stern-faced woman with rigid ideas of the -acceptable in conduct. Her dark hair, definitely streaked with gray, -banded smoothly along her high forehead, her serious, compelling, gray -eyes, the extreme neatness and accuracy of adjustment of her dress, her -precise method of enunciation, intimated an uncompromising personality,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a>{333}</span> -possessing high ideals religiously followed,—somewhat narrow of view, -perhaps, and severe of judgment, but unfalteringly, immovably upright.</p> - -<p>“But, Paula, why didn’t you buy your own ticket with your own money? To -allow another to buy it was inappropriate.”</p> - -<p>“I had no money,” Paula explained humbly. “Mr. Floyd-Rosney lets me buy -anything I want on account, but he never gives me any money to spend as -I like.” Once more the husband and wife looked significantly at each -other. All that they possessed was his, but the privileges of ownership -were exercised in common, the expenditures a matter of mutual confidence -and agreement, and it may be doubted if he ever took a step in business -affairs without consultation with her.</p> - -<p>The spare, sober decorum of the aspect of the house appealed to Paula in -her present state of mind, her taste for magnificence glutted, and she -remembered, with a sort of wonder, her intolerance of the stiff old -furniture of the sitting-room covered with hair-cloth; the crimson -brocade, well frayed, of the parlor glimpsed through the open door, with -the old-fashioned lambrequins at the windows and carefully mended lace -curtains, and the family portraits in oil on the walls; the linoleum on -the floor of the hall that had been there seeming indestructible since -she could remember; the barometer hanging over the long sofa; the -grandfather’s clock in the corner, still allotting the hours, however -lives might wax or wane; the dining-room, with the burly sideboard and -the peacock fly-brush, and the white-jacketed waiter, and the brisk -little darkey that ran in and out with the relays of hot buttered -waffles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a>{334}</span> It all seemed so sane, so simple, so safe. Here and there, -conspicuously placed, were gifts which she and Mr. Floyd-Rosney had -made, ostentatiously handsome. She thought them curiously out of accord -with the tone of the place, and, oddly enough, she felt ashamed of them.</p> - -<p>She asked herself how and why had such an obsession as had possessed her -ever come to her—the hankering for the empty life of show, and fashion, -and wealth. Had she not had every reasonable wish gratified, enjoyed -every advantage of a solid and careful education, had every social -opportunity in a circle, limited, certainly, but characterized by -refinement, and dignity, and seemliness, that was the gentility of long -traditions of gentlefolks—not pretty manners, picked up the day before -yesterday. She had come back to it now—her wings clipped, her feathers -drooping.</p> - -<p>She could not enter into the old home life as of yore—it seemed -strangely alien, though so familiar. She would look vaguely at her young -cousins, each altered and much more mature in the five years that had -passed since she was an inmate of the household—well grown, handsome, -intelligent boys they were, instead of the romping children she had -left. They spent the mornings with a tutor who came from the neighboring -town to read with them, and the eldest was much given to argument with -his father, insisting vivaciously on his theories of government, of -religion, of politics, of the proper method of construing certain Latin -verses; the two younger were absorbed in their dogs, their rabbits, -their games—the multitudinous little interests of people of their age, -so momentous to them. <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a>{335}</span>Always their world was home—she wondered what -the real world would seem to them when they should emerge into it, what -the theories of government, the phrasing of Latin verses, the home -absorptions would prove as preparation for life as she knew it. -Certainly they did not formulate it. She said to herself that a more -secluded existence could hardly be matched outside a monastery. She did -not believe any of the three had ever seen a game of football or -baseball; the life of cities, of travel, of association with their -fellows was as a sealed book to them. In their minds Ingleside was a -realm; their father was their comrade; their mother was the court of -last resort.</p> - -<p>But Paula’s absorbed thoughts refused all but the slightest speculation -upon the subject of their future and she could urge herself to only the -shadow of interest in her aunt’s pursuits and absorptions. Even the room -of her girlhood—she could not enter there, she could not sleep there, -for dreams—dreams—dreams! They might have there faculties of -visualization or unseen they could stab her unaware. Never again should -her spirit encounter these immaterial essences. She asked her aunt to -give her her grandmother’s room. It was small comfort in laying her head -on that pillow which had never known a selfish thought, an unsanctified -desire, to feel the difference, the distance. But here all good -influences abode, and she was consoled in a sort for the unappreciated -affliction of that saintly death, to whisper into the downy depth—“I -have come back—scourged—scourged!”</p> - -<p>How she remembered that that good grandmother had so grievously -deprecated the course<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a>{336}</span> toward Randal Ducie; that she had declared the -greatest of all disasters is a marriage without love, and that a promise -is a promise; many times she shook her head, and shed some shy, shy -tears over Randal’s dismissal, though Paula wrote the letter in a frenzy -of careless energy, without erasing a word or troubling to take a copy.</p> - -<p>She would note with a sort of apologetic affection the details of this -familiar room that she had early learned to stigmatize as old-fashioned, -and in her schoolgirl phrase “tacky”—the chintz curtains with their big -flowers; the hair-cloth covered rocking chairs; the four-poster mahogany -bedstead with its heavily corniced tester, the red cloth goffered to the -center to focus in a big gilt star; the mahogany bureau, so tall that -the mirror made good headway to the ceiling; the floriated Brussels -carpet so antique of pattern that she used to say she believed it was -manufactured before the flood and so staunch of web that it was destined -to last till doomsday; the little work-table, with its drawers still -filled with spools, and buttons, and reels of embroidery silk, and balls -of wool for knitting and crochet—doubtless some piece of her -grandmother’s beautiful handiwork still lay where her busy fingers had -placed it, with the needle yet in the stitch.</p> - -<p>The rose curtained window gave on no smiling scene—it was one of the -few outlooks from the house that was not of bosky presentment. But the -grove had ceased ere these precincts were reached and the view was of a -dull bit of pasture and beyond a dreary stretch of cornfields, in which -the stalks still stood, stripped of the ears, pallid with frost and -writhen into fantastic postures by wind<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a>{337}</span> and weather. It was but a -dreary landscape, trembling under slanting lines of rain, and later of -sleet, for the halcyon weather had vanished at last, and winter had come -in earnest. A mist hung much of the time between the earth and a leaden -sky, and the woods that lay along the low horizon were barely glimpsed -as a dull, indistinct smudge.</p> - -<p>Nothing, she said to herself, could ever rehabilitate the universe for -her. This crisis was so comprehensive, so significant. She clenched her -hands when she reviewed the past few years with a nervous fury so -intense that the nails marked the palms. Her memories and her -self-reproach seared her consciousness like hot iron. Whelmed in the -luxury of wealth, proud of her preëminence of station, sharing as far as -might be her husband’s domineering assumptions toward others, cravenly -submitting when his humor required her, too, to crook the knee, she had -subverted her every opinion, her inmost convictions, to theories of life -she would once have despised, to estimate as of paramount value the -things she had been taught to hold as dross. She had cast aside all her -standards of intrinsic worth. Sometimes she would spring from sleep and -walk the floor, the red glow of the embers on the wall, the shadows -glooming about her, the events of those tumultuous years, in the fierce -white light of actuality rather than the glimpses of memories, deploying -before her. Resist his influence——? She had flattered, she had -surrounded him with an atmosphere of adulation. She had loved so much -his possessions and her realized ambitions that she had imbibed the -theory that she had loved him. True, she had admired him—his impressive -presence, his domineering<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a>{338}</span> habit of mind, his expensive culture, his -discrimination in matters of art and music, the cringing attitude toward -him of his employees, his humble friends, and now and then a man on his -own plane, unable to sustain his individuality before that coercive -influence. Bring tribute—bring tribute! In every relation of life that -fiat went forth. And she had permitted herself to believe that her -craven acquiescence in this demand was—love! And, doubtless, the -tyrant, unabashed by the glaring improbability, had believed it too.</p> - -<p>The phases of fashionable life are never so minimized as in the presence -of some great and grave actuality of human experience—she looked back -upon them now with a disgusted wonder and an averse contempt. The world -for which she had longed in her quiet rural home, which had opened its -doors so unexpectedly, so beatifically, to her trembling entrance, -seemed to her now full of dull and commonplace people, all eagerly -pursuing some sordid scheme of advancement, regardful of their fellows -only to envy values which they do not share, to cringe before -consequence and station which only belittle them, to pull down, if -occasion permit, those who are on the up-grade, to alternately court and -decry their superiors, and to revile and baffle the humble. And for a -share in this world, this outlook, this atmosphere, she had bartered her -happiness, had destroyed her identity, as nearly as she might, had -achieved the lot of a lifelong victim to intolerable tyranny.</p> - -<p>In all her beclouded spiritual sky there had glowed the radiance of one -single star, one pure and genuine emotion, her maternal love, bought by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a>{339}</span> -no price, asking naught, giving in an ecstasy of self-abnegation that -made sacrifice a luxury and suffering a joy.</p> - -<p>And now this light of her life was obscured by dense clouds, and who -could say how and when it would emerge.</p> - -<p>The change of place, the sense of escape acted in some sort as a -respite, but there was possible no surcease of anguished solicitude. Her -uncle began almost immediately the concoction of a letter to Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, which should be a triumph of epistolary art to accomplish -its ends. He desired to remonstrate against the enforced expatriation of -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, to insist on the propriety of restoring her son to -her care, and to condemn the cruelty of the separation, all expressed in -such soft choice locutions as to give no offense to the gusty temper of -her husband and to make no reflections on the justice of his conduct. He -wished to take a tone of authority and seniority as being the nearest -and eldest relative of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and thus entitled to offer his -views and advice in her behalf, yet to avoid seeming intrusive and -guilty of interference between husband and wife.</p> - -<p>As he wrote at his desk in the sitting-room, his intent grizzled head -bent over the repeated drafts of this effort, Paula, passing in the hall -without, catching a glimpse of his occupation, had space in her -multifarious anguish for a sense of deep humiliation that this should be -going forward in her interest. How she had flaunted the achievement of -her great marriage in this her simple home, in the teeth of their -misgivings, their covert reservations, their deprecation of her -treatment of Randal Ducie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a>{340}</span> She had piqued herself on the fact that not -many girls so placed, so far from the madding crowd, could have made -such a ten-strike in the matrimonial game. Her standards were not -theirs; her life was regulated on a plane which did not conform to their -ideals, but as time went on they had ventured to hope for the best, and -when Geoffrey Majoribanks had been asked occasionally if his niece had -not made a very rich marriage he would add “and a very happy one.” This -he had believed, although in view of Floyd-Rosney’s imperious -temperament and the process of his wife’s evident subjugation, it must -seem that the wish had constrained his credulity. Now the illusion was -dispelled, the bubble had burst, and it devolved upon him to patch up -from its immaterial constituent elements some semblance of conjugal -reconciliation and the possibility of a degree of happiness in the -future.</p> - -<p>He was a ready scribe, as were most men of his day, and had a neat gift -of expression. But he called for help continually in this instance, now -from his wife, and throwing ceremony to the winds, in view of the -importance of the missive, once his hearty, resonant voice summoned the -party most in interest, Paula herself.</p> - -<p>“Our object is to get the child restored to your care and to compass a -cessation of this insistence that you shall go abroad,—not to win in an -argument. Now do you think this phrasing could offend Mr. Floyd-Rosney, -or wound his feelings?”</p> - -<p>Paula, standing tall, pale, listless, beside the desk, leaning on one -hand among the litter of discarded papers of the voluminous epistle, -looked down into his anxious, upturned face, beneath his tousled, -grizzled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a>{341}</span> hair, pitying the limitations of his perceptions.</p> - -<p>“Any phrasing will offend Mr. Floyd-Rosney if he wishes to be offended,” -she replied languidly, “and he has no feelings to wound.”</p> - -<p>She went slowly out of the room, leaving him meditatively biting the -handle of his pen.</p> - -<p>The letter bade fair to become a permanent occupation. He worked at it -late at night and all the forenoon of the next day, and when, at the two -o’clock dinner, his wife suggested that he should take Paula out for a -drive about the country,—she would be interested in seeing how little -it had changed since she was a resident here—he shook his head doggedly -over the big turkey that he was deftly carving.</p> - -<p>“No,—no,” he said, “I must get back to that—that document. You and one -of the boys can take her to drive.”</p> - -<p>The “document” was duly finished at last and duly mailed. Then -expectation held the household to fever heat. The return mail brought -nothing; the next post was not more significant; nor the next; nor the -next. A breathless suspense supervened.</p> - -<p>One Monday morning Major Majoribanks came into the sitting-room with a -sheaf of newspapers in his trembling hand, a ghastly white face and eyes -of living fire. He could not speak; he could scarcely control his -muscles sufficiently to open a journal and point with a shaking finger -to a column with great headlines. He placed the newspaper in the hands -of his wife, who was alone in the room, then he went softly to the door, -closed it, and sank down in an armchair, gasping for breath. His wife, -too, turned pale as she read, but her hand was steady.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a>{342}</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Edward Floyd-Rosney, the paper recited, to the great amazement of -the city, had brought suit against his wife for divorce. The allegations -of the bill set forth that she had fled from her home with Randal Ducie, -who was named as co-respondent, and the husband made oath that in -seeking to intercept and reclaim her, following her to the station as -soon as he discovered her absence, he had witnessed her departure in -company with Randal Ducie just as the train moved out of the shed.</p> - -<p>Major Majoribanks presently hirpled, for he could scarcely walk, across -the room, and laid his finger on another column in a different portion -of the paper, and treating of milder sensations.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t need this to prove that—that—a base lie——” his stiff lips -enunciated with difficulty.</p> - -<p>This paragraph treated of the current cotton interests, giving extracts -from an address made by Randal Ducie in New Orleans at a banquet of an -association interested in levee protection, on the evening and also at -the hour when he was represented in Floyd-Rosney’s bill as fleeing with -his neighbor’s wife in a city five hundred miles distant. He had made -himself conspicuous as an advocate of certain methods of levee -protection, and his views were both ardently upheld and rancorously -contested even at the festive board. The occasion was thus less -harmonious than such meetings should be, and the local papers had much -“write-up” besides the menu and the toasts, in the views of various -planters and several engineer officers, guests of the occasion, lending -themselves to a spirited discussion of Randal Ducie’s recommendations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a>{343}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Colonel Kenwynton</span>, now at his home on his plantation on the bayou, also -gazed with starting eyes and dumfounded amazement at the excerpt from -the legal proceedings, within his own knowledge so palpably false. He -read it aloud under the kerosene lamp to Hugh Treherne on the other side -of the old-fashioned marble-topped center table.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of that, sir?” and the Colonel gave the newspaper a -resounding blow.</p> - -<p>Treherne smiled significantly.</p> - -<p>“I am impressed all the time, Colonel, with the insanity of the people -outside the asylum in comparison with the patients under treatment.”</p> - -<p>“Good God, sir,” cried the Colonel in great excitement, “this is a -shotgun business, and Floyd-Rosney is the man of all others to brazen it -out on a plea of the ‘unwritten law.’ He will shoot one or the other of -the Ducies on sight, and they are as much alike as two black-eyed -peas,—they really ought to wear wigs,—he is as likely to pot one as -the other. And the poor lady! My heart bleeds for her. I must clear this -matter up,” concluded the all-powerful. “I will send a communication to -the newspapers.”</p> - -<p>Now Colonel Kenwynton had, in his own opinion, the pen of a ready -writer. It was not his habit to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a>{344}</span> mince phrases or to revise. He wrote a -swift, legible hand, for he was a relic of an age when gentlemen prided -themselves on an elegant penmanship, in the days when the typewriter was -not. He had no sort of fear of offending Floyd-Rosney, nor care for -wounding his feelings. He recited in great detail the facts of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney’s entrance into the Adelantado Hotel, her disclosure of her -husband’s desire that she should tour the Orient with the Hardingtons, -who had already acquainted the writer that she was to be of their party, -and her grief because of her separation from her child, who had been -secretly removed from her home as a preparation for her departure. Now -and then the Colonel cast his eyes upward for inspiration and waved his -pen at arm’s length.</p> - -<p>“Not too much hot shot, Colonel,” remonstrated Hugh Treherne, a little -uneasy at these demonstrations.</p> - -<p>“Attend to your own guns, sir,” retorted the Colonel.</p> - -<p>With no regard for the awkwardness of the incident, he stated that the -poor lady, although the wife of a millionaire, had not command of ten -dollars in the world with which to defray the expenses of her journey to -the home of her youth, and to her uncle who stood in the relation of a -father to her, for his advice and protection against being shipped out -of the country.</p> - -<p>“It is my firm belief,” and the Colonel liked the words so well he read -them aloud to his comrade, “that we do not live in Turkey, that the -honored wives of our Southland do not occupy the position of inmates of -a harem, and I could not regard Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a>{345}</span> Floyd-Rosney as the favorite of a -sultan. Therefore it afforded Mr. Adrian Ducie and me great pleasure to -advance the money for her tickets to the home of her uncle, Major -Majoribanks, and to see her on the train.” He explained, at great -length, that the departure of the train was so imminent and immediate -that Adrian Ducie bought tickets to the first station for himself and -Colonel Kenwynton, in order that they might not be detained by any -question at the gate, and, at the moment of boarding the cars, Mr. -Floyd-Rosney, “hunting down the persecuted fugitive,” had mistaken -Adrian Ducie for his brother, Randal Ducie, who at this moment was in -New Orleans, making an address to the Mississippi River Association, -giving them the benefit of his very enlightened views, which the whole -country would do well to study and adopt, thereby saving many thousands -of dollars to the cotton planters of the jeopardized delta.</p> - -<p>Restraining himself with difficulty from pursuing this attractive -subject, Colonel Kenwynton explained that while Randal Ducie was an old -acquaintance of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s, Adrian Ducie was a stranger to her, -and had met her only on one previous occasion. The undersigned and -Adrian Ducie had accompanied the poor lady so far as the first station, -and taking farewell of her they had returned to town in the interurban -electric. He furthermore informed the public that in view of some -possible unforeseen emergency he had taken the liberty of pressing upon -this poor lady, absolutely unprovided with money for her necessities, a -twenty dollar bill, to be returned at her pleasure, and had since -received a letter from her uncle, inclosing that sum, and thanking<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a>{346}</span> him -for his consideration. At the home of this uncle—the home of her -girlhood—she was now domiciled with him and her aunt, who was formerly -the charming Miss Azalia Thornton, whom many elder members of society -would well remember.</p> - -<p>The Colonel was enjoying himself famously, and now and again Hugh -Treherne looked anxiously over the top of the newspaper at him as he -tossed the multiplying pages across his left hand, and took a fresh -sheet.</p> - -<p>The Colonel, with keen gusto, then entered on the subject of -Floyd-Rosney, whom he handled without gloves. There ought to be some -adequate criminal procedure, he argued, for a man who had offered such -an indignity to the wife of his bosom as this. If an equivalent insult -could have been tendered to a man Mr. Floyd-Rosney would have been shot -down in his tracks—or, at the least, have been made to pay roundly for -his brutality. But the wife, whom he has sworn to love, honor, and -cherish, is defenseless against his hasty, groundless conclusions. She -can only meekly prove her innocence of a guilt that it is like the -torments of hell-fire to name in connection with her. Colonel Kenwynton -solemnly commended to our lawmakers the consideration of this subject of -a penalty of unfounded marital charges. The converse of the proposition -never occurred to him. In his philosophy the women were welcome to say -what they liked about the men.</p> - -<p>If, he maintained, the gentleman accompanying Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had been -Randal Ducie instead of his brother, the circumstance would have -signified naught with a lady of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s character, which the -good people of this city would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a>{347}</span> uphold against her husband even backed -by all his filthy lucre. But Randal Ducie was in New Orleans making an -address on levee conditions, on which subject his brother Adrian was -peculiarly uninformed, and it did seem to Colonel Kenwynton that almost -any man would have learned more from sheer observation, even though he -had been absent from the country for the past six years. He was now in -Memphis, where, being singularly like his twin brother, he was mistaken -for Randal Ducie, well known here, and his arrival thus chronicled in -the papers. Adrian Ducie was not widely acquainted in Memphis, having -spent the last six years in the south of France, where he was interested -in silk manufacture.</p> - -<p>If Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s course, declared the Colonel, pursuing the -subject, in forcing a ghastly round of pleasure on his wife, sighing for -her absent child, was typical of his domestic methods, his wife was a -martyr. When she would insist on having her child restored to her arms -one could imagine his saying—“Go to, woman, where is your pug!” Colonel -Kenwynton ardently hoped that the pressure of public opinion would force -Mr. Floyd-Rosney to disregard no longer the holy claims of motherhood, -and give back this child to the aching arms of his wife. The heart of -every man that ever had a mother was fired in revolt against him, -despite his wealth, that cannot buy sycophancy, and abject acquiescence -and pusillanimous silence from us.</p> - -<p>The Colonel admired the rolling periods of his production so much that -he read aloud with relish the whole effort from the beginning.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of it, Hugh?” he demanded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a>{348}</span></p> - -<p>“I think the paper won’t publish it,” said Hugh Treherne.</p> - -<p>The paper, however, did publish it. The position of Floyd-Rosney in the -affair, as the incontestable facts began to be elicited, took on so -sorry an aspect that he was hardly in case to bring an action for libel, -and the Colonel’s letter was good for the sale of a double edition. -People read it with raised eyebrows and deprecation, and several said -the Colonel was a dangerous man and ought to have his hands tied behind -him. But the plain truth, so plainly set forth, the old traditions which -he had invoked, which they had all imbibed more or less, went far to -reinstating Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s position, and to exhibit her husband’s -character in a most damaged and disastrous disparagement. He was advised -by his counsel, who were disconcerted in the last extreme by being -connected in so disreputable a proceeding, that the only course open to -policy and prudence and the prospect of conserving any place in public -esteem, was to retract absolutely and immediately, frankly confessing a -mistake of identity, and to restore the child to the custody of his -mother.</p> - -<p>“Even that won’t mend the matter,” said Mr. Stacey—his face corrugated -with lines unknown to his placid sharpness when he and his firm had no -personal concern. He had nerves for his own interest, though not an -altruistic quiver for his client.</p> - -<p>“All the world thinks,” he continued, “that you are as jealous as a -Turk, and that will add a sensational interest to the Duciehurst suit, -of a kind that I despise”—he actually looked pained—“when it is -developed that your wife found and restored the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a>{349}</span> Ducie papers. I wish -you had taken my advice; I wish you had taken my advice.”</p> - -<p>And Floyd-Rosney said never a word.</p> - -<p>He had come to be more plastic to counsel than of yore, and in a few -days thereafter the train made its infrequent stoppage at Ingleside, and -deposited Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s favorite old colored servant and her -little charge, who sturdily trudged through the grove of great -trees—vast, indeed, to his eyes—and suddenly appeared in the hall -before his mother, with a tale of wonder relating to the bears, which he -believed might be skulking about among the giant oaks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a>{350}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Floyd-Rosney</span> had expected that the restoration of the child to the -mother would effect an immediate reconciliation with his wife. -Therefore, he attained a serenity, a renewal of self-confidence which he -had not enjoyed since the humiliating <i>contretemps</i> at Union Station. In -the dismissal of his bill for divorce—the <i>retraxit</i> craftily worded -and expressing with a dignity that might have seemed impossible under -the circumstances his contrition for the hasty and offensive assumptions -of his mistake, a sweeping recantation of all his charges and a complete -endorsement of his wife’s actions in every relation of life,—he -considered he had offered her an ample apology for his conduct and had -held out a very alluring olive branch. He had a relish, too, of the -surprise he had planned, partly to avoid a more personal method to court -her forgiveness, in sending the child in charge of her favorite servant, -old Aunt Dorothy, to alight unheralded from the train at Ingleside. He -imagined her delight and gratitude and awaited, in smiling anticipation, -altogether devoid of anxiety, her ebullient letter, brimming with thanks -and endearments, and taking the blame, as she was wont to do in their -differences, in that she had so misunderstood him and precipitated this -series of perverse happenings that had exposed him to such cruel public -misconstruction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a>{351}</span></p> - -<p>But this letter did not come.</p> - -<p>He began to frown when the mail was brought in, and to sort the missives -with a hasty touch for something that he did not find. The servants, -always on the alert to observe, and agog about the successive phases of -the scandal which they had witnessed at such close quarters, collogued -over the fact that he laid the rest of the mail aside unopened for -hours, while he sat with a clouded brow and a reflective, unnoting eye -in glum silence, unsolaced even by a cigar. It was not good to speak to -him at these crises, and the house was as still as a tomb.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s ascendency in life had been so great, so fostered by his -many worldly advantages, that he could make no compact with denial, -defeat. He had not yet reached the point where he could write to his -wife and beg her forgiveness, or even reproach her with her agency in -the disasters that had whelmed their domestic life in this unseemly -publicity. He developed an ingenuity in devising reasons for her -silence. She was too proud; he had let her have her head too long. She -would not write—she would not verbally admit that she condoned his -odious charges, which he often declared he had a right to make, if he -were to believe the testimony of his eyes, witnessing her flight with -her old lover, Randal Ducie, as he was convinced, boarding the train -together. She would simply return unheralded, unexplained,—and that was -best! He had himself inaugurated this method in restoring the child -without a word. It was a subject that could not be discussed between -them, with all its sensitive nerves, with its open wounds quivering with -anguished tremors. No! She would come to her home, her hearthstone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a>{352}</span> her -husband, as she had every right to do, even paying all tribute to her -pride, to her sense of insulted delicacy. He saw to it that the papers -containing the text of his full retraction and explanation of the -circumstances were mailed to her, and then adjusted himself anew to -waiting and anticipation.</p> - -<p>He had been spared in the details of his life all the torments of -suspense which harass men less fortunately placed. It may be doubted if -ever before he had had cause to anticipate and await an event, and hope, -and be deferred and denied. He could scarcely brook the delay. He began -to fear that he should be obliged to write and summon her home. Once he -even thought of going in person to escort her back, and but that he -shrank from meeting her eye, all unprepared as she would be, he would -have followed little Ned to Ingleside. Something might be said on the -impulse of the moment to widen the breach. He could not depend upon -her—he could not depend upon himself. She knew the state of his mind, -he argued. Those papers, most astutely, more delicately than any words -of his might compass, had depicted his whole mental status. Doubtless, -after a seemly diplomatic interval she would return. The sooner the -better, he felt in eager impatience. He had hardly known how dearly he -loved her, he declared to himself, interpreting his restiveness under -the suffocations of suspense and anxiety as symptoms of his revived -affection. He became so sure of this happy solution of the whole cruel -imbroglio that he acted upon it as if he had credible assurance of the -fact. He caused certain minor changes, which she had desired, to be made -in the house—changes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a>{353}</span> to which he had no objection, but he had never -taken thought to gratify her preference. He ordered the suite of rooms -that she had occupied to be thoroughly overhauled in such a fever of -haste that the domestic force expected to see the lady of the mansion -installed in her realm before a readjustment was possible. At last -everything was complete and exquisite, and Floyd-Rosney, patrolling the -apartments with a keen and critical eye, could find no fault to -challenge his minute and censorious observation. A new lady’s maid was -engaged, of more skill and pretensions than the functionary he had -driven from his service, and had already entered upon her duties in the -rearrangement of her mistress’s wardrobe, and the chauffeur took heedful -thought of the railroad timetables, that he might not be out of the way -when the limousine should be ordered to meet Mrs. Floyd-Rosney at Union -Station.</p> - -<p>Under these circumstances the filing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill for -divorce and alimony fell like a bombshell upon the defenseless head of -her husband. It was a genuine and fierce demonstration, evidently -calculated to take advantage of every point that might contribute to the -eventuation of a decree. The allegations of cruelty and tyranny, of -which there were many instances that Floyd-Rosney, in his marital -autocracy had long ago forgotten, including the crafty blow which he had -given her under the cloak of the child in her arms, were supplemented -and illustrated by the secret removal of her child from her care, and -the determination to ship her out of the country against her will. Thus -she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a>{354}</span> been constrained in defense of her personal liberty to flee to -the home of her uncle, her nearest relative, although she was obliged to -borrow the money for the railroad fare from a mere stranger whom she had -met only once before. Notwithstanding the fact that her husband was -several times a millionaire, he permitted her no command of money, her -fine clothes and jewels and equipages being accorded merely to decorate -the appurtenances of his wealth and ostentation. She recounted the -indignity she had causelessly suffered in the allegations of his bill -for divorce, all baseless and unproved as was evidenced by their -complete retraction under oath in the precipitate dismissal of the bill. -Her petition concluded by praying for an absolute divorce with alimony -and the custody of the child.</p> - -<p>This document was not filed without many misgivings on the part of Major -Majoribanks and of horrified protest from his wife. Ingleside was remote -from modern progress and improvements, and such advantages as might -accrue from successfully prosecuting a suit for divorce won but scant -consideration there. The worthy couple were firm in their own conviction -that marriage should not be considered a temporary connection. It was, -to their minds, a lifelong and holy joining together, and should not be -put asunder. Mrs. Majoribanks made some remarks so very old-fashioned as -almost to excite Paula’s laughter, despite the seriousness of the -subject. It was a wife’s duty to put up with her husband’s foibles, to -overlook little unkindnesses; the two should learn to bear and forbear -in their mutual imperfections. Had she ever remonstrated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a>{355}</span> gently, with -wifely lovingness, with Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s harshness?</p> - -<p>“I didn’t dare,” said Paula. And the mere phrase was an instance in -point.</p> - -<p>A woman’s craft in reading hearts is a subtle endowment. Mrs. -Majoribanks had not kept step with the onward march of the world, but -she struck a note that vibrated more in accord with Paula’s temperament -when she said:</p> - -<p>“It is often a hardship in point of worldly estimation to be a divorced -woman.”</p> - -<p>She looked cautiously at Paula over her spectacles, for in the old days -no one had been more a respecter of the opinions of smart people than -her husband’s niece.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that isn’t the case any more,” said Paula lightly, with a little -fleering laugh, “it is quite fashionable now to have a divorce decree.”</p> - -<p>“You may depend upon it,” Mrs. Majoribanks said in private to her -husband, “Paula is reckoning on winning back Randal Ducie! And, to my -mind, that is the worst feature of the whole horrible affair.”</p> - -<p>Major Majoribanks did not altogether concur in his wife’s views of the -possible efficacy of gentle suasion on Mr. Floyd-Rosney’s -irascibilities. Perhaps he knew more of the indurated heart of that type -of man. The Major had been greatly impressed by the attempt upon his -niece’s personal liberty, as he interpreted the insistence on the -Oriental tour and, although he welcomed little Ned with an enthusiasm -that might have befitted a grandfather, he was apprehensive concerning -the child’s return as an overture of reconciliation. He felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a>{356}</span> his -responsibility in the situation very acutely. He did not favor the plan -of seeking merely a legal separation and maintenance, which his wife -advocated, because it was not conclusive; it would be regarded by -Floyd-Rosney as temporary and would render Paula liable to pressure to -recur to their previous status. He did not consider his niece safe with -her arrogant and arbitrary husband, as the attempt to enforce a tour -alone with casual acquaintances to the Orient amply proved. The extreme -measure of secretly removing the child from her companionship and care -as means of subjugation might be repeated when circumstances of public -opinion did not coerce his restoration. Mrs. Majoribanks had not a more -squeamish distaste for divorce than her husband, nor did she entertain a -deeper reverence for the sacredness of the bonds of matrimony. But he -reflected with a sigh of relief that it was not his duty to seek to -impose his own views on his niece. Paula was permitted by law to judge -and act for herself, and she had had much experience which had aided in -determining her course. He could not bring himself to urge her to -condone the insupportable allegations in the bill of divorce which -Floyd-Rosney had filed and allowed to be made public, and to trust -herself and the child once more in his clutches. She had now the wind of -public favor in her sails. Her husband had committed himself so openly -and so irretrievably that it was probable that the custody of the child -would be awarded to her in view of his tender years. Later, when time -should have somewhat repaired the tatters of Floyd-Rosney’s status in -the estimation of the world, when the inevitable influence and -importance of so rich a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a>{357}</span> should begin to make themselves felt anew, -it might be more difficult for her to contend against him. If ever she -could hope to free herself from him and his tyrannies, and his -unimaginable machinations in the future, now was the opportunity and -this the cause of complaint. He might not again give her so palpable and -undeniable an occasion of insupportable affront. Major Majoribanks, even -in the seclusion of Ingleside, took note of the penniless estate of the -wife of the millionaire as she fled from her richly appointed home, and -gave due weight to the fact that the decree would assure her future -comfort by requiring alimony in proportion to the husband’s means. There -was no obligation on him to deprive her of her due maintenance and -protection by the urgency of his advice, although his wife goaded him -with her strict interpretations of his duty, and his brow clouded -whenever she mentioned her belief of the influence of the expectation of -winning back Randal Ducie upon Paula’s determination.</p> - -<p>Paula had thus the half-hearted support of her relatives in her -proceedings, and she was grateful even for this, saying to herself that -with their limitations she could hardly have expected more. She was -eager and hopeful, and, to Mrs. Majoribanks’s displeasure, not more -sensitive to the mention of the proceedings than if they had involved a -transaction concerning cotton or corn. The three Majoribanks boys were -excited on the possibility of an attempt to kidnap little Edward, since -the filing of the bill, and they kept him, in alternation, under close -and strict surveillance night and day.</p> - -<p>“It would be impossible to spirit him away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a>{358}</span> Ingleside,” they -bluffly contended, and to their mother’s great though unexpressed -displeasure their father did not rebuke their bluster.</p> - -<p>“We all talk of getting the decree,” she said in connubial privacy, “as -if it were a diploma.”</p> - -<p>He nodded ruefully. But he was the more progressive of the two.</p> - -<p>And in this feeble and sorry wise the influence of modern civilization -began to impinge on the primitive convictions and traditions of -Ingleside.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a>{359}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Adrian Ducie</span> was affronted beyond measure by the unseemly notoriety -given to his part in the Floyd-Rosney incident, in the subsequent -publications emanating from various sources. The serious menace, -however, that the circumstances held for Randal moderated for a time his -indignation. He thought it not improbable that Floyd-Rosney would shoot -Randal Ducie on sight, and he greatly deprecated the fact that his -brother was chronicled by the New Orleans papers as having quitted that -city, on his way to Memphis, returning by boat.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t the fellow stay where he was until matters should have -developed more acceptably?” Adrian fumed in mingled disgust and -apprehension. His anxiety was somewhat assuaged in the meantime when -Colonel Kenwynton’s letter appeared, and more especially when -Floyd-Rosney withdrew his petition for divorce—a definite confession of -his clumsy mistake. Still in Adrian’s opinion latent fires slumbered -under the volcanic crust, as this sudden eruption had proved. This city -was no place for the bone of contention between husband and wife. The -season for the preparations for cotton planting was already well -advanced. Assuredly it was seemly and desirable for Randal to repair to -his plantation and supervise the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a>{360}</span> operations of his manager and his -laborers. Adrian found his own stay in the city harassing to his -exacerbated nerves. The questioning stare of men whom he passed on the -streets, who looked as if they expected salutation, in default of which -surmised that this was the twin brother, hero of the Floyd-Rosney -<i>esclandre</i>, annoyed him by its constant repetition, and gave his face a -repellant reserve which the countenance of the gentle and genial Randal -had never known. A dozen times he was more intimately assailed, “Hey, -Ran, old man, how goes it?” with perhaps a quizzical leer, or an eager -hopefulness that some discussion of the reigning sensation of the day -might not be too intrusive. When the stranger was enlightened, not -abruptly, however, for Adrian was cautious to refrain from alienating -Randal’s friends, the comments on the wonderful likeness implied an -accession of interest in the significant incident in Union Station, and, -doubtless, many a surmise as to what had betided heretofore to arouse -the lion in the husband’s breast. Obviously, both the brothers for every -reason should be removed from the public eye till the story was stale; -but, although Adrian felt this keenly, he himself could not get away in -view of the interests of his firm in an important silk deal with a large -concern desiring to treat directly with the representative of the -manufacturers.</p> - -<p>He had never cared so little to see his brother as one day when the door -of his bedroom in the hotel unceremoniously opened and Randal entered. -He had deprecated the effect of all this publicity on the most sensitive -emotions of that high-strung and spirited nature. He was proud, too, and -winced<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a>{361}</span> from the realization that all the world should be canvassing the -fact of Randal’s rejection by Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in her girlhood days. -She had treated him cruelly, and had dashed her plighted troth, his -love, his happiness to the ground with not a moment’s compunction, for a -marriage of splendor and wealth—“and,” said Adrian grimly to himself, -“for it she has got all that was coming to her.”</p> - -<p>He felt for Randal. His heart burned within him.</p> - -<p>“Why, who is this that I see here?” cried Randal gaily, as he entered. -“Not myself in a mirror surely, for I never looked half so glum in all -my life.”</p> - -<p>There was a hearty handclasp, and a sort of facetious fraternal hug, -after the fashion of men who humorously disguise a deeper emotion, and -they were presently seated in great amity before the glowing fire.</p> - -<p>“This is imported Oriental tobacco,” said Adrian, handing his brother a -cigar.</p> - -<p>“Imported from where—the corner drugstore?” demanded Randal, laughing, -his face illumined by the flicker of the lighted match.</p> - -<p>“Genuine Ladikieh,” protested Adrian.</p> - -<p>“It’s like carrying coals to Newcastle to pay duty on tobacco in -America.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t say I paid any duty, did I?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you haven’t the grit to smuggle anything through, and if you had -you would have brought enough to generously divvy up with me.”</p> - -<p>He sent off a fragrant puff, stretched out luxuriously in his armchair, -and turned his clear eyes upon his brother.</p> - -<p>There was a momentary silence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a>{362}</span></p> - -<p>“I read the report of your address in the papers. It was very able and -convincing.”</p> - -<p>“I’d care more for your compliments if you understood the subject,” -declared Randal cavalierly. Then, roguishly, “Is that <i>all</i> you have -read about me in the papers lately?”</p> - -<p>Adrian stared, dumfounded. And he had so wincingly deprecated the effect -of this limelight of publicity upon the shrinking heart of the rejected -lover.</p> - -<p>“I think it very hard you should be subjected to this,” he began -sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“Who—I? Why,—I was never so pleased in my life!”</p> - -<p>“Why—what do you mean, Randal? It is a very serious matter; it might -have had a life-and-death significance.”</p> - -<p>“Serious enough for Floyd-Rosney,” Randal laughed bluffly. “Did ever a -fellow so befool himself, and call all the world to witness! Of course, -I deprecate the publicity for the lady, but everybody understands the -situation. It does not injure her position in the least. That is the -kind of husband she wanted—and she has got him.”</p> - -<p>Adrian silently smoked a few moments.</p> - -<p>“I never was so affronted in my life,” he said.</p> - -<p>Once more Randal laughed. “I was simply enchanted,” he declared.</p> - -<p>“Honestly, Randal, I don’t understand you,” said Adrian, holding his -cigar delicately in his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am very simple, quite transparent, in fact.”</p> - -<p>Adrian shook his head, restoring his cigar to his lips. “Don’t make you -out, old man.”</p> - -<p>“Because you have never been told by a lady to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a>{363}</span> take foot in hand, and -toddle! Discarded—rejected—despised! Therefore”—with a strong -puff—“you can’t know what a keen joy it is to realize that you are -still important enough to be the cause of domestic discord between -husband and wife, when you haven’t seen the lady but once in five years, -and then in his presence, besides, being five hundred miles away, meekly -babbling about levee protection.”</p> - -<p>Adrian stared. “And you like that?”</p> - -<p>“Like it? It goes to the cockles of my heart.”</p> - -<p>“Randal, I should never have thought it of you,” said Adrian rebukingly.</p> - -<p>“Because, kid, I am older than you and know many things that you haven’t -learned. I got a little bit the start of you in life and I have kept -ahead of you ever since,” Randal declared whimsically.</p> - -<p>“I can’t comprehend how you like to be mixed up in that miserable -misunderstanding.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it flatters me to death. She couldn’t put me out of her heart, -although she could and did lacerate terribly my heart. Floyd-Rosney is -jealous of my very existence. But for that he would have inferred no -more from seeing me, as he thought, assisting her to board the train -than any incidental acquaintance tendering that courtesy. He is not -disturbed that <i>you</i> boarded the train with her.”</p> - -<p>“You are jealous of Floyd-Rosney,” said Adrian abruptly.</p> - -<p>Randal thrust his cigar between his lips and spoke indistinctly with -this obstruction. “Not I,” he laughed. “Not under these circumstances.”</p> - -<p>Adrian was frowning anxiously. The two faces, so alike in feature, were -curiously dissimilar at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a>{364}</span> moment, the one so genially confiding, the -expression of the other, alert, expectant, with a grave prophetic -rebuke.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Randal,” Adrian said seriously, “you perturb me very much. -You speak actually as if you are still—still sentimentally interested -in this woman—another man’s wife—because you discover——”</p> - -<p>“That both she and her husband are sentimentally interested in me; ha! -ha! ha!” Randal interrupted.</p> - -<p>“I could never imagine such a thing,—it perturbs me,” Adrian persisted -seriously.</p> - -<p>“It perturbs me, too,” declared Randal quizzically, “to have you gadding -about in my likeness, escorting other men’s wives,—the gay Lothario -that you are!—and getting <i>me</i> into the papers, the public prints. Oh, -fie, fie.”</p> - -<p>“And she <i>is</i> another man’s wife,” remonstrated Adrian.</p> - -<p>“She won’t be long if she has a spark of spirit left,” declared Randal -boldly. “She will bring suit for divorce herself.”</p> - -<p>“But I doubt if she can get it,” said Adrian in dismay.</p> - -<p>The difference of mood made itself manifest in the tones of their -voices—Adrian’s crisp, imperative, even tinctured with sternness, -Randal’s careless, musical, drawling.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she can get it fast enough. I should think from what I observed of -his manner to her she could prove enough instances of cruelty and -tyranny to melt almost any trial judge.”</p> - -<p>Adrian reflected silently upon the episodes on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a>{365}</span> <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, but -kept his own counsel, while the smoke curled softly above the duplicate -heads.</p> - -<p>“When I saw them together,” observed Randal, “he impressed me as being a -veritable despot, and in a queer way, too. I can’t understand his -satisfaction in it. He arrogated the largest liberty to criticize her -views and actions, as if his dictum were the fiat of last resort. I tell -you now, kid, criticism and cavil in themselves are incompatible with -love. No man can depreciate and adore at the same time the same object. -When he thinks the feet of his idol are of clay the whole structure -might as well come down at once. He seemed to have a certain perversity, -and this is a connubial foible I have seen in better men, too; a -tendency to contradict her in small, immaterial matters for the sheer -pleasure of contrariety, I suppose,—to oppose her, to balk her, merely -because he could with impunity. I imagine he has enjoyed a long lease of -this impunity because his perversity has attained such unusual -proportions, and her plunges of opposition had the style of sudden -revolt rather than the practiced habit of contention. She has lived a -life of repression and submission with him. Her identity is pretty much -annihilated. The Paula of her earlier days is nearly all disappeared.”</p> - -<p>For a few moments Adrian said nothing in response to this keen analysis -of character, which corresponded so well to his longer opportunity of -observation, but sat silently eyeing the fire in serious thought.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he broke out with impassioned eagerness.</p> - -<p>“Randal, you are my own twin brother—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a>{366}</span>—”</p> - -<p>“I am obliged to admit it,” interpolated Randal flippantly.</p> - -<p>“—my other self. The tie that binds us seems to me closer than with -other brothers. We came into the world together; we have lived hand in -hand almost all our lives; we even look alike.”</p> - -<p>“And make a precious good job of it too,” declared Randal gaily.</p> - -<p>“We feel alike; we believe alike; we have been educated in the same -traditions; we respect the sanctities of the old fireside teachings; we -have not strayed after strange gods.”</p> - -<p>Randal had taken his cigar from his lips and in his half recumbent -position was gazing keenly at his brother.</p> - -<p>“What are you coming to, kid?”</p> - -<p>“Just this—you are not looking forward to this divorce in the hope—the -expectation of marrying this woman? Are you? Tell me.”</p> - -<p>Randal’s eyes flashed. “What do you take me for?” he said angrily -between his set teeth. “She could never again be anything to me,—not -even if Floyd-Rosney were at the bottom of the Mississippi River.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how this relieves my mind,” cried Adrian.</p> - -<p>“You may set it at rest,—for I could never again love that woman.”</p> - -<p>“I know that I have no right to interfere or even to question—but you -always appreciate my motives, Randal. You are the best fellow in the -world.”</p> - -<p>“I always thought so,” said Randal, smoking hard.</p> - -<p>“I believe she will expect it,” suggested Adrian, still with some -anxiety.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a>{367}</span></p> - -<p>“She will be grievously disappointed, then,—and turn about is fair -play.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to guard against any soft surprise,” said Adrian. “She -seemed so sure of you. She said you were the only friend she had in the -world. She came to the Adelantado Hotel to find you—that you should -lend her ten dollars for the railroad fare to Ingleside!”</p> - -<p>“The liberal Floyd-Rosney!”</p> - -<p>“I want you to look out for her. She is a designing woman. She is -heartily tired of her bargain, and with reason, and she wants to pick up -the happiness she threw away five years ago——”</p> - -<p>“With me and poverty.”</p> - -<p>“She has enjoyed an artful combination of real poverty and fictitious -splendor. I want you to be frank with me, Randal, and confide in me, -and——”</p> - -<p>“Take that paw off my arm.”</p> - -<p>“—and,” continued Adrian, removing his hand, “not make an outsider of -your own, only twin brother.”</p> - -<p>“Heaven protect me from two twin brothers like unto this fellow,” -laughed Randal. “Make yourself easy, Adrian; when I am finally led to -the altar I shall countenance an innovation in the marriage -ceremony—the groom shall be given away by his own only twin brother.”</p> - -<p>“She broached the matter herself when she had an opportunity to speak -aside to me on the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>,” said Adrian, his reminiscent eyes -on the fire.</p> - -<p>“What? Divorce and remarriage?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no—no. The course she had pursued with you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a>{368}</span></p> - -<p>Randal’s eyes glowed with sudden fire; his face flushed deeply red.</p> - -<p>“That was very unhandsome of her,” he said curtly, “and by your leave it -was very derogatory to both you and me for you to consent to discuss -it.”</p> - -<p>“Why should <i>I</i> decline to discuss it when she introduced the -subject,—as if I felt that <i>you</i> were humiliated in the matter or had -anything to regret?”</p> - -<p>“It would seem that neither of you were hampered with any delicacy of -sentiment or sensitiveness.”</p> - -<p>“She spoke to me of a gift of yours that she had failed to return. She -wished me to convey it to you. But I referred her to the registered mail -or the express.”</p> - -<p>“That was polite, at all events.”</p> - -<p>“I told her that the relations between my brother and myself were -peculiarly tender, and that I would not allow her to come between us. -And, with that, I bowed myself away.”</p> - -<p>Randal’s eyes gloomed on the fire, with many an unwelcome thought of an -old and shattered romance. But when he spoke, it was of the present.</p> - -<p>“Adrian, I am sorry I was so short with you. Of course I know you could -not openly avoid the topic forced upon you in that way. I am sure, too, -that you did not fail to take full cognizance of my dignity, as well as -your own. I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for a million dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you did it,” retorted Adrian, “and nobody that I know of has -offered you so much as fifty cents. It was a gratuitous piece of -meanness on your part. And you can take that paw off me,” glancing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a>{369}</span> down -with affected repugnance at Randal’s caressing hand laid on his sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Randal, with a long sigh, “she closed the incident herself. -She gave me the trinket in her husband’s presence—and you can imagine -Floyd-Rosney was all eyes.”</p> - -<p>“She placed it on the table among the Ducie jewels the previous night,” -said Adrian; “and, as I was occupied in reading the papers, I asked her -pointedly to take charge of it. And she looked most awfully cheap as she -repossessed herself of it.”</p> - -<p>“Adrian, you really have a heart of stone in this connection,” smiled -Randal, “and after she had been chiefly instrumental in restoring to us -the Duciehurst papers and jewels!”</p> - -<p>“What else could she do—commit a felony and keep them? I certainly -entertain no fantastic magnanimity on that score.”</p> - -<p>Randal laughed, but the solicitous Adrian fancied this phase of the -subject might develop a menace to the future, and hastened to change the -topic. “I wish you would come with me and confer with our lawyers -to-day, Randal,” he suggested. “It is better to have both principals in -interest present at any important consultation. I have an engagement -with them at three,” drawing out his watch for a hasty glance.</p> - -<p>“Agreed,” said Randal, springing up alertly. “Where’s your -clothes-brush?—but no, I suppose there is not a speck of the dust of -travel on me, for, when I tipped the man on the boat, he practically -frayed all the nap off my clothes to show his gratitude. I am -presentable, eh?”</p> - -<p>He stood for a moment before the long mirror,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a>{370}</span> then broke forth -whimsically in affected alarm. “Adrian, who is this in the mirror, you -or I? I am all mixed up. I can’t tell us apart. What are we going to do -about it?” he continued, as if in great agitation, while Adrian, with a -leisurely smile—for he had often taken part in this <i>gambade</i>, a -favorite bit of fooling since their infancy—looked about for his hat.</p> - -<p>“Let’s go downstairs and get somebody to pick us out,” suggested Randal, -“for, really, I don’t want to be you, Adrian. You are too solemn and -priggish; why, this must be I, for, if it were you, you would have said -‘piggish.’ You are so dearly fraternal. Don’t come near me, I don’t want -to get mixed up again. I begin to know myself. This is I.”</p> - -<p>But, notwithstanding this threatened peril of proximity, they walked -down the street together, arm in arm, to the office of the counsel, -followed by many a startled glance perceiving the wonderful resemblance, -and sometimes a passing stranger of an uncultured grade came to a full -halt in surprise and curiosity.</p> - -<p>There were many consultations with the legal advisers in the days that -ensued, which Randal Ducie found very irksome, accustomed as he was to -an active outdoor life and a less labyrinthine species of thought than -appertains to the purlieus of the law. Unexpected details continually -developed concerning the interests involved. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill -for divorce was filed in the meantime, and because it had a personal -interest paramount to its importance in the Duciehurst case it brought -up again the matter of taking her deposition in these<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a>{371}</span> proceedings which -had been pretermitted by reason of affairs of greater magnitude.</p> - -<p>The decision was reached on a day when to Randal’s relief he was able to -dub facetiously the counsel “the peripatetic philosophers” by reason of -a journey which they thought it necessary to take in the company of -their clients and which he found much more tolerable than the duress of -their offices and their long indoor prelections. The four men boarded a -packet leaving the city at five o’clock; it being deemed advisable that -the lawyers should make a personal examination of the locality and the -hiding place of the Ducie papers and other valuables, before conferring -with the Mississippi counsel retained in the case. The question of -summoning Mrs. Floyd-Rosney was discussed as they sat on the hurricane -deck in the approaching dusk between the glitter of the evening sky, all -of a clear pink and gold, and the lustrous sheen of the expanse of the -river, reflecting a delicate amber and rose. The search-light apparatus -was not illumined and looked in the uncertain half twilight as if it -might be some defensive piece of artillery of the mortar type, mounted -on the hurricane deck. The great smoke-stacks, towering high into the -air, had already swinging between them the green and red chimney lamps, -required by law, but as yet day reigned and all the brilliancy of the -evening bespoke a protest against the coming night.</p> - -<p>Adrian Ducie doubted the availability of summoning Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in -their interest. The proof could inferentially be made without her, by -those who saw her deliver the box and witnessed its opening and -contents. Besides, here were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a>{372}</span> papers to speak for themselves. But -Randal Ducie urged the deposition. It would seem conscious not to call -her. Why should she not give her testimony. It was disrespectful to -imply that Mrs. Floyd-Rosney would be reluctant to do this.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Floyd-Rosney is a mighty touchy man,” suggested the junior counsel. -This practitioner was about forty years of age, thin, wiry, eager, even -fidgetty. He had a trick of passing his hand rapidly over his -prematurely bald head, of playing with his fob chain, of twisting a -pencil, or his gloves, or his eyeglasses—these last also, perhaps, a -prematurely acquired treasure. Apparently he had burned a great deal of -midnight oil to good purpose, for he was admittedly an exceedingly able -lawyer, destined to rise very high in his profession.</p> - -<p>His associate in the case was in striking contrast, in many respects, to -Mr. Guinnell. He was a portly man, with a big head, and a big frame, and -a big brain. It was his foible,—one of them, perhaps,—in moments of -deep thought to close his eyes; it may have been in order to commune the -more closely and clearly with the immanent legal entity within; it may -have been more definitely to concentrate his ideas; it may have been to -shut out the sight of Mr. Guinnell’s swiftly revolving pencil or -eyeglasses; whatever his reason, the habit had a most unnerving effect -on clients in consultation, suggesting the idea that their -affairs—always of vital importance to the parties in interest—were of -slight consequence to their adviser and of soporific effect. Both -gentlemen were serious-minded, and, which is more rare in their -profession, abysmally devoid of a sense of humor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a>{373}</span></p> - -<p>“The filing of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s bill for divorce and alimony -complicates the situation,” continued Mr. Guinnell, “although I have -thought since the Union Station incident,” he hesitated slightly, -glancing toward Randal,—“you will excuse me for mentioning it in -professional confidence.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; I often mention it myself as a mere layman,” said Randal, -debonairly.</p> - -<p>“I have thought that Mr. Floyd-Rosney will make a stiff fight on the -hard letter of the law,—<i>à l’outrance</i>, in fact,—with no contemplation -of such concessions as would otherwise present themselves to litigants, -looking to compromise, settlement of antagonistic interest by equitable -adjustment. In the present development of his domestic affairs he will -find it quite intolerable for his wife to give testimony in the interest -of Mr. Randal Ducie and his brother. Mr. Floyd-Rosney will wince from -it.”</p> - -<p>“It is a good thing that something can make him wince,” declared Randal -hardily. “A stout cowhide is evidently what he needs.”</p> - -<p>“I hope, Mr. Ducie,” said Mr. Harvey, the senior counsel in alarm and -grave rebuke, “that you will not take that tone in testifying. All the -circumstances in the case render the situation unusual and perilous, and -we want to do and say nothing that will place either you or your brother -in personal danger from Mr. Floyd-Rosney.”</p> - -<p>“The only cause for wonder is that your brother was not shot down at -Union Station, being mistaken for you,” Mr. Guinnell added the weight of -his opinion to his partner’s remonstrance. “If Floyd-Rosney had chanced -to wear a revolver Adrian Ducie would not be here to-day to tell the -tale.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a>{374}</span></p> - -<p>“Count on me; I am yours to command,” declared Randal, lightly. “I am a -very lamb, when necessary, and you may lead me through the case with a -blue ribbon and a ring in my nose. I’ll eat out of any man’s hand!”</p> - -<p>The ponderous senior counsel looked at him soberly. The junior twirled -and twirled his fob-chain.</p> - -<p>“We wish to conduct this case to the best advantage,” said Mr. Harvey, -“and leave no stone unturned that can contribute to success. But we wish -to be conservative—we must keep that intention before us, to be -<i>conservative</i>, and give Floyd-Rosney no possible opportunity for -outbreak at our expense, either in regard to the interests of the case -or the personal safety of our clients.”</p> - -<p>“I will order my walk and conversation as if on eggs,” declared Randal, -with a wary look.</p> - -<p>“I do not apprehend any unseemly measures or conduct on the part of the -opposing counsel,” continued Mr. Harvey. “They are gentlemen of high -standing. But Mr. Floyd-Rosney has a most unruly and unreasoning temper -and he has placed himself at a deplorable public disadvantage in this -matter, which, be sure, he does not ascribe to himself. We will go -slowly and safely—coming necessarily into contention with him. But we -shall take Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s deposition by all means.”</p> - -<p>And thus the matter was settled.</p> - -<p>On the third day the boat made the Duciehurst landing, and some hours -were spent in exploring the ruins of the mansion. Later the party -separated, the lawyers repairing to the inland town of Caxton for a -conference with the local legal firm who would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_375" id="page_375"></a>{375}</span> prosecute the interests -of the case in Mississippi, and the two Ducies making a prearranged -excursion to a plantation which Randal had leased at some distance -higher up the river. As the residence on this plantation was comfortable -and in good repair he had quitted his quarters at the hotel in Caxton -and had taken up his abode here. It had been a wrench to him to -relinquish the operations on the Ducie estate; but he was advised that -his claim to rightful possession might be jeopardized by consenting to -hold under Floyd-Rosney, which course, indeed, he had never -contemplated. As the two, mounted on the staid farm horses, rode through -the fields and speculated on their possibilities, Randal would often -pause in the turn-rows—the cotton of last year a withered stubble—in -systematic lines, with here and there a floculent “dog-tail,” as the -latest wisp of the staple is called, flaunting in the chill spring -breeze, and would descant on the superior values of the Duciehurst lands -compared to these, illustrating sometimes by the fresh furrows near at -hand, showing the humus of the soil, for the plows were already running. -Now and again he turned his eager, hopeful eyes on his brother as he -declared, “This time next year, old man, I shall have the force busy -getting ready to bed up land for cotton at Duciehurst.” Or “When the -estates of our fathers are restored to us I shall live in formality at -our ancestral mansion, and if you dare go back to France I shall revenge -myself by marrying somebody.”</p> - -<p>“Anybody in view?”</p> - -<p>“Apprehensive, again? Well, to set your mind at rest, I was thinking, -pictorially merely, how stately<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a>{376}</span> Hilda Dean looked walking down the -grand staircase with her head up. How beautifully it is poised on her -shoulders.”</p> - -<p>“She is truly beautiful,” Adrian said heartily, “and during all that -trip down the river I was impressed with her lovely character, and her -sterling qualities of mind and heart. Her beauty, great as it is, really -is belittled by the graces of her nature. Pray Heaven your visions of -Hildegarde as your chatelaine at Duciehurst may materialize.”</p> - -<p>“One more year,—one more year of this toilsome probation, and then,” -Randal’s face was illumined as if the word radiated light, “Duciehurst!”</p> - -<p>Adrian, looking over the river which was now well in view from the -fields, began to speculate on the approach of a skiff heading down -stream, and running in to the bank. “I wonder if that is the boat that -your manager was to send for me for my trip to Berridge’s?”</p> - -<p>For, although the terror of the fierce pursuit of the riverside harpies -inaugurated by Colonel Kenwynton had swept the others in flight from the -country, not a foothold of suspicion had been found against Berridge and -his son. It was known that Captain Treherne had spent the night at their -amphibian home, and had gone thence to his conference with Colonel -Kenwynton on the sand-bar; so much he himself had stated, but he -declared positively that neither of the Berridges was with the -miscreants who had waylaid him on his return and conveyed him bound to -Duciehurst. It was beyond his knowledge, indeed, that this choice twain -had later joined his captors at the mansion. Their strength of nerve, -however, failed them when they were notified<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a>{377}</span> that the Ducie counsel -desired an interview with them on this visit to the vicinity to -ascertain if their testimony would be at all pertinent in the matters -preliminary to the discovery of the documents. Even their non-appearance -this afternoon did not excite unfavorable comment. It was supposed that -in the depths of their illiteracy they had not understood the nature of -the communication, if indeed they had received it, and Adrian Ducie -promised the counsel to see old Berridge or his son personally and -explain the matter in order to have them present in Caxton the following -day when the lawyers should be in conference.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I will go instead,” cried Randal; “I really ought not to let you go -on this errand, for,” with a quizzical smile, “you are ‘company,’ you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Not very formal ‘company.’ You ought to see to the placing of that new -boiler in the gin-house,—and I have nothing to do. Yes,” continued -Adrian, still regarding the approach of the skiff, “that is your man -Job, and he can take this horse back to the stable.”</p> - -<p>He dismounted hastily and throwing the reins to Randal, he ran lightly -up the slope of the levee. He paused on the summit to wave his hand and -call out cheerily, “Ta, ta—see you later,” and then he threw himself in -the skiff, which was dancing on the floods close below, the boatman -holding it by the painter as he stood on the exterior slope of the -embankment.</p> - -<p>The river was at flood height and running with tremendous force. But for -the aid of the current Adrian’s strength plying the oars would have made -scant speed. It was only a short time before he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a>{378}</span> sighted the little -riverside shanty which no longer showed its stilts, but sat on the water -as flush with the surface as a swimming duck. Adrian was able from his -seat between the rowlocks to knock on the closed door without rising. -There was no response for a few minutes, although the building was -obviously inhabited, the sluggish smoke coiling up from the stove-pipe -into this dull day of late winter or early spring, whichever season -might be credited with its surly disaffection. A child’s voice within -suddenly babbled forth, and but for this Adrian fancied a feint of -absence might have been attempted. With a slight motion of the oars he -kept the skiff in place at the entrance, and at length the door slowly -opened and the frowsy, copper-tinted hair and freckled face of Jessy -Jane was thrust forth.</p> - -<p>She was one of that type of woman to whom without any approach to moral -delinquency a handsome man is always an object of supreme twittering -interest, however remote of station and indifferent of temperament; -however crusty or contemptuous. That he should obviously concern himself -in no wise with her existence did not in any degree minimize the -intensity of her personal absorption in him. Her face, sullen and -lowering, took on a bland and mollifying expression, and with a fancied -recognition of the rower she broke forth with a high, ecstatic chirp:</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Ran, I never knowed ’twas you hyar!” though she had never -spoken to Randal Ducie, and knew him only by sight.</p> - -<p>“This is not Mr. Randal Ducie, but his brother,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a>{379}</span> said Adrian, and as -she stared silently at him, noting the wonderful resemblance, he -continued:</p> - -<p>“I want to speak to Joshua Berridge,” he consulted a paper in his hand. -“He lives here, doesn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“My dad-in-law,” she explained, suavely; “but he ain’t at home just now, -though”—with a facetious smile, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>twon’t be long ’fore he comes—most -supper time, ye know. Won’t ye kem in an’ wait?”</p> - -<p>Ducie declined this invitation and sat meditatively eyeing the waste of -waters, for the river was now at its full scope, barring inundation, and -stretched in great majesty to a bank scarcely visible on the farther -shore.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t sure, but what ye mought find him over on the old <i>Che’okee -Rose</i>,” she said, speculatively, for Ducie was very comely and she had a -special impulse to be polite to so worthy an object of courtesy.</p> - -<p>“Is the old steamboat there yet?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at -the murky swirls of the swift current. There was now no sign of the -sand-bar on which the ill-fated craft had stranded. The foaming waves -raced past and submerged its whole extent. None might know where it lay. -A deep-water craft, drawing many feet, might have unwittingly plied -above its expanse. Only a fraction of the superstructure of the -steamboat—the pilot-house and texas, and the upper part of the cabin, -showed above the waste of waters to distinguish the spot where the -steamer had run aground and the pitiless storm had flayed out all its -future utility.</p> - -<p>“The wreckers have been down time and again,” she went on with a note of -apology. “They tuk off<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a>{380}</span> all the vallybles before the water riz,—the -kyarpets, an’ funnicher, an’ mirrors, an’ sech—even the big chimbleys. -The water got the rest, but wunst in a while ef us pore folks wants -somethin’ that be lef’ fur lost—like some henges, or somthin’ we jest -tries to supply ourse’fs ez bes’ we kin.”</p> - -<p>Adrian was still silently looking at the wreck that he had such cause to -remember, with all that had since come and gone.</p> - -<p>“Well, I reckon Dad is over there now, hunting fur them henges,” said -the woman, speculatively. “Leastwise,” holding her palm above her eyes, -“<span class="lftspc">’</span>pears like I kin see a boat on the tother side, a-bobbin at the e-end -of a painter!”</p> - -<p>Adrian moved with a sudden resolution. The oars smote the water, and -with curt and formal thanks for the information, he began to row -strongly across the current that despite his best endeavors carried him -continually down and down the river, and required him to shape his -course diagonally athwart the stream to counteract its impetus.</p> - -<p>The woman stood for a time aimlessly watching him, as the rhythmic oars -plied, and the skiff, shadowless this dull day, kept on its way. At last -she turned within and shut the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a>{381}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> effect on Floyd-Rosney of his wife’s legal proceedings was deep and -radical. His counsel constantly noted in him a sort of stunned surprise, -as if contemplating some fantastic revulsion of the natural course of -events. He had fashioned this result as definitely as if he had planned -its every detail, yet he regarded it with an affronted amazement that he -should be called upon to experience events so untoward. He had a -disposition to belittle the efficiency of the demonstration. He -perceived with a snort of rage and contempt the seriousness with which -his counsel regarded it and declared violently that she could never get -a decree.</p> - -<p>“You mean to defend the suit, then?” Mr. Stacey asked, very cool, and -pallid, and dispassionate.</p> - -<p>“What else?” thundered Floyd-Rosney, the veins in his forehead blue and -swollen, his face scarlet, his hands quivering.</p> - -<p>“I can’t see upon what grounds, in view of the terms of <i>retraxit</i>.”</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> dictated the terms of that precious performance,” declared -Floyd-Rosney, with vindictive pleasure in shifting the blame.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Stacey easily eluded the burden.</p> - -<p>“Under your specific instructions as to the facts to which you made -affidavit,” he said, coldly.</p> - -<p>It was perhaps evidence how Floyd-Rosney was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a>{382}</span> beginning to acquire a -modicum of prudence under the fierce tuition of circumstance that he -avoided a breach with his lawyers. He heartily cursed them in his heart, -recollecting the many large fees they had received at his hands, -minimizing altogether the arduous work and professional learning that -had earned them. He broke off the consultation, which he postponed to a -future day, and left them with a stunned realization that these men, -whose capacity and experience he had so often tested, were of opinion -that he had no defense against the preposterous suit of his wife, that -she would receive her decree and be awarded the custody of the child and -ample alimony which it would be adjudged he should pay.</p> - -<p>He set his teeth, gritting them hard when he remembered how these -lawyers had sought to induce him to defer filing his bill, to mitigate -his allegations, to investigate the circumstances more closely. Their -judgment had been justified in every particular, and though showing no -triumph—Mr. Stacey was too completely a legal machine for such -manifestation—he gave attestation of his human composition by the cold -distaste, which he could not disguise, for the subsequent developments.</p> - -<p>“Damned if <i>he</i> is not ashamed to be concerned with <i>me</i>,” Floyd-Rosney -said to himself, fairly staggered by the preposterous climax of the -situation.</p> - -<p>He began to have a great desire to get out of the country, to be quit of -all the sights and associations of his recent life, but he had pressed -the preparations for the Duciehurst suit, and his absence now as the -date of the trial approached would have the aspect of a pusillanimous -retreat, specially obnoxious<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a>{383}</span> to him in view of the fact that the Ducies -were his opponents. The overthrow of his plans and expectations of his -wife’s return to him and the rehabilitation of their life together was -like the demonstration of some great earthquake or cataclysmal disaster; -it had destroyed all the symmetry and purpose of his life; his outlook -was as upon a blank desert of despair, an “abomination of desolation.” -That human heart of his, despite its overlay of selfish aims and -turbulent pride, had depths seldom stirred of genuine feeling; he -yearned for sympathy; he poignantly lacked the touch of his absent -child’s hand; the adoring look in the limpid infantile eyes; he felt at -every turn the loss of the incense of adulation that his wife had been -wont to burn before him. It had made sweet the atmosphere of his life, -and until it ceased he had never known how dependent upon it his very -respiration had grown to be—it was as the breath of his life. While he -sat in his solitary library, brooding and silent, reviewing in his -enforced leisure and loneliness the successive steps by which the -destruction of his domestic happiness had been compassed, his brow -darkened and grew fierce as he fixed the date of its inception to the -meeting with Adrian Ducie on the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, and the discovery that -his wife could subtly distinguish between these facsimile faces of the -two brothers the lineaments of her former lover. Even now his logic -strove to reassert itself. Of course, the man’s face was intimately -familiar to her; there must be tricks of expression, the lift of an -eyebrow, the curl of a lip, methods of enunciation peculiar to one and -alien to the other, distinctive enough to a keen and habituated -observer. But, alack! this was not all,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a>{384}</span> offensive as were its -suggestions to his pride of monopoly. He said to himself that from the -moment of the presentation of this vivid reminder of her old lover’s -face was inaugurated the recurrence of the Ducie influence in her life. -Here began that strange, covert revolt against him and all his theories -and plans, which had grown inch by inch till it possessed her. She had -never been the same, and he—fool that he was—through his magnanimity -in withdrawing the allegations of his bill, had furnished her with the -certainty of gaining a decree in her counter suit for divorce, of -securing an ample fortune in the belittling name of alimony, and the -opportunity of marrying and endowing with this wealth, derived from him, -the penniless Randal Ducie, whose baleful influence had destroyed for -him all that made life worth living.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney had never been an intemperate man, but in this grim -seclusion he began to drink heavily. He had piqued himself upon his -delicate taste, his acumen as a judge of fine wines, but the Chambertin -and Château Yquem remained untouched during his hasty dinners, while the -brandy decanter had taken up a permanent position on the library table, -and he had ordered up from the cellar an old and rich whisky that had -been laid down by his father before he was born, and that he had, so far -as the butler knew, never yet tasted.</p> - -<p>It was difficult for the lurking magnate, in his sullen seclusion, to -face the eyes of his own domestic staff; he could not bring himself to -confront the questioning, speculative gaze of the streets, the club, the -driving park. Even such <i>rencontres</i> as chanced when he went to consult -his counsel, whom, but for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a>{385}</span> very shame he would have summoned to him, he -found an ordeal. He had grown poignantly sensitive and keenly perceptive -as well, and was discriminating in minute points of facial expression -and gradations of manner. He could differentiate embarrassment, -commiseration,—and how pity stung him!—reprobation, and oftenest of -all, a sort of covert relish, an elation, that with any personal -relation would have meant triumph. “They are nearly as well pleased as -if I were broken,” he would say cynically to himself. But there was no -breach of courtesy, no abatement of the deep respect usually tendered to -a magnate and millionaire. He was keenly alive to detect the insignia of -a diminution of consideration, but his little world salaamed as -heretofore, for he was by no means broken, not even if he should have to -pay heavy alimony, and lose Duciehurst into the bargain. The experience -of these encounters, however, weighed heavily on his nerves, now all -a-quiver and jangling with the effects of his deep potations.</p> - -<p>His home was odious to him; his covert speculations as to the deductions -of the servants, whom ordinarily he would have disregarded as mere worms -of the earth, afflicted him. He was keenly conscious of his humiliated -position in their eyes, cognizant as he knew them to be of his -expectation of his wife’s return, and the elaborate preparations he had -made and personally supervised for her reception. He found a greater -degree of privacy and comfort on his yacht, which he ordered up from New -Orleans, where she had been lying for a month past, refitted and -revictualed, awaiting his summons. He steamed down the river to the -Gulf<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a>{386}</span> on one occasion, but finding himself out of touch with his counsel -in the Duciehurst case, and realizing that some final decision must be -reached as to his course in the divorce suit, he confined his wanderings -to idly cruising up and down the river, stopping at prearranged points -for mail or telegrams.</p> - -<p>In this resource he experienced a surcease of the harassments that -infested his life on shore. His skipper knew little and cared less of -land-lubber interests—as maritime an animal as a crab. He had, indeed, -with a brightening eye and a ready courtesy, asked, when Floyd-Rosney -came over the side of the <i>Aglaia</i>, if the madam was not going to favor -the ship’s company with her presence. Being answered shortly in the -negative he heartily protested his regret.</p> - -<p>“The best sailor she is of any lady I ever saw,” he declared, and added -that if they were to do some deep-sea stunts they need not consult the -barometer for weather signs. She cared no more for weather than a stormy -petrel. He always looked on the madam’s presence as a good omen, he -said; he had a bit of the blarney and a bit of poesy in his composition, -his ancestry hailing from the Emerald Isle.</p> - -<p>“She has brought no good luck to her husband,” Floyd-Rosney reflected, -grimly.</p> - -<p>It was grateful to him, however, to perceive that the man knew naught of -his recent discomfitures and humiliation; of very meager consequence -such an opinion would have been ordinarily, but the evident ignorance of -the skipper enabled him to hold his head higher. The skipper read -nothing in the newspapers but the shipping news, and but for the change<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a>{387}</span> -in Floyd-Rosney’s bibulous habit he might never have been the wiser.</p> - -<p>“He’s drinking like a fish,” he said in surprise to the second officer. -“That’s new with him.”</p> - -<p>“Seems to me,” responded the subordinate, meditatively, “I heard -something when we was in port in Boloxi about him and the madam havin’ -had some sort o’ row.”</p> - -<p>“I hate to trust him with the brand new dinky skiff,” said the skipper. -“He ain’t a practiced hand; I seen him run her nose up on a drift log -lying on the levee with a shock that might have started every seam in -her.”</p> - -<p>But the yacht, with all that appertained to it, was Floyd-Rosney’s -property, and the skipper could only enjoy his fears for the proper care -of its appurtenances.</p> - -<p>For Floyd-Rosney had contracted the habit of scouting about in the -skiff, while the yacht swung at anchor, awaiting his pleasure. The -solitude was soothing to his exacerbated nerves. He could, indeed, be -alone, for he took the oars himself, and as he was a strong, athletic -man the exercise was doubtless beneficial and tonic. The passing of the -congestion of commerce from the great river to the railroads had brought -the stream to an almost primitive loneliness. Thus he would often row -for hours, seeing not a human being, not the smoke of a riverside -habitation, not a craft of any of the multifarious species once wont to -ply the waters of this great inland sea. The descriptive epithet was -merited by its aspect at this stage of the water. Bank-full, it -stretched as far as the eye could reach. Only persons familiar with the -riparian contours could detect<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a>{388}</span> in a ruffled line on the horizon the -presence of a growth of cottonwood on the swampy Arkansas shore.</p> - -<p>One of these days, when he was thus loitering about, the sky was dull -and clouded; the river was dark, and reflected its mood. The tender -green of spring was keen almost with the effect of glitter on the bank, -and he noted how high the water stood against the levees of plantations, -here and there, menacing overflow. When a packet chanced to pass he bent -low to his oars, avoiding possible recognition from any passenger on the -guards or officer on deck, but he uncharacteristically exchanged -greetings with a shanty boat, now and again propelled down the stream -with big sweeps; none of the humble amphibians of the cabins had ever -heard, he was sure, of the great Floyd-Rosney. Sometimes he called out a -question, courteously answered, or with a response of chaff, roughly -gay. Once, being doubtful of the locality, he paused on his oars to ask -information of an ancient darkey, who was paddling in a dug-out along -the margin of the river.</p> - -<p>“You are going to have an overflow hereabout,” added Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>The old darkey, nothing loath, joined in the dismal foreboding, keeping -his craft stationary while he lent himself to the joys of conversation -with so aristocratic a gentleman.</p> - -<p>“Dat’s so, Boss; we’se gwine under, shore, ef de ribber don’t quit dis -foolishness.”</p> - -<p>“Whose plantation is that beyond the point, where the water is standing -against the levee?”</p> - -<p>“Dat, sah, is de Mountjoy place, but hit’s leased dis year ter Mr. Ran -Ducie. I reckon mebbe you is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a>{389}</span> ’quainted wid him. Mighty fine man, Mr. -Ran is, an’ nobody so well liked in the neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>Without another word Floyd-Rosney bent to his oars. Was there no escape -from this ill-omened association of ideas?</p> - -<p>The old darkey, checked in the exploitation of his old-time manners and -balked in the opportunity of polite conversation, gazed in amazed -discomfiture after Floyd-Rosney’s skiff, as it sped swiftly down the -river, then resumed his progress, gruff and lowering, ejaculating in -affront:</p> - -<p>“White folks is cur’ous, shore; ain’t got no manners, nor no raisin’, -nor no p’liteness, nohow.”</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney’s equipoise had been greatly shaken by the strain upon his -nerves and mental forces, this depletion of his powers of resistance -supplemented by constant and inordinate drinking, contrary to his usual -custom. Thus he had become susceptible to even the slightest strain on -his self-control. He noticed that with the renewal of the mental -turmoils that he had sought to elude—conjured up by the chance mention -of the man’s name that meant so much to him in many ways—his stroke -grew erratic and uncertain; once one of the oars was almost wrenched -from his grasp by a swirl of the current. He was well in mid-stream, in -deep water, and he realized that should he lose his capacity to handle -the little craft he would be in immediate danger of capsizing and -drowning, for his strength in swimming could never enable him to breast -that tumultuous tide at flood height. The yacht was out of sight, lying -at anchor in the bight of a bend, that cut him off from all chance of -being observed and rescued by the skipper. He summoned his presence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a>{390}</span> of -mind and let the boat drift for a few moments while he took from his -pocket a brandy flask, and drank deeply from its undiluted contents. The -potent elixir rallied his forces—steadied his nerves. With its -artificial stimulus his hand was once more firm, his eye bright and -sure. But its stimulus was not lasting, as he knew, and fearing an -incapacity to handle the boat in this swirling waste of waters he -directed his course toward an island, as it seemed, thinking that thence -he would signal the <i>Aglaia</i> and wait for her to steam up and take him -off. There he would be in full view from the yacht.</p> - -<p>As he neared his destination he perceived—as he had not hitherto, -because of the potency of the brandy—that the island of his beclouded -mirage was the wreck of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, still aground on the -sand-bar, although waters swirled around her, and fish swam through her -cabin doors and the slime and ooze of the river had befouled the -erstwhile dapper whiteness of her guards and saloon walls. He lay on his -oars for a space, regarding with meditative eyes the ruin, analogous, it -seemed to the far-reaching ruin that had its inception here and that had -trailed him so ruthlessly many a day. In his dreary idleness he was -sensible of a species of languid curiosity as to the extent of the -ravages of water and decay in comparatively so short a time. Only a few -months ago, in the past October, he had been aboard the packet, when -trim and sound, and immaculately white and fully equipped, she had run -aground on this treacherous bar, where her bones were destined to rot. -He wondered that the wreckers had left so much, unless, indeed, their -operations were frustrated by the sudden impending<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a>{391}</span> rise of the waters. -The craft lay listed to one side, the hull evidently smashed like an -egg-shell by the furious onslaught of the storm, but a part of the -superstructure—the texas and the pilot-house—was still above water, -though canted queerly askew.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney rowed briskly to the stair that formerly served to ascend -to the hurricane deck, the skiff running up flush with the flight. He -sprang out—first trying the integrity of the wood with a cautious foot, -and tied the painter firmly to one of the posts that supported the -hurricane deck, leaving the boat leaping on the ripples, as if seeking -to break away from some ponderous creature of its own kind that would -fain drag it down into the hopeless devastations of a lair in the -depths.</p> - -<p>With a deep sigh Floyd-Rosney slowly ascended the few steps of the stair -above the current, and stood looking drearily down upon the structure -wherein were lived those scenes so momentous in his fate so short a time -ago. As he walked along the canted floor, his white cap in his hand, his -head bared to the breeze, he glanced now and again through the shattered -cabin lights down into the saloon, seeing there the water continuously -swirling in the melancholy spaces, once full of radiance and cheer and -genial company. All the doors of the staterooms had been removed, both -those opening on the guards and the inner ones, of which the panels were -decorated with mirrors and which gave upon the saloon. A vague jingle -caught his attention; a fragment of an electrolier still clung to the -ceiling and sometimes, shaken by the ripples, its glass pendants sent -forth a shrill, disconsolate vibration, like a note of funereal keening. -Suddenly from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a>{392}</span> amidst that weird desolation of shifting waters a face -stared up at him. It was unmistakable. He saw it distinctly. But when he -looked again it was gone.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney was trembling from head to foot. He had turned ghastly -pale. But for the wall of the texas against which he staggered he might -have fallen. He did not question the reality of his impression. It was -as definite as the light of day,—a face strangely familiar, yet -sinister, seen in the murky depths. He wondered wildly if it could be -the drowned face of some victim of the wreck, or if this were now -impossible, some curious explorer such as himself, meeting here more -serious mystery than any he had sought. The next moment he broke into a -harsh laugh of scorn. It was his own reflection! At the end of the -saloon, where the craft lay highest on the bar, one of the mirrored -doors, shattered doubtless in careless handling in process of removal, -had been left as useless. In this fragment he had seen his face for one -moment, and then the ripples played over the glass and the semblance was -gone, returning now again. But Floyd-Rosney had no mind to watch these -weird, illusory antics. It was horrible to him to see his face mirrored -anew, distorted in those foul depths where he had been once well and -happy and full of exuberant life and hope, with wife and child and -fortune, every desire of his heart gratified, both hands full and -running over.</p> - -<p>As he turned away he was surprised to note how the shock had shaken his -composure, his nerves. He was loath to quit his posture against the wall -of the texas that had supported him. His long, intent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a>{393}</span> gaze into the -swirl of the waters had induced a tendency to vertigo, and he looked -about for something that might serve for a seat. The pilot-house was but -two or three steps above, and there were seats built into the wall, he -remembered.</p> - -<p>He made shift to clamber up the short flight. The door was still on its -hinges, but so defaced and splintered as to be not worth removing, and -so askew as to be difficult to open. With one strong effort, for -Floyd-Rosney was a powerful man, he burst it ajar, although it swung -back to its previous position, implying a like difficulty in opening it -again.</p> - -<p>He sat down on the farther side, on the bare bench, the upholstery -having disappeared, and waited to regain his composure. Once more he had -recourse to the brandy flask, now nearly empty. Once more the fires -streamed through nerve and fiber, revivifying his every impulse. He felt -that he was himself again, as he gazed through the blank spaces where -the glass was wont to be, at the vast expanse of the great river, now a -glittering sheen under a sudden cast of the sun. Beautiful chromatic -suggestions were mirrored back from the sky; a stretch of illuminated -lilac, an ethereal hue touched the vivid green of the opposite bank. A -play of rose and gold was in the westward ripples, and one bar, athwart -the tawny reach, of crude, intense vermillion betokened a cloud of -scarlet, harbinger of sunset in the offing. He could see the little -house on stilts to the left hand, now like a boat on the water. In the -enforced stay here, when aground on the sand-bar, he had time to -familiarize himself with even unvalued elements of the landscape.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a>{394}</span> To -the right was a bayou, the current running with great force down its -broad channel, as wide as an ordinary river, and on the other side of -the bight of the bend, lay the <i>Aglaia</i>. He wondered if the <i>Cherokee -Rose</i> was an object of the scrutiny of the skipper’s binocle. -Floyd-Rosney thought that he should be on the watch for his employer’s -return, which was doubtless the fact, as he had no other duties in hand.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney was still eyeing the craft, meditating how best to signal -his wish to be taken back to the <i>Aglaia</i>, when a sudden sound caught -his attention—a sound of swift steps. They came rapidly along the -hurricane deck, where he himself had found footing, mounted the short -stair to the texas, and the next moment the door of the pilot-house was -burst ajar and the face and form of Adrian Ducie appeared at the -entrance.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney staggered to his feet.</p> - -<p>“What does this mean, sir?” he cried, thickly, the veins of his forehead -swollen stiff and blue, his face scarlet, his eyes flashing fire.</p> - -<p>The newcomer seemed surprised beyond measure. He stared at Floyd-Rosney -as if doubting his senses and could not collect his thoughts or summon -words until Floyd-Rosney blustered forth:</p> - -<p>“Why this intrusion! Leave this place instantly!”</p> - -<p>“It is no intrusion, and I will go at my own good pleasure. I came here -thinking to find a man with whom I have business.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you have found him. A business that should have been settled -between us long ago!” He advanced a step, and he had his right hand in -his pocket.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a>{395}</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll find out, as sure as your name is Randal Ducie,” hissed -Floyd-Rosney.</p> - -<p>“That’s exactly what it is not. I am Adrian Ducie.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t play that game with me. I know your cursed face well enough. -I will mark it now, so that there will never be any more mistakes -between you.”</p> - -<p>Adrian had thought he had a pistol, but it was a knife—a large clasp -knife which he had opened with difficulty because of the strength of its -spring as he fumbled with it in his pocket. He thrust violently at -Ducie’s face, who only avoided the blow by suddenly springing aside; the -blade struck the door with such force as to shiver off a fragment of the -wood.</p> - -<p>Taken at this disadvantage it was impossible for Adrian to retreat in -the precarious footing of the wreck and useless to call for help. He -could only defend himself with his bare hands.</p> - -<p>“I call you to observe, Mr. Floyd-Rosney,” he exclaimed, “that I am -unarmed!”</p> - -<p>“So much the better!” cried Floyd-Rosney, striking furiously with the -knife at the face he hated with such rancor.</p> - -<p>But this time Adrian caught at the other man’s arm to deflect the blow -and there ensued a fierce struggle for the possession of the knife, the -only weapon between them. While Floyd-Rosney was the heavier and the -stronger of the combatants, Adrian was the more active and the quicker -of resource. He had almost wrested the knife from Floyd-Rosney’s grasp; -in seeking to close the blade the sharp edge was brought down on -Floyd-Rosney’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a>{396}</span> hand, and the blood spurted out. The next moment he had -regained it and he rushed at his adversary’s face—the point held high. -Pushing him back with one hand against his breast Adrian once more -deflected his aim from his eyes and face, but the point struck lower -with the full force of Floyd-Rosney’s terrific lunge, piercing the -throat and severing the jugular vein.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a>{397}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> his antagonist fell heavily to the floor, the force of the impact -shaking the crazy, ruinous superstructure of the boat with a sinister -menace, Floyd-Rosney’s first emotion was the stirring of the impulse of -self-preservation. Not one moment was wasted in indecision. He stepped -deftly across the prostrate body, wrenched the door open with a violent -effort and with satisfaction heard the dislocated spring slam it noisily -behind him. There the corpse would lie indefinitely, unless, indeed, the -man whom Ducie had professed to seek should come to keep an appointment; -probably he had already been here, and had gone, for the mustering -splendors of the evening sky betokened how the hours wore on to sunset. -As Floyd-Rosney took his way with a swift, sure step to the stair where -his boat still struggled at the end of the painter attached to the post, -he noted that Ducie had followed his example and secured his own skiff -in like manner. A sudden monition of precaution occurred to Floyd-Rosney -even in his precipitation, and in loosing his own craft he set the other -adrift, reflecting that to leave it here was to advertise the presence -of its owner aboard the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>; the current, sweeping as if -impelled by some tremendous artificial force as of steam or electricity, -set strongly toward the shore, and the boat, swiftly gliding on the -ripples, would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a>{398}</span> ultimately ground itself on the bank, affording evidence -that Ducie had landed. As without an instant’s hesitation he busied -himself in putting his plan into execution he did not think once of the -powerful lenses of the binocle of the skipper, at watch for his return -on the bow of the beautiful <i>Aglaia</i>, lying there in the bend of the -river, not two miles away, like a swan on the water, between the radiant -evening sky, and the irradiated stream, reflecting her white breast as -she floated, a vision suspended in soft splendors.</p> - -<p>He had a momentary doubt of the wisdom of his course, as he took up his -oars, and the possibility of this observation occurred to him. Then he -endeavored to reassure himself. It was the only practicable procedure, -he argued. He took the chance of being unobserved, while otherwise the -boat, swinging at the stairway, would unavoidably excite curiosity and -allure investigation. Still, he would have preferred to have had that -possibility in mind, before taking incriminating action,—to have had -his course a matter of choice instead of making the best of it.</p> - -<p>From this moment circumstances seemed contorted and difficult of -adjustment. He had not noticed in his absorption that the cut inflicted -upon him from his own knife was bleeding profusely, and beginning to -sting and smart violently. He must have unwittingly scattered drops of -blood all along the deck and stairs as he came. It was a marvel, he -reflected, still optimistic in instinctive self-defense, that none had -fallen on his suit of white flannel. He held the wounded hand in the -water, hoping to stanch the flow, but the red drops welled forth with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a>{399}</span> -an impetuous gush, as of a burst of tears. The cut was not deep, but it -was clear and clean, for the blade had been as sharp as a razor. With a -little time it would dry in the cicatrix and close the wound. His back -toward the <i>Aglaia</i>, he felt sufficiently free of espionage to tear his -linen handkerchief to shreds, using his teeth to start the rent, for -with that hand dripping not only with blood, but with bloodguiltiness, -he dared not search his pockets for his knife. He bound up the wound, -carefully, his plans forming in his mind with all minute detail as he -adjusted the bandages. He would loiter about the river, he said to -himself, till the bleeding ceased, which must be in half an hour’s time, -and the hand would then not be liable to notice. With his splendid -physical condition any wound would be swift in healing. It would be -close on nightfall, he meditated, and this was all the better, for he -would board the yacht under cover of the darkness and give orders to -drop down the river to the Gulf, thence to the open sea—his ultimate -destination being some port beyond the reach of extradition, for he had -lately tested his hold on public favor, and was resolved to risk nothing -on its uncertain tenure. He could perfect his plans when in mid-ocean. -Meantime, the present claimed all his faculties.</p> - -<p>With the fast plying oars and the strong sweep of the current the skiff -shot along with a speed that suggested a winning shell in a ‘varsity -race. When he approached within ear-shot of the <i>Aglaia</i> he hailed the -skipper, who promptly responded from the deck, and still at a -considerable distance, well in mid-channel, Floyd-Rosney shouted out his -intentions to proceed in the skiff a few miles further, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a>{400}</span> he wished to -investigate the old Duciehurst mansion, and ordered the <i>Aglaia</i> to drop -down at six o’clock and pick him up there.</p> - -<p>As his excitement and the fever of his fury began to subside, the flow -of blood slackened perceptibly. He noticed that the saturated portion of -the bandage was growing stiff and dry; that the blood no longer -continued to spread on the fabric. He would throw it away presently and -wash his hands clear of the traces in the river.</p> - -<p>He looked up at the massive walls of Duciehurst with a deep rancor as he -approached the old mansion. The braided currents, making diagonally -across the river, were carrying him toward it as if he were borne -thither by no will of his own, and indeed this was in some sort true.</p> - -<p>He loathed to see it again. He wished he had never seen it. Yet in the -same instant he upbraided his attitude of mind as folly. What man of -business instincts, he argued, would revolt against a great and -substantial accession to his fortune, coming to him in regular course of -law, because it was coveted by its former owners, ousted forty years -before. He felt hard hit by untoward fate. All had been against him, -from the beginning of this accursed imbroglio. He had done what he had -thought right and proper,—what any sane and just man would endorse—and -he had lost wife, child, and heavily in estate, and was possibly -destined to exile for life,—if—if that ghastly witness on the stranded -steamer should take up its testimony against him. But no! it was -silenced forever! It could not even protect the man whom Ducie had -expected to meet should that unlucky wight persist<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a>{401}</span> in keeping his -appointment, finding more than he bargained for, Floyd-Rosney said -grimly.</p> - -<p>The boat was running cleverly in to his destination. The landing was -under water already, and the skiff glided over its location with never a -sign suggesting its submergence. The old levee was indicated in barely a -long ripple, washing continually above its summit, and this, too, the -skiff skimmed, undulating merely to the tossing of the waters about the -obstruction. The relative height of the ground on which the deserted -mansion stood alone protected it from inundation, although as yet the -disaster of overflow had nowhere fallen upon the land. But evidently the -water would soon be within the fine old rooms, and Floyd-Rosney, looking -with the eye of a wealthy as well as thrifty proprietor upon the scene, -not only willing but able to protect, felt with a surly sigh of -frustration that but for the impending lawsuit he would have built a -stanch levee to reclaim the old ruin, even though there was a -serviceable embankment protecting the lands in the rear.</p> - -<p>The large arrogance of the massive cornice of the main building, the -wide spread of the wings on either side, appealed to his taste of a -justified magnificence. This structure was erected in the days of -princelings who had the opulence to sustain its pretensions, and of his -acquaintance he knew no man but himself who could afford the waste of -money on its restoration. There was something appealing to an esthetic -sense in the forwardness of the neglected vegetation about the glassless -goggle-eyed ruin. In the magnolias on either side of the wings he caught -sight of the white glint of blooms, so early though it was! the pink -wands of the almond blossoms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a>{402}</span> waved here and there in the breeze. The -grass of the terraces was freshly springing. Vines draped the broken -pedestals that had once upheld stone vases, and on the façade of the -tall structure the sun crept up and up as suavely benign, as loath to -leave as in the days when its splendors dominated the Mississippi, the -“show place” of all the river.</p> - -<p>Floyd-Rosney walked slowly along the broad pavement and up the long -flight of steps to the wide doorless portal. Within shadows lurked, and -memories—how bitter! He hesitated to go in—the influence of the place -was like the thrall of a fate. He wished again he had never seen it. But -he could hear, so definitely the water transmitted the sound, the -engines of the <i>Aglaia</i> getting up steam, and he was conscious of the -scrutiny of the skipper’s powerful lenses.</p> - -<p>Through all the vacant vastness swept the fresh breath of the river, so -close at hand. The light from the sinking sun, broadly aslant, fell -through the gaping windows and lay athwart the rooms in immaterial bands -of burnished gold. The illusion of motion was continuous on the grand -staircase where the motes danced in ethereal, hazy illumination. The -contrasting dun-gray shadows imparted a depth and richness to the flare -of ruddy gold, reddening dreamily as the day slowly tended to its close. -All was silence, absolute silence. As he wandered aimlessly from room to -room, his step loud in the quietude, the delicate scent of a white -jessamine, early abloom, bringing its vernal tribute of incense to the -forlorn old ruin year after year, despite half a century of neglect, -thrilled his senses and smote some chord of softer feeling. A sentiment<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a>{403}</span> -of self-justification rose in his breast. How was it that all had gone -with him so strangely awry! Wherein had he erred? He had but exerted his -prerogative to order the affairs of his family according to his best -judgment in its interest, as any man might and should do, and—behold, -this tumult of tortures was unloosed upon him. His wife had utilized the -opportunity as a pretext to flee to Randal Ducie, and but for this day’s -work the deserted and divorced would have been fleeced by the courts to -finance the new matrimonial venture. He had done right, he said, -thrusting his white cap back from his heated brow. He had done well.</p> - -<p>It had not been his intention to kill an unarmed man; the fatality of -the blow had been an accident, but it was irrevocable, and it behooved -him to look to the future. No one but the skipper of the <i>Aglaia</i> could -have known of his entrance upon the derelict, and if he had chanced to -observe it, a word in his employee’s ear, that he had discovered the -body there—murdered probably—and did not wish to be called as witness -would be sufficient for the present; the skipper would have forgotten -the whole incident before he had entered the first day’s run at sea in -the log of the <i>Aglaia</i>. There was no reason to connect him with the -tragedy except that the two were on the river the same day. He had -retracted, and exonerated, and handsomely eaten all manner of humble -pie, and it was to be supposed that relations had been established as -friendly as could exist between rival claimants of an estate now to be -adjudicated by the courts.</p> - -<p>He looked down at his hand. The wound that had so perversely bled showed -only pallid lips, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a>{404}</span> no sign of red. He could not remember if he had -thoroughly wiped the gory knife and began apprehensively to search his -pockets. Not here—not there. He grew ghastly pale. His breath came -quick in suffocating gasps as he realized the truth. He had failed to -repossess himself of the knife at that supreme moment of tragedy. He had -an illuminating recollection, as if he beheld the scene anew, that the -blade had caught on some strong ligament or cartilage in the man’s -throat and as the victim swayed and fell heavily he had not sought to -secure it.</p> - -<p>“Fool! Fool!” the empty building rang with the sound, and a score of -frantic echoes shouted opprobrium upon him. He clasped his quivering -hands above his head and sought to command his thoughts. He had been too -drunk at the time to realize the fact, but the knife was a witness which -would indubitably fix the crime upon him. Like all his personal -accessories it was the handsomest thing of the kind that could be -bought, and on the silver plate on the handle was engraved, according to -his wont, his monogram. He started violently toward the hall. He must go -back,—but he could never row the distance, exhausted, as he was, -against the current. He would have the <i>Aglaia</i> to steam up on some -pretext, and in company with the skipper they would discover the body, -when unperceived he could repossess himself of the knife. He was -terrified at the prospect of the attempt. He felt himself already in -toils. He tossed his hands above his head and wrung them wildly. A -hoarse cry of agony burst from his lips, suddenly dying in his throat, -for—was that an echo in the resounding vacancy? A strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a>{405}</span> sound, a -great pervasive sound was filling all the air, as if the old house -quavered, and groaned, and cried out in long endured anguish. There was -a rush upon the staircase; he saw through the open doors of the -drawing-rooms shadowy, flitting figures descending in crowds as if the -ancient ghosts that had found harbor here were fleeing their refuge.</p> - -<p>Nay, only coils on coils of dust. As he rushed forth into the hall he -perceived at the end of the long perspective the great Mississippi -River, as in some strange dislocation of the angle of vision, -reaching—illuminated and splendid—to the flaunting evening sky.</p> - -<p>And from the Mississippi River the lenses of the steam yacht <i>Aglaia</i>, -focused on the old mansion of Duciehurst, saw it at one moment still and -silent, majestic even, in its melancholy ruin, the sun lingering on its -massive cornice and columnated portico. The next it slid as softly from -vision as an immaterial mirage. The caving bank had gone down into the -unimaginable depths of the river, carrying on its floods a thousand -acres of disintegrating land and the turbulent waters of the liberated -Mississippi were flowing deep over the cotton fields of Duciehurst -plantation, two miles inland.</p> - -<p>In the widespread commotion of the flood it was fortunate for the -<i>Aglaia</i>, even though so far up stream—distant in the bight of the -bend—that steam was already up in the boilers. Forging up the river, -against the current, at her maximum speed, the yacht in the seething -turmoil found no safe anchorage till near the bar where the derelict -lay. Here she swung round and the officers sought to inaugurate measures -to recover if it were possible the body<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a>{406}</span> of Floyd-Rosney, who had -indubitably perished in the submergence of the mansion. The whole region -was aroused and aghast at the magnitude of the disaster. From the deck -of the yacht were visible hurrying groups as the population pressed -toward the ill-fated scene. The skipper’s megaphone was in constant -requisition as being an eye-witness of the calamity he alone could give -authentic information. Randal Ducie, hastening down to his levee, was -met on the summit by the information that his ancestral estate had -ceased to exist, swept from the face of the earth as completely as if it -had never been. Its restoration had long been the object nearest his -heart, its sequestration in alien possession was the hardship of his -life. But he showed scant emotion. Some subtle, inexplicable premonition -of catastrophe infinitely heart-rending annulled the sense of loss.</p> - -<p>“Where’s my brother?” he demanded irrelevantly, and despite the -remonstrances of the by-standers he threw himself into a skiff at the -landing and pulled out on the tossing, turbulent tide. As the rage of -the river subsided the search was joined by others, and a wild rumor of -some disaster to Adrian Ducie quickly pervaded the vicinity. The finding -of his rowboat on the Arkansas shore did not prove his landing, -according to Floyd-Rosney’s forecast, for the craft was caught in a -tangle of saw-grass in a marshy swamp where footing was impracticable. -The old negro to whom Floyd-Rosney had spoken in the afternoon was now -returning from his errand down the river, which was gray with a slowly -gathering mist, and melancholy with a cast of the silent and pallid -moon. He hove near the little fleet of rowboats that roved the shadows -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a>{407}</span> asked a question concerning the appearance of the missing man, with -whom he thought it possible he had had some conversation an hour or so -ago.</p> - -<p>“He looks like me,” said Randal Ducie, throwing his face into high -relief with an electric flashlight, and turning with poignant hope -toward the boatman.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, sah! No, sah!” disconsolately admitted the old darkey, blinking -in the glare. “Nebber saw two folks more onsimilar. Mr. Ran Ducie, I -knowed you, Sah, from way back. Knowed yer daddy. Dis man looked like he -thunk I war de wum o’ de yearth, an’ de yearth war built fur him, though -I never p’sumed ter talk ter him. ’Twar him fust p’sumed ter talk ter -me. He war dressed beautified, too, with white flannel suit, an’ a white -cap, an’ handsome ter kill.”</p> - -<p>“Floyd-Rosney,” Randal muttered through his set teeth. “And where did he -go?”</p> - -<p>“Ter de ole <i>Cher’kee Rose</i>, sah,” the negro pointed at the derelict, -lying on the bar, visible amidst the shadows thronging the river in the -ghostly gleams of the moon that was wont to patrol the deck, and seek -out the dark recesses of the cabin where the rise and subsidence of the -water registered its fluctuations, and to look through the windows of -the pilot-house where the steersman at the wheel once took his bearings.</p> - -<p>It was a stupendous moment in a man’s life when Randal Ducie stood in -the shattered old pilot-house and looked down into his own dead face, as -it were, ghastly pale and silent, under the moon’s desolate light. The -tie between the brothers had been more than the love of women, and the -heart of the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a>{408}</span> countryside bled for Randal’s grief. The -extraordinary resemblance of the two, their fraternal devotion, their -exile from the home of their fathers, and its wrongful detention in the -possession of others, the destruction of the property by the caving -bank, the greatest disaster the country had known for a half century, -when its restoration to its rightful heirs seemed imminent, all appealed -with tender commiseration to the heart of the world, albeit not easily -touched, and a flood of condolence poured in unregarded upon Randal -where he sat in his solitary home with bowed head and bated pulses, -scarcely living himself, admitting no business, seeing no friend, -opening no letter.</p> - -<p>The knife that Floyd-Rosney had left piercing the dead man’s throat had -fixed the crime upon him, together with the testimony at the inquest of -the old negro boatman, who had seen him take his way to the derelict, -and that of the skipper who had watched him through the binocle of the -<i>Aglaia</i> descend the steps, unloose both the boats that swung on the -tide, secured to a post, and set one adrift while he rowed the other, -the appurtenance of the <i>Aglaia</i>.</p> - -<p>It was well, Randal felt, taking in these proceedings the only interest -he could scourge his mind to entertain, that he was not called upon to -prosecute on circumstantial evidence some forlorn water rat, or some -friendless negro for the millionaire’s crime, as doubtless Floyd-Rosney -had contemplated. Though the death of the gentle and genial Adrian went -unavenged, save by the heavy hand of Heaven itself, it wrought no -calamity to others, except in his incomparable loss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a>{409}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> evening, late in the summer, the melancholy recluse, who might have -forgotten, so seldom did he speak, the sound of his own voice, strolled -out to evade the intensity of the heat in the hope of a breath of air -from the river. But no, it lay like a sheet of glass, blank of -incident—no breeze, no cloud, a pallid monotony of twilight. He had -passed through the lawn and came out upon the levee which in the dead -levels of that country seems of considerable elevation. He loitered -along the summit, finding in the higher ground some amelioration of the -motionless atmosphere, for it ceased to harass him, and with his heavy -brooding thoughts for company he walked on and on, till at length he was -aroused by the perception that in his absorption he had passed the -limits of his own domain, and was trespassing on the precincts of a -neighboring plantation. This fact was brought to his notice by seeing a -bench on the levee which he had not caused to be placed there, and -behind it was a mass of Cherokee rose hedge, the growth of which he did -not approve on these protective embankments. On it were many waxy white -blooms, closing with the waning day, amidst the glossy, deeply green -foliage, and seated on the bench was a lady gowned in fleecy white.</p> - -<p>He scarcely gave her a glance, and with a sense of intrusion he gravely -lifted his hat as he was turning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a>{410}</span> away. But she sprang up precipitately -and came toward him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Randal, <i>Randal</i>,” she exclaimed in a voice of poignant sympathy, -and said no more. She had burst into a tempest of sobs and cries, and as -he came toward her and held out his hand, he felt her tears raining down -on it as she pressed it between both her soft palms.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know you don’t—you <i>can’t</i>—care for my sympathy,” Hildegarde -sobbed out brokenly. “It is nothing to you or to <i>him</i>, but Randal, he -was not a man for <i>one</i> friend, one mourner. Everybody loved him that -knew him.”</p> - -<p>She had collapsed in her former place on the bench, her arm over its -back, her head bent upon it, her slender figure shaken by her sobs.</p> - -<p>“But he would care for your sympathy, he would value your tears, shed -for his sake,” Randal said, suddenly. He walked to the bench and sat -down beside her. “Only a few hours before—before—he was speaking to me -of you. How lovely——”</p> - -<p>He paused in embarrassment, remembering Adrian’s protest how gladly he -would see his brother make her the chatelaine of Duciehurst,—oh, -dreams, dreams!—all shattered and gone!</p> - -<p>“Did he—did he, really?”</p> - -<p>She lifted her eyes, swimming with tears and irradiated with smiles, -that seemed to shine in the dull twilight.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how I treasure the words!” Then after a long pause—“I was afraid -to speak to you, Randal. I do everything wrong!”</p> - -<p>“You? You do everything right,” he declared.</p> - -<p>“I am all impulse, you know,” she explained.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_411" id="page_411"></a>{411}</span></p> - -<p>“Which is so much better than being all design,” he interpolated.</p> - -<p>“And so I speak without consideration, and might—might hurt people’s -feelings.”</p> - -<p>“Never—never in the world,” he insisted.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad you forgive it, if it is intrusiveness. But I am staying -down here at my aunt’s; she has been very ill. And I have so longed to -say just one word to you—to call you by telephone—or,—something. I -would see your solitary light burning across the lake, so late, so -late—you know we have been watchers here, too,—and I would think of -you, shut in with your sorrow, and no human pity can comfort you. So I -could only send my prayers for you. Did you feel my prayers?”</p> - -<p>They were very real to her in her simple faith, very important, -necessarily efficacious.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, honestly. But as her face fell he added: “Perhaps they -will be answered.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, assuredly,” she cried, tremulously, and her sincerity touched him.</p> - -<p>“Whenever your light shines late from your east window remember that I -am praying that you may have the grace to turn your thoughts joyfully to -the blessed memories you have of your brother, and the happy hours that -were in mercy vouchsafed to you, and what he was to you, and what you -were to him, and what you will be to each other on the day of the great -Reunion. So that you may have strength to take up your duties in life -again, in usefulness and contentment—like the man you were born to be, -and the man you are. Then shall my prayers be answered, and the memory -of your brother will become a blessing, and not a blight.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_412" id="page_412"></a>{412}</span></p> - -<p>There was some responsive chord in that manly heart of his vibrating -strongly to this appeal. Only the next day, struggling with an averse -distaste and wincing from the sights and sounds of the former routine, -he went out to supervise the weighing of the cotton in the fields, now -beginning to open with a fair promise. He felt strangely grateful for -the hearty greetings of the laborers, and an humble appeal to right some -little injustice only within his power made his hands seem strong, and -renewed his sense of a duty in the world.</p> - -<p>The next day, collapsing on his resolution, it was difficult to force -himself to take out his fine horse and drive as of yore to the -neighboring town, attending a meeting of the planters of the vicinity, -all agog, always, on the subject of the operations of the levee board.</p> - -<p>When Sunday came, with, oh, how faint a spirit, he took his downcast way -to the little neighborhood church, built in a dense grove, full of -shadows and the sentiment of holy peace, called St. John’s in the -Wilderness, and his broken and contrite heart seemed all poignantly -lacerated anew and bleeding, and found no comfort. It had all the agony -of renunciation to think of his brother—his own other self, his twin -existence—as translated to that far, spiritual sphere, which we cannot -realize, or formulate aught of its conditions. His brother, alive, well, -strong, loving and beloved, fighting his way dauntlessly through -inadequate resources and restrictions, making and building of his own -inherent values a place for himself in the world—that vital presence -quenched! That loyal, generous, gentle heart to beat never again. It was -a thought to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_413" id="page_413"></a>{413}</span> the senses reel. He wondered that reason did not fail -before its contemplation. He felt his eyes grow hot and burn in their -sockets, and only mechanically and from force of habit could he follow -the service. Once, as his unseeing gaze turned restlessly from the -chancel they fell upon Hildegarde, seated in her uncle’s pew. Her eyes -were downcast, her face was sweetly solemn. A sense of calm radiated -from her expression, her look of aloofness from the world. There arose -in his mind the thought of Adrian’s faith in her genuine graces of -character, which belittled even her charm and beauty, his wish that she -might share the splendor of Ran’s restoration to fortune, when it should -come full-handed to them, that she might grace the high estate of the -lady of Duciehurst—oh, poor Duciehurst! He could but look upon her with -different eyes for the thought. It was as a bond between them.</p> - -<p>He had regained his composure, grave and dejected—all unlike his former -self—by the time the sermon was ended, and he waited for her at the -door; together they walked silently to her uncle’s home under the deep -rich shadows of the primeval woods.</p> - -<p>Even trifles are of moment in the stagnation of interest in a country -neighborhood. Some vague rumor of the little incident that these two had -been thus seen publicly together penetrated beyond the purview of the -parishioners of St. John’s in the Wilderness. The association of names -came thus to the ears of Paula Floyd-Rosney, and urged her to an action -which she had been contemplating, but had relegated to a future -propitious opportunity. It forced precipitancy upon her. If she intended -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_414" id="page_414"></a>{414}</span> move at all time must be taken into account, and the untoward chance -of interference with her plans. She was now indeed the arbiter of her -own destiny, she told herself. Her suit for divorce had been abated by -reason of the death of Floyd-Rosney, and she was in the enjoyment of -one-half of his princely estate in Mississippi—where the right of dower -has been annulled and a child’s part substituted as the share of the -wife—and also the “widow’s third” in Tennessee, for he had died -intestate. She was young, and her spirits rebounded with the prospect of -the rehabilitation of her happiness. Her heart bore, it is true, some -sorry scars which it would carry to the judgment day. But she could not -feel, she could not even feign, grief for her husband’s fate; she knew -it was liberation for her and his child. She had donned, in deference to -the urgency of Mrs. Majoribanks, a fashionable version of widow’s weeds, -and she had intended to allow the traditional time of mourning to expire -before she made haste to gather the treasures of youth and love that she -had so recklessly thrown away. She had not even regret for the disaster -of Duciehurst. She regarded its destruction as the solution of a -problem. She would not have wished to win in the lawsuit the estate she -felt was morally and equitably the property of her former lover. It was -delightful to her to be in the position to bestow, and not to receive. -She was in case to make brave amends for her fickle desertion of Ran -Ducie at the summons of wealth and splendor. She would go back to him a -prize beyond computation—the woman he loved and had always loved, but -endowed like a princess and looking like a queen. The expectation -embellished her almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_415" id="page_415"></a>{415}</span> out of recognition; her closest friends and -casual guests—for she had returned to her own home, from which she had -fled—could but exclaim as her beauty expanded. “How I loved him!” she -would whisper to herself, and sometimes she wondered if those five dread -years under the yoke were not heavy payment for the fortune she was -bringing him. The consciousness of this great wealth made her the more -confident, the more plausible in the letter she wrote him. Though she -had feared supplantation, it was only because he might be in ignorance -of her attitude toward him.</p> - -<p>It took the form of a letter of condolence. She declared she yearned to -express her deep sympathy for him, although she had felt he might not -care to hear from her on account of her connection with the hand that -struck the blow which had so sorely afflicted him. But she conjured him, -by their love for each other, so precious in the days that were past, to -forbear thinking of her in that wise. The villain who had gone had no -hold on her heart. He had destroyed her life. She could confess to -Randal now that every day of the years and every hour of the days had -been one long penance for her faithless desertion of him, her casting -away his precious heart, worth more than all the gold of Ophir. She had -never regretted it but once, and that was always, and unceasingly. She -was possessed, she supposed,—or rather, consider that she was so young, -so unsophisticated, so blinded by the glare of wealth and dizzy with the -specious wiles of the world. Oh, to live the old days over again! But he -must not hate her—he must not associate her with the name as detestable -to her as to him. He must remember,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_416" id="page_416"></a>{416}</span> instead, how sweet was the simple -story of their love, and date his thoughts of her from its emotions. One -thing she begged of him—let her hear from him, and soon.</p> - -<p>In all her formulations of the possible result of this letter she never -anticipated the event. She had been prepared for delay. Some little time -he must have to decide upon his course, his phrases, complicated as the -whole incident was with the memory of the murderous Floyd-Rosney. When -by return mail she noted the large white missive, with her name in his -well-remembered, decided, dashing chirography, her heart plunged, and -for a moment she almost thought it had ceased to beat. Her hands -trembled violently as she tore open the envelope. Within was her own -letter and on the reverse side of the last sheet were penned these -words:</p> - -<p>“This letter should be in your own possession. The story to which you -allude I read to the last page, and the book is closed.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_417" id="page_417"></a>{417}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> the months wore on into winter Randal Ducie, in the pursuance of the -effort to rehabilitate his broken and maimed life, was often in Memphis. -His old associates had an eager welcome for him, for his candid and -genial nature was supplemented by a tireless energy and some special -acumen and active experience in the line in which these endowments were -now needed. The levee crisis was acute, and the planters were eager to -formulate an adequate and practical defense against the encroachments of -the river, with State or Federal aid, rather than have the Delta serve, -as they claimed, as an experiment station for the Government. Cotton was -their objective,—not science.</p> - -<p>Sometimes a poignant pang smote the heart of the lonely man as some -absorbed and eager acquaintance greeted him, from force of habit, with -the old look of inquiry as to his identity, one of those who used -formerly to ask inadvertently, “Is this you, or your brother?” eliciting -in those happy days the delighted response “Of course, it is my -brother.”</p> - -<p>Alas, how Randal wished now that it was his brother,—to be himself -lying in that quiet grave to which he was sure their ill-fated -resemblance had consigned Adrian in the flower of his youth, and that it -was he who was here among these streets of busy men with many a long -year of life before him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_418" id="page_418"></a>{418}</span></p> - -<p>“But you should thank God that you are privileged to suffer in his -stead,” Hildegarde would argue with him. “He would have had all this -torture to endure if you had been the one called away.”</p> - -<p>Shortly after his arrival in Memphis he had gravitated to her father’s -house, where he often sat for hours in the library in the quiet -atmosphere of the books, her face pensive, illumined by the flash and -sparkle of the fire as she worked with dainty, deft fingers on a bit of -embroidery. Informal visits these, and often other members of the family -gathered around the hearth,—her father, talking levee-board, and the -stage of the river, the price of cotton and the dangers of -overproduction; her college-boy brother, a football expert, a famous -halfback with the latest sensations of the gridiron on Thanksgiving-day; -her mother, soft and sweet, with that frank look of Hildegarde in her -duller eyes, for which Randal loved her. He found the only comfort he -knew in this group. Once, however, the young girl’s unthinking candor -almost stunned him.</p> - -<p>“Such an odd thing,” she said one day when all were present; she was -evidently coming from far reaches of her reverie; she had been carefully -matching the skeins for the embroidered gentian blooming under the -benison of her touch, and he had a fleeting thought that she might have -rivaled nature had she compared them to the tint of her eyes. “I met -Mrs. Floyd-Rosney yesterday at the Jennison reception, and she asked me -such a strange question.”</p> - -<p>She paused, but he would not inquire, and the others, realizing the -malapropos subject, could not sufficiently command their embarrassment. -But<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_419" id="page_419"></a>{419}</span> the transparent Hildegarde needed no urgency.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Floyd-Rosney asked me,” she said, laying all the skeins together -in her right hand while she looked up with bright interest, “if you had -ever told me of the contents of the letter she wrote to you some months -ago.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you answer?” asked Randal, breaking the awkward silence.</p> - -<p>“Why, of course I told her that you had never mentioned the letter,” -replied Hildegarde, with a flash of surprise. “I told her the truth.”</p> - -<p>“You did! Why, you amaze me!” exclaimed Randal, with a touch of his old -gayety, and with the laugh that rippled around the circle the incident -passed.</p> - -<p>Yet this incident put him on his guard. He had long since lost every -trace of the sentiment he had once felt for this woman. From the moment -he had received his rejection, years ago, he had realized that he had -been mistaken from the first in her nature. With many men the -contemplation of the magnitude of the temptation, the splendor of the -opportunity as Floyd-Rosney’s wife, might have served to condone in a -degree her defection. Not so with Randal Ducie. He had a very honest -self-respect. He had been trained at his mother’s knee to reverence the -high ideals of life. To him, Love was a sacred thing, Marriage was the -ordinance of God, and a mercenary motive a profanation. He had been -poignantly wounded in the disappointment, humiliated, in some sort, yet -he looked upon the discovery that she was vulnerable to this specious -lure of gain as an escape, and he set all the strong will of his -stanchly endowed nature to recover from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_420" id="page_420"></a>{420}</span> influence she had exerted -in his life. Now, so long afterward, when he had not only reason to -condemn and resent her part in his own past, but to detest the very -sight of her, the sound of the name she bore, he could not imagine how -she could be the victim of the obsession that she was aught to him but a -hateful living lie, a presentment of avarice. He wondered at the -persuasion of a woman, perceived by him only in this instance, but often -noticed elsewhere by the observant in such matters, as to the unlimited -power of her attractions. She can never believe no ember burns amidst -the ashes of a former attachment, dulled by time perhaps, covered from -sight, but smouldering still, and with fresh fuel ready to flame forth -anew. He could not understand on what was based her conviction of the -permanence of his attachment. On her true faith to bind them together -till death?—it had been tested and found wanting. On her gifts of -intellect?—the supposition was an absurdity; she was indubitably a -bright and a cultivated woman, but Randal had been educated too -definitely in the masculine American methods to think of sitting at the -feet of any woman. On her beauty?—where was the traditional delicacy of -the feminine perceptions! Did she imagine him a Turk at heart? Her -beauty might attract—it could never hold. In the old days of his fond -affection if she had been visited by some disfiguring, defacing -affliction she would have been the same to him, equally dear, and but -that she herself had stripped off the mask and proclaimed the disguise -that had befooled him she would have been the lady of his heart, the -cherished treasure of his life to the day of his death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_421" id="page_421"></a>{421}</span></p> - -<p>Now he could but wish that she would withhold her withering hand from -such poor values as she and hers had left him in life. He did not -understand her latest demonstration. But for Hildegarde’s pellucid -candor he might never have dreamed of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s covert -interest in a proposition made to him by the senior partner of a firm of -prominent jewelers, looking to the purchase of the diamond necklace -found among the jewels at Duciehurst, now lying in a safety deposit -vault. Ducie curtly refused to entertain an offer. Then he as curtly -asked:</p> - -<p>“But why should you think I would wish to sell it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Dazzle was visibly embarrassed, but still rational.</p> - -<p>“The idea was suggested to me, as the stones are of -great—well—ahem—considerable value, and you have no ladies in your -family.”</p> - -<p>“Not at present,” said Randal, stiffly.</p> - -<p>“True—true; you might care to retain them if you should marry. But as -they are so far beyond the pretensions of present-day ornaments, -something more suitable—and—and your being extensively interested in -cotton planting where money can be used to advantage——”</p> - -<p>“And lost to disadvantage, too,” said Ducie, grimly.</p> - -<p>“True—true—but the diamonds being wholly unproductive—they are cut in -the old style, too, which tends to reduce their value——”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t have an antique necklace with diamonds cut in the present -style?”</p> - -<p>“No—no; I was considering them as disassociated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_422" id="page_422"></a>{422}</span> from their setting, -which is very rare of workmanship—that is—I thought—the idea was -suggested to me”—Mr. Dazzle did not intend to imperil his soul by lying -in anybody’s interest—“the idea was suggested to me that perhaps you -might care to sell.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all. The necklace is reserved as a bridal gift,” said Ducie, -precipitately.</p> - -<p>“And a most magnificent one,” declared Mr. Dazzle, his face beaming with -the enthusiasm befitting his vocation. “I hope you will give us the -commission to clean and put the necklace in order, see to the clasp, -which should be renewed, possibly, as a precaution against loss,—all -those details. It will appear to twice the advantage that it did when I -saw it at the time you and your brother had it appraised with a view to -dividing the valuables found at Duciehurst.”</p> - -<p>Ducie got rid of the man without further committing himself. Then in -surprise he demanded of himself why he had said this thing, when nothing -was further from his thoughts. In fact it had been thrown off on the -spur of the moment, to be quit of Mrs. Floyd-Rosney’s suspected -interference in his affairs. She wear the revered Ducie heirlooms! He -would work his fingers to the bone before the jewels should go on the -market. And the offensive suggestion that something simpler, cheaper, in -the manner of the present day, might suffice for his bridal gifts when -he should be called upon to make them, in order that the difference -might go to forwarding his business, and ease the struggle for meat and -bread, was so characteristic of the Floyd-Rosney methods of considering -the affairs of other people that Randal could but ascribe it to her. But -why<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_423" id="page_423"></a>{423}</span> had his ungoverned impulse broached the idea of a bridal present? -he wondered. Her interest, her espionage in his most intimate personal -concerns seemed sinister, and he would fain be rid of the very thought -of her.</p> - -<p>The reaction had been great when Paula had received back her crafty -letter of condolence with the characteristic endorsement on the final -page. Her pride was humiliated to the ground, and her heart pierced. She -could not realize, she would not believe that he no longer loved her. -She could but think that were not other considerations held paramount he -would have flown to her arms. She became ingenious in constructing a -mental status to justify his course on some other theory—any other -theory—than a burned-out flame. He was in the thrall of public opinion, -she argued. He fancied it would not sustain him in his devotion to the -widow of the man who had murdered his brother. He was ready to sacrifice -himself and her also that he might stand unchallenged by the world—the -careless unnoting world, rolling on its own way, that would not know -to-morrow a phase of the whole episode. What was a gossip’s tongue -clacking here and there in comparison with their long deferred -happiness. How should a censorious frown or a raised eyebrow outweigh -all that they were, all that they had been to each other—their human, -pulsing hearts! If she could only have speech of him—yet no! She could -not say of her own initiative what had been most difficult to intimate -in writing. She must wait, and plan, and watch, and be as patient as she -might.</p> - -<p>Her spirits had worn low in the process. She had begun to feel the keen -griefs of a martyr. Through<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_424" id="page_424"></a>{424}</span> her love for this man, what had she not -suffered? From the moment on the <i>Cherokee Rose</i> that she had seen his -brother’s face, so nearly a facsimile of his own, her old love for him -reasserted itself and would not be denied. Had not Adrian been of the -passengers of the packet, had not so keen and intense a reminder of the -old days risen before her, life would have gone on as heretofore. She -would have continued to adjust her moods to the exactions of her -arbitrary husband, as she had been well content to do. No jealousy would -have inflamed his causeless suspicions. He would have been still in his -lordly enjoyment of his rich opportunities and Adrian Ducie alive and -well. She had been pilloried before the public gaze; her child had been -torn from her bosom; her husband had made his name, the name she bore, -infamous with a revolting crime, and was dead in his sins; and the man -for whose sake—nay for the sake of a mere sweet memory of a boyish -worship, a tender reciprocation of a pure and ardent attachment—this -coil of events was set in motion, writes that he has read the story to -the end of the page, and the book is closed. Ah, no—Randal Ducie, there -is somewhat more, reading between the lines, for your perusal, and the -book may be reopened. Her heart was full of reproach for him, and yet -she believed that he loved her and secretly upbraided him that he did -not love her more than the frown of the world,—that world to which she -had in her fresh youth been glad to do homage on her bended knees, -sacrificing him to it, and her plighted troth.</p> - -<p>She was restless; she could not be still. She was out every day. More -than once in her limousine she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_425" id="page_425"></a>{425}</span> caught sight of him on the sidewalk. She -had fancied, she had feared he might not speak, but he raised his hat -with a grave dignity and a look wholly devoid of consciousness, and she -could hang no thread of a theory on the incident. Once he chanced to be -strolling with Hildegarde Dean, and with the recollection of her fresh, -smiling, girlish face Paula went home in a rage, as if she had received -some bitter affront, as if her tenure on his affections precluded his -exchange of a word with any other woman, the tender of a casual -courtesy. Then it was that she projected the purchase of the necklace. -If he should—but oh, he could not! That girl should not wear the -gorgeous gewgaw, which she herself had rescued at such pains and risk, -and restored to his possession. He was as poor as poverty—she had -adopted her husband’s habit of scorn of small means—and she would buy -it secretly through an agent, at any price.</p> - -<p>When the answer came from the jeweler she was stunned. It was reserved -as a bridal gift, quotha. She had crystallized the very thought she had -sought to preclude. The mischance tamed her. She caught her breath and -took counsel with sober conservatism. She must be wary; she must make no -false move. Indeed, she told herself she must be utterly quiescent; she -must, in prudence, in self-respect, make no move at all. Then by degrees -her persistent hopefulness, her vehement determination, were reasserted. -She argued that no immediate bridal was foreshadowed, nor with whom. She -herself might wear these jewels,—which she had discovered and -restored,—on a day that would be like a first bridal,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_426" id="page_426"></a>{426}</span> for her wedding -seemed to her now as a sacrifice to Moloch.</p> - -<p>Some time later she chanced, while driving, to meet Hildegarde, walking -alone. Paula joyously signaled to her and ordered the limousine to be -drawn up to the curb. “Come with me,” she said, genially, “let’s have a -long drive and a good talk. I was just thinking of you!”</p> - -<p>She looked most attractive as she smiled at the girl. Her ermine furs, -including the toque—for she had cast aside even the perfunctory weeds -she had worn—added an especial richness and daintiness to a wintry -toilette of black, adhering to the convention of second mourning, it -being now almost a year since Floyd-Rosney had startled the world by his -manner of quitting it. Her eyes were bright and kindly, her cheek -delicately flushed. She had an increased authority or autocracy in her -manner, which might have come about from unrestrained control of her -fortune and her actions, but which seemed to the girl in some sort -coercive. Hildegarde felt that she could scarcely have refused if she -would, yet indeed she did not wish to decline, and soon they were -skimming along the smooth curves of the speedway in the driving park, -the river, though lower than at this season last year, glimpsed in -burnished silver now and again through the trees.</p> - -<p>“I have a good scheme for you and me, Hildegarde,” said Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, and as the two sat together she slipped one hand into -Hildegarde’s chinchilla muff to give her little gloved fingers an -affectionate pressure. “I want you to go with me as my guest to New -Orleans for Mardi Gras,—doesn’t Lent come early this year? The yacht -is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_427" id="page_427"></a>{427}</span> quite ready and we will make a list of just a few friends for -company. And afterward to my house on Saint Simon’s Island.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ideal,” cried Hildegarde joyously. “I shall be delighted to go.”</p> - -<p>“I think Saint Simon’s Island is the choice location for the penitential -season,” said Paula flippantly,—“savors least of sackcloth and ashes.”</p> - -<p>Hildegarde’s face fell.</p> - -<p>“Oh, did I tell you,” the quick Paula broke off suddenly, “that as a -Lenten offering I am going to furnish a room and endow a bed in the new -Charity Hospital?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how lovely,” cried Hildegarde, radiant once more.</p> - -<p>“But to return to our outing,” resumed Paula, “of course, under the -circumstances,” with a slanting glance at the presumably grief-stricken -ermine and velvet, “I can’t make up a party of pleasure for myself,—it -must be complimentary to my dear young friend, and its personnel must be -selected with that view.” Once more her hand crept into Hildegarde’s -muff.</p> - -<p>She paused reflectively for a moment, while her mood seemed to change, -and when she went on it was in a different tone and with a crestfallen -look.</p> - -<p>“To be quite frank with you, dear, I have a strong personal interest in -the occasion. I really want an excuse to get out of the town myself. -There’s a man here whom I want to avoid, and I’m forever meeting him.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” commented the guileless girl.</p> - -<p>“It is always easier to run away from a thing like that than to bring it -to a crisis, and really in this instance<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_428" id="page_428"></a>{428}</span> circumstances will not admit -of any canvassing of the matter.”</p> - -<p>Hildegarde’s face was eloquent of interest, but she decorously forbore -inquiry.</p> - -<p>“If I mention the name you won’t repeat it, though I don’t see why I -should, but Heaven knows I am so lonely I long to confide my troubles to -some sympathetic soul.”</p> - -<p>And now it was Hildegarde’s hand that stole into the ermine muff with an -ardent little clasp which was convulsively returned.</p> - -<p>“You can say anything you wish to me, dear Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, and rely -on my silence.”</p> - -<p>She turned such pellucidly clear azure eyes on Paula. She looked so -docile and ingenuous, that for one moment the heart of the schemer -almost misgave her. And indeed in the old days, before Paula ever met -Floyd-Rosney, she would have been incapable of the duplicity which she -now contemplated. But when sordid worldly motives are permitted to enter -the soul of a woman and to dominate it they work its ultimate -disintegration, despite the presence of worthier traits which otherwise -might have proved cohesive. As, however, she spoke the name already on -her lips she detected a quiver in the little hand she held, and that -vague tremor served to renew her purpose and nerved her to go on. “It is -Randal Ducie,” she said.</p> - -<p>For she had deliberately planned at whatever sacrifice of truth to -implant distrust and aversion toward Randal Ducie in the mind of this -girl of high ideals; to remove her for a time from the sphere of his -influence and the opportunity of explanation; in the interval to -supplant him in her estimation with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_429" id="page_429"></a>{429}</span> others of carefully vaunted -attributes. By the time Hildegarde Dean should return from Saint Simon’s -Island she would not tolerate his presence, and in the humiliation of -her contempt Randal Ducie might find a solace in recurring to the page -of that sweet old story, albeit he had so hardily declared the book was -closed.</p> - -<p>“It is Randal Ducie,” Paula repeated. “You know long ago,—is that front -window closed—these chauffeurs hear everything if one is not -careful,—well, long ago when I was with my grandmother,—we lived at -Ingleside, Ran Ducie and I were engaged. Did you know that?”</p> - -<p>“I have heard it,” said Hildegarde, her face tense and troubled, her -eyes unseeing and dreamily fixed.</p> - -<p>“You have heard, too, that I threw him over, having the opportunity to -make a wealthy match.”</p> - -<p>“Ye-es,” admitted Hildegarde, embarrassed, “people say anything, you -know. They gossip so awfully.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, looking out pathetically at the budding -trees of the similitude of a forest as the car swung down the broad, -smooth curves, “it was the other way about. It was <i>he</i> who changed his -mind. Then I had the opportunity of the grand match, the first time I -ever was in New Orleans—and I took it out of pique. A girl is such a -poor, silly, little fool.”</p> - -<p>Hildegarde was silent. There was so strong an expression of negation, of -condemnation, of doubt on her face that Paula went on precipitately.</p> - -<p>“Of course, I wasn’t in the least justified.”</p> - -<p>“And you realized that?” said Hildegarde.</p> - -<p>“You see, I didn’t love my husband. You don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_430" id="page_430"></a>{430}</span> understand these things, -child. He was kind, in his way, and rich, and talented, and -handsome——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, he was splendid looking,” said Hildegarde, sustaining her pose -of interest, but her lips were white.</p> - -<p>“But I didn’t love him—and I loved Randal. A girl, though, Hildegarde, -cannot remonstrate against inconstancy. Randal came to me and said he -had mistaken the state of his feelings, that the interest he had felt -for me was merely because we happened to be the only two young people in -the neighborhood and were thrown together so often; that he realized -this as soon as he was again in the world, and that it was foolish for -him to think of taking a wife in view of his limited resources. He asked -to be released. So there was nothing for me to say but ‘Good day, Sir,’ -with what dignity I could muster,—for, my dear girl, ‘Good day’ had -already been said by him. Oh, kind Heaven, why do women have such keen -memories? It wasn’t yesterday, surely.”</p> - -<p>Paula threw her face suddenly into its wonted pretty and placid and -haughty contour, and bowed and smiled to a passing car, filled with -bowing and smiling faces.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t help feeling a bit triumphant that such a notable catch as -Mr. Floyd-Rosney—so cultivated, and talented, and wealthy—should -single me out as his preference as soon as he saw me.”</p> - -<p>“I think your feeling was very natural,” said Hildegarde, “but I don’t -see why you should leave town on Randal Ducie’s account.”</p> - -<p>What made her lips so dry, she wondered. They fumbled almost -unintelligibly on the words.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear, that isn’t the end of it. He is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_431" id="page_431"></a>{431}</span> all for taking it back -now; for renewing the old romance. He has a thousand reasons for his -defection, the chief being—and it was really true—that he couldn’t -afford to marry and was pushed to the wall by some debts that he had -contrived to make. But, Hildegarde, the real fact is not the revival of -his love for me—very warm it is now, if he is to be believed—but—you -would never realize it, you are such an unworldly, uncalculating little -kitten—but, I have at my disposal a great fortune, with nobody to say -me nay. I am one of the largest taxpayers in the county, and that does -make a man’s heart so tender to his old love; the girl who adored him, -who told him all her little, foolish heart, and let him kiss her -good-by, always, and lied to her grandmother, and told the unsuspecting -old lady she never did. Oh, why are women’s memories weighted to -bursting with trifles! Now, Hildegarde, haven’t you noticed how much Ran -Ducie has been in town all last fall and this spring?”</p> - -<p>Hildegarde had, indeed, noticed it. She nodded assent. She was beyond -speech.</p> - -<p>“That’s his errand, my dear, making up for lost time. Here we are at -your home. Thank you so much for giving me the chance to go. I’ll make -it lovely for you. The yacht casts off at five to-morrow afternoon, and -the limousine will call for you at four.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_432" id="page_432"></a>{432}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Hildegarde</span> passed a wakeful night of troubled thought. Only after the -tardy dawn of the early spring was in the room did she fall into the -dull slumber of exhaustion, from which she roused at last, unrefreshed -and languid. Before she broke her fast she dispatched a note to Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, declining on second thoughts the invitation to make the -trip to New Orleans and St. Simon’s Island, which she had welcomed so -enthusiastically when it was broached the previous day. She gave no -reason for her change of mind, but expressed her thanks very prettily -and courteously; the conventional, suave phrases exacted by decorum -incongruous with the pale, stern, set face that bent above them. Her -mother cried out in surprise and solicitude when she came into the -library, with this mask, so to speak, alien to the joyous countenance -she was wont to wear, so soft and glowing, so bland and gay, but she -petulantly put aside all inquiries, declaring that she was quite well -and only wanted to be left alone. To be quit of the family she escaped -into the solitary sun-parlor, and sat there in a wicker chair among the -palms, and watched the blooms in the window-boxes that illumined the -space with their vivid glintings. For there was no sun to-day—a hazy, -soft, gray day, and but for the gleam of her white dress in the leafy -shadows Randal Ducie<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_433" id="page_433"></a>{433}</span> might not have seen her there when he was ushered -into the library; after somewhat perfunctory greetings to her father and -mother he strode, with the freedom of an acknowledged friend of the -family, through the room into the sun-parlor and sat down beside her.</p> - -<p>She was wearing a house dress of white wool, sparsely trimmed with only -a band of Persian embroidery about the sleeves and belt and around the -neck, which was cut in a high square, showing her delicate throat. She -looked up embarrassed as he came in, conscious that she had on no -guimpe, and no lace on the sleeves, and murmured something about not -being fit to be seen. But in his masculine inexperience he perceived no -lack in point of the finish of her attire, though the change of her -countenance instantly struck his attention.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what has happened?” he cried, solicitously. “What is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing—nothing at all,” she replied, scarcely lifting her heavily -lidded eyes. “I wish everybody would quit asking me that.”</p> - -<p>“I can see that something is troubling you dreadfully,” he protested. -“Won’t you let me help you? I could brush it away with one hand.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s nothing,” she declared, irritably.</p> - -<p>For a few moments there was silence between them as he sat gazing at her -pallid and listless face, with its downcast and dreary eyes, her -languid, half-reclining attitude, her idle, nerveless hands clasped in -her lap. The change in her was pathetic,—appealing.</p> - -<p>“See here, Miss Dean, trust me; if you have stolen a horse, I will hide -him for you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_434" id="page_434"></a>{434}</span></p> - -<p>An unwilling smile crept to the verge of her drooping lips, but she -ejaculated impatiently:</p> - -<p>“Oh, nonsense!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to intrude on your confidence, but,—but”—with deep -gravity and a lowered voice, “have you allowed yourself to become -involved in some—conspiracy against the government?”</p> - -<p>The unwelcome laugh had crept into her eyes as she lifted her heavy lids -and glanced at him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you know I haven’t!”</p> - -<p>Then the contending emotions were resolved into tears, and slowly and -painfully they overflowed her sapphire eyes, coursing one by one down -her white cheeks.</p> - -<p>“I should not have spoken,” he said, contritely, “I only add to your -distress. Forgive me. I’d better go.”</p> - -<p>“No—no—don’t. But I can’t explain. I’ve promised—only this I know—I -can’t <i>say how</i> I know, but I <i>know</i> that my best friend has told me a -lie—a wicked, defamatory, deliberate lie—and I can’t forgive it.”</p> - -<p>“Why should you forgive it?” he asked. “It is the limit, the -unforgivable.”</p> - -<p>There was a momentary pause. The tears welled up anew in the blue eyes -and the white cheeks were all wet with them; however, she mopped them -with her handkerchief rolled into a little ball for the purpose.</p> - -<p>“It was such a cruel lie, deliberately planned, so circumstantial,” she -sobbed, “so plausible, apparently confirmed by facts. I do believe it -would have deceived anybody, everybody, but me. I can’t controvert -it—the circumstances are out of my scope.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_435" id="page_435"></a>{435}</span> But I <i>know</i>—I know—I -<i>know</i> of my own accord,—I can’t say how,—but every breath I draw, -every fiber in me is a witness of the truth—the eternal truth!”</p> - -<p>She burst into a tempest of sobs, and Ducie was carried beyond bounds.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must not, you shall not, give yourself so much pain for this -vile liar, whoever it is. Have some mercy on me, if not on yourself. I -can’t endure to see you so distressed—it breaks my heart. I have loved -you too long, too devotedly——”</p> - -<p>He paused abruptly; he had not intended to broach the subject thus, to -put his fate to the touch while she was hardly herself, overwhelmed by -the agony of some poignant, covert grief which he could not share. -Surely this was not the moment to decide the course of his future life -and hers. He had had his grave misgivings as to her preference. She was -joyous and lovely, and sweet and congenial to many alike who basked in -the radiance of her charm. She was the reigning belle of the winter, and -doubtless her relatives entertained high ambitions as to her settlement -in life. Since the loss of Duciehurst from his material hopes and -prospects he had scarcely felt himself justified in asking her to share -his restrictions and limited resources. He lived on the look in her -eyes, a chance word among all the others, and he had not had hope -enough, encouragement enough of her preference to urge his suit upon -her. He felt as if he stood in an illumination of heaven and earth when -she turned her face suddenly, and asked:</p> - -<p>“How long?”</p> - -<p>He had both her little hands in his when he strove to differentiate for -her just when and how he first<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_436" id="page_436"></a>{436}</span> recognized the unfolding of this flower -of love to irradiate his life with bloom and fragrance and then to urge -upon her some word of promise to set his plunging heart at rest.</p> - -<p>Her face, all fluctuating with happy smiles and flushes, grew affectedly -grave as she seemed to consider.</p> - -<p>“I am not much like a parched flower,” she said, “but I have been -waiting some time for this dewdrop.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I had only known, how much I could have saved myself,” exclaimed -Randal, voicing the sentiment of many an accepted lover.</p> - -<p>“I expected this—remark—of yours,” she declared, her blue eyes archly -glancing, “at the De Lille reception—’way back, ’way back in the Middle -Ages, when you said in such an impassioned voice, ‘Will you—will you -have some more frappé?’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>Then they both laughed out joyously, and her father in the library, -turning over the journal in his hand to get at the river news, had a -vague realization of the instability of the moods of women and -especially of girls, and was pleased that Hildegarde had recovered her -equanimity since her tiff against Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, as he interpreted -it, had induced her to forego her charming springtide outing.</p> - -<p>The cruise, though somewhat delayed, that the party of guests might be -selected anew and assembled, took place according to the plans of Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney, at once the most discriminating and lavish of hostesses; -but before the <i>Aglaia</i> weighed anchor the news of the engagement was -sown broadcast in the town and it became the subject of conversation one -day as the yacht steamed down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_437" id="page_437"></a>{437}</span> Mississippi on her mission of -pleasure. Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, whose experience and training had developed -great powers of self-control, hearkened with special interest to the -details of the gossip, and often commented characteristically. The -bride-elect, it was surmised, would receive splendid presents, in view -of her many wealthy relatives and friends and her great popularity, but -none could compare with the necklace of Ducie diamonds, the gift of the -groom, which it was said she would wear with her wedding dress of white -satin.</p> - -<p>“And how ridiculous for people of their limited means,” cried Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney. Her late husband himself could hardly have seemed more -scornful of moderate circumstances.</p> - -<p>“Except that the necklace is an heirloom,” said Colonel Kenwynton.</p> - -<p>“A man in love thinks nothing is <i>too</i> fine,” suggested one of the -ladies.</p> - -<p>“Randal Ducie is not and never was in love with Hildegarde,” said Mrs. -Floyd-Rosney with an air of much discernment. “She is not of the type -that would appeal to him; but she was very instant in bringing herself -to his notice and diverting his mind, and taking him out of himself -after his bereavement and so became a sort of consolatory habit.”</p> - -<p>“That is a beautiful idea,” said Colonel Kenwynton warmly,—“to add to -the blessed relation of a wife the sacred mission of a ministering -angel.”</p> - -<p>This was not in the least what Mrs. Floyd-Rosney had intended to -intimate, as was abundantly manifest by the thinly veiled anger and -repugnance on her face, which was now beginning to have need of all the -suavity and grace she could command. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_438" id="page_438"></a>{438}</span> was growing perceptibly hard in -these days, and its incipient angularities were more definitely -asserted. There was a recurrent expression of bitter antagonism in her -eyes that gave added emphasis to the satiric fleer in the occasional -upward lift of her chin. People were already commenting on the strange -deterioration in her beauty of late, and although Colonel Kenwynton was -in no degree aware of the reason for her state of mind, he felt vaguely -depressed by her look and manner.</p> - -<p>He rose presently and strolled away from the group on the deck, smoking -his cigar and scanning the weather signs of the coming evening. The -stress of the subject of Randal Ducie’s bereavement weighed heavily on -his nerves in this vicinity. If, under all the circumstances, it could -be so easily and openly mentioned here he was not sure of his ability to -listen with discretion. The world was growing strange to him,—he felt -himself indeed a survival. He did not understand such views as seemed to -possess this woman, such standards of right, such induration of -sensibilities. Man and soldier though he was, he could look only with -glooming and averse eyes at the wreck of the <i>Cherokee Rose</i>, where a -dread deed was wrought, lying white and stark, skeleton-wise, like -bleaching bones on the sand-bar in that immaterial region between the -pallid mists of the evening and the gray sheen of the river. Very -melancholy the aspect of the forlorn craft, he thought in passing, and -he scarcely wondered at the prevalence of the riverside legend that -strange presences were wont to revisit the glimpses of the moon on this -grim, storied wreck of the Mississippi.</p> - -<p>He could not imagine how Mrs. Floyd-Rosney in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_439" id="page_439"></a>{439}</span> pursuit of pleasure could -endure to pass this poignantly ghastly reminder, and still further down -the stream to approach the site of Duciehurst under its swirling -depths,—the packets now made a landing called by the name a mile to the -rearward of the spot where the old mansion had stood. But presently the -graceful yacht was steaming swiftly down this glamourous reach of the -river, and beneath its gliding shadow in inconceivable depths lay this -epitome of the past,—the demolished home altar, with its spent incense -of domestic affection, the lost hopes, with their lure of tenuous -illusions; the futile turmoils of grief; the transient elation of joy; -the final climax of death,—all the constituent elements of human -experience. Now they were naught, nullified, while the world swept on -uncaring, typified by the swift yacht, leaving astern the site of -oblivion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_440" id="page_440"></a>{440}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_441" id="page_441"></a>{441}</span> </p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="hang"><span class="letra">T</span>HE following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan books by the -same author, and new fiction.</p> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_442" id="page_442"></a>{442}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_443" id="page_443"></a>{443}</span> </p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">BOOKS BY</p> - -<p class="c">CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK</p> - -<p class="c">(MISS MARY MURFREE)</p> - -<p class="tittl">The Storm Center</p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.50 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>In the course of its review of <i>The Storm Centre</i>, the Louisville -Courier-Journal says: “This beautiful novel by Charles Egbert -Craddock shows the brilliant and popular writer in her best vein. -None of Miss Murfree’s later books possesses more interest than -this story of love and war and life. The war scenes, the guiding -motives of the opposed sides, the pictures of the old Southern -household, are strikingly impressive by the nobility and the -breadth of their portrayal. The book is one to be held in high -favor long after many of to-day’s ‘best sellers’ are forgotten.”</p></div> - -<p class="tittl">The Amulet</p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.50 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>“The whole story is as natural and freshly told as if the author -herself had been the heroine of the happy -adventure.”—<i>Independent.</i></p></div> - -<p class="tittl">The Story of Old Fort Loudon</p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, $1.50 net.</i><br /> -<i>Standard School Library Edition, 50c. net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>A tale of the Cherokees and the Pioneers of Tennessee, 1760, by the -author of <i>The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains</i>. Illustrated -by Ernest C. Peixotto.</p></div> - -<p class="c"> -PUBLISHED BY<br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_444" id="page_444"></a>{444}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">NEW MACMILLAN FICTION</p> - -<p class="tittl"><b>The Wife of Sir Isaac Harman</b></p> - -<p>By H. G. WELLS.</p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.50 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>The name of H. G. Wells upon a title page is an assurance of merit. It -is a guarantee that on the pages which follow will be found an absorbing -story told with master skill. In the present book Mr. Wells surpasses -even his previous efforts. He is writing of modern society life, -particularly of one very charming young woman, Lady Harman, who finds -herself so bound in by conventions, so hampered by restrictions, largely -those of a well intentioned but short sighted husband, that she is -ultimately moved to revolt. The real meaning of this revolt, its effect -upon her life and those of her associates are narrated by one who goes -beneath the surface in his analysis of human motives. In the group of -characters, writers, suffragists, labor organizers, social workers and -society lights surrounding Lady Harman, and in the dramatic incidents -which compose the years of her existence which are described by Mr. -Wells, there is a novel which is significant in its interpretation of -the trend of affairs to-day, and fascinatingly interesting as fiction. -It is Mr. Wells at his best.</p> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -PUBLISHED BY<br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_445" id="page_445"></a>{445}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">NEW MACMILLAN FICTION</p> - -<p class="tittl">The Mutiny of the Elsinore</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By JACK LONDON, Author of “The Sea Wolf,” “The Call of the Wild,” -etc.</p> - -<p><i>With frontispiece in colors by Anton Fischer.</i></p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.35 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Everyone who remembers <i>The Sea Wolf</i> with pleasure will enjoy this -vigorous narrative of a voyage from New York around Cape Horn in a large -sailing vessel. <i>The Mutiny of the Elsinore</i> is the same kind of tale as -its famous predecessor, and by those who have read it, it is pronounced -even more stirring. Mr. London is here writing of scenes and types of -people with which he is very familiar, the sea and ships and those who -live in ships. In addition to the adventure element, of which there is -an abundance of the usual London kind, a most satisfying kind it is, -too, there is a thread of romance involving a wealthy, tired young man -who takes the trip on the <i>Elsinore</i>, and the captain’s daughter. The -play of incident, on the one hand the ship’s amazing crew and on the -other the lovers, gives a story in which the interest never lags and -which demonstrates anew what a master of his art Mr. London is.</p> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -PUBLISHED BY<br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_446" id="page_446"></a>{446}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">NEW MACMILLAN FICTION</p> - -<p class="tittl">The Three Sisters</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By MAY SINCLAIR, Author of “The Divine Fire,” “The Return of the -Prodigal,” etc.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.35 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Every reader of <i>The Divine Fire</i>, in fact every reader of any of -Miss Sinclair’s books, will at once accord her unlimited praise for -her character work. <i>The Three Sisters</i> reveals her at her best. It -is a story of temperament, made evident not through tiresome -analyses but by means of a series of dramatic incidents. The -sisters of the title represent three distinct types of womankind. -In their reaction under certain conditions Miss Sinclair is not -only telling a story of tremendous interest but she is really -showing a cross section of life.</p></div> - -<p class="tittl">The Rise of Jennie Cushing</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By MARY S. WATTS, Author of “Nathan Burke,” “Van Cleve,” etc.</p></div> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Cloth, 12mo. $1.35 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>In <i>Nathan Burke</i> Mrs. Watts told with great power the story of a -man. In this, her new book, she does much the same thing for a -woman. Jennie Cushing is an exceedingly interesting character, -perhaps the most interesting of any that Mrs. Watts has yet given -us. The novel is her life and little else, but that is a life -filled with a variety of experiences and touching closely many -different strata of humankind. Throughout it all, from the days -when as a thirteen-year-old, homeless, friendless waif, Jennie is -sent to a reformatory, to the days when her beauty is the -inspiration of a successful painter, there is in the narrative an -appeal to the emotions, to the sympathy, to the affections, that -cannot be gainsaid.</p></div> - -<p class="c"> -PUBLISHED BY<br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_447" id="page_447"></a>{447}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">NEW MACMILLAN FICTION</p> - -<p class="tittl">Saturday’s Child</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By KATHLEEN NORRIS, Author of “Mother,” “The Treasure,” etc.</p> - -<p><i>With frontispiece in colors, by F. Graham Cootes.</i></p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Decorated cloth, 12mo. $1.35 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="c"> -“<i>Friday’s child is loving and giving,<br /> -Saturday’s child must work for her living.</i>”<br /> -</p> - -<p>The title of Mrs. Norris’s new novel at once indicates its theme. -It is the life story of a girl who has her own way to make in the -world. The various experiences through which she passes, the -various viewpoints which she holds until she comes finally to -realize that service for others is the only thing that counts, are -told with that same intimate knowledge of character, that healthy -optimism and the belief in the ultimate goodness of mankind that -have distinguished all of this author’s writing. The book is -intensely alive with human emotions. The reader is bound to -sympathize with Mrs. Norris’s people because they seem like <i>real</i> -people and because they are actuated by motives which one is able -to understand. <i>Saturday’s Child</i> is Mrs. Norris’s longest work. -Into it has gone the very best of her creative talent. It is a -volume which the many admirers of <i>Mother</i> will gladly accept.</p></div> - -<p class="tittl">Neighborhood Stories</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By ZONA GALE, Author of “Friendship Village,” “The Love of Pelleas -and Etarre,” etc.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>With frontispiece. Decorated cloth, 12mo. boxed. $1.50 net.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>In <i>Neighborhood Stories</i> Miss Gale has a book after her own heart, -a book which, with its intimate stories of real folks, is not -unlike <i>Friendship Village</i>. Miss Gale has humor; she has lightness -of touch; she has, above all, a keen appreciation of human nature. -These qualities are reflected in the new volume. Miss Gale’s -audience, moreover, is a constantly increasing one. To it her -beautiful little holiday novel, <i>Christmas</i>, added many admirers. -<i>Neighborhood Stories</i> will not only keep these, but is certain to -attract many more as well.</p></div> - -<p class="c"> -PUBLISHED BY<br /> -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> -64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Duciehurst; a tale of the -Mississippi, by Charles Egbert Craddock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF DUCIEHURST *** - -***** This file should be named 56046-h.htm or 56046-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/0/4/56046/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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